“Miss Kendrick?”
She turned to see one of the PAs in the corridor, a young man in his early twenties.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Hirsch would like to see you.”
“Can I get out of costume and makeup first?”
“I believe he wants to see you as soon as possible. I’m supposed to escort you.”
Damn. “Oh, all right.” She turned and followed the PA out of the soundstage and into the brisk breeze. She hadn’t bothered to get a coat because it was a short walk to the administration building. They were there in five minutes, but still she shivered and rubbed her arms over the sleeves of the blouse.
She thanked the PA and approached Hirsch’s first lieutenant. Camille didn’t look up from whatever she was working on. “Go on in,” she said.
Blair opened the door behind the desk and went down the dim hallway toward the light at the end. Hirsch’s door was ajar. She suddenly had butterflies in her stomach; somehow, she knew this wasn’t going to go well.
“You wanted to see me, Eldon?” she asked from the open doorway.
He was behind the broad desk, silhouetted by the standing lamp behind him. This time, his head was not looking down at his coin collection. He sat straight, focused ahead, right at her.
“Come in, Blair.”
She strode across the gold-colored carpet and paused at the spot where she had made a mess a few months earlier. “Oh, I see you were able to clean the spot. Again, I’m so sorry about that, Eldon.”
“Never mind. Come here.”
He motioned to the chair in front of the desk, and she sat. He had a cigar going, but he offered an open metal cigarette case to her.
“No, thank you,” she said.
He snapped it shut, placed his elbows on the desk, and clasped his fingers. “I’ve seen the dailies.”
“You always see the dailies. Don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Not when I’m confident things are going well. Apparently, The Boss and the Blonde is not. And I don’t think it’s the director’s fault.”
“Eldon, the script … well, I don’t think it’s very good.”
“The script is fine. It’s you that’s the problem. Actually, it’s you and Cagney both. There’s no chemistry. What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just not feeling it this time. I can’t speak for Jimmy.”
Hirsch took a drag of the cigar and blew smoke in her direction. “I’ve noticed something else in the dailies.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re gaining weight.”
She laughed nervously. “I am? Yeah, well, lately I’ve had a hard time keeping my girlish figure. The holidays last month, you know …”
“That’s not it. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
The knot in her stomach exploded.
“Eldon …”
“Well? You are, aren’t you!”
She looked down and nodded.
“It’s him, isn’t it? The Negro. He’s the father?”
She nodded again. Then she met his eyes and said, “We’re going to get married as soon as the picture wraps.”
“The hell you are.”
“Eldon, you can’t stop us. It’s legal now in California. Hank and I can get married.”
“It may be legal, but it sure isn’t right! Are you nuts? You’ll ruin your career. I can’t have my star actress married to a goddamn Negro!”
“Eldon! Please don’t say that.”
He pointed a finger at her. “Get rid of it. That’s an order. I’ll have Buddy arrange it. He’ll be in touch with you. I want it done this Friday so you’ll have the weekend to recover and be back on the set on Monday.”
“No, Eldon, I won’t do it.”
“The hell you won’t! You want to keep your job, don’t you?”
“No. I don’t. You can fire me, Eldon. I was going to tell you when the picture was done. I’m through.”
He stared at her as if he was looking at a freak of nature. Finally, he said, “Are you out of your pretty little mind? You think Ultimate Pictures is just going to let you walk away? You’re our biggest star. I think you just need some rehabilitation. A vacation. We’ll get you fixed up, take care of your little ‘problem,’ and then send you somewhere nice and quiet so you can get your fucking marbles back.”
“That’s not going to happen, Eldon.”
“Oh yes, it is!”
With that, she stood. “Are we done, Eldon? I’m awfully tired and I’m hungry and I’ve had a long day. I’ll work on that chemistry with Jimmy.” She turned and started to walk away.
“Blair, I decide when a meeting is over!” She kept going. His voice rose higher as the distance between them increased. “Blair, I will make sure you never work in this town again! I’ll scrap the picture! Better to do that now than take a hit at the box office! Do you hear me?”
She was at the door. “Blair!”
She walked out and shut the door behind her. She and Camille shared a glance, but the women said nothing to each other. Blair continued out of the office and, with her head held high, marched back to her dressing room. Only when she was behind the closed door did she crumple into a chair, trembling and sobbing.
The setting in the film shifts to nighttime in Eldon Hirsch’s office. The studio mogul sits alone at his desk. The coin collection is tucked away in the safe, out of sight. He sits and stares at the signed photograph of Blair Kendrick. Hirsch reaches out and, with two fingers, lightly caresses her face over the glass frame.
He had been expecting the knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Malena Mengarelli sauntered in slowly across the long expanse of the carpet. This time she wore a tight-fitting black dress that accentuated her tall, hourglass figure. The muted lighting sparked highlights off her red hair.
“Hello, Eldon.”
“How are you, Malena? How’s Tonino?”
“Tonino is fine.”
“Won’t you sit down?”
“No. You know why I’m here?”
Hirsch inhaled deeply and exhaled. “Yeah. I still owe a couple of payments on the loan.”
The woman with the cold, steel brown eyes shook her head. “No, that’s not why I’m here. You’ve been diligent in keeping up with those. Sort of.” She opened her Prada Galleria handbag and removed a Colt police revolver. No frills. A swing-out cylinder, double-action, .38-caliber. She didn’t point the gun at him, but simply held it flat, horizontally, in the palm of her right hand, as if she were making an offering of it to him.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m just allowing you to admire it. You see, it’s going to be the death of you. This very weapon will be the cause of your demise, Eldon, and I will have the pleasure of pushing the button, you might say. Tonino—and your good pal, Meyer—recognize that I have a certain penchant—and talent. You know that, right? Don’t answer, it was a rhetorical question.” She replaced the gun in her handbag. “Twenty million.”
“What?”
“That’s the figure that seems to be missing, Eldon. Twenty million dollars. That’s a lot of money, even for Tonino and Meyer.”
Eldon swallowed. “I swear, Malena, I don’t know anything about—”
“Shut up, Eldon. Nothing points to you. You’re right. If you’ve done anything with our money, you’ve covered your tracks well. We’re going to keep digging, though. Tonino has employed some excellent auditors. It might take a couple more months, maybe three, for them to get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, just keep up with your loan payments. But if there’s anything else on your conscience, you have a little more time to clear it. However, be aware that the consequences will come with no warning. It will happen when you least expect it. That’s all. Good night.” Then she turned and moved across the floor to the exit, her hips swaying.
Damn it to hell. Now it was imperative for Ultimate Pictures to churn out a couple of big hits as qui
ckly as possible. He couldn’t lose Blair Kendrick now. The entire studio, his career, and his life depended on personally earning twenty million dollars to replace what he had deftly and secretly lifted over time since 1939, when Ultimate Pictures was founded. He was a very wealthy man, but he didn’t have that kind of money to dole out in one lump sum. He had squandered so much of it—gambling, women, partying, cars, travel, rare coins …
He’d been a fool.
And the only man Hirsch would have thought he could trust—Buddy Franco—was assuredly reporting back to Vegas about everything the studio head did.
At least Franco would take care of the dirty work that needed to be done regarding Blair, and none of that could wait any longer.
24
KARISSA
The destination was a movie memorabilia shop on Hollywood Boulevard, located in the touristy area where the Walk of Fame adorned the sidewalk, the kitsch “museums” dotted the storefronts, and throngs of visitors amassed to take selfies with street actors dressed as Iron Man or Darth Vader or Wonder Woman.
Vivian’s Movie Store was one of many of its ilk. There, fans could buy film posters, glossy stills, celebrity autographs, toys, magazines, books, and other ephemera associated with Tinseltown. Karissa generally avoided these kinds of places, but she understood their value for tourists who wanted a tangible keepsake of the Hollywood dream.
She rode with Marcello in his sporty red Corvette and they parked at a meter. Being mid-day, the boulevard was crowded and lively. A motley crew of black teenage hip-hop dancers occupied an area of the sidewalk in front of an empty storefront next to the shop, music blasting at a high volume. A small crowd had gathered to watch.
Marcello approached the kid with the speaker hooked up to his phone, leaned in, and told him, “I’m digging the act and the music, man, but just some friendly advice … you might want to turn down the volume, or else the cops will come and make you leave.” The young man just glared at Marcello, who shrugged and went with Karissa into the shop.
The shop smelled musty, as if stuff had been stored there for decades. It was a small, one-room space that was jam-packed with material. If Karissa had wanted to browse, she wouldn’t have known where to start.
An obese woman who reeked of tobacco smoke sat in a chair behind a counter. She appeared to be in her late eighties, but Karissa figured she was younger than that. A lifetime of unhealthy food choices and smoking had taken a toll. If she was indeed the daughter of Buddy Franco, then she had to be around seventy.
“Hello,” Karissa said to her.
The woman narrowed her eyes at them. “Could you please tell those hoodlums outside to take their damned music somewhere else?”
Karissa and Marcello looked at each other and subtly gave each other the nod.
Marcello replied, “Ma’am, seems to me they’re just having fun, trying to make a buck. The music is loud, and I actually told them that before we came in.”
“Well, it’s driving me nuts. How can I help you?”
Karissa said, “Are you Vivian?”
“I am. Vivian’s Movie Store, that’s my name on the marquee. What are you looking for?”
“Was your father Buddy Franco?”
The woman frowned. “What is this?”
Marcello took over. “Ma’am, we’re film producers. We’re doing some research into the period when your father was an executive at Ultimate Pictures. You are Vivian Franco, aren’t you?”
“I was, before I got married to Pete Modesky. You’re making a movie about my father?”
“Well, not exactly,” Karissa said, “but he might play a part in the story we’re telling. I was wondering if we could ask you a few questions about him and his work at Ultimate Pictures.”
“You’re paying me?”
Again, the producers eyed each other. Karissa said, “Sure, we could pay you fifty dollars for a few minutes of your time.”
“No, I mean for the rights to use him in your movie. You’re going to pay me for that, right?”
Karissa answered, “We’re just doing research right now, Mrs. Modesky. We don’t even have a script yet.”
The music outside started up again. The woman looked away and cursed under her breath. Then she said, “All right. Fifty dollars.” She held out her hand. It was obvious that the movie memorabilia business wasn’t doing so well.
Karissa gave her money from the cash she’d withdrawn after depositing the check from the rare coin store. Once Modesky folded the bills and stuck them in a drawer, she asked, “So, what can I tell you?”
“How long did your father work for Ultimate Pictures?” Karissa pulled a small notebook and a pen out of her purse.
“He started there in 1942, I think. He was still married to his first wife then. My mother was his second wife, whom he married in 1944. I was born in ’45. Yeah, I’m old.”
“Did he have other children?”
“He had a son from the first marriage, Michael, but he died in an industrial accident when he was twenty-three. I was the only child from the second marriage.”
“May I ask what your mother’s name was?”
“Ruth Dayton.” She shook her head. “My mom eventually got a divorce and remarried after he flew the coop.”
Karissa made notes as they spoke. “So, he worked for Ultimate Pictures from 1942 up to … 1949?”
“Yeah, that’s when he left my mom and me. Just vanished without a word. Then he shows up dead in 1975. We didn’t think he was even alive before that.”
“We’re sorry about that. It’s a mystery, isn’t it?”
“Ain’t no mystery. He left us, hid for years, then gets himself popped by the mafia.”
Karissa nodded. “We’re aware of that story.”
“Story? It’s no ‘story.’ It’s fact. Some hit woman bitch walked into that diner and shot my father in cold blood.”
Karissa and Marcello shared a glance. “A woman shot him?”
“Yeah. Probably Malena Mengarelli.”
This was all new material for the producers. “Who?”
“You don’t know about Malena Mengarelli?”
“Afraid not,” Marcello said.
“She was a mobster moll in Las Vegas, but she was a goddamned killer. She’s the one who killed that studio boss in ’49, the same night my dad disappeared. Everything about my father’s death points to a mob execution. Witnesses in the diner said it was a middle-aged woman, and that had to be Malena. It was her M.O. to a tee. There was no trial ’cause they never caught her! She vanished, probably fled to Mexico or somewhere.”
“How old was he when that happened?” Karissa asked.
“Sixty-five.”
Karissa decided to go in a different direction. “Do you know very much about Blair Kendrick?”
“Not really. Who does? She was on the ‘scene’ for only three years. She was at the studio when what’s-his-name … Hirsch … was shot. The killers chased her out of the studio lot all the way up to Mulholland Drive, can you believe that? They got her there. But she was nuts, you know. My mother told me that Blair Kendrick had had an affair with a—with a colored man, and she got knocked up with his baby.”
Karissa’s jaw dropped. A baby? “How do you know that?”
Modesky laughed. “You didn’t know that? My father shared that bit of studio gossip with my mother. Yeah, that actress was having one of them interracial relationships in the 1940s! It was revolting! Only a crazy woman would do that.”
Marcello started to speak up, but Karissa jumped in ahead of him. “What happened to the baby? Do you know?”
“She got rid of it, or it died, or something. Not sure she even had it. She probably had an illegal abortion. It wasn’t legal back then.” The woman said this as if the act was the most disgusting thing she could imagine. “Besides, you couldn’t have a mixed-race baby in those days. Well, you could, but you’d get in trouble. Just wasn’t right. Still isn’t.”
On cue, the loud music outside cut off in
the middle of a number. The woman’s words were a sucker punch to Karissa’s stomach. “Excuse me?”
Vivian Modesky narrowed her eyes at her. “Oh, I’m sorry, I guess you’re one of those. Which one was black, your momma or your daddy?”
The nerve of this woman!
Karissa looked at her partner. “Come on, Marcello, let’s get out of here.”
“What, was it something I said?” the woman asked.
“Thank you for your time.”
They started to go out the door.
“You’re going to pay me to use my dad in the movie, aren’t you?”
They slammed the door behind them. A couple of beat policemen were talking to the teenagers, so they scooted past them and walked to the car. When the couple was inside the Corvette, Marcello said, “Well, I hope that was worth fifty bucks.”
“A sad, unhappy, miserable woman—that’s the vibe I got. Did she get that racist attitude from her father? Well, it was worth it to find out about Blair and Hank’s baby. Do you think it’s true?”
Marcello shrugged. “How should I know? That’s an interesting angle, though.”
She put a hand on Marcello’s arm as he started the car. “What if the studio made her have an abortion? They did that in those days, you know. Several famous stars were forced to have abortions. Or they got sent to draconian asylums for drug rehabilitation, or they were sent away—period—to get them out of the public eye. That’s what those studio fixers did; they took care of ‘problems’ like that.”
“Could be. And what about that hit woman? Malena Mengarelli?”
“The plot thickens!”
“Come on, let’s get out of here. I feel like I need to take a shower after talking to that lady.”
As Marcello drove away, Karissa reflected on the day’s events. Was the fifty dollars well spent?
There was a baby.
What had happened to him or her?
That evening, in the house on Harvard Boulevard, Karissa wandered through the upstairs rooms, looking at the various boxes of stored items that once belonged to Blair Kendrick. She was still flummoxed by the place—its untouched treasures, its strange history. She decided to try her landlord again.
Blues in the Dark Page 16
