The Film Mystery Page 6

  VI

  THE FIRST CLUE

  Manton's car was a high-powered, expensive limousine, fitted insidewith every luxury of which the mind of even a prima donna couldconceive, painted a vivid yellow that must have made it an object ofattention even on its familiar routes. It was quite characteristic ofits owner, for Manton, as we learned, missed no chance to advertisehimself.

  In the back with us was Werner, while the rest of the company were leftto return to the city in the two studio cars which had brought them outin the morning. The director, however, seemed buried with hisreflections. He took no part in the conversation; paid no attention tous upon the entire trip.

  Manton's mind seemed to dwell rather upon the problems brought up bythe death of Stella than upon the tragedy itself. The Star's photoplayeditor once had remarked to me that the promoter was 90 per cent"bull," and 10 per cent efficiency. I found that it was an unfairestimation. With all his self-advertisement and almost obnoxiouspersonality, Manton was a more than capable executive in a businesswhere efficiency and method are rare.

  "This has been a hoodoo picture from the start," he exclaimed,suddenly. "We have been jinxed with a vengeance. Some one has held theIndian sign on us for sure."

  Kennedy, I noticed, listened, studying the man cautiously from thecorners of his eyes, but making no effort to draw him out.

  "First there were changes to be made in the script, and for thoseMillard took his own sweet time. Then we were handed a lot of negativewhich had been fogged in the perforator, a thing that doesn't happenonce in a thousand years. But it caught us just as we sent the companydown to Delaware Water Gap. A whole ten days' work went into thedeveloper at once. Neither of the camera men caught the fog in theirtests because it came in the middle of the rolls. Everything had to bedone over again.

  "And accidents! We carefully registered the principal accomplice of the'Black Terror,' a little hunchback with a face to send chills down yourback. After we had him in about half the scenes of a sequence of actionhe was taken sick and died of influenza. First we waited a few days;then we had to take all that stuff over again.

  "Our payroll on this picture is staggering. Stella's three thousand aweek is cheap for her, the old contract, but it's a lot of money tothrow away. Two weeks when she was under the weather cost us sixthousand dollars salary and there was half a week we couldn't do anywork without her. Gordon and Shirley and Marilyn Loring draw downseventeen hundred a week between them. The director's salary is onlytwo hundred short of that. All told 'The Black Terror' is costing us ahundred thousand dollars over our original estimate.

  "And now"--it seemed to me that Manton literally groaned--"with StellaLamar dead--excuse me looking at it this way, but, after all, it isbusiness and I'm the executive at the head of the company--now we mustfind a new star, Lord knows where, and we must retake every scene inwhich Stella appeared. It--it's enough to bankrupt Manton Pictures foronce and all."

  "Can't you change the story about some way, so you won't lose the valueof her work?" asked Kennedy.

  "Impossible! We've announced the release and we've got to go ahead.Fortunately, some of the biggest sets are not taken yet."

  The car pulled up with a flourish before the Manton studio, which wasan immense affair of reinforced concrete in the upper Bronx. Then, inresponse to our horn, a great wide double door swung open admitting usthrough the building to a large courtyard around which the variousdepartments were built.

  Here, there was little indication that the principal star of thecompany had just met her death under mysterious and suspiciouscircumstances. Perhaps, had I been familiar with the ordinary bustle ofthe establishment, I might have detected a difference. Indeed, it didstrike me that there were little knots of people here and therediscussing the tragedy, but everything was overshadowed by the aquaticscene being filmed in the courtyard for some other Manton picture. Thecramped space about the concrete tank was alive with people, a mob ofextras and stage hands and various employees, a sight which heldKennedy and me for some little time. I was glad when Manton led the waythrough a long hall to the comparative quiet of the office building. Inthe reception room there was a decided hush.

  "Is Millard here?" he asked of the boy seated at the information desk.

  "No, sir," was the respectful reply. "He was here this morning and fora while yesterday."

  "You see!" Manton confronted Kennedy grimly. "This is only one of thethings with which we have to contend in this business. I give Millardan office but he's a law unto himself. It's the artistic temperament.If I interfere, then he says he cannot write and he doesn't produce anymanuscript. Ordinarily he cannot be bothered to work at the studio.But"--philosophically--"I know where to get him as a general thing. Hedoes most of his writing in his rooms downtown; says there's moreinspiration in the confusion of Broadway than in the wilds of theBronx. I'll phone him."

  We followed the promoter up the stairs to the second and top floor.Here a corridor gave access to the various executive offices. Itswindows at frequent intervals looked down upon the courtyard and thepresent confusion.

  Werner, who had preceded us into the building, now came up. As Mantonbustled into his own office to use the telephone the director turned toKennedy, indicating the next doorway.

  "This is my place," he explained. "It connects with Manton, on oneside, through his reception room. You see, in addition to directingStella Lamar I have been in general charge of production and most ofthe casting is up to me."

  Kennedy entered after Werner, interested, and I followed. The doorthrough to the reception room stood open and beyond was the one toManton's quarters. I could see the promoter at his desk, receiver athis ear, an impatient expression upon his face. In the reception room arather pretty girl, young and of a shallow-pated type I thought, wasbusy at a clattering typewriter. She rose and closed the door uponManton, so as not to disturb him.

  "The next office on this side is Millard's," volunteered Werner. "He'sthe only scenario writer dignified with quarters in this building."

  "Manton has other writers, hasn't he?" Kennedy asked.

  "Yes, the scenario department is on the third floor across the court,above the laboratory and cutting rooms."

  "Who else is in the building here?"

  "There are six rooms on this floor," Werner replied. "Manton, thewaiting room, myself, Millard, and the two other directors. Below isthe general reception room, the cashier, the bookkeepers andstenographers."

  As Manton probably was having trouble obtaining his connection, and asKennedy continued to question Werner concerning the general arrangementof the different floors in the different buildings about thequadrangle, all uninteresting to me, I determined to look about a biton my own hook. I was still anxious to be of genuine assistance toKennedy, for once, through my greater knowledge of the film world.

  Strolling out into the corridor, I went to the door of Millard's room.To my disappointment, it was locked. Continuing down the hall, I stolea glance into each of the two directors' quarters but saw nothing toawaken my suspicion or justify my intrusion. Beyond, I discovered awashroom, and, aware suddenly of the immense amount of dust I hadacquired in the ride in from Tarrytown, I entered to freshen my handsand face at the least. It was a stroke of luck, a fortunate impulse.

  The amount of money to be made in the movies had resulted, in the caseof Manton, in luxurious equipment for all the various departments ofhis establishment. I had noticed the offices, furnished with a richnessworthy of a bank or some great downtown institution. Now, in thelavatory, immaculate with its white tile and modern appointments, I sawa shelf literally stacked, in this day of paper, with linen towels ofthe finest quality.

  As I drew the water, hot instantly, my eye caught, half in and half outof the wire basket beneath the stand, one of the towels covered withpeculiar yellow spots. Immediately my suspicions were awakened. Ipicked it up gingerly. At close range I saw that the spots were onlychrome yellow make-up, but there were also spots of a different nature.I did not stop t
o think of the unlikeliness of the discovery of a realclue under these circumstances, analyzed afterward by Kennedy. I foldedthe towel hastily and hurried to rejoin him, to show it to him.

  I found him with Werner, waiting for the results of Manton's efforts tolocate Millard. Almost at the moment I rejoined the two a boy came tosummon Werner to one of the sets out on the stage itself. Kennedy and Iwere alone. I showed him the towel.

  At first he laughed, "You'll never make a detective, Walter," heremarked. "This is only simple coloring matter-Chinese yellow, to beexact. And will you tell me, too"--he became ironical--"how do youexpect to find clues of this sort here for a murder committed inTarrytown when all the people present were held out there and examined,when we are the first to arrive back here?

  "Yellow, you know, photographs white. Chinese yellow is used largely instudios in place of white in make-up because it does not causehalation, which, to the picture people, is the bane of their existence.White is too glaring, reflects rays that blur the photography sometimes.

  "If you will notice, the next time you see them shooting a scene, youwill find the actors' faces tinged with yellow. Even tablecloths andnapkins and 'white' dresses are frequently colored a pale yellow,although pale blue has the actinic qualities of white for this purpose,and is now perhaps more frequently used than yellow."

  I was properly chastened. In fact, though I did not say much, I almostdetermined to let him conduct his case himself.

  Kennedy saw my crestfallen expression and understood. He was about tosay something encouraging, as he handed back the towel, when his eyefell on the other end of it, which, indeed, I myself had noticed.

  He sobered instantly and studied the other spots. Indeed, I had notexamined them closely myself. They were the very faint stains of someother yellow substance, a liquid which had dried and did not rub off asthe make-up, and there were also some small round drops of dark red,almost hidden in the fancy red scrollwork of the lettering on thetowel, "Manton Pictures, Inc." The latter had escaped me altogether.

  "Blood!" Kennedy exclaimed. Then, "Look here!" The marks of the paleyellow liquid trailed into a slender trace of blood. "It looks as ifsome one had cleaned a needle on it," he muttered, "and in a hurry."

  I remembered his previous remark. The murder had been in Tarrytown. Wehad just arrived here.

  "Would anyone have time to do it?" I asked.

  "Whoever used the towel did so in a hurry," he reiterated, seriously."It may have been some one afraid to leave any sort of clue out thereat Phelps's house. There were too many watchers about. It might haveseemed better to have run the risk of a search. With no sign of a woundon Miss Lamar's person, it was pretty certain that neither Mackay nor Iwould attempt to frisk everyone. It was not as though we were lookingfor a revolver, if she were shot, or a knife, if she had been stabbed.And"--he could not resist another dig at me--"and that we should lookin a washroom here for a towel was, well, an idea that wouldn't occurto anyone but the most amateur and blundering sort of sleuth. It'sbeginner's luck, Walter, beginner's luck."

  I ignored the uncomplimentary part of his remarks. "Who could have beenin the washroom just before me?" I asked.

  Suddenly he hurried through the waiting room to the door to Manton'soffice, opening it without ceremony. Manton was gone. We exchangedglances. I remembered that Werner had preceded us upstairs. "It meansWerner or Manton himself," I whispered, so the girl just behind uswould not hear.

  Kennedy strode out to the hall, and to a window overlooking the court.After a moment he pointed. I recognized both the cars used to transportthe company to the home of Emery Phelps. There was no sign that eitherhad just arrived, for even the chauffeurs were out of sight, perhapsmelted into the crowd about the tank in the corner.

  "They must have arrived immediately behind us," Kennedy remarked. "Wewasted several valuable minutes looking at that water stuff ourselves."

  At that moment Werner's voice rose from the reception room below. Itwas probable that he would be up to rejoin us again. I remembered thathe had not been at all at ease while Kennedy questioned him inTarrytown; that here at the studio he had been palpably anxious toremain close at our heels. I felt a surge of suspicion within me.

  "Listen, Craig," I muttered, in low tones. "Manton had no opportunityto steal down the hall after the girl closed the door, and--"

  "Why not!" he interrupted, contradicting me. "We had our backs to thedoor while we were talking with Werner."

  "Well, anyhow, it narrows down to Manton and Werner because that is thewashroom for these offices--"

  "'Sh!" Kennedy stopped me as Werner mounted the stairs. He turned tothe director with assumed nonchalance. "How long have the other carsbeen here?" he asked. "I thought we came pretty fast."

  Werner smiled. "I guess those boys had enough of Tarrytown. They rolledinto the yard, both of them, while you and Mr. Jameson and Manton werestopping to watch the people in the water."

  "I see!" Kennedy gave me a side glance. "Where are the dressing rooms?"he inquired. It was a random shot.

  Werner pointed to the end of the hall, toward the washroom. "In thenext building, on this floor--that is, the principals'. It's a rottenarrangement," he added. "They come through sometimes and use ourlavatory, because it's a little more fancy and because it saves a tripdown a flight of stairs. Believe me, it gets old Manton on his ear."