Read The Film Mystery Page 3


  III

  TANGLED MOTIVES

  "Do you wish to examine the people now?" Mackay asked.

  Kennedy hesitated. "First I want to make sure of the evidenceconcerning her actual death. Can you arrange to have the clothes shehas on, and those she brought with her, all of them bundled up and sentin to my laboratory, together with samples of her body fluids as soonas the coroner can supply you?"

  Mackay nodded. This pleased him. This seemed to be tangible action,promising tangible results.

  Again Kennedy glanced about in thought. I knew that the scratch wasworrying him. "Did she change her clothes out here?" he inquired.

  The district attorney brightened. "She dressed in a small den just offthe living room. I have a man posted and the door closed. Nothing hasbeen disturbed."

  He started to lead the way without further word from Kennedy, proud tohave been able once more to demonstrate his foresight.

  As we left the library, entering the living room, there was anappreciable hush. Here were grouped the others of the party brought outby the picture company, a constrained gathering of folk who had littlein common beyond the highly specialized needs of the new art of thescreen, an assembly of souls who had been forced to wait during all thetime required for the trip of Kennedy and myself out from New York, whowere compelled to wait now until he should be ready to examine them.

  I picked out the electrician in the semi-gloom and with him his fellowmembers of the technical staff needed in the taking of the scenes inthe library. The camera men I guessed, and a property boy, and anassistant director. The last, at any event, of all those in the hugeroom, had summoned up sufficient nonchalance to bend his mind todetails of his work. I saw that he was thumbing a copy of the scenario,or detailed working manuscript of the story, making notations in somekind of little book, and it was that which enabled me to establish hisidentity at a glance.

  In a different corner were the principals, two men and a girl still inmake-up, and with them the director, and Manton and Phelps. Apart fromeveryone else, in a sort of social ostracism common to the studios, thetwo five-dollar-a-day extras waited, a butler and a maid, also inmake-up. Oddly enough the total number of these material witnesses tothe tragedy was just thirteen, and I wondered if they had noticed thefact.

  Doctor Blake turned to Kennedy the moment we left the library.

  "Do you feel it is necessary for me to remain any longer?" he asked. Hewas apologetic, yet distinctly impatient. "I have neglected severalvery important calls as it is."

  Kennedy and Mackay both hastened to assure the physician that theyappreciated his co-operation and that they would spare him as muchnotoriety and inconvenience as possible. Then the three of us hurriedacross and to the little den which had been converted into a dressingroom for Stella's use.

  Here were all the evidences of femininity, the little touches which awoman can impart to the smallest corner in a few brief moments ofoccupancy. It was a tiny alcove shut off from the rest of the livingroom by heavy silk hangings, drawn now and pinned together so as toassure her the privacy she wished. The one window was high and fittedwith leaded glass, but it was raised and afforded the maximum of light.Stella's traveling bag sprawled wide open, with many of her effectsstrewn about in attractive disarray. Her suit, in which she had madethe trip to Tarrytown, was thrown carelessly over the back of a chair.Her mirror was fastened up ruthlessly, upon a handsome woven Orientalhanging, with a long hatpin. Powder was spilled upon the couch cover,another Oriental fabric, and her little box of rouge lay face downwardon the floor.

  As we pulled the curtains aside I caught the perfume which still clungto her clothes in the library beyond. As Mackay sniffed also, Kennedysmiled.

  "Coty's Jacqueminot rose," he remarked.

  With his usual swift and practiced certainty Kennedy then inspected theextemporized dressing room. He seemed to satisfy himself that no subtleattack had been made upon the girl here, although I doubt that he hadheld any such supposition seriously in the first place. In myassociation of several years with Kennedy, following our first intimacyof college days, I had learned that his success as a scientificdetective was the result wholly of his thoroughness of method. To watchhim had become a never-ending delight, even in the dull preliminarywork of a case as baffling as this one. Mackay also seemed content justto enact the role of spectator.

  Kennedy thumbed through the delicate intimacies of her traveling bagwith the keen, impersonal manner which always distinguished him; thenhe found her beaded handbag and proceeded to rummage through that.Suddenly he paused as he unfolded a piece of note paper, and wegathered around to read:

  MY DEAR STELLA: Have something very important to tell you. Will youlunch Tuesday at the P. G. tearoom? LARRY.

  "Tuesday--" murmured Kennedy. "And this is Monday. Who--who is Larry, Iwonder?"

  I hastened to answer the question for him. It was my first opportunityto display my knowledge of the picture players. "Larry--that'sLawrence, Lawrence Millard!" I exclaimed. Then I went on to tell him ofthe divorce and the circumstances surrounding Stella's life as I knewit. "It--it looks," I concluded, "as if they might have been on thepoint of composing their differences, after all."

  Kennedy nodded. I could see, however, that he made a mental note of hisintention to question the girl's former husband.

  All at once another thought struck me and I became eager. It was apossible explanation of the mystery.

  "Listen, Craig," I began. "Suppose Millard wanted to make up and shedidn't. Suppose that she refused to see him or to meet him. Supposethat in a jealous fit he--"

  "No, Walter!" Kennedy headed me off with a smile. "This wasn't anordinary murder of passion. This was well thought out and wellexecuted. Not one medical examiner in a thousand would have found thattiny scratch. It may be very difficult yet to determine the exact causeof death. This, my dear Jameson"--it was playful irony--"is ascientific crime."

  "But Millard--"

  "Of course! Anyone may be the culprit. Yet you tell me Millard did notcontest her divorce and that it would have been very easy for him tofile a counter-suit because everyone knew of her relationship withManton. That, offhand, shows no ill-will on his part. And now we findthis note from him, which at least is friendly in tone--"

  I shrugged my shoulders. It was the same blind alley in which mythoughts had strayed upon the train on our way out.

  "It's too early to begin to try to fasten the guilt upon anyone,"Kennedy added, as we returned to the library through the living room.Then he turned to Mackay. "Have you succeeded in gleaning any factsabout the life of Miss Lamar?" he asked. "Anything which might point toa motive, so that I can approach the case from both directions?"

  "If you ask me," the little district attorney rejoined, "it's a matterof tangled motives throughout. I--I had no sword to cut the Gordianknot and so"--graciously--"I sent for you."

  "What do you mean by tangled motives?" Kennedy ignored the other'scompliment.

  "Well!" Mackay indicated me. "Mr. Jameson explained about her divorce.No one heard whom she named as corespondent. That's an unknown woman inthe case, although it may not mean anything at all. Then there's LloydManton and all the talk about his affair with Miss Lamar. Some one toldone of my men that Manton's wife has left him on that account."

  "Did you question Manton?"

  "No, I thought I ought to leave all that to you. I was afraid I mightput them on their guard."

  "Good!" Kennedy was pleased. "Did you learn anything else?"

  "This deputy of mine obtained all these things by gossiping with thegirl who plays the maid, and so they may not be reliable. But among theplayers it is reported that Werner, the director, was having an affairwith Stella also, and that Merle Shirley, the 'heavy' man, was seenwith her a great deal recently, and that Jack Gordon, the leading man,who was engaged to marry her as soon as her decree was final, wasjealous as a consequence, and that Miss Loring, playing the vampire Inthe story and engaged to Shirley, was even more bitter against thedeceased
than Gordon, Miss Lamar's fiance.

  "That made eight people with possible motives for the crime. When I gotthat far I gave it up. In fact"--Mackay lowered his voice, suddenly--"Idon't like the attitude of Emery Phelps. This is his house, you know,and he is the financial backer of Manton Pictures, yet there seems tobe an undercurrent of friction between Manton and himself. I--I wantedhim to show me some detail of the arrangement of things in the library,but he wouldn't come into the room. He said he didn't want to look atMiss Lamar. There--there was something--and, I don't know. If he isconcerned in any way--that would make nine."

  "You think Miss Lamar and Phelps--"

  Mackay shook his head. "I don't know."

  Kennedy turned to me, expression really serious. "Is this the way theycarry on in the picture world, Walter?" he asked. "Is this the usualthing or--or an exception?"

  I flushed. "It's very much an exception," I insisted. "The film peopleare just like other people, some good and some bad. Probablythree-quarters of all this is gossip."

  "I hope so." He straightened. "The only thing to do is to go after themone at a time and disentangle all the conflicting threads. It looks asthough there will be any number of possible false leads and so we mustbe careful and deliberate. I think I'll question each in turn--here."

  He walked over to the fireplace, stopping for just a moment to glanceat the body of Stella. Then he pulled the blinds down halfway, so thatthe room seemed somber and gruesome. He drew a chair so that thedifferent individuals as he examined them, would be unable to losesight of the dead woman. His arrangements completed, he faced thedistrict attorney.

  "Manton first," he directed.

  In an instant I caught the psychology of it--the now darkened library,the beautiful body still lying on the davenport, the quiet and quickarrival of ourselves. If anything could be extracted from these people,surely it would be betrayed under these surroundings.