“Check those,” Judith urged. “There’s got to be a
Carp somewhere.”
“I’ll try,” Renie said, “but sometimes it’s tricky to
get into the unofficial sites. At least it is for me. Meanwhile, I’ll print out the stuff we’ve already seen.
There’s quite a bit of information about Bruno’s films,
of course.”
In the living room, World War II had ended in Eu- 228
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rope. The program had moved on to the Pacific, where
General Douglas MacArthur was wearing his game
face. Bill was adding another section to his chart.
“Joe,” Judith said with a sigh, “I thought you were
detecting.”
“I am,” Joe replied. “I’m like Hercule Poirot, letting
my little gray cells cogitate.”
Bill gave Judith an accusing look. “You didn’t let
me finish explaining my chart.”
“You’re right,” Judith said, sitting down on the sofa
arm. “Really, I am interested. Show me.”
While Bill wrestled with his unwieldy chart, Joe reluctantly turned off the TV as a mushroom cloud exploded over Hiroshima. Bill picked up his bamboo
skewer just as Renie burst into the living room.
“Hey!” she cried. “I found something. There’s a
whole Web site devoted to The Gasman and its origins.”
Judith turned to look at her cousin. “What does it
say?”
“I don’t know,” Renie replied. “It’s kind of long, so
I’m printing it out.” She saw her husband with his chart
and pointer. “Oops. Sorry, Bill. Am I interrupting?”
“You usually are,” Bill said with a long-suffering
air.
“Go ahead,” Joe urged, nodding at Bill. “I’d like to
hear this, too. It might help me . . . cogitate.”
“What’s that new section?” Judith asked, noting that
two more circles had been added.
“Morris Mayne and Eugenia Fleming,” Bill replied
with a tap for each of the turquoise circles.
“You’re right,” Judith said. “We can’t ignore them.
They were here last night, too. What else can you tell
us?”
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229
“I’ve been thinking about this,” Bill began, tapping
the corner of the chart. “We’re talking about Hollywood, and we should keep a few things in mind. One
is power. Who has it here? Bruno, of course. He was
one of the most powerful men in the movie industry.
That’s a very exclusive club. Who else, then?”
Judith felt she was in the classroom with Bill, and
automatically raised her hand. “Winifred? She was so
close to Bruno.”
Bill nodded solemnly. “That’s right. If nothing else,
Winifred would have had the power to say yes to a proposal or a script. Anyone in Hollywood can say no. But
saying yes is a risk. Winifred was probably able to do
that because of her close association with Bruno.”
“Then Eugenia would have power, too,” Judith conjectured, “because she’s Bruno’s agent?”
“Only to the extent of allowing access to the people
in her stable,” Bill replied. “Eugenia also represents
Dirk, doesn’t she? The amount of her power depends
more on her clients’ clout.”
“What about Morris?” Joe asked.
“Morris Mayne is a studio flack,” Bill said, tapping
the smaller of the circles in his addendum. “Morris can
be replaced on a whim. The only way publicists have
any power is if they’re keeping a secret. Let’s say, covering up for Angela’s overdose today.”
“Blackmail,” Joe said. “Morris is more likely a victim than a perp because he knows too much. Blackmailers are always vulnerable.”
The room went silent for a few moments as the foursome reflected. Finally, Renie spoke. “Angela and Dirk
are bankable. Doesn’t that give them some power?”
“Dirk, yes,” Bill said. “But not Angela. She’s a big
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star, though I doubt that a producer or a studio could
get a large investment on her name alone. Bruno could
and did with Dirk.”
“What about Chips Madigan?” Joe asked. “He’s a
successful director.”
Bill shook his head. “Chips is under contract to
Paradox. His power is limited. In fact,” he continued,
tapping at several of the smaller circles, “no one here
really has power except Bruno, Winifred, and Dirk.
Writers in particular are way down on the food chain.”
“Ellie had power,” Judith pointed out. “She was the
reason Bruno got a big chunk of money for The Gas-
man.”
Again, Bill shook his head. “That was a fluke. Ellie
had connections, which isn’t the same. Until now, her
father wasn’t a player.”
“But,” Renie said, “do people murder for power in
Hollywood? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a
thing.”
Bill pointed the pointer at Renie. “That’s right,” he
said approvingly. “They don’t. If Bruno was murdered,
I doubt that power was a motive.”
“You really think he was murdered?” Judith said eagerly.
Bill shrugged. “How do I know? But you and Joe
seem to be operating on that premise. Judging from the
studio’s involvement, they are, too.”
“So,” Renie inquired, “what’s the other factor besides power?”
“Factors, really,” Bill responded, then studied his
chart for a moment. “Image, for one. I realize it’s not
like it used to be in Hollywood, where studios manufactured images and personalities. Stars were shielded
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231
from bad publicity; they had to live up to certain standards. Of course they misbehaved, but either they were
protected from the press or the reporters themselves
turned a blind eye. Nowadays actors don’t have that
kind of buffer. And journalism is different—no turn
goes unstoned, as they say. The tabloids not only exploit the stars’ misdeeds, but they invent some of
them.” Bill took a deep breath. “All that being said, it’s
only human nature for actors to want to keep certain
unsavory things from the public. Such as Angela’s apparent cocaine habit.”
“Dirk, too?” Judith offered. “If he and Angela were
romantically involved, isn’t it possible that he also had
a coke addiction?”
“We don’t know about Dirk,” Bill replied. “Do we
have proof?”
On the sofa, Joe stretched out his legs. “Only the
coke dust my bride discovered in the downstairs powder room and traces I noticed in the bathroom Angela
and Dirk used after they commandeered Bruno’s room
last night.”
“But that could have been only Angela,” Bill
pointed out.
“What about the bathroom Angela and Ellie shared
the first night?” Judith inquired of Joe. “Did you notice
anything in there?”
Joe shook his head. “It could have been cleaned up,
of course.”
Judith persisted. “The night that Dirk roomed with
Ben, they had access to Bruno’s bathroom, because it’s
the largest and it’s shared by Rooms Three and Four.”
“Nothing there, either,” Joe responded. “Angela
may not have wanted to haul out her stash while she
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