Madame Irma spoke up. “Does Richard Wright have anything to do with this place?”
“He’s a co-partner in it, according to what my friend has been able to,” Phillip said. “Everyone knows that Richard is queer, and it now seems he’s also the most notorious dope peddler in the area. He’s been supplying most of the stars who are hooked.”
“So that is where he got his money!” Nita gasped. “And that’s why he denied ever having previously seen Taylor.”
“Without a doubt,” the young doctor said. “And there’s more. The police found a locked closet in Taylor’s bungalow with a collection of lingerie belonging to a number of stars, each tagged with initials and a date. Taylor kept them as souvenirs of his various conquests. And there was a nightgown embroidered with the initials M.M.M., which means that Mary Miles Minter will be through as Mary Pickford’s virtuous rival on the screen.”
“Is she also on drugs?” Nita asked.
“Not according to my friend. But she’s been foolish enough to let Taylor rule her life.”
“What now?” she asked.
“The scandal will grow. Each day new facts and new names will be revealed.”
“Do you think Taylor’s killer is likely to be found?” she asked. “The police think it was a woman dressed like a man, if Inspector Moore was truthful.”
Phillip said, “It could well be. The suspicion seems to fall chiefly on Mabel Normand. She’s been frantic and they had a quarrel. She has often dressed in men’s clothing for a joke at parties. In her drug-crazed state she might have decided to wear that disguise to cover up a murder.”
“Then she may be charged and proven guilty.”
“I doubt it,” Phillip said grimly. “There’s too little evidence against her and too many suspects.”
Madame Irma agreed. “It would seem most of the film colony wanted to do him in.”
Phillip turned to Nita again and said, “Has Richard ever tried to sell dope to you?”
“No. Not yet.”
“You’re lucky,” he said. “Get rid of him. You can’t afford to be linked to him.”
“I’ll try!”
“You must,” the young doctor said firmly. “For the sake of your career. I want to prevent your being dragged into the case. Wright is bound to be charged with drug peddling and as he’s your agent it is sure to reflect on you.”
“I’ll do what I can,” she said weakly.
Phillip nodded. “It’s late. I must go. You’ll need your rest if you have to be at the studio in the morning.” He said goodnight to Madame Irma and then Nita saw him outside.
On the dark steps she said, “Thank you for taking the trouble to warn me, Phillip.”
He looked at her earnestly. “I couldn’t do less. I’ve been half mad with worry about you ever since I heard about Richard.”
She looked up at him. “We shouldn’t have drifted apart. I ought not to have quarreled with you. You’ve always been my good friend.”
“I want to be more than that,” he said, taking her in his arms.
“Please, Phillip,” she protested. “This is neither the time nor the place.”
“Still, I want you to know how I feel,” he said. “I love you. I always have, and I always will!”
With that he drew her close and kissed her tenderly. He held her in his arms for a long few moments and she realized how much she’d missed this kind of unselfish affection. She’d not known such comfort since the night Tommy Gallegher had come to her in her misery at Eric’s death.
He let her go and said, “You must phone me if you need any help. And be careful with Wright.”
“I will,” she promised.
“I’ll keep in close touch,” he said as he opened his car door to get in and drive away.
Nita and Madame Irma had a drink and talked for a while longer. Then Nita got up and went to the window. At once she turned to the older woman and said, “Richard’s back! He must have returned while we were having our drink.”
Madame Irma rose and joined her. She said, “I see two cars out there. Someone must have come with him.”
“Maybe that’s why he didn’t stop by,” she guessed. “He should have come to keep me informed.”
“What are you going to do?”
Nita said, “I’m going over there and face him. I’ll tell him I’ve heard things which I cannot tolerate, that I want him off this property and I want to replace him as my agent.”
Madame Irma’s faces h owed cynicism. “You think he will listen to you?”
“If he doesn’t I’ll go to Lew Meyers. He’ll help me.”
“He might also want to drop you if he thinks you’re going to be caught up in a scandal,” the older woman reminded her.
“I’ll have to take that chance,” Nita said.
“Do you want me to go along?”
“No,” she said. “You’ll only annoy him. I think I can do better alone.”
Madame Irma pointed out, “But he isn’t alone.”
“He can surely get rid of whoever is there,” she said.
“If he wants to.”
Nita had found her courage again. She knew she was right and she meant to have a showdown with Richard Wright. She said, “I’ll soon find out.”
Nita walked along the roadway to the guest house in the cool darkness. Lights shone brightly through the window and Richard’s cream convertible was parked by the door with a small red roadster behind it. As she reached the house she heard a phonograph playing “Lonesome and Sorry.”
She knocked on the door, but there was no answer. She tried the knob. It turned and she stepped into the room. She had barely entered when Richard in slacks and singlet came out of the bedroom. When he saw her his tanned, handsome face was angry.
“Have you forgotten this is my house?” he demanded.
“It won’t be for long, Richard,” she said quietly. “I’m going to buy it back as the lease allows.”
“The hell you are!” he said angrily. “What are you doing pussyfooting in here at this hour?”
She faced him defiantly. “I’ve come to tell you it’s all over, Richard. I know what you are and what you’ve been doing. The police know as well and they were here tonight looking for you.”
“I don’t believe it!”
“I know about Mabel Normand and her cocaine habit which you’re supplying at thousands of dollars a month! How many others are there besides her and Taylor?”
“You vixen!” he cried and stepping forward, he slapped her hard across the face.
She reeled from the blow and told him, “Madame Irma knows where I am and she’s waiting with the phone in her hand to call the police if I don’t return immediately.”
The threat made him hesitate, then he sneered at her, “You don’t dare make a move. You’re involved with me and you are bound to suffer if I do.”
“Perhaps I’m willing to take that chance,” she said. “I want you to see a lawyer tomorrow and dissolve our agency agreement.”
“Likely I will!” he said derisively. “I have you exactly where I want. You can’t make a move!”
As he finished speaking a younger man with blue eyes and curly blond hair came out of the bedroom, dressed in extremely tight fitting silken black trousers, and a gold lamé jacket. His shirt was open at the neck and he came over to Richard.
“I’m going,” the youth said quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Richard did not look at him but kept glaring at Nita. He said, “All right! Get out!”
Nita was suddenly frozen with fear, not by Richard’s words or actions, but because of what she had just seen. The blond youth was wearing the gold watch studded with diamonds which she had last seen on William Desmond Taylor’s wrist.
The door closed behind the blond boy and a few seconds later she heard his car start and drive off. She gazed at Richard with horror. In a husky voice, she whispered,
“You did it!”
“What are you talking about?” he demanded, but his tone was unsure.
“The watch!” she cried. “I recognized Taylor’s watch. Either you killed Taylor and took it, or the boy was an accomplice and took it from the body while you were doing something else!”
“Shut up!” Richard screamed. He seized her wrist in a vise-like grip. “Now listen to me! By tomorrow that watch won’t be anywhere it can be found. No one will believe your story. But if you dare to repeat it to a living soul I give you my word I’ll kill you!”
“You wouldn’t dare!” she cried.
He intensified the pressure on her wrist. “I promise you I will. If the police catch on I haven’t a chance anyway. I’ll at least have the pleasure of taking you with me!”
“Let me go!”
“Not before you understand that I
will
go on living here and I
will
continue to be your agent, and you
will
keep that mouth of yours shut!”
Nita began to sob and he released her and hurled her towards the door. She groped for the handle and let herself out then ran all the way back to the house, sobbing.
Madame Irma was waiting anxiously for her. “What happened?”
Nita sank into a chair and said, “I can’t get anywhere with him. He promises to kill me if I take any action against him.”
“I was afraid of something like that,” Madame Irma said. “You should call the police.”
“No,” she said. “I must think. Perhaps Mr. Meyers can work it out.”
Madame Irma said, “While you were out some man phoned you. I told him you’d be back soon. He said he’d call again.”
“Phillip?” she asked hopefully.
“The doctor? I don’t think so,” the older woman said.
Just then the phone rang again. A thoroughly shaken Nita answered it and a male voice at the other end asked, “Are you all right?”
She recognized the voice and exclaimed, “Tommy! Tommy Gallegher!”
“I knew they might be making it tough for you,” he said.
“It’s worse than you think,” she said with a sob. “Richard Wright is involved!”
“And?”
“He’s been selling dope and I think he killed Taylor. He’s threatened to kill me if I don’t go along with him and keep quiet.”
“Are you surprised?” Tommy asked.
“I shouldn’t be, but I am.”
“Where’s your Irish fight?”
She smiled through her tears. “I guess I’ve lost it.”
“Not you,” he said. “Don’t worry!”
“How can I not?”
“It’s easy once you learn,” the Irishman said. “We’re shipping out at dawn. I want to be away from the police for a little. I promise you, things will work out.”
“I hope so,” she said wearily. “Good luck, Tommy.”
“The same to you, Nita Nolan!” And he hung up.
Nita slept little that night. When she joined Madame Irma early the next morning she found the old woman staring out the window at the cottage.
Madame Irma turned to her and said, “Wright’s convertible is gone.”
Nita saw this was true. “It’s too much to hope that he’s run off somewhere.”
“Let’s pray he has,” the older woman said.
They had breakfast and were getting ready to leave for their early studio call when a car drove up. It was Inspector Moore again, wearing the same shabby suit and with the same grim expression on his lined face.
He said, “I’d like your permission to search the guest house, Miss Nolan.”
She said, “It’s rented by Mr. Wright.”
He nodded. “I know. I don’t think he’ll object. Richard Wright is dead.”
Nita couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Dead?”
“Yes,” the Inspector said in his rasping voice. “His car was found down by the docks. He was shot to death in his car. There was money on the floor and packets of cocaine in several of his pockets. These drug boys play rough, especially when someone like Wright moves into their territory.”
“I see,” she said in a whisper, and hoped she wouldn’t faint. It all fit — Tommy Gallegher’s call, the car down at the docks with Richard’s body in it. She had no doubt that Tommy or one of his men had lured Richard to the docks and murdered him there. That explained why Tommy had been so cool about it all, why he had assured her that things would “work out.”
“On your way to the studio, Miss Nolan?” The Inspector asked, breaking into her reverie.
“Yes,” she said in a small voice. “I’m on my way to the studio.”
But there was no filming that day. Instead Lew Meyers called Nita into his office for an urgent conference. The little man paced up and down in a trouble state.
“I warned you about that fellow,” he said.
“At least now I’m rid of him.”
“But he was your agent and he was killed peddling dope,” Lew Meyers said. “The papers are coming out with it all today. You’ll be tainted with the story.”
She protested, “But I had nothing to do with the drug thing!”
“I believe you, Nita,” the little man said sadly. “But will my stockholders and the Will Hays censor office want you on the screen?”
“I suppose not.”
“We’ll try to sell the pictures you’ve made. We’ll finish this one. We may be barred from all the best bookings. We’ll take a big loss. The best I can do is put you on suspension after you finish this feature. Then we’ll wait and see. If the scandal dies down and your pictures are marketable, we can start again.”
Nita rose slowly from her chair. “Don’t count on it, Mr. Meyers. I’m leaving Hollywood.”
He stared at her. “Where will you go? Your friends are all here.”
“I have no friends in this town,” she told him.
The scandal was as bad as Lew Meyers had feared. The press openly questioned whether or not Nita was a “dope fiend.” There were pictures of herself and Taylor in the papers, along with photos of Mable Normand and Mary Miles Minter. Both the other young women were banned from the nation’s silver screens just as Nita was.
She made arrangements to sell the Malibu house and Madame Irma, who was set to star in a feature of her own, took over the cottage. When Phillip Watters came back again, he remained until Nita consented to marry him. Then he told her he had an immediate opportunity to join the staff of a New York Hospital. Needless to say she agreed to go with him.
It was Nita’s final day in Hollywood. That night she and Phillip would be taking the train to New York where they planned to be quietly married. She was packing her bag when she was interrupted by the phone.
It was Murphy on the line. There was a break in his voice as he said, “Billy’s dead, Miss Nolan! He died this morning.”
“And I didn’t see him,” she said, tears filling her eyes.