[Concluding chapter seven]
The house’s owner, Mrs. Elaine Carpenter, was by her accent yet another mid-westerner. Casey was beginning to wonder if anyone in Hollywood didn’t come from Iowa or Kansas. Mrs. Carpenter greeted Casey and Desiree at her front door with the suspicious expression that seemed to automatically come with the role of landlady; Casey remembered Mrs. Decker in Santa Monica wearing pretty much the same expression.
“What can I do for you?” Mrs. Carpenter asked, brushing her hands on her floral print dress.
“Good afternoon,” Casey said. “We’re with Monarch Films, Mrs. Carpenter. We were hoping you’d be willing to talk to us about Miss Cross.”
“What, again? I already talked with a guy from the studio. And with the police.”
In that order? Casey wondered. Neal’s efficient. “Unfortunately, ma’am, the gentleman you spoke to is out of town right now, following up a lead. He took his notes with him.” This was the story Casey had decided to begin with. Pretend to a bit of authority and trust that nobody would make too big a fuss about it. Besides, in his experience people liked to talk, so long as they didn’t think you were after them directly. “He told us that you’d been a big help to him, and that we could come to you if there was anything we were unsure of.” Casey smiled at her.
“I just want my girls done right by,” Mrs. Carpenter said. “I don’t want no scandal.”
“That’s what we want also,” Desiree said. “Could we come in?”
After a moment’s indecision that played obviously across her soft, pink face, Mrs. Carpenter nodded and stepped back inside the house. Casey followed Desiree into a gloomy building that seemed to have been built for the specific purpose of ignoring as many as it could of Hollywood’s three hundred-sixty sunny days per year.
“How long had Miss Cross lived here?” Desiree asked after they’d all sat in overstuffed chairs in the parlor.
“Lily was one of my best girls,” Mrs. Carpenter said. “She’d been here just over a year. It was a year mid-September, in fact.”
“Did she have many friends?”
“All the girls liked her, I think.” Mrs. Carpenter tried to suppress a sniffle. “But I suppose that Carole was probably her closest friend.”
“Carole?”
“Miss London. She’s a hard worker, Carole is. She’s doing some stage work as well as working as an extra. And that’s all on top of her job at the Broadway department store.”
“Good for her,” Desiree said. “What about boyfriends, Mrs. Carpenter? Was Lily seeing anyone?”
Mrs. Carpenter bristled. “This is not that sort of house.”
“We’re not for a moment suggesting it is,” Casey said. “But we’re going to have to speak to everyone Lily knew in town, and if she had any gentlemen friends you’d be doing her memory a favor by telling us.”
“She never mentioned anyone to me,” Mrs. Carpenter said. “And of course none of the girls is allowed gentlemen callers here. I simply won’t have it.”
The front door to the house opened, and a slender young woman with short red hair appeared in the parlor doorway. “Afternoon, Mrs. Carpenter,” she said. Then, “Oh, sorry.”
“It’s all right, dear,” Mrs. Carpenter said. “I was just talking about you. Carole, these people work for Monarch. They are asking more questions about Lily’s—about Lily. Some of their questions I can’t answer. Would you be willing to help?”
Carole looked at Casey and Desiree, and her eyes got very big. “Are you who I think you are?” she asked. The words came out in a sort of squeak, as though she was having trouble breathing.
Desiree smiled warmly. “Happy to meet you, Miss London. I do hope you can help us.”
“Gosh,” Carole said. After a moment’s pause she said it again. Casey decided that she liked the sound of the word, because she said it a third time and might have continued had Desiree not gotten to her feet.
“Could we talk a bit?” Desiree asked.
“I have to get to the Broadway,” Carole said.
“We could drive you,” Casey suggested.
“Would you? That’d be swell.”
“You be careful, Carole,” Mrs. Carpenter said.
“Don’t you know who this is, Mrs. Carpenter?” Carole breathed. “This is Desiree Farrell. She’s—well, I only hope you won’t be offended, Miss Farrell, if I ask you a few questions as well.”
“If I can help,” Desiree murmured. She nodded to Mrs. Carpenter, then propelled Carole out of the house and into her car.
“If we can,” Casey said as Desiree put the roadster in gear, “I’d like to start by asking you about the day Lily—the last time you saw Lily.” He looked at Carole’s expression, then decided to gamble, thinking about the sort of woman Mrs. Carpenter seemed to be. “Do you think that Mrs. Carpenter was being completely honest in what she said about Lily’s behaviour before she died?”
“This won’t get back to her, will it?”
“Of course not,” Desiree said. “We’re just trying to learn as much as we can about Lily so that we can find who killed her. Mrs. Carpenter isn’t going to hear anything we don’t want her to hear.”
“Good,” Carole said. “She’s a nice old girl, but she’s a bit of a sap. I can’t figure out how it is that she can’t see what’s going on right in front of her nose.”
“Maybe she just doesn’t want to see,” Casey said mildly. “About Lily and Mrs. Carpenter…”
“She wants the whole world to think that we’re all nice girls,” Carole said, laughing wickedly. “So she told a whole whack of lies about last weekend. Mostly about what time Lily came home on Friday and Saturday. I didn’t see her come home at all Friday night—though I suppose she could have. But I know for a fact that she sneaked in around four in the morning Saturday night. Oh, I guess it would be Sunday, wouldn’t it? Anyway, I know because I woke up and saw her coming in through a window on the second floor.”
“Did you talk to her?” Casey asked.
“Nope. I wasn’t really awake. I heard the noise and went out into the hall to check. She was coming in through the window at the end of the hall. When I tried to ask her where she’d been, she shushed me and I just went back to my room.”
“What time did she leave the house on Sunday?”
“I don’t know,” Carole said. “She was gone by the time I woke up. Maybe she just sneaked in to change her clothes.”
“Did everyone like Lily as much as Mrs. Carpenter seems to think?” Desiree asked.
“She was okay,” Carole said. “I liked her well enough. Some of the other girls weren’t so hot on her once they figured out what she was prepared to do to get ahead.”
“Which was—?” Desiree looked across at Carole, ignoring the oncoming traffic until Casey bleated a wordless warning.
“Well,” Carole said. She dragged out the word as though she was trying to dislodge it from between her teeth. When Casey coughed, she said, “Let’s just say that she could vamp with the best of them. And did.”
“You think that’s how she got her contract with Monarch?” Casey asked.
“I know it,” Carole said. “She told me.”
Desiree laughed bitterly. “Oh, that’s great. That’s just great.”
“What?” Both Casey and Carole asked, almost simultaneously.
“The papers love this kind of stuff,” Desiree said. “Every time something like this happens in Hollywood, the papers invent stories about wild parties, monumental drug use, and women who sleep their way to success. If this gets out—”
“When this gets out,” Casey said. “I don’t see how you can keep it a secret.”
“Which won’t stop Monarch from trying, Casey.” She seemed about to say more, but didn’t.
“What else did Lily tell you?” Casey asked Carole.
“She liked to brag about all the men.” Carole turned away to look at the buildings on Sunset Boulevard. “Boy, did she like to brag. To hear her talk, she could—”
“Names,” Casey said quickly. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to know the details of Lily Cross’s opinion of her prowess. “Did she tell you who it was she was involved with?”
“No. I saw her with Mr. Straebo a couple of times, though.”
Casey was still assimilating this news when Carole added, “But you could probably get the names of all of her boyfriends from her diary.”
“Oh, God,” Desiree said. “On top of everything else, she kept a diary.”
“Well, sure,” Carole said. “Most of us do.”
“There ought to be a law,” Desiree said, “against young actresses writing anything down.”
“Speaking of which,” Casey said, “where’s the diary?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Carole said. “I gave it to the other man from the studio. Didn’t he tell you?”
Next Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five
Chapter Six Chapter Seven
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