Young Writers Society

The Backround

Karen Richardson wanted a better life. One of eight children growing up in Depression-era Michigan, every day was a struggle to survive. When she could scrounge up the money, she found solace her trips to the picture show. In 1938, when she was sixteen, she left home and ended up in Hollywood, hoping for her shot at stardom. But Hollywood wasn't the land of opportunity she imagined it to be. Still, she managed to charm her way into the elite clubs and restaurants frequented by Hollywood's elite.

Then, on a cold November day in 1941, she ended up dead. Murdered and dumped in an alleyway. Why anyone would want to kill her was a complete mystery. As the police investigated, everyone in Hollywood feared they would be next.

The Story

Compared to the other studios, Vitaphone Pictures was brand new, having only been founded in 1930. Andrew Armstrong differentiated himself from the other studio bosses by being young, handsome, and approachable, yet still having a knack for what made a movie work.

Rejects from MGM, Warner Brothers and Fox would soon find themselves signing contracts with Vitaphone. It was smaller, and could offer its actors more individual attention. By 1940, it had five bankable stars that could rival the star power of actors like Lana Turner, Judy Garland, and Clark Cable.

But things were changing. The necessities of the war had slashed production budgets. MGM had two major hits with The Wizard of Oz and Gone With The Wind, both in color, and the other studios were scrambling to catch up. Vitophone was known for making cheerful and simplistic movies, and now the public was craving something deeper, and Vitophone found its losses increasing.

Armstrong began to plan a comeback film with his biggest stars. Production would commence that March, but it would soon be halted by haunting revelations about Karen's murder.

About You

You are one of Vitophone's marquee stars. Your life is the subject of envy. Your face graces movie posters and your personal life is written about in tabloids. You didn't know Karen, but you could have sworn her face was familiar. Such a sad thing to happen to an innocent girl.

Slots

1. @Elinor - Ann Davis
2. @Steggy - Lacy Parker
3. @Lumi - Gabe Calloway
4. @LadyLizz - Irene Leigh
5. @TheBlueCat - Evelyn Rose

Template



A Brief Guide to Los Angeles



Karen



Saturday Evening



Other

If you have any questions, please ask me. I want this to be a collaborative effort! I also know quite a bit about this era of Hollywood so if there's anything you're confused about historically, *please* let me know! While the storybook will be focused on the murder mystery and how Vitophone ties into it, I also want it to be relaxed and open ended so I am fairly flexible about the trajectory, as well as who your characters end up being!

Ann

It was a cloudy, cold and gray day in Los Angeles. Ann was sitting at the Primrose Café on Beverly Boulevard, script for Saturday Evening in hand. She was due to meet Lacy, Evelyn, Irene and Gabe to go over lines. She was the first one there, and had in advance ordered a coffee and piece of chocolate pie.

As Ann took a sip of her coffee, she reminded herself that the weather was twice as bad back in Michigan. After five years in Los Angeles, she didn't know she had survived seventeen Midwestern winters. She still liked the spirit of the holiday season, which was why the trip home had been good. Her parents refusal to call her Ann had been annoying. She remembered how she felt when she was still Judy Goldmeyer, and that was a life she never wanted to go back to. But everyone and everything was in Michigan was unchanged, and no one treated her any differently because she was famous, which was nice. It was nice, at least, until her mother had started badgering her about Karen.

"You hear about that girl that got killed?" was how she brought it up, while they were peeling potatoes, no less.

"Yes," Ann said.

She hadn't told her mother anything. It had only been two weeks since the country had officially been at war. Ann had hoped her mother was too preoccupied by that news to care about a singular murder case. "Did you know her?"

"No," Ann lied. "There's a million people in Los Angeles. Why would you expect me to know one girl?"

"I heard she wanted to be an actress," Ann's mother replied. "That she knew your boss. I was just curious."

"Karen, I like you-"

"But?"

"You can't live here anymore. Unless you start paying rent."

"You know I can't-"

"Exactly. This was just for a week, while you looked for a job."

"Ann-"

"Look. I came here and I started from nothing. Am I Lana Turner? No. But I've been successful because I worked for it. If you want this, you have to be willing to suffer a little. You'll make it. But you have to work for it."

"I thought I could trust you."

"Be well, Karen."

Ann had abruptly changed the subject, not wanting to think about it anymore. "He cast me in a new film. He's really excited about this one. I am too. It's a great part. I think we could be up for some Oscars.” Ann's mother barely had a response.

"Are you seeing anyone?" She asked instead.

"No," Ann said.

"What about George? He was nice."

"I didn't love George enough."

Ann's mother laughed. "Just find someone who will take care of you. I don't want to end up having a spinster for a daughter."

At the cafe, Ann took another sip of her coffee, wondering where everyone was. It three, when they'd said they'd meet. A meeting time was a meeting time. She was also due to meet Andrew later, and hadn't been told what it was about. She was nervous, and wanted the day to be over. She found herself thinking of Karen again. If she hadn't kicked her out, would she still be alive?

Someone entered the back room, but it wasn't anyone she was waiting for. It was a redhead who she recognized but couldn't quite place. With her was an attractive latin man. They paid Ann no mind, but as they sat down and began to order, she could see that they were very plainly in love.

Ann thought of everything in her life. So much of it was exactly the way she'd always dreamed it would be. And so much of it still hadn't quite fallen into place. Watching the couple, she knew that what they was real. She was willing to wait. She enjoyed her independence too much for now.

It was now a few minutes past three. She hoped everyone was on their way.

Irene

It had been far too long since she had walked anywhere, mostly getting shoved into a black studio car or taxi cab, people fluttering and worrying about her dress. The days when she could walk out of the studio with a pair of sunglasses and a cotton shirt were long gone, left somewhere back in 1932, probably with a string of love affairs.

This cafe was over half a mile from the studio, a justified use of money on a cab, but there was a reason she could afford her lifestyle despite never making it as big as her friends. Plus after the experience Irene had just had in Armstrong’s office, some fresh air was welcomed.

-
“Did you kill her?”
He slammed his hand down on the desk, rattling the coffee mugs, distracted from her commentary about plot holes. One little slip of the lip, saying Karen was better off dead, and her ex-lover was in a state of fury. Of course this wasn’t an accidental slip, this was planned and calculated the night before when she was editing the scripts. A way to invoke anger from him, some act against her that she could go to the police with, show what a temper he had.

“And how would I have done that? Hmm? You probably slept with her the night she died and sooner or later the hounds will sniff out everything in this studio. Is that what you want? Another 1938?”

His reaction surprised her. Irene leaned partially against the office door, blowing out a string of smoke, when he slapped her and she felt her head knock into the doorknob.
“If you messed up my hair, I swear to God somebody will be dying in this office.”
He didn’t come back to attack her, not like what she had expected, not like all of the attackers she had fought off in the past. With one blow he was done and out of the fight, crouched on the ground in front of her, worrying like he did every time. She thought back to their brief relationship when this was common, how he’d barely smack her and then she would easily overpower him, tossing his body back onto the floor.

This scene that they had written together would have gone perfectly in a movie, had he ever paid attention to her scripts. If he had, they wouldn’t be sinking like this now. And it ended the way it also ended, him on his back, struggling to kept up, and repeating “I’m sorry” in a mournful voice. Her response changed this time.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

-
Irene didn’t know how long she had stood lurking in front of the picture window, long enough for Ann to come out and question if she was alright. Of course Irene wasn’t alright, living with enough secrets to fill up the lifetimes of 5 generals. She had gotten married on 4th of July to a Navy man she had been engaged to for nearly 12 years and didn’t tell any of her friends. She had killed some in the past, the present and probably would in the future, but none of that was recorded anywhere. She had robbed buildings when she was 15 and 16, yet any one who knew of those were dead as well. Irene was known for being the bad girl, but the girls she worked around didn’t know how much of an understatement that was.

Still she faked being a human very well, knowing people all the way from Bette Davis and Lucille Ball, down the ladder to the dog walker of a copywriter for the studio’s ad agency. Part of her charm was in knowing people, like how she knew everyone in this restaurant by name and she had been coming there long enough, that they all knew her.

“Hello Ms. Leigh. Would you like your usual or the menu?”
“Hello Marcy, the usual will be just fine.”
The waitress never bothered to take out a pen or pad, simply setting a napkin on the table. She turned and headed over to the next row.

Ann took another sip of coffee and leaned over the table.
“I didn’t think anyone was going to show.”
“Well Ann, sorry that I’m a bit late, had to run over some issues in the plotline. Now why can’t this boy ever write anything with murder, I don’t know, but we need something more than cheesy romance.”
“Is that what you think of this movie?”
“Yes. I’ve been working at this studio for over a decade and we haven’t changed nearly enough to match with any of the others.”
“At least we’re taking those USO spots, that’ll be different. Did you get an invitation?”
“No, no my body isn’t good enough anymore to be a pin-up girl. Besides with James, I can’t have the Department of Defense anywhere near my personal records.”
Okay so maybe there was one person I had let in on my marriage.
Ann nodded and they sat in silence until Irene’s usual was brought out.

Now just to wait for the rest of the cast to show up.

"Now, then, Ines. If you beg one more word of me you'll tear my whole world apart, sweetheart. Have mercy on me, babe." Gabe had earlier managed to sneak away from his snoozing lady for a shower. But the running water had spurred her to waken, and when Gabe returned to his room for clothes, already late for his meeting, a greedy pair of arms ensnared him like the ropes he'd tied back in the scouts.

"Ooooono no no, just once more, my glistening star? For the ferocity, the hunt, and the story."

Gabe shook his head, mostly to look away from her siren-like charms, see? He pulled away from her and dressed--slowly--and before long, he was kissing Ines goodbye at his apartment door. "I've no idea when I'll be back, sweet cheeks, so make yourself at home." He stopped suddenly as his back was turned, and then waved a finger at her. "But I'll know if I come short a Cuban, so don't even try to..."

Ines waggled her eyebrows as she plonked a cigar in her mouth.

"Hell, we're gonna play hide and seek tonight, babe, just you wait." And he was off.

On the street, he hailed a cab and rode for a bit lazily before seeing a familiar face on the thoroughfare. He called the cabby to pull over, and Gabe hopped out, leaving the door open. "Evelyn. You're..."

"Gabriel, today's not the day to compliment me, I don't feel gorgeous."

"I was going to say as lost as a damn reindeer in Mexico, but that face looks better than the posters every time I see it."

She looked away, down at the sidewalk. "Are you going to the diner?"

"We are, yeah. Hop in the cab, sweetheart. It'll be magic. Pure magic."

The cabby drove off from the curb back towards the diner, and Evelyn slowly curled her nose at Gabe. "How much cologne did you put on today?"

"As per gentleman code, I applied two spritzes. One beneath my collar, and one above my right hip." A sigh. "A Portuguese demon duchess decided that I needed much, much more - but only once I was in my suit."

"Portuguese, eh? You've mentioned her a few times in the studio, you know. To camera men, make-up. I overhear things. Sounds like she's a keeper."

He shrugged. "Ines is...a thrill." He licked his palm and slicked back his hair in the rear-view mirror. "You don't just let go of thrills, doll. Else you get bored with life and end up in an alle--" The news came back to his mind with stares from Evelyn and the Cabby.

The cabby shrugged. "You think she offed herself, eh? You're not the first. People talk about her in here all the time, like some national tragedy. But my mama back in South Carolina always told me The road to hell is paved with speculation. So I don't have an opinion on the matter."

Evelyn snapped her fingers. "I quite like that line. Mind if I give it to our writers and credit your mother?"

"It's an old saying, Miss. I wouldn't know who to credit. But here's your stop."

Gabe paid and tipped the Cabby and took Evelyn by the hand to help her out. Once the cab was gone, he deflated. "It's so strange when the world is so sensitive. She was a single girl, and this happens."

Yet he couldn't think straight about her. Seeing her come into the club as a working girl. And that face, those perfect lips, and her memory for orders.

"Gabe? I'm going in."

He snapped out of it. "Right, Ev, right. Coming, sweetheart."

Andrew

After Irene left, Andrew took a moment to catch his breath. He had no delusions that she was anything other than a loose canon. That was part of what made her brilliant. It was part of what drew Andrew to her in the first place. Not just in terms of her potential as a star, of course. But after ten years, he was beginning to tire of not knowing what mood he was going to catch her in. He had been serious about firing her and replacing her with Karen. But even if Karen hadn't died, he realized that Irene was too big of a draw to cut loose. So he was stuck in a situation where he had no idea what to do.

He waited until the sound of Irene's high heels clinking down the hallway had faded into nothingness. Then, he cautiously opened the bottom drawer of his desk. Moved the shoebox out of the way. He took the carefully folded paper and opened it. About every two seconds, his eyes shifted to the door, expecting for someone to knock.

November 22th, 1941

Andrew,

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Your offer to give me a contract is very generous, but I'm going to have to decline. I've realized something people have been telling me for a long time that I didn't want to hear. I'm not going about this honestly.

Frankly, I'm amazed that you even saw me even though it was clear I'd snuck into the studio to try and meet you. At first it was only about the contract. I was going to do anything to get that contract. But we've been seeing each other in secret like this for two months and still haven't gotten around to my screen test, like you keep promising we will. You never waited with Ann Davis or Irene Leigh or Lacy Parker.

I have no reservations about my looks, but when I am signed, I want it to be because I can give a performance like Kate Hepburn did in Stage Door or Vivien Leigh in Gone With the Wind.

Farewell, Andrew. Perhaps, this won't be goodbye forever. But I have also fallen in love, and he make me a feel a way you never did. He sees me for who I am, not the amount of money he can make because of me.

Karen

November 22nd. She must have mailed it sometime that morning. The next morning, her body was found. Andrew took a second, looked at the letter, and balled his hand into a fist. He put his paper back in the drawer. When the police had questioned him initially, they hadn't searched his office or his home. He hadn't mentioned the letter or anything about their relationship. He didn't want them to get the wrong idea.

Besides, it wasn't as if he ever pursued a relationship with any woman who didn't want it. The night before they'd been discussing the details of her contract over dinner and then he gets the letter. Women were such mysterious creatures to him, always changing their minds, never being able to be fully satisfied.

He best not think about it now. He had a studio to run when the pervasive feeling that no one had any business making movies.

Meeting with Ann later and Evelyn after that. He hoped the USO assignments would give the both of them a little much needed confidence. Ann, especially, was a prude. Andrew was sure she was still a virgin. He wondered to himself if she would resent him for it. He remembered what she had been like when she'd first showed up for her screen test. Bushy eyebrowed, ratty haired, timid Judy Goldmeyer. But he'd seen something in her. He'd made her, just like he'd made everyone at the studio. That was his gift.

Sending them away would mean they would have to delay Saturday Evening, but anything to get it right. A script had just come across his desk the other evening, and it was perfect for the other three - The Beverly. It was a fairly standard film, but it had good laughs and they would bring in money. Concerning three hotel employees, Irene was to play Gabe's heinous girlfriend who he would leave for Lacy. Andrew knew Irene would resent the film, but he didn't care. He knew she knew what was at stake if she refused to do it. At nights, they would go to the new Hollywood Canteen and volunteer. As much as Irene had said she hated him and the studio, he knew there was nothing more she could bear to lose than her star, so she would do it. He began to draft a letter to Irene explaining his expectations for her. Do the film, work at the Canteen, and they would be on good terms.

His phone rang. Miriam was there to drop off Sarah for the week. On top of everything else, he had to be a father too.

Lacy Parker

She didn't expect to be late to the lunch meet-up but it had happened, again. It seemed like everytime something important was coming up, the first reaction was to fall asleep and wake up dazed and confused. Her sleeping habits didn't affect her acting nor her auditions for various films but anything else, it was pushed down into her slumber state. So, when it came to the lunch meet-up, Lacy knew she was going to be the last arriving. Better late than never, her mother would have said if she was still alive.
Under a pile of blankets and knotted hair, the actress woke up groggily. She quickly shut off the alarm and laid in bed for a few moments. The sunlight hit her face but to avoid it, Lacy turned onto her side and indulged in the warmth that it provided. I wish I could stay in bed, she thought. Unexpectedly, she closed her eyes again and fell into another slumber.

She later realized the dream she was having was in one form of foreshadowing. The dream that Lacy had first started off with her in a black room with white lights shimmering above her. Black blobs, who she believed were people, crowded near the corners of the room, chatting. The strong smell of cigarettes and boozes rested in the room. Lacy ended up going to the bar, where the white lights were hazy and a bartender was washing down the bar.

"What'll it be?" he asked, not looking up.

Lacy felt her lips move but she couldn't hear what she had said. The bartender nodded and went behind him, grabbing bottles. Lacy turned around and looked about the bar, potentially for someone to take home for the night. Her eyes fell on a young woman that was leaning against a white pillar. The bartender slid her the drink and she hopped off the seat. Every moment within the dream seemed slow and unpredictable. Lacy had found herself beside the lady, who was shaking for reasons unknown. She saw that the lady was reasonably beautiful but her hair seemed to be unbrushed and leveled off at the shoulders.

"Something troubling you?" Lacy asked, downing her drink. A table suddenly appears and when she placed the drink on the table, it disappeared into a cloud of smoke.

The lady looked up Lacy with tears forming in her eyes. "I'm not ready." And continued to say this as the dream shifted. The bar began to grow longer as the voices inside were turning demonic and deep. The last thing Lacy remembered when waking up was the lady's voice, still repeating the same three words.

I'm not ready.

Bolting up, Lacy tried catching her breath. The afternoon sun was peeling away from her window as the realization that she was going to be late, sparked her attempt at hurriedly getting dressed. She hailed a cab and when driving to the cafe, Lacy tried to piece together who the lady was in her dream. She had read in a newspaper long ago that dreams often contain people you met or see on the street because our brains can't create a face. So, where have I seen her? Why did I have that dream?
Lacy didn't want these thoughts to distract her from the meeting, which she remembered about the script. As the cab was waiting at a stoplight, Lacy began to think about the script, which was tucked neatly into her coat pocket. The plotline of the whole movie sparked some interest in her and even had her think as her character. She had already spoken to Andrew about the whole ordeal with having a love interest with Gabe, yet again. It seemed like whenever she and Gabe were in a movie together, the producer automatically put them together as the star couple. She didn't see Gabe in that way but only as a good friend who listened.
The cab pulled up to the curb of the cafe. Lacy thanked the driver, paid him, and went inside, still thinking about the dream and what could possibly happen at lunch.

Jake

It was going to be another late night. For the past year, he’d been used to this. Getting into the station early enough that it was still pitch black. Leaving at a time of night when everyone else was enjoying their evenings. Going for drinks and dinner. Maybe some shopping. You know, anything normal. And he would be stuck inside the station with a few other cops, each making calls or doing whatever it was they had to do. The past month, knowing that a lot of his peers were know signing up to go overseas. Even though he was psychically able to go himself, and didn’t have a family to provide for, he learned that police work was considered an essential occupation. Part of him wanted to go, serve his country. But even though Jake supposed he’d risked his life for the past seven years being a cop, he’d never had to use his gun. He didn’t know how he’d do on the front.

Jake’s cubicle was closest to a window that overlooked 1st Street. It was somewhat dilapidated and not his favorite part of town, but he often found himself staring out at the street, contemplating his own life and the grave injustices he came head to head with on a daily basis. He found himself doing this now, forcing down coffee to keep himself warm. It was only about fifty degrees outside, cold even for January. He always found it amusing how he’d once braved -20 degree temperatures only to now be shivering at fifty.

He was reading over his notes from the initial interviews, which he’d gone over a hundred times in the past month, hoping he would be able to catch something he’d missed. He’d interviewed everyone he could that could have had some sort of link to the case. Yet everyone had been vague. No one had given him any real answers. The calls for tips and reward money had led nowhere. It didn’t help that Charlie seemed to be going through the motions. Jake had joined the force seven years ago. He’d known Charlie all of that time and it seemed like every year he talked about retiring.

It was then he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Charlie, coat on, bag at his side.

“Go home,” he said.



“Once I finish looking over these notes,” Jake responded.


“What do you expect to find?” 



“Something. Anything.”



Charlie sighed. “Let me take you out for a drink.”

Jake reluctantly agreed, wondering if a change of scenery would be able to spur anything. The only people who really seemed to know anything about Karen were Andrew Armstrong and a few of his star players. The call to Karen’s family in Michigan had not gone well at all. In short, he understood why she had wanted to get away, even if she hadn’t been ready to live on her own. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the Vitophone people were hiding something.


They settled on Cole’s, only a few blocks away on 6th Street. It was an average, run of the mill bar, but they had good drinks and good service and it was quiet so Jake and Charlie found themselves going there often. Once there, Charlie ordered a scotch and Jake a whisky.


“They’re hiding something from me,” Jake said. “I know they are.”


“What makes you think that?” Charlie asked.

“Calloway especially seemed tense. He met Karen one night for drinks and then never again? I don’t believe it for a second. He was there the night she died.”


“Karen left alone,” Charlie reminded him.

“They could have met somewhere later.”

“You think he did it?”



“Maybe.” Jake looked down at his drink. He thought about what he knew. He didn’t believe that Armstrong had never met Karen. He also didn’t believe Gabe’s story that he’d only met Karen the one time for a drink. Gabe had been at the Chestnut Club the night Karen died. There were also the ugly rumors floating around that he was a draft dodger, disinterested in the war effort and only in his own personal gain. Maybe that was part of what made Jake took a disliking to him the way he hadn’t with the others. “Let me question Calloway again.”



“If you think it’ll lead somewhere.” 



“I do,” Jake said. “You’ve always told me to go after a hunch.”



Charlie patted Gabe on the shoulder. “Alright kid. If you think so.”

Afterward, he drove Jake to the station to pick up his car. The drive home, Jake reflected on what about this case was so personal for him. He realized that Karen could have been one of his sisters. It could have been him. It was unfair that someone’s life should have been cut so short. Even if she wasn’t an angel, no one deserved to die like that.

His apartment was small, bland, and lifeless. He felt the ache of loneliness that he always did when he walked home. It was times like this when he ached for a wife. Someone who he could love. Someone to share his day with, other than Charlie. Something to give him some semblance of normalcy. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for that. But Charlie had been married for forty years. So it was possible. 

He took his notes out of his bag and dialed Gabe’s phone number. To his surprise, he picked up.

"Yes?"

“Hello, Mr. Calloway. This is Detective Lindstrom. We spoke about a month ago regarding Karen Richardson."

There was a a pause so long Jake was afraid he was going to hang up. "Yes?"

"I just want to go over some things about the case."

"I've answered all of your questions."

"Why don't you refresh my memory? I'd really appreciate it."

"Sure." Gabe then suggested they meet the next day at The Primrose Cafe, to which Jake agreed.

He hung up the phone. Jake flopped onto the couch and turned on the radio. He shut his eyes and tried to relax. Tomorrow he'd meet Gabe. He promised himself that he wouldn't rest until Karen's killer was found, and he was going to make good on that promise.

Evelyn

Evelyn sat on the old rocking chair beside her bed in her silken nightgown, mindlessly strumming her ukulele. The sun was barely peeking above the horizon, but she couldn't sleep no matter how hard she tried. Why does everyone have to drag me into this? She sighed. She hated thinking about the murder, but yet everyone bugged her about it like she was best friends with Karen. Sure, she had seen her that night at the Chestnut Club, but at that point all she had thought of her was just another person.

Setting down her uke on the nightstand, she leaned back and sighed again. She wished it would blow over soon because she hated thinking about murders. It gave her the chills every time.

Before getting ready to go meet with the others to go over their lines, she sipped a small cup of coffee, debating whether or not to bring her uke with her. She decided it wasn't necessary, so she donned her red dress and styled her hair. Maybe walking to the diner will keep my mind off Karen. So instead of hailing a taxi, she set off towards the diner, red heels clacking on the pavement. Trying to focus on the sidewalk in front of her, she barely heard the taxi pulling up next to her. As she glanced over, curious, Gabe stepped out.

"Evelyn. You're..." he began.

"Gabriel, today's not the day to compliment me, I don't feel gorgeous." Evelyn replied, trying not to sigh.

"I was going to say as lost as a damn reindeer in Mexico, but that face looks better than the posters every time I see it."

She looked away, down at the sidewalk. Why did he have to show up now? I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts for once. Oh well. "Are you going to the diner?" She asked, secretly hoping he wasn't, although she had no idea why he wouldn't be.

"We are, yeah. Hop in the cab, sweetheart. It'll be magic. Pure magic." Gesturing her into the cab, she sighed inwardly and got in, knowing she really couldn't get around it this time.

The cabby drove off from the curb back towards the diner, and Evelyn slowly curled her nose at Gabe. "How much cologne did you put on today?" Why does cologne smell so bad? I thought it was men's perfume.

"As per gentleman code, I applied two spritzes. One beneath my collar, and one above my right hip. A Portuguese demon duchess decided that I needed much, much more - but only once I was in my suit." he replied. I greatly disagree with needing more. She thought to herself.

"Portuguese, eh? You've mentioned her a few times in the studio, you know. To camera men, make-up. I overhear things. Sounds like she's a keeper." She noted, trying to keep her head in the conversation even though her thoughts were racing in a million different directions.

He shrugged. "Ines is...a thrill." He licked his palm and slicked back his hair. "You don't just let go of thrills, doll. Else you get bored with life and end up in an alle--" Both her and the Cabby stared at Gabe; he broke off as he noticed.

The cabby just shrugged. "You think she offed herself, eh? You're not the first. People talk about her in here all the time, like some national tragedy. But my mama back in South Carolina always told me The road to hell is paved with speculation. So I don't have an opinion on the matter."

Now fully in the conversation, Evelyn snapped her fingers. "I quite like that line. Mind if I give it to our writers and credit your mother?"

"It's an old saying, Miss. I wouldn't know who to credit. But here's your stop." The Cabby pulled over.

Gabe paid and tipped the Cabby and took Evelyn by the hand to help her out. She knew it would be rude to refuse even though she was very much capable, so she let him. Once the cab was gone, Gabe deflated. "It's so strange when the world is so sensitive. She was a single girl, and this happens." He stared off into the distance, obviously lost in thought.

"Gabe?" she questioned, "I'm going in."

He snapped out of it. "Right, Ev, right. Coming, sweetheart."

Walking into the diner, Evelyn quickly located the table the rest of the cast were sitting at.

"What would you like today, Evelyn?" the waiter questioned as she sat down.

"Hm? Oh yes. A muffin and a cup of coffee would be great, thank you."

Evelyn turned to the others and the waiter turned to Gabe. "Sorry we're a bit late, but let's begin, shall we?" she asked, pulling her script out of her handbag.

As the waiter hurried off to fetch both Evelyn's and Gabe's orders, the cast settled in and started talking together on the script.

Gabe tapped his gilded, initialed pen against the table before scratching down Evelyn's suggestion for the script on the back of his napkin. It, too, was embroidered, and the bored actor had lowlighted the decorations with black ink.

"You seem to have something on your mind, Gabe," mentioned Ann. "It's like you're a thousand miles across the sea, only in your head." She giggled. "I wonder why."

He took a long down of his coffee as the waitress passed their table, and after she refilled his mug, he took the coffee globe from her to keep it coming on his own. "If you thought as much about your work as you did other folks' business, Annie, you might make more than half my paycheck."

Her gaze narrowed into a horrible glare. "And if you spent as much time practicing your lines as you do your kissing--"

He caught, in that instance, a man down the diner flagging him down with two fingers. "--yeah, Annie. You keep your chin up about that. Say, girls, I have some business to tend to. I'll see you at the studio." He took his coffee with him, but left his notes and napkin behind, which, once Evelyn inspected it, read: Have girls do the hula, make the boys wan'a protect 'em.

As he sat down in front of his new date, the man lowered the brim of his fedora to keep his face masked from the girls. "I imagine you don't want all your ladies seeing you with me, ah?"

Gabe deflated. "I don't see why I should care, detective. I'm as clean as a man in Hollywood can be. I'll even go brush my teeth in the bathroom if it'll put you more at ease."

"Clever, Mr. Calloway, and funny. Real Hollywood funny. But I'm not here to ask you about your teeth. Nah. I just want to have a nice chat about your girlfriend."

Gabe furrowed his brow. "I haven't gone on the books about Ines, Detective. What do you need to kno--"

"Oh, forgive me, pal; see, by 'girlfriend' I meant the other one. Ah, what was her name...oh!" Jake's expression melted. "Karen."

Gabe reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a match from the table. "You're not gonna trap me with quick words, Detective. Like I said, I'm as clean as they come in Hollywood."

"And why are you in Hollywood, Calloway? Why not off in the Pacific killin' Japs with the rest of the country's men?"

Gabe rose, grabbing his coat and scribbling an address on a napkin. "This is my place. If you wan'a have a civil talk, Detective, you're welcome to come by and see Ines and me." His eyes wandered over the bathroom headers where, on the female side, was a picture of a baby for the changing station. He grinned and turned for the door. "Just try to make it before the baby comes."

Ann

Ann watched as Gabe left their table and joined another. The man was wearing a trenchcoat and a fedora even though they were inside. She couldn’t make out his face, but underneath the shadow of his hat there was a strong, sturdy jaw. Cradled around a coffee cup were tanned hands that Ann imagined had a sturdy grip.

They reminded her strikingly of a man who she had seen before. Not so long ago, he’d sat across from her on her couch - in the very spot Karen liked to occupy -- and asked her what she knew. Ann had told him that she knew her by face but not by name. That often she came to the Chestnut Club, that she was beautiful but there was a sort of faux elegance about her, as if she was trying too hard.

What she didn’t tell Detective Lindstrom was that Karen reminded her, almost painfully, of where she once had been, but with all of the natural beauty and grace that Ann had to completely reinvent herself for. That she harbored a stinging jealousy of the young woman she never spoke to at the Chestnut that she often saw around Gabe.

How Ann had been driving home one night in the pouring rain and saw a soaked Karen, no umbrella, waiting at a bus stop. She pulled over. Let the young woman in.

“Where’s your umbrella?” She’d asked.

Karen didn’t answer the question. “You’re Ann Davis,” she’d answered.

“Yes.”

And just like that they began chatting like they were old friends, bonding over their shared Michigan upbringing. Karen had lamented that she’d had to leave the room she was renting that she was live in. Ann had asked where she was staying now, and when Karen again dodged question, Ann said “of course you have my guest room.”

She hadn’t told him any of that. Maybe she should have. Why was Gabe talking to him now? There was no answer to that question. She checked the clock. It was four thirty. She was due to meet Andrew at five.

“All right girls, until next time.”

“Bye, Ann,” Lacy responded.

Irene managed a wave.

She stood up and headed toward the exit. At that moment, Gabe stood up. He handed the Detective what appeared to be a napkin and muttered something Ann didn't catch.

"I certainly will," the Detective responded loudly as Gabe headed toward the door. He put the napkin in his coat pocket.

This left her clear in the eyeline of Detective Lindstrom. His blue eyes were unmistakable. For a moment their eyes were locked. She was weak in the knees, unable to move. And finally she found the strength to keep walking towards the door.

She’d hoped to catch up with Gabe to ask him what that was all about, but by the time she got outside, she already saw him climbing into a cab. She turned around and instead saw Evelyn behind her.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Evelyn responded.

“Where are you headed?”

“To the studio, to meet Andrew.”

“Me too,” Ann said.

“He wants to see us together?”

“I don’t know.” It was so like Andrew to be secretive for no reason. “I suppose. I wonder what about.”

Evelyn shrugged, and neither woman said anything to each other as they concentrated on flagging down a cab. Ann liked Evelyn, and was looking forward to playing her sister. They didn’t really look much alike - maybe around the eyes - but one of them would have to dye their hair. She supposed that Evelyn would look better with dark hair than she would as a blonde, but she didn’t feel like bringing it up right now, as she supposed someone else would make that call for them. They got into the cab and the next twenty minutes or so was filled with idle small talk. Ann thought about how much she liked the script, and was looking forward to making it.

Once they reached Andrew’s office, there was still a little hesitation as to whether they were indeed both meeting him at the same time.

Then a four year old girl opened the door. “Hi!”

Before they could respond, Andrew approached the door and shooed her away. “Come on, Sarah. Daddy has an important business meeting. Go color.” Sarah obliged without question. “Sorry about her,” Andrew said. “Come in.”

“You wanted to see both of us?” Ann asked.

“I did, I did,” Andrew replied.

He explained everything to them. As much as he wanted to have cameras rolling on Saturday Evening by February, the war had changed that. The USO had contacted him and he needed two talented stars to go on a touring show throughout the Pacific. He’d chosen them. Ann wasn’t sure how to process. Evelyn was the obvious choice because she was Vitophone’s most successful song and dance girl. She was their Ginger Rogers.

“Why me?” Ann asked. She considered herself a good singer and a dancer, but Andrew never cast her in anything where she could put those talents to use. So, in a way, she’d forgotten about them.

“Do you know how desirable you are?” Andrew responded. She had some idea. Ever since she done the photoshoot for Life magazine two years ago wearing that bikini on the beach, she got attention from men that she never had before. They would stop and stare. They would ask her on dates. Ann always declined but she was never interested in any of them. Andrew told her that GIs kept posters of her in their lockers, on their walls. Why me? Ann kept thinking. “You girls are going to make their lives just by being there.”

“When do we leave?” Evelyn asked.

“I booked you tickets for Friday morning.” That was two days from now. He handed them each an envelope. There’s more information, including your setlist, in here. Find some time and rehearse it with each other.”

“Daddy,” came a voice.

“Sweetheart, I’m in a meeting,” Andrew responded without looking at his daughter.

“I’m hungry.”

“I’ll have Betty get you some ice cream.” He looked back at Ann and Evelyn. “Sorry. Miriam drops her off with me at the most inconvenient times.”

The two actresses said nothing.

“Unless you girls have anything further, that will be all,” he said.

“What will the others do?” Ann asked.

“Don’t worry about them. I’ll keep them busy. And we’ll pick up right where we left off with Saturday Evening when you girls get back.”

Over the next two days, they practiced their setlist. It was simple enough. But in the blink of an eye it was time to leave. On the plane over she kept thinking that she was utterly unprepared to face combat firsthand.

Irene

When Gabe left the table, everyone glanced towards the man he went to sit with, and anyone could tell that they were all trying to figure out who it was. If Irene had not met the detective just a week before, she would have thought it to be another young hustler, who would find himself in silk eventually.

But she had met the detective and she had promised him information about Gabe and Andrew. The man was rather clueless when it came to the suspects involved and like all other men assumed it wouldn't be the women because they were too helpless. One thing that was for sure, Irene Leigh had never been helpless in her life.
Not when she took care of herself or any other girl who needed it, she always had a solution and sometimes it ended in a bullet.

She swirled the missed coffee grounds around a few times in her cup, watching the others watch the detective and the time. On her desk that morning, a small memo had been circulated concerning an upcoming USO show. No way she would be picked for that and no way she would accept it if by some chance Andrew got off his ass and handed it to her.

The conversation caught her attention again and these thoughts drifted back away, she heard what Gabe said to the detective, and stood up just in time to catch the piece of paper he shoved into her hand.
"Your place. I'll bring the vodka and I know you have oranges."
This is what their relationship had been so long before but that was long over, and someone new was there now. Well he had been, now he was waiting in a bay on a military base, trying to get back to Mobile after the holidays. The house was empty, nothing for Gabe to search through in a drunken state, so Irene decided to go ahead with her plans of talking to the detective.

The other actresses were clearing out, some going back to the office and Lacy being as distant as usual, good thing she didn't feel like splitting a cab fare anyways. The man she flagged down questioned her destination, all the way up until the time they got there, until she pulled out a Hamilton and told him to keep the change. Money always worked to stop questions from rolling around in men's brains.

In the manilla enevelope, there were carefully tucked photos of Karen, mostly in the nude, commissioned by Andrew and the orders at least signed by him. She had the records of everything, that she had carefully collected to blackmail the bastards, both Gabe and Andy. For now she decided to only destroy Andrew, because no matter how much of an asshole and a drunk Gabe was, he didn't have it in him to kill someone. But Andy did, she thought, he helped me out with that pest so long ago.

Lindstrom wasn't there to deliver the enevelope too and they asked for her name, her real name, prompting her not to leave behind a fake. So she gave them her real name, Cecilia Leigh and left it at that. She walked out of the police station at the same pace she came in, not shifting at all or leaving any cause for concern or notice of guilt.

She caught a different cab for the way home, ignoring the one still idling and looking for another handsome fare. To this one, she tipped an extra Lincoln and kept the brim of her hat down across her face, half wishing to be wearing a veil. But she walked in the same manner from the cab up the drive, waving to her neighbors and pretending like she hadn't just dropped off enough receipts and pictures to possibly put her boss in prison.

The lights were on but she didn't question it, since Gabe wasn't the type of alcoholic to drink in the dark, even though she knew the type. However when she opened the door and saw Tom sitting on the couch, thinking that he was long gone and now in a different sea of worry, she questioned where exactly her gun was at that moment. Gabe stood up and gestured towards her and the patio outside, where they both quickly moved to.

"You're married. That's new. Funny that you wouldn't tell one of your oldest friends."
"It's not that new and it's your own fault for not being better at gossip."
"Ann knew and some guy in the art department."
"Mark Evans. And of course they knew, they were the witnesses at my little courthouse wedding."
Their voices grew until Tom peeked around the corner and Irene pulled Gabe further towards the small fenceline.
"Look, I ditched you a long, long time ago bud and then you went chasing after a tail who was younger than me when we met 12 years ago. If you were out galavanting around with someone like her, no surprise that it all caught up to her eventually. And besides you have something solid now and I'd recommend you stick with it."
"And I will. I just need this to be done for sure."
"Us? I think I answered that just a moment before."

Irene walked away, huffing and knowing what he was referring to: Karen. It had to be Karen, most of their conversations lately had been concerning the young starlet who might have offed herself or the sign of a new serial killer. Eventually her life would be looked back on in memory or forgotten completely, but for the moment it was just scandal.

"Irene, I know about you and Andrew killing those mobsters. I know about you and you think I don't know anything about-"
She picked up a flower pot and flung it at his head.
"You don't know anything about me you bastard. You thought that ring meant nothing so screw you."
Gabe picked himself up off the ground after dodging the pot.
The voices rose again.
"What? Totally my fault? That you wouldn't let me know about who you were before?"
He pointed around the corner where Tom sat in the living room.
"Did you tell that kid who you were before?"
"Gabe, you idiot. He is my past. He is my only family. He is the only one who knows me."

Now he walked away and scoffed, keeping whatever thoughts to himself that might matter.
"You killed her didn't you?"
"Why would you think that?"
"Because I do know you and out of all us, you're the only one who could do this."
"Get the hell out and don't come back."
"What about the taking me with you and getting out of the contract?"

Irene kicked open the gate door, picked up another pot and shouted "Out!"

It's safe to say he left. And while he walked away, Irene sighed to herself and tried to figure out what to do next, joining Tom inside and repeating the conversation she just went through. This would be a long road but it's not like this was her first time around the block.

Jake

Jake sat at the drugstore counter with the latest edition of Variety and a hot fudge sundae. It was a quarter past twelve and he hadn't eaten lunch yet, but he didn't care what anyone thought. He was due to meet Gabe in an hour. They'd confirmed over the phone the night before, and Jake was anxious to walk away having something more concrete. He'd heard about the cases that had never been solved. The killers, free men until their last breaths. He wasn't going to let that happen. Nineteen year old girls don't just turn up dead in alleyways without someone being held responsible.

He took a big bite of the hot fudge sundae. It reminded him of his childhood, when he and his sisters would all save up their allowances and go into town to get hot fudge sundaes at the drugstore. Sometimes they'd even go in the dead of winter. As his oldest sister Grace always said, "it's never too cold for ice cream."

Jake had once seen Loose Leaf a farcical romantic comedy that Gabe had done with Lacy Parker. He'd enjoyed it alright, but found him boring as an actor. The night before, he'd done a little bit of digging into Gabe's background, hoping to find something of interest. All he'd discovered was that the man was born in Sacramento to a doctor and a lawyer. Had a pampered childhood. And that his birthname was Eric Neal. It wasn't much, but it was something.

He mindlessly paged through the Variety. He'd picked it because Gabe was on the cover. "Gabe Calloway: Inside The Life of a Star", it read.

There was an article about Ann Davis and Evelyn Rose leaving for a USO tour in the Pacific. There were photos of the two of them at the airport, waving goodbye to a crowd of reporters. There was another about Carole Lombard going to Indianapolis to sell war bonds. Lombard was interviewed briefly in the article. "I would donate 80 percent of my salary to the war effort if I could," she was quoted as saying.

He finally got to the article. There were a few obnoxious glamour shots that preceded it, but the article itself had nothing substantial.

"'I've always had a taste for the fine things in life,' the thirty-one year old proclaims as we begin the interview, sitting opposite him at the Chestnut Club. Mr. Calloway orders a Vesper, and we begin our talk.

'I owe everything to Andrew Armstrong. He's a good man.'

'Lacy Parker is a lovely girl.'"

Then, there was a question about the war that made Jake furrow his eyebrows.

"V: Your peers have been quick to sign up for the armed services. You have not. Why don't you set the record straight?

GC: Should I be selected, I of course will go. My heart is with everyone overseas.

V: There are rumors you have not registered for the selective service.

GC: They are untrue."

The article left it at that. Jake was stunned It simply continued into unrelated territory.

"V: Is there a special lady in your life?"

GC: As a matter of fact..."

Jake shut the Variety and put it into his bag. It was time for him to go. He had another bite of his sundae first, though.

As he left, he caught some teenage girls looking over at him. They giggled and looked away as he met their gaze. Jake continued out the door and started his drive into Bel Air.

-

A Portugese woman wearing an engagement ring answered the door. "Hello, Mr. Lindstrom," she said. "Gabe is expecting you."

He extended his hand. "Jake."

"Ines," said the woman.

"Allow me to congratulate you," Jake said, gesturing to the ring.

Ines blushed in response and led him inside, where Gabe was waiting for him, immaculate in a beige pinstriped suit.

"I'll leave you boys to it," said Ines.

Once she was gone, Jake sat down opposite him.

"Drink?" Gabe asked.

"No, I'm alright," Jake responded.

A moment of awkward silence. "I read Variety. Congratulations."

"Thank you, detective."

Jake took a moment to respond. His gaze had drifted out the window to the stunning view of the city below. No wonder the rich and famous paid exorbitant amounts for the houses up here.

"I love what Ines has done with the place," Gabe said. "Having her around, it's really saved me."

Jake took a deep breath. "I'm going to be clear--" He hesitated--"Eric." He noticed Gabe flinch at the sound of his birthname. "I don't like you. I think you're a bad person."

"How do you expect me to respond to that, Detective?"

"Why does Carole Lombard care more about the war effort than you?"

"No one said I didn't care."

"But you are a coward." Gabe didn't respond. "You know what? I think I'll have a whisky. If it's not too much trouble."

"Of course." As Gabe poured the whisky, Jake turned towards him and began a different tactic.

"Why don't you tell me everything you know about Karen Richardson?"

"I've told you everything I know." Gabe handed Jake his whisky.

"Why was she at the Chestnut Club the night she died?"

It took a while before Gabe responded. "She was there to see me."

"Was she now?"

"Yes. We were lovers. She wanted to get married. I didn't feel the same way. So I broke it off. She wanted me to change my mind. But I didn't see her after she left The Chestnut Club."

The questioning continued like this for a little while longer, leading nowhere. Gabe stuck to his story that he did not see Karen after she left The Chestnut Club that night. Jake was getting tired. Even if there was no physical evidence to bring Gabe into custody for the murder, maybe he'd have better luck nailing him for dodging the draft. The fine wouldn't matter to him and five years in prison was not enough of a punishment for murder, but it wasn't nothing.

Finally, Jake stood up. "Alright, I've got to get going. I hope your fiancée knows you're a draft dodger."

Then he left.

--

When Jake returned to the station, Charlie was waiting for him at his desk. He had a thick manila envelope in his hand.

"I think you ought to see this," said Charlie. Jake opened it as Charlie watched. They were photos of Karen. Mostly nude. "Some sort of clerical error. Apparently they were delivered last Friday. Didn't get to my desk until a few hours ago."

Jake turned one of the photos over. On the back was Andrew Armstrong's name and a date, scrawled in pen. 11-2-41. "Who delivered this?"

"They signed Cecilia Leigh," Charlie responded.

Jake continued to stare at the photos as they talked. "Did they get a good look at her?"

"She kept her face down. Had a wide brimmed hat on. But she had dark, curly hair."

"She didn't leave a number?"

"No."

Jake sighed. "Put it in evidence."