“I’m beginning to see it. She made a list of all the people who had done something to her over the years.”
“Yes — Marcus, Larry, Oscar Olson, two of her three husbands, her first agent, one or two others. A director. She made them come to see her — one at a time, of course, so they wouldn’t overlap. And she left various things lying around to incriminate them, to put them all in the same spotlight with her. All the horrible things they’d done to her had made her decide to kill herself, do you see? It was a marvelous scheme. It would have done serious damage. A great blow on behalf of all women who have been discriminated against.”
“Larry was there?”
“Even Larry would have been hurt. He didn’t treat her any worse than he treats everybody else, but the others didn’t commit suicide, and they weren’t Keko Brannon.”
“Did you have a key to the house?”
“No, I used Kate’s. I told the police I found the door unlocked. As soon as I made sure Keko was dead, I looked around and picked up. I missed a few things, but nothing too bad.’
“Were you satisfied that it was actually a suicide?”
“There was never any doubt about that.”
He turned on the light again. She met his look without wavering.
“Oh, there was talk. But we turned every available screw and kept it under control.”
“Did you tell Marcus about the films you found?”
“I’m not a saint, Mr. Shayne. Yes, I told him. They were very poor quality. They must have been taken in a motel, through some kind of air-conditioning grill. I looked at a few frames in a Moviola; and after I got the drift, I cut it up into little pieces and flushed it down the toilet.”
The phone buzzed. Shayne picked it up and said, “Hold it.” To the woman: “Stand out in front of the headlights where I can see you.”
“I understand, yes. You have no reason to trust me.”
He snapped on his lights and waited till she came into them. He waved her further away. She stared into the light and put her hand flat against her stomach in a sudden gesture, as though she was feeling a sharp pain there.
Shayne told his operator to go ahead.
“It’s a woman named Alix Hermes. Do you want to talk to her?”
“Damn right!” Shayne said and cut a tape recorder into the transmission.
“Go ahead, please,” the operator said in her formal voice. “I have Mr. Shayne.”
“Hello,” a voice said, misplacing the accent slightly “Do you recognize my name?”
“You’re Larry Zion’s girlfriend.”
“Is that what I am? I cannot talk on the phone. There is something important. But I have people watching me. If I say a certain place, can you meet me?”
“Where?”
“At the Miami Yacht Basin.”
“Okay. Give me fifteen minutes.”
She told him what kind of car she would be driving, and then she was gone. Shayne motioned to Evie to come back.
“I’ll drop you at a cab stand,” he said, snapping the ignition key. “If you have anything more to tell me, say it fast.”
“I suppose I don’t, really. I made my usual mess of this.”
He wheeled around. Lights blazed in his eyes; he was running on adrenalin, hoping he could get the job done before exhaustion took over. Reaching Collins, he headed north.
“When your husband was involved with Keko, did he want a divorce?”
“Oh, yes.”
“What does he really think about his father?”
She didn’t answer at once, and Shayne tapped the wheel impatiently.
“Well, he admires him, of course.”
“Of course. Does he think Larry’s ever going to retire and give him a crack at the top job?”
“Larry’s not the type to retire, is he?”
“Would Marcus take the job if it were offered to him?”
“That’s so hypothetical, you see. We haven’t discussed it.”
“Did he give Kate Thackera the idea for running Larry off the highway?”
That startled her. “Mr. Shayne, stop this fantasizing.”
“Have you ever thought about going back to work?”
“As an actress? Heaven forbid.”
“No children… you don’t care about money. What does that leave? Your husband, your husband’s career. That’s old-fashioned. There aren’t many of you left.”
He braked to a stop on the approaches to the first of the big Beach hotels. Turning, he said more roughly, “This is as close as I go. I’ll give you one more minute. I still don’t know why you were trying to run me down. If you thought you were doing it to protect Marcus, here are some of the choices: that he killed Keko Brannon, and you and the studio covered it up for him; that he talked Kate into trying to kill Larry and then killed her in a way that would make people think Larry did it; that he’s the one who set up a hungry girl named Mandy Pitt for a fatal beating.”
“Who?” she exclaimed. “Oscar Olson’s secretary? She’s dead?” She put a hand on Shayne’s sleeve and said urgently, “Was that Marcus on the phone?”
“No.”
She went on, her grip tightening, “One minute. I can say a lot in a minute. Like any normal, American Jewish boy, he despises his father. Naturally! I came in late on that, but you just don’t know! Larry really does try to humiliate Marcus more than he does other people. And Marcus thinks Larry killed Keko Brannon. He thinks Larry physically killed her with his two hands. He waited till she passed out from sleeping pills and put her body in the tub.”
“You can have more than a minute if you’re going to tell me anything.”
“I couldn’t persuade Marcus he was wrong. He was bewitched by that creature, dead or alive. Do you believe in sorcery? I do. She was a witch! She could convince anybody that he was the one human being who could make her stop drinking and start being happy. She was a big event in Marcus’s life. He isn’t rational on the subject even now.”
“Why does he think Larry killed her?”
“Because he couldn’t let Marcus have the one thing he wanted. And, then, she was running up costs on the picture terribly. They were already over the budget; and it was getting worse and worse. If she’d waited another three weeks, the whole thing would have been beyond salvage — a disaster. She had an insane contract — he had to pay her percentage even if he replaced her.”
“That’s a rational motive, money.”
“For a monster, which is what Larry is; and Marcus wanted to do something violent! But, Mr. Shayne, by violence I mean walking into Larry’s office and throwing his tennis trophies through the window. I don’t mean gunfire or fistfighting, the way everything used to be resolved in pictures. How can I convince you? You’ll ruin everything. He doesn’t want to kill Larry, he wants to outvote him! He wants to abolish his job. He wants to take over as head of production. And he wants Larry alive and well so he can know what’s happening to him!”
“You mean Marcus is going to vote his shares for the opposition?”
“That’s exactly what I mean! With Oscar and Marcus voting together, they only need a two-to-one break in the small holdings; and Oscar’s solicitation has been going better than that.”
“You don’t think Larry has caught on to any of this?”
“God, I hope not. He’d pull some last-minute rabbit out of the hat.”