The Speculative Short Stories of Barbara Paul, page 24
“But why would she pretend not to know him?”
“Why, because of Sam, of course!”
“Sam Steinmetz?”
“It makes perfect sense, my dears. If you were engaged to many Mr. Samuel VIP Steinmetz, would you want him to know you were working closely every day with a former lover? Sam doesn’t tolerate opposition of any kind. I mean, he doesn’t tolerate it!”
Female looked at him skeptically. “How sure are you about this?”
“It’s common knowledge. Ask anyone.”
“Then why doesn’t Sam Steinmetz know about it?”
If the question caught him off guard, he didn’t show it. “I have no idea. But I hope you’re not going to give the game away by asking him! Why spoil the fun, Detective?” He laughed again. “For thirty years Sam Steinmetz has been the most notorious skirt-chaser in this town—but he’s always preferred nubile young things with long legs and hollow skulls. And yet when he’s finally pinned to the matrimonial wall, it’s by an aging movie queen who has always demanded selfless adoration from all around her. Ah, well. She’s been around the block a few times herself. They’re a good match.”
Male was disgusted. “This is a murder investigation, not a parlor game. You knew Nathan before? From where?”
Unperturbed by the detective’s tone, Groomer said: “Oh, we first met in a shabby little production of Hamlet—that was back before either of us was established. This was in Ireland, of all places. But I barely knew Nathan to speak to. We were never in any scenes together.”
“Which one of you played Hamlet?”
Groomer scowled at the question. “Neither of us. I was Osric and Nathan was one of the guards who open the play.”
“Osric?”
“You don’t know the play, Detective? Well, you see, it’s about this courtier named Osric—”
“Save that for later,” Female cut him off. “Where else did you know Nathan from?”
Groomer went on to detail a number of brief meetings widely separated from one another over a period of years; it was the kind of relationship any two professionals might develop during the course of their work. No, they had never become friends, Groomer said; there never was enough time for that, even if they had been so inclined—which they weren’t. “I’ve spent more time with Nathan filming this cornball space opera than I spent all those other times put together.”
By then both detectives were thoroughly tired of the sound of Groomer’s voice, so they thanked him for his cooperation and got up to leave.
“Take that nasty beast with you,” the actor instructed. McCat knew when he wasn’t wanted; as soon as the trailer door was opened, he scooted out.
The two detectives followed more sedately. “Want to check out Nathan’s trailer next?” Female asked. “Do you know where it is?”
Male didn’t know. “Look—there’s the director. Let’s ask him.”
Boss was hurrying along with a worried lock on his face when the two detectives stopped him. “Will this take long? I have a meeting with the producer. We have some decisions to make.”
He was fidgeting, having trouble standing still. “We have to see if there’s a way to complete the picture without Nathan.”
McCat bumped his head against Boss’s leg, recognizing the human’s need for comfort and reassurance. Female asked where Nathan’s trailer was, and when Boss told her, asked one more question. Was the story true that Groomer had told them about the hot affair between Nathan and Noseburner?
Boss looked startled, and then laughed shortly. “Don’t believe a word that man tells you. He’s the most vicious gossip in town—he always spreads rumors about the people he’s acting with as a matter of course. Once he even started a rumor that Elizabeth Taylor was going to get a sex change operation. But he and our eminent leading lady have never gotten along well, and he had a special reason for wanting to smear Nathan.”
“What special reason?” both detectives asked in unison.
The director took a deep breath, which failed to stop his fidgeting. "Well, when we were in preproduction, this wasn’t a buddy picture at all. There were only two leads, male and female. But then the chance to sign Nathan came up—and the single male lead was divided into two different roles. You see? He lost half his lines once Nathan came on board.” He saw foe expressions on the detectives’ faces and hastily added, “Forget that. He does all his attacking verbally. You don’t want to arrest him. Don’t take my one remaining male lead away from me!”
“Will he get his lines back if you decide to complete the picture?” Male asked.
“That’s one of the possibilities we’re going to consider.” Boss sighed. “Look, I really do have to go.” And without another word he was gone.
The two detectives looked at each other a moment. Finally Male said, “I don’t think we can believe a word any of them tells us.”
Female was inclined to agree. “Let’s go check Nathan’s trailer,” she said.
McCat followed along, having nothing better to do; his ears perked up when he saw they were going into a trailer he’d never had the opportunity to explore before. The very dead man who had nested in that space didn’t like cats, the poor benighted human. McCat slipped between Male’s legs and was the first inside.
Male and Female started looking in drawers and opening boxes, sometimes breaking locks to do so. Noseburner had been right; this trailer was smaller than hers... and smaller than Groomer’s as well. It still made a roomy enough dressing room; but if there was some sort of status attached to the size of the trailer an actor was given, Nathan had definitely been low man on foe three-star totem pole.
“This is all fan mail,” Female said, shuffling through a pile of letters. “No address book—probably at his home. If we—” She broke off.
McCat was sneezing. Six quick sneezes. Pause. Two more.
The two detectives looked at each other. “Perfume? She said she’d never been in this trailer,” Female said. “She lied to us?”
“How long does a scent like that linger?” Male asked. “She had to have been in here recently.”
“After Nathan was murdered? Why?”
“Looking for something is my guess.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute, we’re jumping the gun here. The cat could be allergic to something other than her perfume, something in here.” She thought a minute. “Let’s find out. You hold him and I’ll go find stuff to test.”
Male picked up McCat and went through his soothe-the-kitty routine once more while Female gathered up everything she could find that might have provoked an allergic reaction. But McCat was equally indifferent to everything she held out for him to sniff, from Nathan’s shampoo to his aftershave,
“Then she did lie to us,” Female concluded. “If she did come here looking for something, I wonder if she found it.”
Male put McCat down and picked up a ring of keys he’d found in one of the locked drawers. “Safety-deposit key here. We’ll have to get a court order to open the box.”
Female looked at her watch. “But not today. Everything’s closed now.”
Male sneezed. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his nose. “Hey, can you catch an allergy from a cat?”
At noon the next day the two detectives sat in a coffee shop eating lunch. It had taken them all morning to find a judge, get their court order signed, and to examine the contents of Nathan’s safety-deposit box.
Male scraped most of the sprouts off his sandwich. “Read the list again.”
Female picked up a list of the contents of the safety-deposit box. “Three thousand dollars in twenties. A will leaving everything to his son Philip, currently residing with his mother in London. An old photograph of a man and woman, mid-to late-thirties. Nathan’s parents?” She paused to take a swallow of coffee. “A British passport. A certificate of marriage between Nathan... and an Ethel Shnorhokian.” She stumbled over the pronunciation. “God, what a name. Wife Number One? Philip’s mother?”
“Maybe. I wonder if he goes by ‘Shnorhokian,’ since he’s living with his mother.” Male didn’t really wonder; he just wanted to show off pronouncing Shnorhokian. “What else?”
“Insurance policies, naming Philip as beneficiary. Copy of a property lease... evidently Nathan didn’t plan to stay in California long enough to buy. Shares in a pharmaceutical company based in LA, not very many. Probably a recent investment.” She sighed. “And that’s it. No mysterious locket with an inscription in Chinese, no faded newspaper clipping about somebody’s early career in porn flicks, no gum wrapper with a coded message printed on the back. None of that helpful stuff they always find in the movies.”
“And to round things out, the lab boys say no prints on the murder weapon. A pipe that smooth, it should take prints.”
Female shrugged. “Wrap a piece of cloth around one end. What about those pharmaceutical shares? Could there be anything there?”
They couldn’t think of anything. Male said, “Maybe Mama Shnorhokian hired a hitter.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Not a professional job. Whoever bashed Nathan’s head in was so rattled that he—or she—walked away from the scene still carrying the murder weapon. And then hurriedly stuck it into the towel cabinet once he realized he was holding incriminating evidence in his hand. Or she. No, this is no long-distance killing... the answer’s in that movie studio.” She checked the time. “Speaking of.”
“Right.” They paid their bills and left.
On the drive to the studio, Male said, “We have three soft motives. All based on hearsay, all full of holes, and not one of them strong enough to convince a jury. The director’s career was roadblocked at one point by the dead man. Motive—revenge? The leading lady doesn’t want her fiancé to find out that a former lover is on the scene. Motive— self-protection? The leading man’s status was reduced when half his lines were handed over to Nathan. Motive— ambition? Can you honestly believe that anyone would commit murder for any of those reasons? And don’t tell me old men are killed for the change in their pockets. That’s not these people. Watch out for that van.”
“I see it.” She eased the car over a little to the right. “But all those seemingly foolish motives might just be the tip of the iceberg. What if Nathan had blocked the director’s career not once but a number of times? Say he was trying to do it again, even agitating to get the director replaced on the picture. Then the director’s motive would be more than just some melodramatic desire for vengeance. He’d be fighting for his professional life.”
Male snorted. “You could play that game with all of them.”
“That’s my point! We just don’t know what else might have been going on.”
They drove in silence the rest of the way to the studio. The guard at the gate waved them in; they found a guest parking place near the soundstage where CyberTime was being filmed.
Male watched three shaggy-haired actors dressed as cavemen hurrying by. He asked his partner, “Did you ever want to be a movie star?”
“Sure I did, when I was a little girl.” She laughed. “Doesn’t everybody?”
He grunted. “I wanted to be a cowboy in the movies. Not a cowboy. A cowboy in the movies."
Inside the soundstage building, they found a bustle and activity that had been totally lacking the day before. The detectives didn’t have to ask to know that filming on CyberTime was going to proceed—not as planned, but proceed nevertheless. They tracked down the director.
“We’re going to give Nathan a posthumous death scene,” Boss explained with such exuberance that he was practically dancing in place. “We’ll use a double, and distance shots—and we’ll send him off with the biggest and flashiest explosion that Effects can come up with!”
Female blinked. “You’re going to blow up this set?”
Boss was horrified. “God, no. We’ll put him in a shuttle or a dropship or something small like that. Designer’s working on it now. But it’s going to work out all right!”
Male said, “And Nathan’s lines?”
The director grinned crookedly. “Guess who gets those. The good part is we won’t have to change much of the script... this really is going to work out all right. Look, I’ve got a zillion things to see to and I—” He left without finishing his sentence.
The crew was setting up to shoot on the engineering deck set, redoing the scene they’d started filming yesterday... but this time without Nathan. On the set, the detectives spotted their companion of the day before, perched atop a mysterious piece of machinery that was humming softly.
“You don’t know us today, Mackie?” Female asked.
McCat yawned and ignored her.
Soon the crew was finished and the actors sent for. Tinyvoice, the woman who’d found Nathan’s body, finished one final check of the props. When she left the set, Male stopped her. “The cat’s still on the set.”
“Yes, he’s in a number of the shots,” Tinyvoice whispered. “Adds a homey touch.”
The two actors in the scene arrived, sweeping on to the set like Lords of the Universe. Groomer called for Make-up to come spray an errant lock of hair. Noseburner took her place near a viewscreen, McCat watching her warily all the while.
But as soon as Boss yelled out “Action!”—an overhead light went Pop! and showered down sparks on the set. Groans and complaints about safety hazards rose all around; Groomer whined, “I could have been burned! Such carelessness! It’s unconscionable!”
“Calm down—no one’s hurt,” Boss called out “It’s just a lamp replacement It’ll only take a minute.”
Female felt something rub up against her leg. She bent down and stroked McCat’s white fur. “Decided you didn’t like it there after all, did you?”
Male nudged her. “Come on.” They made their way over to where Boss was nervously pacing back and forth behind the camera, his head craned back to watch the progress of the light technicians.
Male stepped into his path. “I’m sorry to break in on you at a time like this, but we do have an investigation to conduct.”
“Make it fast,” Boss snapped.
“We’ve just learned Nathan had a son who’s living with his mother in London. Philip is his heir.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So we’ll need to notify them,” Female said, feeling McCat winding around her ankles. “But we don’t know which of Nathan’s ex-wives is Philip’s mother. Do you know?”
“Oh, hell.” Boss frowned in concentration. “I did know. Can’t think of the name.”
“Was it Ethel Shnorhokian?” Male asked.
Boss’s head jerked around in astonishment. Then he laughed. “Man, have you got your facts twisted! Philip’s mother in London? Ha! No way. You want to talk to Ethel Shnorhokian? There she is.”
He was pointing at Noseburner.
Male sucked in a breath. “That’s her real name?”
“Can you see ‘Ethel Shnorhokian’ on a theater marquee? Yeah, that’s her real name.”
“Oh, wow.” Female looked at her partner. “That’s it, then. The rest of the iceberg.” She turned to Boss. “We’re going to question her right now. Your movie will have to wait.”
“What?” the director screeched. “That’s crazy! You can’t hold up production just to ask questions!”
“Yes, we can,” Female told him firmly and turned to follow her partner out on to the set McCat padded along behind her; he could tell from their voices that something out of the ordinary was happening. Boss came too, still making angry noises that no one seemed to be paying any attention to.
Male stopped in front of Noseburner. Police guidelines recommended private interrogation. But not here and now, not with this woman. “Ethel Shnorhokian?”
She glared at him. “That’s not my name anymore.” Groomer snickered.
“I really must protest, Detective,” Boss said loudly. “You can’t interfere with our schedule like this! Who do you think you are?”
“Keep quiet.” Male turned back to Noseburner. “You lied to us.”
She made a sound of annoyance. “Because I didn’t tell you the name I was born with?”
Female stepped in. “You tied to us about never going into Nathan’s trailer.”
“I didn’t go in!”
“You were there yesterday. We have a witness.” Female was careful not to look down at McCat. “We know you were inside that trailer. Do you understand? We know you were there. So don’t bother to lie."
Noseburner licked her tips, said nothing.
“And you went in after Nathan was killed,” Female pushed on. “Why? What were you looking for?”
“Oh, all right, all right! I was looking for a book Nathan had borrowed. I wanted to get it back before the trailer was sealed up or whatever it is you police types do.”
“A book?” Male said. “Don’t you mean a single piece of paper? One piece of paper proving that you and Nathan were married?”
An astonished silence fell over the set. Then: “You actually married him?” Groomer rolled his eyes. “Really, darling, what a stunning lapse in taste.”
“No!” she shouted. “This is preposterous. Nathan and I were never married!”
“We have the marriage certificate,” Male told her evenly. “It was in Nathan’s safety-deposit box.”
“But you can’t have it! I de—” She clamped her lips shut.
“You destroyed it?” Male finished for her. “And it didn’t occur to you that he might have more than one copy?”
Groomer was openly laughing. “Oh, SuperSam the Metz of Stein is not going to be happy wife you, daring! How in fee world are you going to explain away an ex-husband that you just somehow forgot to mention?”
She whirled on him. “You shut up!” Boss, who’d had so much to say earlier, was standing there with his mouth hanging open.
