XXVII
THE FILM FIRE
The bag lay open at my feet. The microscope and other paraphernaliabrought by Kennedy were untouched. Taking the film from Mackay andplacing the can in with the other things, Kennedy snapped the catch andturned to me as he straightened.
"I think our evidence is safest in plain sight, Walter. We'll carry itabout with us."
Lloyd Manton seemed to be a genuinely unhappy individual. After somemoments he excused himself, nervously anxious about the turn of affairsat the studio. Immediately I faced Kennedy and Mackay.
"Manton's the only one who knew just where we put the bag," I remarked."When he left us in the basement he had plenty of time to run up andsteal the towel and return."
"How about the itching salve?"
"In his hurry he might have left the towel in the paper, intending todestroy it later."
Kennedy frowned. "That's possible, Walter. I had not thought of that.Still"--he brightened--"I'm counting on human nature. I don't believeanyone guilty of the crime could have that towel in his possession,after the hints I have thrown out, without examining it so as to seewhat telltale mark or stain would be apt to betray his identity."
"You can see that Manton's the logical man?"
"It would be easy for anyone else to follow and observe us."
"Then--?"
"First of all we must keep an eye out for any person showing signs ofthe itching concoction. We must observe anyone with noticeably cleanhands. Principally, however, another thing worries me."
"What's that, Mr. Kennedy?" asked Mackay.
"Walter and I found a cigarette case belonging to Jack Gordon in thebasement; also a butt smoked three-quarters of the way down and leftdirectly in the negative room. The fire doors between the differentfilm vaults, which are arranged like the safety compartments in a ship,were all open. I want to know why Gordon was down there and--well, Iseem to sense something wrong."
"Good heavens! Craig," I interposed. "You don't attach any importanceto the fact that those doors were open!"
"Walter, in a case of real mystery the slightest derangement of mattersof ordinary routine is a cause for suspicion."
I had no answer, and as we re-entered the studio I devoted my attentionto the various people we had tabulated as possible suspects, noticingthat Kennedy and Mackay did likewise.
Jack Gordon was in the ballroom scene in make-up. Kauf still wasconcerned with technical details of the set and lighting, and, althoughthe cameras were set up, they were not in proper place, nor was eithercamera man in evidence. With Gordon was Enid. From a distance theyseemed to be engaged in an argument of real magnitude. There was nomistaking the dislike on the part of each for the other.
Marilyn was the most uneasy of all of the principals. She was pacing upand down, glancing about in frank distress of mind. I looked at herhands and saw that she had crushed a tube of grease paint in hernervousness. Not only her fingers were soiled, but there were streakson her arms where she had smeared herself unconsciously. As we watchedshe left the studio, hurrying out the door without a backward glance.Marilyn, at least, showed no indications of the salve, nor of painfullyrecent acquaintance with water.
Both Manton and Phelps were in evidence, decidedly so, I imagined,from, the viewpoint of poor Kauf. Manton, at the heels of his newdirector, was doing all he could to help. Phelps, following Mantonabout, seemed to be urging haste upon the promoter. The result was farfrom advantageous to picture making; it was concentrated distraction.
Millard was poring over the manuscript, perched upon a chair the wrongway so that its back would serve as a desk, engaged busily in makingchanges here and there in the pages with a pencil. Like any author, itwas never too late for minor improvements and suggestions. I don'tdoubt but that if Manton had permitted it, Millard would have beenquite apt to interrupt a scene in the taking in order to add somelittle touch occurring to him as his action sprang to life in theinterpretation of players and director. At any rate, his hands seemedmore clean than those of either Manton or Phelps, proving nothingbecause he was at a task not so apt to bring him into contact with dirt.
"Shirley is missing," observed the district attorney, in an undertone.
Kennedy faced me. "Give the bag to Mackay, Walter. While he keeps aneye on the people up here we'll pay a visit to Shirley's dressing room,and after that go down to the basement again. I can't account forit--intuition, perhaps--but I'm sure something's wrong."
The heavy man's dressing room, pointed out to us by some employeepassing through the hall, was empty. I led the way into Marilyn'squarters, but again no one was about. In each case Kennedy made a quickvisual search for the towel, without result. We did not dare linger andrun the risk of giving away our trick; then, too, Kennedy was nervouslyanxious to look through the basement once more.
"I don't understand your suspicion of the state of affairs in the filmvaults," I confessed.
"Why should Jack Gordon, the leading man, be down there?" he countered.
"That--that really is a cause for suspicion, isn't it."
"Now, Walter, think a bit!" We were crossing the yard, and so not aptto be overheard. "Granting that Gordon actually had been down there,why should the fact concern us? Manton explained that no negative orpositive can be given out except upon order. There is nothing downthere but film and so no other errand to bring the leading man to thevault except to get some scenes or pieces showing his own work, andthat isn't likely."
"Unless," I interrupted, "Gordon is the guilty man and wanted to getthe snake film before we did."
"How could that be? When we asked Manton about the Doctor Nagoyasubject we went right down with him and procured it. I doubt anyonecould have overheard us as we talked about it, in any case."
"Remember, Craig, we went to the locker first and it was some littletime before that fellow came out to unlock it and give us the key. Andwhen you questioned Manton we were passing right by all of them. Anyone could have heard the mention of the snake film."
Kennedy frowned. "I believe you're right, Walter. Or it is possiblethat the guilty person believed that the scenes taken out at Tarrytown,or those taken when Werner died, revealed something and so would haveto be stolen or destroyed, and that they were kept in the vault. It iseven possible"--a gleam came into Kennedy's eyes--"it is even possiblethat the mind smart enough to reason out the damaging nature of thechemical analyses I was making, and clever enough to utilize anexplosive bullet in an effort to destroy the fruits of my work, wouldalso have the foresight to anticipate me and to realize that I mightguess the existence of a film showing snakes and suggesting the use ofvenom."
"It's damning to Gordon, all right," I said.
"On the contrary, Walter." Kennedy lowered his voice as we entered thebuilding across the quadrangle and descended stairs leading directlyinto the basement. "We have mentioned over and over again thecleverness of our unknown criminal. That man, or woman, never woulddrop a cigarette case with his or her initials and leave without it,nor smoke a cigarette in a place he, or she, was not supposed to be."
"What then?"
"It's a plant; a deliberate plant to throw suspicion upon Gordon."
"Why upon Gordon?"
"I don't know that, unless because Gordon is supposed to have the bestpossible motive for killing Miss Lamar--his money troubles--and sobecomes the logical man to throw the guilt upon."
"As a matter of fact, Craig, why should the finding of that cigarettecase be a cause for suspicion at all? That's what I didn't understandbefore."
"Ordinarily it wouldn't be. But those open inner doors, the absence ofthe man in charge--isn't it possible that we interrupted an attempt notonly to search for the particular damaging pieces of film, but perhapsto destroy the whole? If some one acted between the time I askedManton about the snake film and the moment we arrived in the basementto get it, that some one had to move very fast."
"In which case it might have been Gordon, after all. The cigarette stubmay have been thrown in ligh
ted to start a fire. He may not have hadtime to pick up the case, not knowing just where he dropped it."
Kennedy shrugged his shoulders. "It all shows the futility of trying toarrive at a conclusion without definite facts. That is where science issuperior to deduction."
"It's all a maze to me just now," I agreed.
We made our way to the vaults in silence, and, to our surprise, foundthat they were closed and that even the boy was gone now. The cellar,as a whole, probably for the purpose of fire protection on a largerscale, was divided into sections corresponding to the units of thebuildings above, and this time I noticed that the door through which wehad arrived before was closed also. Had Manton taken fright in earnestat the possibility of fire, or had he given his employees a genuinescare?
We retraced our steps to the yard, and there the alert eye of Kennedydetected a slinking figure just as a man darted into the protection ofa doorway. It was Shirley. Had he been watching us? Was he connected insome way with the vague mystery Kennedy seemed to sense in connectionwith the basement and the film vaults?
Kennedy led the way to the entrance where Shirley had disappeared. Herethere was no sign of him; only steps leading up and down and the opendoor to a huge developing room. Returning to the yard, we caught agesture from the chauffeur of a car standing near by and recognizedMcGroarty, the driver who had found the ampulla a few days previously.
"Excuse me, Mr. Kennedy," he apologized, as we approached. "I shouldhave come to you instead of making you two walk over to me, but it'sless suspicious this way."
"What do you mean?"
"You recognize me, McGroarty, the chauffeur as found the little bottle?"
Kennedy nodded.
"Well, I says to myself I ought to tell you, but I don't like tobecause it might be nothing, you know!"
"It might prove very valuable, McGroarty." Kennedy wanted to encouragehim.
"Well, I've been sitting here for an hour, I guess. One of the otherdirectors is going out to-day and his people are late and so here I am.Well, I don't like the way the heavy man Mr. Werner had--"
"Shirley? Merle Shirley?" I spoke up.
"That's him! Well, he's been, hanging and snooping around that buildingover there, where you just saw him, for twenty minutes or more. I guesshe's gone in and out of that basement a dozen times. I says to myself,maybe he's up to something. You know how it is?"
Kennedy glanced at me significantly. Then he extended his hand to thechauffeur. "Again I thank you, McGroarty. As I said before, I won'tforget you."
"Now what?" I asked, as we drew away.
"Shirley's dressing room, and the studio floor and Mackay."
As we rather expected, the heavy man's quarters were deserted. Ithought that Kennedy would stop now to make a careful search, but heseemed anxious to compare notes with the district attorney.
"Nothing here," reported Mackay.
"Shirley?"
"Hasn't been a sign of him."
I looked about the moment we arrived under the big glass roof. "MarilynLoring?" I inquired.
"She's been missing, too!" All at once Mackay grinned broadly. "Youknow, either there's no efficiency in making moving pictures at all, orthese people have all gone more or less out of their heads as theresult of the two tragedies. Look!" He pointed. "When you left mePhelps and Manton were stepping on each other's toes, trying to helpthat new director and about half driving him crazy; and now Millardseems to have figured out some new way of handling the action and he'sover in the thick of it. It's worse than Bedlam, and better than aChaplin comedy."
I was compelled to smile, although I knew that this was not uncommon inpicture studios. Manton, Phelps, Millard, and Kauf were in the centerof the group, all talking at once. Clustered about I saw Enid andGordon, both camera men, and a miniature mob of extra people. But as Ilooked little Kauf seemed to come to the end of his patience. In aninstant or two he demonstrated real generalship. Shutting up Manton andthe banker and Millard with a grin, but with sharp words and a quickgesture which showed that he meant it, he called to the others gatheredabout, clearing the set of all but Enid and Gordon. He sent the cameramen to their places; then confronted Phelps and Manton and the scenariowriter once more. We could not hear his words, but could see that hewas asserting himself, was forcing a decision so that he could proceedwith his work.
This seemed uninteresting to me. I remembered my success in my visit toWerner's apartment, when I had essayed the role of detective.
"Listen, Kennedy!" I suggested. "Suppose I go out by myself and see ifI can locate Shirley or Marilyn. Everyone else is right here where youcan--"
At that instant a deafening explosion shook the studio and everybuilding about the quadrangle, the sound echoing and re-echoing withthe sharpness of a terrific thunderclap.
Mixed with the reverberations, which were intensified by the high archof the studio roof, were the screams of women and the frightened callsof men. Following immediately upon the first roar were the muffledsounds of additional explosions, persisting for a matter of ten tofifteen seconds.
With every detonation the floor beneath our feet trembled and rocked.Several flats of scenery stacked against a wall at our rear toppledforward and struck the floor with a resounding whack, not unlike somegigantic slap-stick. One entire side of the banquet set, luckilyunoccupied, fell inward and I caught the sound as the dainty goldchairs and fragile tables snapped and were crushed as so much kindlingwood.
Then--a fitting climax of destruction, withheld until thismoment--there followed the terrifying snap of steel from above. Anentire section of roof literally was popped from place, the result offalse stresses in the beams created by the explosion. Upon the heads ofthe unlucky group in the center of the ballroom set came a perfecthailstorm of broken and shattered bits of heavy ground glass.
For an instant, an exceedingly brief instant, there was the illusion ofsilence. The next moment the factory siren rose to a shrill shriek,with a full head of steam behind it--the fire call!
Kennedy dashed over to the scene where those beneath the shower ofglass lay, dazed and uncertain of the extent of their own injuries.
"Where are the first-aid kits?" he shouted. "Bring cotton and bandages,and--and telephone for a doctor, an ambulance!"
It seemed to me that Kennedy had never been so excited. Mackay and I,at his heels, and some of the others, unhurt, hurriedly helped thevarious victims to their feet.
Then we realized that by some miracle, some freak of fate, no one hadbeen hurt seriously. Already a property boy was at Kennedy's side witha huge box marked prominently with the red cross. Inside was everythingnecessary and Kennedy started to bind up the wounds with all the skillof a professional physician.
"Mackay," he whispered, "hurry and get me some envelopes, or somesheets of paper, anything--quick!" And to me, before I could grasp thereason for that puzzling request: "Don't let anyone slip away, Walter.No matter what happens, I must bind up these wounds myself."
A few moments later I understood what Kennedy was up to. As he finishedwith each victim he took some bit of cotton or gauze with which he hadwiped their cuts, enough blood to serve him in chemical analysis, andhanded it to Mackay. The district attorney, very unobtrusively, slippedeach sample into a separate envelope, sealing it, and marking it with ahieroglyph which he would be able to identify later. In this fashionKennedy secured blood smears of Manton and Phelps, Millard and Kauf andEnid, Gordon, the two camera men, and a scene shifter. I smiled tomyself.
Meanwhile a bitter, acrid odor penetrated through the windows and toevery part of the structure, the odor of burning film, an odor onenever forgets to fear. All those uninjured in the explosions had rushedout to see the fire, or else to escape from any further danger, themoment they recovered their wits. Manton, only cut at the wrist, andimpatient as Kennedy cleaned, dusted, and bound the wound, was thefirst to receive attention.
"The vaults!" he called, to the men who seemed disposed to lingerabout. "For God's sake get busy!" The next instant
he was gone himself.
Enid was cut on the head. Tears streamed from her eyes as she clung toKennedy's coat, trembling. "Will it make a scar?" she sobbed. "Will Ibe unable to act before the camera any more?"
He reassured her. In the case of Millard, who had several bad scalpwounds, he advised a trip to a doctor, but the scenario writer laughed.Phelps was yellow. It seemed to me that he whimpered a bit. Gordon wasdisposed to swear cheerfully, although a point of glass had penetrateddeep in his shoulder and another piece had gashed him across theforehead.
Finally Kennedy was through. He packed the little envelopes in the bag,still in the possession of Mackay, and added the two rolls of film fromhis pocket. Then, for the first time, he locked it.
As he straightened, his eyes narrowed.
"Now for Shirley," he muttered.
"And Marilyn," I added.