Green Lama-Mystic Warrior

by Kevin Olson

  Dumont gets two cans of film from the safe in the living room and joins Tsarong in the small bathroom.

  There is a table over the tub, and centered on the table is a photographic enlarger. A pair of film rewinds are fixed to the ends of the table. Dumont dons a pair of white cotton gloves and laces the film between the rewinds. He starts winding film. After a moment he stops and looks at the film through a magnifier. He inches along the negative for a few moments. Then he stops and puts the film into the enlarger. He clicks on the lamp and focuses the frame. He clicks the enlarger off again.

  Tsarong switches off the overhead light, leaving the room bathed in the strange amber glow of a photo-safe light.

  Dumont pulls a large sheet of paper out of a box and places it under the enlarger. He clicks on the lamp and counts to five. The light clicks out. Dumont and Tsarong repeat the process several more times and then put the prints in developing solution and finally, hang them to dry.

  “Let’s get a bite of dinner,” Dumont says.

  The beautiful, rustic interior of El Cholo is one of the most welcoming in Los Angeles. Jean sits at the bar, slowly nursing a margarita. She has her back to Linn who is sitting on a cozy couch, his feet up on a leather coffee table. A mirror behind the bar allows Jean an easy view of Linn behind her. Jean wonders how long she can make her drink last, but it turns out to be long enough.

  A black-haired woman comes into the restaurant. She enters the bar and spies Linn. She slides onto the couch next to him. Jean peers over her drink. The attractive black-haired woman puts her arm around the cameraman and they kiss. It is a passionate, deep kiss that goes on and on. Jean looks down at her drink feeling very alone.

  The smooch session continues for a few more minutes, then the couple talks quietly. Jean tries, but she is unable to hear them across the room. Fresh drinks arrive and Linn and the black-haired woman sit back to enjoy an appetizer. Linn tells a joke and the black-haired woman laughs loudly, throwing her head back revealing a flash of blonde hair. Jean looks at her again, realizing the woman is wearing a wig. Then it clicks. The woman is Fay Reynolds. Jean tosses back her drink and leaves a dollar on the bar. She leaves carefully, unwilling to risk being seen.

  Dumont and Tsarong are hunched over a large coffee table that is littered with black and white photos. Dumont has two pictures of the Mayan temple scene where Janet Leary was killed lined up side-by-side on the table. He is looking through a powerful magnifying glass. One picture is a blow up from the ‘A’ camera. There is the wisp of the specter near the top of the column as it falls. Dumont moves to the other picture. It shows the same scene from the other camera angle, the ‘B’ camera – the one that ran out of film – at the same moment. The column is in mid-topple. Dumont moves from one picture to the other. He looks at the actors, the extras, and every detail until he is sure that they show the exact same moment.

  “Look at this, Tsarong,” Dumont says, handing the other man the magnifier. “We did it; captured the same moment in time from each camera.”

  The Tibetan takes the glass and looks at the picture. “This was the last frame before the film ran out….”

  “It is conclusive, isn’t it?” Dumont asks.

  Tsarong stares through the large magnifying glass a moment longer. “Yes, it really couldn’t be clearer.”

  “The Specter is a fake and Miss Leary was murdered,” Dumont says.

  The phone rings, interrupting the moment.

  Jean sits in her room at the Hollywood Roosevelt. Grauman’s Chinese Theater is lit up in Klieg lights across Hollywood Boulevard from her. She holds a telephone handset up to her ear. “Hello? Dr. Pali? It’s Jean Farrell.”

  Tsarong answers, listens briefly and hands Dumont the phone saying, “Dr. Pali, it’s Miss Farrell.”

  “Yes, Miss Farrell?” Pali says.

  “I ran into Mr. Edwards on the lot today. He was pushing around that kid… his assistant…”

  “Dave Huey?” Dr. Pali says before he can stop himself.

  “You know him?” Jean asks.

  “I know who he is. Go on.”

  Jean pauses, about to say something. She is bothered by Dr. Pali’s answer, but she lets it go. “Well, he shoved Dave Huey into Stage 7. It’s an empty stage. I could hear a bit of a scuffle, so I walked over for a better look, but Mr. Edwards came marching out – nearly ran me over – and then he drove off in a hurry. I poked my head in the stage, but it was empty, well almost empty. There were some cases of movie film and a can of gunpowder.”

  “I am sure you are going somewhere, Miss Farrell…” Dr. Pali says.

  “All right. After seeing that, I grabbed a cab and followed Mr. Edwards. He stopped at El Cholo Restaurant and met up with a young lady. They got quite friendly. Frankly, the necking went on and on. Finally, I got uncomfortable staring at them and left. The woman was Fay Reynolds in disguise.”

  “This was the last frame before the film ran out…”

  “And you are certain that it was her?” Dr. Pali asks.

  Jean says, “Yes. I saw her blond hair beneath a black wig. It was her.”

  Dr. Pali says, “Thank you, Jean. Are you at the studio tomorrow?”

  “Yes, we’re rehearsing a few scenes in the morning. I think they are going back into production soon.”

  Chapter 3

  The Specter Lives

  The following morning is the start of one of those oppressively hot Los Angeles days. The air doesn’t move and by 10:00 a.m. you just want to crawl into a freezer somewhere. Jethro Dumont doesn’t have time for that, however. Today he needs to catch a killer.

  The rented car speeds east on Sunset Boulevard. There is a briefcase on the seat next to Dumont. He looks down and the inventory of the case goes through his mind. Radioactive salts are the last item on the list. They are secured in the small steel container lined with velvet. The car passes Vine and then Western. Dumont makes a right, pulling onto the Triumph Pictures lot.

  “Jethro Dumont to see Mr. Herman,” Dumont says to the guard. The man checks a list.

  “Have a good day, Mr. Dumont,” the guard says and lifts the gate arm. The car pulls in and parks. Dumont gets out of the car and in no time is in the opulent executive offices of the studio head.

  Dumont carefully removes the two pictures from his briefcase and lays them out on Herman K. Herman’s desk.

  “Have a look at these.”

  Herman glances at the pictures and points to the print from the ‘B’ camera. “Where did you get this?” he demands.

  “That’s not important,” Dumont says, surprised by Herman’s reaction.

  “Oh, yes it is. Someone is going to catch Hell for hiding that! Why wasn’t I informed there was film in another camera? I’ll have their hide!” Herman raves, hot with anger.

  “Look at the pictures again,” Dumont urges.

  After a moment Herman’s mood cools slightly, but he is still mad. He looks at one picture and then the other. He looks much closer at the ‘B’ camera photo. A thin smile crosses his face. “There is no specter in that picture,” he says.

  Dumont felt like he is now getting somewhere. At least he is confident that the specter isn’t real. Someone created it to scare Fay Reynolds right off the Triumph Pictures lot. There are a number of suspects and no easy answers.

  Dumont decides to start in the camera department. After asking around, he tracks down Dave Huey, finding him in the commissary. Dumont buys a grilled cheese sandwich and coffee and approaches Huey at a table. The young man looks very nervous.

  “Do you mind?” Dumont asks, gesturing at a chair at the table.

  Dave Huey couldn’t look more nervous. “…No… problem… sir.”

  Dumont parks himself in a seat across the table from the twenty-year-old Huey. He takes a bite of the sandwich. Dumont
says, “I guess you remember me from the screening?”

  The young man nods and mumbles, “Uh huh.”

  Dumont casually looks around and is confident no one is listening. He continues in a subdued voice. “I spoke with your friend, Phillips, a few minutes ago.”

  Huey takes a panicked look around the place. “Look – I can explain…”

  Dumont cuts him off, “No need. I saw your footage and it was very helpful.” Huey relaxes a small amount. Dumont continues, “But I had a few questions.”

  “Alright… Go ahead,” the assistant cameraman says.

  “Tell me about Linn Edwards. How long have you worked for him?” Dumont asks.

  Dave says, “About two years, although sometimes I’m with one of the other camera men.”

  Dumont looks at him intensely. “Was everything okay between you two?”

  Dave looks down. “I thought so….”

  Dumont presses him further, “Well, was there anything unusual happening before the accident,” Dumont asks.

  “Not really. Well, I misloaded a magazine about a week ago….”

  Dumont looks confused. “Magazine?” he asks.

  “That’s the container that holds the film when you put it on the camera. So about a week later Linn gives me a nasty dressing down and says that I won’t be loading the film anymore.”

  “So you didn’t load the film I saw yesterday.”

  “No. Not yesterday or the day before. Linn insisted on loading all the film personally. I was afraid that I would be blamed for missing that expensive sequence. I started running the camera late, but it ran out of film anyway.”

  Dumont smiles. “But you didn’t miss it completely. In fact, you got the only part that really mattered.”

  “Which part was that?” Huey asks.

  Dumont smiles, “That would be telling.”

  Dumont leaves the interview with the young camera assistant with a few ideas, but no proof of anything. He is pretty sure that Linn Edwards is responsible for the Specter. But why would he want to terrify Fay Reynolds, especially if they were having an affair?

  Dumont finds himself wandering the backlot, walking down New York Street. He feels at home here, even if the Big Apple feel is just a façade. He finds himself back on Wall Street at a fake version of the corner where he climbed into the trunk of Tong gangster Kyu Lee’s car. The whole thing overwhelms him for a minute.

  He sits on the steps of the fake New York Stock Exchange to sort things out. A few minutes pass. A strange feeling creeps over him. He looks up and sees an attractive young woman standing in front of him. She seems familiar. Dumont remembers that his adventure in Florida was the last time he saw this particular woman.

  “Magga…”

  “Tulku, the chronology of the world does not always follow man’s vision of it,” the black haired beauty says.

  BANG! Dumont whirls and looks behind him. BANG, a Stock Exchange door slams in the wind. He looks back to the street, but Magga is gone.

  Dumont ponders what Magga meant on the way to the hotel. He meets with Tsarong at the Chateau Marmont and together they think about it.

  Tsarong says, “You say that it is impossible for the film to have been tampered with after the accident. What if it wasn’t an accident? What if this was carefully planned?”

  “Could they have tampered with the film before?” Dumont wonders. “The film could have been exposed first with the image of the Specter and then with the scenes from the movie. And there is only one person that could have planned that!”

  Dumont grabs the phone and calls his friend, Herman K. Herman, to get an address.

  After giving Dumont the address Herman asks, “What’s cooking, Jethro? You think he is our man?”

  “I’m not sure, but it sure looks bad for him. I’ll explain everything later,” Dumont says. He hangs up the receiver and pauses in front of the small Buddha. He says a prayer and leaves.

  Dumont arrives at a beautiful Beverly Hills home. He parks his rented convertible roadster in the drive along with a several other cars. Dumont knocks at the front door. A middle-aged woman in a crisp, white uniform answers.

  “The others have already started, this way please,” she says and heads into the house. Dumont is slightly confused by this reaction, but plays along. The domestic looks back and asks, “Your name, sir?”

  “Dumont,” Jethro Dumont says as he walks toward the back of the house. He passes through several rooms containing souvenirs of Linn’s travels. Greek pottery, Chinese inlaid furniture, and a stuffed lion catch his attention. As does a room containing several cherry wood gun cabinets. Dumont notes a classic Winchester rifle and a pair of Colt .45 revolvers. There are also flintlocks and even a blunderbuss. A brightly lit enclosed porch lies ahead.

  The housekeeper says, “Mr. Edwards, your friend Mr. Dumont has arrived.”

  Linn turns suddenly; holding a hand of cards. Dumont thinks he sees a bit of panic in Linn’s eyes, but if he did, the moment passes quickly.

  “Care to join us?” Linn says. “There’s one seat left.” He gesture across a table strewn with poker chips and playing cards. Three other men dressed in expensive casual look on.

  “Maybe later.”

  “As you wish. We’re in the middle of a game here,” Linn says turning back to the cards. He picks up a stack of chips and says, “I’ll see you and raise you four hundred.”

  Dumont looks on. He can tell Linn is bluffing, but the other men don’t see it. They fold and Linn takes the pot. Linn stands up and walks Dumont to the gunroom.

  “What do you want, Mr. Dumont?”

  “That was a nice bit of bluffing back there, very smooth,” Dumont says.

  Linn smiles and laughs a little. “Clever. Have you ever been hunting, Mr. Dumont?”

  “Sort of....”

  Linn turns to a cabinet full of rifles. “Sort of? Either you have stalked and killed an animal or you haven’t.”

  “If that’s your definition, then no. I am a vegetarian.”

  The cinematographer opens the cabinet and pulls out a Winchester Model 70 with a black scope on it and extracts a cartridge.

  “Thirty-ought-six,” Linn says. “Accurate to a thousand yards, although I was only about two hundred yards when I bagged that fellow.” He gestures to the stuffed and mounted grizzly bear. He puts the cartridge back in the rifle and snaps the action closed, lining the bear up in his sights. “Why are you here, Dumont?”

  “I think you know.”

  “Enlighten me,” Linn says.

  “I am here at Mr. Herman’s request to assist in locating Janet Leary’s killer.”

  Linn is surprised at this. “Killer? That was an accident. A horrible ac-cident.”

  Dumont comes on strong, “That was no accident. It was an attempt on Fay Reynolds’ life! And I aim to find who, or what, was responsible!” Dumont is right in Linn’s face.

  Linn looks a little spooked. “There are those that believe that the studio is haunted. They believe there is a Studio Specter.”

  “Now we’re talking. What about the Studio Specter?” Dumont says. “I was hoping that you could tell me about that. How’d you do it?”

  “How did I do it? Are you mad!” Linn yells. “That is outrageous.”

  Dumont smiles. “Really? You were the only one with access to the film. I talked to Dave Huey.”

  “That boy is a liar!”

  Dumont shakes his head. “He told me that you loaded both cameras the day that pillar crushed the life out of poor Janet Leary.”

  “Lies!”

  “Why did you load a short end into the ‘B’ camera?”

  “A short end? Why would I do that? I didn’t, Huey loaded that film,” Linn Edwards says, his mind racing. “But if he didn’t
load that camera....” He thinks a moment. His expression softens. “Did you see anything on that film?”

  “Nothing,” Dumont says.

  “That’s too bad,” Linn says. He looks up at Dumont, his expression brightening, “But surely you must know that I was not the only cameraman on the set that day.”

  This time it is Dumont that is surprised. “No. I did not know that.”

  “Freddy Dmytryk started his career in Germany as a cinematographer,” Linn says. “Kaiser’s Ghosts was his last film before coming to America. Quite spooky, I’ve heard.”

  Dumont’s mind is spinning. Could Dmytryk have done it? Why would Dmytryk want to destroy Fay Reynolds? Does Dmytryk know about Linn and Fay? Could this all be about jealousy and revenge?

  Dumont apologizes to Linn for disturbing his afternoon and excuses himself. The housekeeper lets him out.

  On his way back to Triumph Pictures, Dumont stops at Hollywood Book and Poster. A clerk helps him navigate the massive collection and locates a one-sheet of Kaiser’s Ghosts. There, staring at him from the poster, is a dead ringer for the Studio Specter. Dumont wonders what could turn a man to murder.

  Stage 7 isn’t the biggest stage on the lot, but it is the tallest. The massive stage door is closed when Dumont reaches it. Dumont looks around, but there is no one in sight. He pulls the stage door, but it doesn’t budge. Locked. Dumont reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small leather wallet. He extracts a pair of thin, hooked metal shims. He looks around one last time before inserting the picks into the lock. A moment later and the hasp falls open. Dumont pulls the door open just enough to step in.

  The massive stage is silent, save for Dumont’s footfalls echoing off the cement floor. He looks around in the dim light. One wall is lined floor to ceiling with black cloth. Dumont looks closer and sees that the wall has a number of black panels of different sizes leaning up against it. These have hinged wooden stands folded behind them.