Murder on the Yellow Brick Road Read Free Page B

and an understanding turn of her head as she lead a pleased and confident looking Hoff outside and closed the door behind her. Hoff was one hell of an actor for a PR man. Inside he was filled with fear for his six-figure job, but to look at him now you’d think he was William Powell.
    My attention turned back to Judy Garland, who was watching my face.
    â€œShe’s beautiful isn’t she?” the girl-woman said.
    I thought about lying, pretending I didn’t know what she was talking about, but I also felt that I didn’t have to.
    â€œShe is,” I said.
    â€œI wish I could be beautiful like that,” she sighed.
    â€œYou are beautiful, and you’ll get better,” I said.
    â€œMr. Peters, I am not a fool.” Her voice was stronger now, waking up. “I’m a plain 18 year old girl who can sing. As my mother says, I’ve got the talent, but not the looks. I’m playing a woman for the first time in Ziegfield Girls, and we start shooting tomorrow. You know who I’ll be with in that picture? Lana Turner and Hedy Lamarr. Any beauty I’ve got has to be put there by make-up, lights and experts.”
    â€œYou’re underrating yourself,” I said, uncomfortable with the role of confidant to a teenager. Besides, who was I to give advice on beauty? On a good day, I could pass for the steady loser in tank town five rounders.
    She looked at me steadily, and almost whispered, “I got a call to go to that set. Someone called this room and told me Mr. Mayer wanted me to get over there fast for some publicity shots with Wendel Willkie.”
    â€œWendel Willkie?” I said. “He’s in …”
    â€œCamden, New Jersey,” she finished.“I know that now, but I didn’t until I saw the newspaper. Cassie checked. No one from Mr. Mayer’s office told me to go to that stage. No one from publicity called me to go to that stage. Mr. Peters, someone just wanted me to be the one who found that body. Why would they do that?”
    Her big brown eyes were examining my face for an answer. I didn’t have answers, only questions.
    â€œWas the voice male or female?”
    â€œMale, but a little high I think. I didn’t pay too much attention at the time.”
    â€œO.K.,” I said, “did you recognize it, the voice.”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œHe called you here?” She said yes.
    In a few minutes I discovered that Cassie James had been in the dressing room with her when the call came, that Cassie had not talked to the caller, that she had accompanied Judy to the Munchkin set and they both had discovered the body. According to Judy, Cassie James was a good friend and a kind of mother figure for her, though Cassie James didn’t look motherly to me. Judy’s own mother, I picked up from a few remarks, was not the girl’s favorite person. It seemed reasonable, or so I told myself and Judy Garland, that I should talk to Cassie James before I decided what to do. In the course of the few minutes we talked whatever she had taken wore off. She stood up and moved to the door, telling me that she felt well enough to go back to a Ziegfield set where they were rehearsing around her.
    She opened the door and looked back at me.
    â€œI’m all right now Mr. Peters, but I am scared and I’d like your help.”
    She left before I could tell her that I had no help to give. I could hear the two women exchanging words outside the door, and Cassie James came back in without Warren Hoff.
    â€œWarren’s gone out to get help, someone to make you come to your senses and take this job,” she explained with a smile that kept me from standing. “Would you like something to drink?”
    It was about ten in the morning, and I didn’t drink anyway except for an occasional beer. I said no, but accepted when she offered coffee.
    The coffee was already made and warm in the corner. She poured us both cups