"This isn't a reading group, Fiona," Seymour griped. "Don't waste our time with your literary opinions. Just cut to the chase!" "Stuff it, mailman. I'm the one who read the book!" Fiona then cleared her throat and proceeded to tell everyone the story of Hedda Geist's rise from nothing to minor stardom, and the events surrounding the death of studio chief Irving Vreen.
"Dr. Lilly believes Hedda Geist was involved in a conspiracy to eliminate Irving Vreen, and I think she makes a solid case for murder," Fiona concluded.
"She most certainly does not!" Brainert responded. "There's simply no proof at all, only innuendo. Why, I could not even discern a motive, and what's a crime without a motive?"
That's my problem with all this, too, Jack murmured.
As the ghost's deep voice rumbled through my still-sleepy mind, I automatically smiled. "Jack," I silently whispered. "Good morning."
Morning, baby. Enjoy yourself last night?
"What do you think?"
I think you know what I think.
"Have you been listening to all this?"
Yeah, sweetheart. And if I had a head, it would be aching by now. I'd rather be watching your backside in your bedroom.
"Jack… don't start, you're going to make me blush. Then what would I tell the Quibblers?"
That you go bored with their yammering and started daydreaming about a detective who's hot in the zipper for you. What else?
"Jack!"
"I'm telling you, Fiona," Brainert argued, as my cheeks reddened. "There's no motive-"
"You didn't discern a motive because you obviously skimmed the text." Fiona waved her copy of Lilly's book under Brainert's nose. Dozens of multicolored Post-its fluttered like tiny UN flags.
"Dr. Lilly claims to have read memos from Jack Warner, the head of Warner Studios, begging Irving Vreen to release Hedda from her contract so she could work for him. Warner told Vreen that he wanted to bring Hedda out west, to Hollywood, and give her starring roles in big-budget movies opposite the likes of Humphrey Bogart, Robert Mitchum, and Edward G. Robinson. Can you imagine a young woman in her twenties getting such an amazing offer?!"
"Where did you read that?" Brainert demanded.
Fiona thumbed a pink Post-it and flung the book open. "Here, on page 224."
Brainert snatched the book out of the woman's hand and scanned the page for a moment. "There are no footnotes here!" Brainert exclaimed. " If Dr. Lilly really read such memos, then she should have quoted them, given them a proper citation in the back matter, provided photocopies in the appendix, cited an archive source!"
"How about the quote on page 233? It's highlighted in yellow," Fiona shot back.
Brainert flipped pages, read the passage aloud. " 'Benny Seelig, the studio manager and property master at Gotham Features, once heard Irving Vreen boast that "Jack Warner wanted Hedda so badly he tried to buy my entire studio." In an interview in 1966, Mr. Seelig claims Vreen had to cut Mr. Warner off with a sharply worded letter that ended with the line "I own Hedda. Don't ask again." ' "
I froze in my chair. "My god, Jack, Did you hear-"
Brother, did I ever. And if that wasn't a motive for Hedda Geist to punch Irving Vreen's ticket, I'll eat my fedora.
"Even the conspiracy makes sense now."
I follow, baby. If Jack Warner wanted Hedda that badly for his big Hollywood studio, then she could have promised Pierce Armstrong and Wilma Brody contracts with Warner, too. That would have been motive enough for them to help her.
"So, you see," Fiona continued to explain, "Hedda must have murdered Vreen to get free of his binding contracts. But she was young and naive-if not downright stupid. According to Dr. Lilly's book, when the news of Vreen's death hit the papers, the scandal ruined Hedda. All sorts of unsavory details were splashed across the headlines during Pierce Armstrong's trial. It came out that Hedda was having an affair with Vreen, a married man with a young daughter. No one would touch her for leading roles after the tabloids got done with her, not even Warner Studios. She went to the West Coast anyway, and when she found herself without a career, she used her sex appeal to land a wealthy TV executive as a husband."
"Did the newspapers ever accuse Hedda of planning a cold-blooded murder?" Brainert asked.
"Not according to Dr. Lilly's research. That accusation was never made at the time-not even by Pierce Armstrong, who, even through his own trial, continued to maintain that Vreen's death was a tragic accident.
"There! You see!" Brainert cried. "Don't you think Armstrong would have told the truth during his trial? After all, he was on the hot seat. He had every reason to point the finger at Hedda for planning Vreen's murder."
I shook my head. "No, Brainert, don't you see? If Pierce Armstrong had done that, then they would have tried him for participating in a premeditated murder. He could have gotten the gas chamber for that back then. Instead, the judge gave him five years for manslaughter. The man probably kept his mouth shut to protect his own hide."
"So why is he talking now?" Brainert folded his arms.
Seymour piped up. "Probably because Dr. Lilly tracked him down and encouraged him to tell his side of the story. He's an old geezer now, at the end of his life. He probably figures he has nothing more to lose by setting the record straight for posterity. And don't forget he's an actor at heart. A final bow in the spotlight through a book telling his story would sound pretty sweet to a guy like that."
"Everything you're saying is just speculation!" Brainert threw up his hands. "Dr. Lilly's version of the truth relies on hearsay from a forty-year-old interview with a man named Benny. If an actual letter from Jack Warner exists, then where is it?"
I answered that one. "I'll bet that letter, and those memos, are part of what was stolen from Dr. Lilly's bungalow. More evidence could have been included in Dr. Lilly's missing manuscript, too. After all, Maggie Kline told us that Pierce Armstrong gave the woman extensive interviews.
"But any allegations made in this book should have been proven in this book!" Brainert replied.
"Says you," Seymour cut in. "If you recall, the press showed up to see Dr. Lilly's talk. The doctor herself invited them, which meant she probably did have the evidence. She probably wanted to make news by showing the reporters the memos and letters first. Then she could have published all that stuff in her second book. That way, she could sell two books to the public: the first book about Hedda's life story and the second with Pierce Armstrong's version of how the murder went down."
"Only she conveniently died in an accident," Fiona said. "And then her bungalow was robbed. If there's nothing to this story, why all the mayhem?"
"Dr. Lilly's death could easily have been an accident," Brainert argued.
"And I guess her manuscript, tapes, and notes were accidentally stolen, too," Seymour said. "Face it, Brainiac, you're resisting reality because Hedda Giest-Middleton is your business partner."
Brainert arched an eyebrow. "Reality? I'll give you reality, mailman. In my opinion, Dr. Lilly wrote a sensationalistic attempt to cash in on a very public tragedy. She only dished up enough dirt to hurt a gracious old woman-and hustle a few dollars for herself. I hate to say such things about a fellow academic, but I'm afraid everything I've said is true."
"Come on, Brainert," said Seymour. "Dr. Lilly wrote a lot of books. Why would she need money now?"
"No one gets rich writing academic film studies, Seymour. And I know for a fact Dr. Lilly was no wealthier than you or I. But if she published a sensational book about a Hollywood crime-well, that kind of trash always sells."