Script for Scandal Page 27

  Brenda Baines had retreated to the relative privacy of a corner of the soundstage. She stood primly, careful to keep stray dust motes off her dress as she silently mouthed dialogue. I walked over to her, hoping not to intrude.

  ‘Hi, Lillian,’ she said a bit less brightly than on the other occasions we’d met, and who could blame her? ‘Are you here with your boss? Someone pointed him out to me.’

  ‘Yes. I’d be happy to introduce you. He loves meeting people in pictures. Especially when they’re destined for big things. You handled that new dialogue very well.’

  ‘Considering I couldn’t understand it. It’s like it came from some other picture entirely. I wonder when we’re going to get the rest of that scene.’

  ‘I heard it might be a while. You look lovely.’

  ‘That’s all Edith and the gang in the make-up department.’

  ‘No. Clothes and cosmetics are finishing touches. You’re the foundation.’

  Brenda cocked her head, waiting to see if I was razzing her. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘I like your character. I think she’s more complicated than she lets on.’

  ‘Me too! That’s how I’ve been playing her. Or trying to, anyway. Is it coming across?’

  ‘Definitely. Now dish about Fred MacMurray.’

  She chattered away excitedly as we watched the subject of our conversation consult with Luddy. He paused to speak with Addison, and Virginia interrupted to extend a hand.

  ‘That woman reeks of danger,’ Brenda said.

  ‘You’re not the first person to point that out.’

  ‘Really? Someone else recognized the perfume?’

  ‘Perfume?’

  ‘Danger. It’s by Ciro. I only know it because my beau gave me a bottle for Christmas.’ Brenda wrinkled her nose. ‘Smells like she filled a bathtub with it.’

  ‘I’m only a little familiar with it myself,’ I said slowly. ‘Let me check on Addison before the cameras roll. I want to make sure he adds you to the guest list for his next party.’

  Much as I hated seeing Addison deep in conversation with Ben Siegel – from the way they compared clothes, they were hashing out haberdasheries – the distraction meant I had Virginia to myself.

  She waddled after me to a secluded spot. ‘What goes on around here, sweetie? We’re hearing all kinds of scuttlebutt. Something about one of the writers?’

  ‘George Dolan. He was arrested. For killing Sylvia and helping her kill a man named Nap Conlin.’

  Virginia clutched her throat. ‘You’re kidding!’

  ‘If only I were.’

  I hesitated, glancing around for Edith. She was huddled with a wardrobe girl. I couldn’t wait for her. When crossing thin ice, the only approach is to move fast and hope it doesn’t give way beneath you.

  ‘Sylvia went to a lot of trouble to hide her relationship with Bugsy,’ I began.

  ‘Honey, I told you, he hates to be called that.’

  ‘To hell with him.’ I let the comment breathe a moment. It felt good to say it. ‘The reason she kept it quiet is she was giving him up to the district attorney.’

  ‘Wait. That’s what she was doing?’

  I barreled ahead, ignoring her interruption. ‘Clyde Fentress had no idea she knew Siegel. Neither did George Dolan. The only person who knew about her and Bugsy was you, because you were – how did you put it? – members of the same club.’

  ‘It’s no small sorority, believe me. And it’s the only one I’m ever likely to belong to.’ She chuckled. Her perfume smelled divine – spicy and dark, rich with roses – even though she’d doused herself with it. ‘What’s your point, Lillian?’

  ‘I’m trying to figure out why Sylvia changed her mind and told Dolan about Bugsy.’

  ‘And you think I’d know?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I think Sylvia needed advice. Someone to turn to. Who better than another member of the sorority? A woman with the talent to live at night.’

  ‘You mean me?’ Virginia pressed a gloved palm to her chest. ‘I wish she had sought me out. I’d have steered her right. I’m like a lawyer of the heart – and the pocketbook. Love and money are the only reasons I ever get into or out of bed, and that ain’t hay or criminal.’

  ‘Sylvia had been found out,’ I said. ‘And she knew she’d been found out. Nap Conlin learned she was talking to the DA, and he was making noise about telling Bugsy. She confided in you. But your advice wasn’t on the level, was it?’

  Virginia’s expression had been flayed of all emotion. Her eyes appraised me indifferently now; I could no longer help her with either love or money, so I meant nothing to her. ‘Why would you say a hurtful thing like that, darling?’

  ‘You want Bugsy for yourself. When Sylvia told you she was working with the DA, you knew one of two things would happen. Either she gets Bugsy arrested, or Bugsy learns what she’s up to and kills her. But suppose you told her to get rid of Nap Conlin instead. That would eliminate the immediate threat, while keeping Bugsy’s hands clean. True, Sylvia’s still talking to the DA, but you’re on the inside now. Her trusted friend. Manipulating her. When her accomplice got squirrelly about what they’d done, she came to you again. And you suggested she tell Dolan everything. Another monkey wrench in Sylvia’s plan under the guise of helpful advice. You probably never thought Dolan would kill her. You figured he’d put the fear of God in her and get her to stop cooperating with the DA.’

  ‘I like this story. Beats the one in this lousy picture.’ Virginia stepped closer, her fragrance overwhelming. ‘But a story’s all it is. There’s no proof.’

  ‘Only there is. Sylvia was relentless. Methodical. She was so careful she persuaded Dolan to use Bugsy’s regimen of powders and lotions, so she’d never carry the scent of one married man she was sleeping with to the other. She certainly wouldn’t wear perfume herself. There was none in her purse or her apartment. But I smelled some the night I found her body. I thought it was from a broken bottle on the floor, but I now know that’s not the case.’

  Virginia’s eyes hardened, glittering like the diamonds around her neck.

  ‘I used to work at Tremayne’s Department Store. I learned a fascinating term there. Sillage. It means the extent a perfume lingers in the air when it’s worn. Danger, by Ciro – what you’re wearing now – has a strong sillage. I could still smell it when I arrived at Sylvia’s apartment.’

  ‘My signature fragrance,’ Virginia said. ‘Although I may change mine to Chanel No. 5. You should have one, too. It’s no good for a girl to go through life smelling like the inside of a church.’

  ‘You were there that night. Goading Sylvia into meeting with George Dolan and telling him everything. You’re as responsible for her death and Nap Conlin’s as if you’d pulled the trigger yourself.’

  ‘Nobody pulled any triggers, sweetheart. Someone broke Nap Conlin’s crown and yanked a cord around poor Sylvia’s neck. I read all about it in the papers.’ She leaned into my face, the perfume a bludgeon now. ‘And I thought you meant legal proof. You know, evidence. There’s no law against being a shoulder to cry on. And for what it’s worth, I figured Dolan for the kind of fella who’d fold under pressure. Once Sylvia told me she’d gotten him to finish Nap off for her, I knew a push is all it would take. And Benny would be free and clear, without a drop of blood on his hands. Because here’s the thing, Little Miss Choirgirl. Ben Siegel’s gonna run this town one day. And I’m gonna be by his side when it happens. We’re soulmates. Destined to be together. Our union written in the stars. All’s I have to do is bide my time and clear the field.’

  ‘That’s monstrous. You can’t—’

  ‘OK, places, everybody!’ The assistant director bellowed into a megaphone. ‘We’re taking the scene from the top.’

  ‘Looks like I’m needed. Been nice knowing you, Lillian.’ Virginia strode past me in queenly fashion, the blazing lights distilling her into a shapely silhouette. The aroma of her perfume wouldn’t fade for some time.

  Addison and Ei
leen donned their best poker faces, but merriment still sparkled in their eyes. I could see it from where I stood, well in back of the cameras, far from anyplace I could cause problems for the production. I wanted Addison’s acting debut to go as smoothly as possible.

  As Luddy made last-minute modifications, I noticed Gene working his way toward me. I tried to figure out how to summarize my conversation with Virginia, if it was even worth repeating. She was correct; she hadn’t done anything wrong aside from bringing about the deaths of two people. And cursing me with the knowledge of same.

  Gene stood alongside me, his eyes on the stir of activity on the set. Unhappiness radiated from me. I waited for Gene to sense it, to turn and ask what was the matter, to provide some measure of solace.

  Instead he stared placidly ahead. ‘You just had to keep helping me.’

  All thoughts of Virginia fled my mind. ‘What?’

  ‘Even when I told you not to.’

  ‘I – well, yes. I had to. I found out something that would put an end to all this, and I went to Florabel—’

  ‘I told you I was dealing with the situation.’

  ‘But I got rid of the situation. Now you don’t have to deal with it at all. Nobody does.’

  Gene shook his head. ‘That’s not the point.’

  ‘Then please tell me the point. I don’t understand. What you were going through wasn’t fair. But what you were asking Abigail to do wasn’t fair either, not to her. Pretending her husband was a saint when she knew the truth. She wanted it over with and you in the clear. That’s what happened. I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘I am pleased.’

  ‘You could have fooled me.’

  ‘Always a glib line. It’s the Lillian Frost way.’

  A follow-up wisecrack suggested itself, but tears sprang to my eyes first.

  ‘I’d have solved this problem myself,’ Gene said levelly. ‘It might have taken longer, but I’d have gotten here. All under my own power.’

  ‘Is that why you’re upset? Because I helped you?’

  ‘If that’s how you want to see it. It’d be nice to have the lead role in my own life, that’s all I’m saying.’ He put on his hat, an extra tug on the brim drawing it closer to his eyes. ‘Frady’s expecting me.’

  ‘I – OK. We’ll talk later, won’t we?’

  But he’d already walked away.

  ‘Action.’ Luddy uttered the word with unexpected softness, like a benediction.

  The dancers moved around the floor, MacMurray and Brenda looking on from what I took to be the club’s kitchen entrance. Addison had worked out a piece of business where he got to play the roué, Eileen sliding his hand up to the middle of her back. Ben Siegel and Virginia Hill danced a bit more stiffly, Bugsy shouldering his way close to the camera when it passed.

  I thought of Addison watching himself on the screen at his house, and again my eyes moistened. What was happening to me today? Every nerve laid bare, vulnerable to be plucked at random.

  ‘Cut!’ This command Luddy barked. ‘Very nice. Back to your starting positions, if you would, for one more.’

  A figure strode out of the shadows. When he stepped into the soundstage’s lights, Barney Groff, the studio’s head of security, still carried darkness with him, a penumbra of gloom. He spoke to Luddy in harsh syllables, accompanied by emphatic hand movements. Luddy reared back and mounted an argument, but that only intensified Groff’s conviction. The remarks became more clipped, the gestures more blunt. Groff spun to the assistant director and issued an order. The assistant turned to Luddy, abject in his helplessness.

  I quickstepped to Edith. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Nothing good,’ Edith said under her breath.

  Groff pointed a finger at the assistant, the motion serving as a decree. Luddy lowered his eyes to the soundstage floor. The assistant drew in his breath.

  ‘Thank you, everyone,’ he roared blandly. ‘That’s a wrap for today.’

  After a moment of confusion, several extras moved toward the doors. A grumpy Siegel glared at Groff, who gave as good as he got. Virginia took Siegel’s arm and pulled him away. Grips began weaving through the set, breaking it down. Luddy tried speaking to Groff again, but the studio man started for the elephant doors, now being cranked open, letting sunlight in to shatter the spell cast by the cameras.

  Edith, braver than anyone else on the lot, planted herself in Groff’s path. ‘Mr Groff. Is there a problem?’

  ‘There’s always a problem. That’s my job. Perpetual problem solver.’ He absently smoothed his patent leather hair. ‘I find one of our writers being hauled off the lot, charged with homicide. I come down here to find out what in blue blazes is going on and what do I see?’ He raised his voice so his words would reverberate through the building. ‘Bugsy goddamned Siegel waltzing past the camera! In a Paramount picture!’ Another fearsome look at Luddy, too cowed to return it. ‘Does that Kraut think we’re running a flea circus? This is a major corporation, for Christ’s sake. Anyway, it’s over. We’re shutting this picture down.’

  ‘For the day,’ Edith asked, ‘or for—’

  ‘For good. Paramount doesn’t need the aggravation. And MacMurray’s got better things to do. Streetlight Story never sees the light of day.’ Groff’s ferocious gaze fell upon me. ‘I should’ve known you’d be here.’ He brushed past and vanished into the sunlight.

  ‘Poor Luddy,’ Edith said. ‘Poor everyone.’ She placed an arm around my shoulders, and I was so relieved to be considered part of the multitude I almost started crying again.

  Addison bounded over, exhausted and enthusiastic. ‘The fun’s over already?’

  You don’t know the half of it, I thought but didn’t say.

  Los Angeles Register April 10, 1939

  LORNA WHITCOMB’S

  EYES ON HOLLYWOOD

  That frosty air emanating from the Warner’s lot isn’t due to the filming of an Arctic epic, just the chill between Bette Davis and Miriam Hopkins. Seems the ladies are dueling for the best camera angles on the set of The Old Maid … The scuttling of Streetlight Story left some on the green and others in the rough. Fred MacMurray puts down the policeman’s badge and picks up Madeleine Carroll in Are Husbands Necessary? We know how Fred’s female fans would answer that question. Promising young actress Brenda Baines lands a role in Paramount’s latest Jack Benny vehicle – a western of all things! On the minus side of the equation, we hear director Aaron ‘Luddy’ Ludwig is casting about for offers with no bites yet … It’s not often we’re able to report the Count and Countess di Frasso are in the same state, never mind the same stateroom, but that’s what’s in the works. The titled couple are heading to Italy to sell the Count’s Roman palace to Mr Mussolini. Here’s hoping memories of that ‘hell ship’ cruise don’t keep Dottie awake those long nights at sea.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Afternoon light didn’t do much for Oblath’s Café, still the top choice for anyone looking to play hooky from Paramount for a few martinis. It seemed like my last visit had been a year ago, not a little over two weeks. Perhaps because I was a different person then.

  But some things remained eternal. Jerry the messenger had again claimed a table, his seductive spiel aimed this time at a redhead. ‘Talent, especially talent like yours, is like a diamond,’ he was saying. ‘It needs the proper setting to shine. Which is where I come in.’ The redhead, to her credit, looked skeptical. At least Jerry’s timing was in his favor. He’d whisked the redhead into the café mere moments after the blonde who’d been his previous quarry had exited on the arm of an actual studio executive. Two weeks and the blonde already outranked poor Jerry, well on her way to becoming the next Brenda Baines. Still, Jerry was in there pitching. Points for persistence.

  The aroma of frying meat had just compelled me to flag down a waitress when Edith hustled in to the restaurant. ‘I’m not going to have much,’ she said as she sat down. ‘Cottage cheese with fresh fruit.’

  ‘That sounds very healthy
.’ I handed my menu to the waitress. ‘One hamburger sandwich. With onions.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound very healthy,’ Edith said with her closed-mouth smile.

  ‘I deserve it. I lost enough weight on Sunday chasing after children at Addison’s Easter egg hunt.’

  ‘How is Addison?’

  ‘In the pink. He took the bad news about Streetlight Story in his stride. He thinks he’s not cut out for acting. Although he has a standing offer from La Crawford to appear as an extra in her next picture.’

  Edith sat back and appraised me across the table. ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, Lillian, you seem a touch down at the mouth.’

  ‘Probably because I am. Looking at the Bronson Gate reminded me of Sylvia. She set this elaborate plan in motion to bring the true story of her father’s death to light, and she never knew the guilty parties had already been punished. It’s sad.’

  ‘That it is.’

  ‘Yet somehow it would have been even sadder if Streetlight Story had come out, with a false version of events. What’s happening with Max Ramsey?’

  ‘I fear the collapse of Streetlight Story reflects poorly on him as far as studio management is concerned. He’ll be leaving Paramount. Steps are being taken to make it look like a mutual parting of the ways after Mr Ramsey’s years of service here. He’s putting a brave face on it, telling me he’s looking forward to exploring opportunities as an independent producer.’ She adjusted the silverware before her. ‘Perhaps it’s better for us personally as well. With all the demands running the department is making on my time, I’m content to be on my own for a while. And Bill Ihnen’s always there should I desire an evening out.’

  ‘Have you ever desired an evening out?’

  ‘Once in a great while the mood comes over me. Let’s talk about you. What’s happening in your life?’