The Case of the Angry Actress: A Masao Masuto Mystery Read Free Page A

Greenberg began to cry. She must have washed off her makeup and she was pretty without it. It occurred to Masuto that perhaps she had wept earlier. Emotion and the display of emotion by the population of Beverly Hills was not anything that Masuto felt competent to analyze or predict.
    â€œPlease continue,” he said to Cotter.
    â€œYes—of course,” Cotter said. “Al was pleading, and then this dame’s voice says, ‘Like you gave me mine, you bastard—remember?’ And Al pleads again, ‘Please, please—’ Then I start banging on the door and I hear a thud. I hear Al fall, I guess, but the door is locked. I know that Al’s room and Phoebe’s are connected. Each of them has a dressing room that leads into a bathroom, and the two bathrooms connect. So I run to Phoebe’s room—I guess I did some shouting. In Phoebe’s room, I saw Stacy—Murph’s wife—she was lying on the bed, resting. Then I bust through the connecting rooms to Al’s room, and there’s Al on the floor, dead. I didn’t know he was dead then, but that’s what Meyer said. So I go to unlock the hall door and get help, but it’s already unlocked. And that’s it.”
    Still silence. Most of them were watching Cotter, not the detective, who said, “Whose voice did you hear, Mr. Cotter?”
    â€œDon’t you think we asked him that?” Sidney Burke said. “The other cop asked him. But he’s playing cute. Real cute. Now he’s going to take you into the next room and pin it on his choice.”
    â€œOh, why don’t you shut up,” Cotter said tiredly. “What I got to say, I say right here. Murph’s my lawyer, and he’s here. I don’t know whose voice it was. Whoever the dame was, she was crazy mad. Her voice was choking and hoarse. I don’t know whose voice it was.”
    â€œBut it was a woman’s voice—of that you’re certain?”
    â€œI never gave it a second thought.”
    â€œA man’s voice can sound like a woman’s voice.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œVery well,” Masuto said, smiling sympathetically. “Dr. Baxter here—” pointing to him, “—is our local medical examiner. It is his opinion at this moment that no crime has been committed, that Mr. Greenberg died of natural causes—”
    â€œHow in hell you can talk like that after what I heard, I don’t know!” Cotter burst out.
    â€œPlease, Mr. Cotter—what you heard indicates that violence might have threatened Mr. Greenberg. It would appear, from what you tell me, that a woman was in the room with Mr. Greenberg and that she threatened him with a gun. But it would also appear that Mr. Greenberg’s heart attack had already started. Possibly this woman or person refused to hand Mr. Greenberg the sublingual tablets upon which his life depended. We don’t know, and we also do not know that a crime has been committed. Murder is a very ugly matter, Mr. Cotter, and for the moment I feel it would be best for everyone concerned to refrain from using the word. This does not mean that we will not pursue our investigation. We certainly shall. But for tonight—well, I think Mr. Anderson will agree with me.”
    â€œI certainly do!” Anderson said emphatically.
    â€œThen I think that if I may ask a few questions, brief and to the point, you can then leave. No more than ten minutes.”
    â€œI think I have had about all I can stand,” Phoebe Greenberg said softly.
    â€œThen two questions and you can leave. Firstly, do you own a gun or is there a gun anywhere in this house?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAnd where were you when Mr. Cotter shouted?”
    â€œApparently I was in the pantry elevator on my way up to the second floor. When I got out, there was the commotion—and Al was dead.”
    â€œI felt bad,” Stacy Anderson said. “That’s why I