The Film Mystery Page 5

  V

  AN EMOTIONAL MAZE

  Bernie proved to be as stupid a youth as any I had ever seen. Hepossessed frightened semi-liquid eyes and overshot ears and hair whichmight have been red beneath its accumulation of dust. Without doubt theboy had been coached by the electrician, because he began to affirm hisinnocence in similar fashion the moment he entered the door.

  "I don't know nothin', honest I don't," he pleaded. "I was out in thehall, I was, and I didn't come in at all until the doc. came."

  "I suppose you were anxious to see if the cable was becoming hot,"Kennedy suggested, gravely.

  "That's it, sir! We was lookin' at it because it was on the varnish andthe butler he says--"

  "Where's the locket?" interrupted Kennedy. "The one Miss Lamar wore inthe scenes."

  "Oh!" in disdain, "that thing!" With some effort Bernie fished it fromthe capacious depths of a pocket, disentangling the sharp corners fromthe torn and ragged lining of his coat.

  I glanced at it as Kennedy turned it over and over in his hands, andsaw that it was a palpable stage prop, with glass jewels of thecheapest sort. Concealing his disappointment, Kennedy dropped it intohis own pocket, confronting the frightened Bernie once more.

  "Do you know anything about Miss Lamar's death?"

  "No! I don't know nothing, honest!"

  "All right!" Kennedy turned to Mackay. "Werner, the director."

  Of Stanley Werner I had heard a great deal, through interviews,character studies, and other press stuff in the photoplay journals andthe Sunday newspaper film sections. Now I found him to be a high-strungindividual, so extremely nervous that it seemed impossible for him toremain in one position in his chair or for him to keep his handsmotionless for a single instant. Although he was of moderate build,with a fair suggestion of flesh, there were yet the marks of the artistand of the creative temperament in the fine sloping contours of hishead and in his remarkably long fingers, which tapered to nailsmanicured immaculately. Kennedy seemed to pay particular attention tohis eyes, which were dark, soft, and amazingly restless.

  "Who was in the cast, Mr. Werner? What were they playing and justexactly what was each doing at the time of Miss Lamar's collapse?"

  "Well"--Werner's eyes shifted to mine, then to Mackay's, and there wasa subtle lack of ease in his manner which I was hardly prepared toclassify as yet--"Stella Lamar was playing the part of Stella Remsen,the heroine, and--uh, I see your associate has the script--"

  He paused, glancing at me again. When Kennedy said nothing, Werner wenton, growing more and more nervous. "Jack Gordon plays Jack Daring, thehero--the handsome young chap who runs down the steps and encountersthe butler and the maid in the hall just outside the library--"

  "Wasn't it his face in the French windows of the library at the sametime?" Kennedy asked. "Wasn't he the murderer of the father, also?"

  "No!" Werner smiled slightly, and there was an instant's flash of theman's personality, winning and, it seemed to me, calculated to inspireconfidence. "That is the mystery; it is a mystery plot. While the partsare played by Jack in both cases now, we explain in a subtitle a littlelater that the criminal himself, the 'Black Terror,' is a master ofscientific impersonation, and that he changes the faces of hisemissaries by means of plastic surgery and such scientific things, sothat they look like the characters against whom he wishes to throwsuspicion. So while Jack plays the part it is really an accomplice ofthe 'Black Terror' who kills old Remsen."

  Kennedy turned to me. "A new idea in the application of science tocrime!" he remarked, dryly. "Just suppose it were practicable!"

  "The 'Black Terror'" Werner continued, "is played by Merle Shirley.You've heard of him, the greatest villain ever known to the films? Thenthere's Marilyn Loring, the vampire, another good trouper, too. Sheplays Zelda, old Remsen's ward, and it's a question whether Zelda orStella will be the Remsen heir. Marilyn herself is an awfully nicegirl, but, oh, how the fans hate her!" The director chuckled. "NoMillard story is ever complete without a vamp and Marilyn's been eatingthem up. She's been with Manton Pictures for nearly a year."

  "You played the millionaire yourself?"

  "Yes, I did old Remsen."

  I realized suddenly, for the first time, that Werner was still in theevening clothes he had donned for the part. On his face were streaks inthe little make-up that remained after his frequent mopping of hisfeatures with his handkerchief. Too, his collar was melted. I couldimagine his discomfort.

  "Did you have any business with Stella?" Kennedy asked, using the stageterm for the minor bits of action in the playing of a scene. "Did youmove at all while she was going through her part?"

  "No, Mr. Kennedy, I was 'dead man' in all the scenes."

  "Show me how you lay, if you will."

  Obligingly, Werner stretched out on the carpet, duplicating hispositions even to the exact manner in which he had placed his hands andarms. Rather to my own distaste, Kennedy impressed me to represent, Iam sure in clumsy fashion, the various positions of Stella Lamar. Mostpainstakingly Kennedy worked back from the thirteenth scene to thefirst, referring to the script and coaxing details of memory from themind of Werner.

  I grasped Kennedy's purpose almost at once. He was endeavoring toreproduce the action which had been photographed, so as to determinejust how the poison had been administered. Of course he made noreference to the tiny scratch and Mackay and I were careful to give nohint of it to Werner. The director, however, seemed most willing toassist us. I certainly felt no suspicion of him now. As for Kennedy,his face was unrevealing.

  "When the film in the camera is developed--" I suggested to Kennedy,suddenly.

  He silenced me with a gesture. "I haven't overlooked that, but thescenes will be from one angle only and in a darkened set. I candetermine more this way."

  Somewhat crestfallen, I continued my impersonation of the slain starnot altogether willingly. Soon Kennedy had completed his reconstructionof the action.

  "Who else entered the scene besides Gordon?" he asked.

  "The butler and the maid, after the lights were flashed on."

  "I'll question the camera men," he announced. "Who are they?"

  "Harry Watkins is the head photographer," Werner explained. "He's acrackerjack, too! One of the best lighting experts in the country. AlPenny's grinding the other box."

  "Let's have Watkins first." Kennedy nodded to Mackay to escort thedirector from the room.

  Neither Watkins nor Penny were able to add anything to the facts whichKennedy had gleaned from Manton and Werner. When he had finished hispatient examination of the junior camera man he recalled Watkins andhad both, under his eyes, close and seal the film cartridges whichcontained the photographic record of the thirteen scenes. Dismissingthe men, he handed the two black boxes to Mackay.

  "Can you arrange to have these developed and printed, quickly, but insome way so neither negative nor positive will be out of your sight atany time?"

  Mackay nodded. "I know the owner of a laboratory in Yonkers."

  "Good! Now let's have the leading man."

  Jack Gordon immediately impressed me very unfavorably. There wassomething about him for which I could find no word but "sleek."Learning much from my long association with Kennedy I observed at oncethat he had removed the make-up from his face and that he had on aclean white collar. Since the linen worn before the camera is dyed afaint tint to prevent the halation caused by pure white, it was a suresign to me that he had spruced up a bit. I knew that he was engaged toStella. Here in this room she lay dead, under the most mysteriouscircumstances. There was little question, in fact, that she had beenmurdered. How could he, really loving her, think of such things as themake-up left on his face, or his clothes?

  I had to admit that he was a handsome individual. Perhaps slightly lessthan average in height, and very slender, he had the close-knit buildof an athlete. The contour of his head and the perfect regularity ofrather large features made him an ideal type for the screen at anyangle; in close-ups and foregrounds as well
as full shots. In actuallife there were little things covered by make-up in his work, such asthe cold gray tint of his eyes and the lines of dissipation about hismouth.

  Kennedy questioned him first about his movements in the differentscenes, then asked him if he had seen or noticed anything suspiciousduring the taking of any of them or in the intervals between.

  "I had several changes, Mr. Kennedy," he replied. "Part of the time Iwas Jack Daring, my regular role, but I was also the emissary wholooked like Daring. I went out each time because I make up the emissaryto look hard. Werner wanted to fool the people a little bit, but hedidn't want them to be positive the emissary was Daring, as wouldhappen if both make-ups were the same."

  "Did you have any opportunity to talk to Miss Lamar?"

  "None at all. Werner was pushing us to the limit."

  "Did she seem her usual self at the start of the scene?"

  "No, she seemed a little out of sorts. But"--Gordonhesitated--"something had been troubling her all day. She hardly wouldtalk to me in the car on the way out at all. It didn't strike me thatshe acted any different when she went in to take the scene."

  "You were engaged to her?"

  "Yes." Gordon's eyes caught the body on the davenport before him. Heglanced away hastily, taking his lower lip between his teeth.

  "Had you been having any trouble?"

  "No--that is, nothing to amount to anything."

  "But you had a quarrel or a misunderstanding."

  His face flushed slowly. "She was to obtain her final decree early nextweek. I wanted her to marry me then at once. She refused. When Ireproached her for not considering my wishes she pretended to be cooland began an elaborate flirtation with Merle Shirley."

  "You say she only pretended to be cool?"

  For a few moments Gordon hesitated. Then apparently his vanity loosenedhis tongue. He wished it to be understood that he had held the love ofStella to the last.

  "Last night," he volunteered, "we made everything up and she was asaffectionate as she ever had been. This morning she was cool, but Icould tell it was pretense and so I let her alone."

  "There has been no real trouble between you?"

  The leading man met Kennedy's gaze squarely. "Not a bit!"

  Kennedy turned to Mackay. "Mr. Shirley," he ordered.

  By a miscalculation on the part of the little district attorney theheavy man entered the room a moment before Gordon left. They came faceto face just within the portieres. There was no mistaking thehostility, the open hate, between the two men. Both Kennedy and Icaught the glances.

  Then Merle Shirley approached the fireplace, taking the chair indicatedby Kennedy.

  "I wasn't in any of the opening scenes," he explained. "I remained outin the car until I got wind of the excitement. By that time Stella wasdead."

  "Do you know anything of a quarrel between Miss Lamar and Gordon?"

  Shirley rose, clenching his fists. For several moments he stood gazingdown at the star with an expression on his face which I could notanalyze. The pause gave me an opportunity to study him, however, and Inoticed that while he had heavier features than Gordon, and was alarger man in every way, ideally endowed for heavy parts, there was yeta certain boyish freshness clinging to him in subtle fashion. He worehis clothes in a loose sort of way which suggested the West and theopen, in contrast to Gordon's metropolitan sophistication andimmaculate tailoring. He was every inch the man, and a splendidactor--I knew. Yet there was the touch of youth about him. He seemedincapable of a crime such as this, unless it was in anger, or as theresult of some deep-running hidden passion.

  Now, whether he was angry or in the clutch of a broad disgust, I couldnot tell. Perhaps it was both. Very suddenly he wheeled upon Kennedy.His voice became low and vibrant with feeling. Here was none of thesteeled self-control of Manton, the deceptive outer mask which Wernerused to cover his thoughts, the nonchalant, cold frankness of Gordon.

  "Mr. Kennedy," the actor exclaimed, "I've been a fool, a fool!"

  "How do you mean?"

  "I mean that I allowed Stella to flatter my vanity and lead me into aflirtation which meant nothing at all to her. God!"

  "You are responsible for the trouble between Miss Lamar and Gordon,then?"

  "Never!" Shirley indicated the body of the star with a quick,passionate sweep of his hand. Now I could not tell whether he wasacting or in earnest. "She's responsible!" he exclaimed. "She'sresponsible for everything!"

  "Her death--"

  "No!" Shirley sobered suddenly, as if he had forgotten the mysteryaltogether. "I don't know anything at all about that, nor have I anyidea unless--" But he checked himself rather than voice an emptysuspicion.

  "Just what do you mean, then?" Kennedy was sharp, impatient.

  "She made a fool of me, and--and I was engaged to Marilyn Loring--"

  "Were engaged? The engagement--"

  "Marilyn broke it off last night and wouldn't listen to me, even thoughI came to my senses and saw what a fool I had been."

  "Was"--Kennedy framed his question carefully--"was your infatuation forMiss Lamar of long duration?"

  "Just a few weeks. I--I took her out to dinner and to the theaterand--and that was all."

  "I see!" Kennedy walked away, nodding to Mackay.

  "Will you have Miss Loring next?" asked the district attorney.

  Kennedy nodded.

  Marilyn Loring was a surprise to me. Stella Lamar both on the screenand in real life was a beauty. In the films Marilyn was a beauty also,apparently of a cold, unfeeling type, but in the flesh she wasdisclosed as a person utterly different from all my preconceivednotions. In the first place, she was not particularly attractive exceptwhen she smiled. Her coloring, hair frankly and naturally red, skinslightly mottled and pale, produced in photography the black hair andmarble, white skin which distinguished her. But as I studied her, asshe was now, before she had put on any make-up and while she was stilldressed in a simple summer gown of organdie, she looked as though shemight have stepped into the room from the main street of somemid-Western town. In repose she was shy, diffident in appearance. Whenshe smiled, naturally, without holding the hard lines of her vampireroles, there was the slight suggestion of a dimple, and she wasessentially girlish. When a trace of emotion or feeling came into herface the woman was evident. She might have been seventeen orthirty-seven.

  To my surprise, Kennedy made no effort to elicit further informationconcerning the personal animosities of these people. Perhaps he felt ittoo much of an emotional maze to be straightened out in thispreliminary investigation. When he found Marilyn had watched the takingof the scenes he compared her account with those which he had alreadyobtained. Then he dismissed her.

  In rapid succession, for he was impatient now to follow up othermethods of investigation, he called in and examined the remainingpossible witnesses of the tragedy. These were the two extraplayers--the butler and the maid, the assistant director, Phelps'shouse servants, and Emery Phelps himself. For some unknown reason heleft the owner of the house to the very last.

  "Why did you wish these scenes photographed out here?" he asked.

  "Because I wanted to see my library in pictures."

  "Were you watching the taking of the scenes?"

  "Yes!"

  "Will you describe just what happened?"

  Phelps flushed. He was irritated and in no mood to humor us any morethan necessary. A man of perhaps forty, with the portly flabbinesswhich often accompanies success in the financial markets, he wasaccustomed to obtaining rather than yielding obedience. A bachelor, hehad built this house as a show place merely, according to the gossipamong newspaper men, seldom living in it.

  "Haven't about a dozen people described it for you already?" he asked,distinctly petulant.

  Kennedy smiled. "Did you notice anything particularly out of the way,anything which might be a clue to the manner in which Miss Lamar mether death?"

  Phelps's attitude became frankly malicious. "If I had, or if any of ushad, we wouldn't hav
e found it necessary to send for Prof. CraigKennedy, or"--turning to me--"the representative of the New York Star."

  Kennedy, undisturbed, walked to the side of Mackay. "I'll leave Mr.Phelps and his house in your care," he remarked, in a low voice.

  Mackay grinned. I saw that the district attorney had little love forthe owner of this particular estate in Tarrytown.

  Kennedy led the way into the living room. Immediately the variouspeople he had questioned clustered up with varying degrees of anxiety.Had the mystery been solved?

  He gave them no satisfaction, but singled out Manton, who seemed eagerto get away.

  "Where is Millard? I would like to talk to him."

  "I'll try to get him for you. Suppose--" Manton looked at his watch. "Ishould be in at the studio," he explained. "Everything is at astandstill, probably, and--and so, suppose you and Mr. Jameson ride inwith me in my car. Millard might be there."

  Kennedy brightened. "Good!" Then he looked back to catch the eye ofMackay. "Let everyone go now," he directed. "Don't forget to send methe samples of the body fluids and"--as an afterthought--"you'd betterkeep a watch on the house."