Design for Dying (36 page)

“It turns out Esteban had been padding Armand Troncosa's books for years. Not just the jewels, but every household expense he could think of. He was robbing Armand blind.”

“The perfect payment for blind trust,” Edith said. “Mr. Troncosa has the curse of thinking everyone likes him.”

“No wonder he felt at home here,” Sturges said. “And you figured all this out by getting an eyeful of some emeralds?”

Edith fussed with her just-arrived plate. “This story is entirely too sad. A man murders a woman who didn't exist, but poor Ruby dies.”

“What it needs is a happy ending. The story, I mean.” As he spoke, Sturges's eyes focused on a point behind my head. I doubted it was the poster for
The Squaw Man
entrancing him. “Romance triumphs, our girl falls into a fortune, the whole kit and caboodle. There's a comedy in there somewhere. Beautiful con woman, a rich man who sees through the eyes of love, which makes him blind to … hmm.” He stood up and remembered his manners. “Enjoy your lunch, ladies. Must dash.” Sturges walked away, patting his mustache and muttering to himself.

“We won't be seeing him for a while,” Edith said.

“Unless we go to his restaurant. If it's still open.”

As we ate, Edith described her Thanksgiving—naturally, she'd worked through the holiday—and Travis Banton's fortunes. Before she could object I ordered two slices of apple pie for dessert. “It's on me. I'm celebrating.”

I received one of the designer's skeptical looks. She had fifty-seven varieties of them, this one friendlier than most. “What's the occasion?”

“I'm starting a new job tomorrow.”

“Wonderful! Child wrangler at Bullock's?”

“No. Addison Rice's social secretary.”

“That's marvelous!” She broke off a tiny morsel of pie with her fork. “How did it happen?”

“After the excitement here I couldn't bear to go to Bullock's. Instead Addison and I saw a double feature at the Rialto then went out for a prime rib dinner. I told him about getting fired and he got this gleam in his eye. Mrs. Somers had been pushing him to hire her replacement so she could train the new girl before her baby came. He offered me the job, pending Mrs. Somers's seal of approval.”

“I assume the position will entail more than watching movies.”

“And how. I met with Mrs. Somers yesterday and she walked me through the duties. Correspondence, organizing the parties, keeping Addison out of trouble. She asked me approximately one million questions. Addison said I passed the interview with flying colors.”

“I'm not surprised. I recognized your resourcefulness the day we met.”

“I'd better be resourceful for what he's paying me. It's more than I'd have gotten with two promotions at Tremayne's.”

“You asked for a clothing allowance, of course.”

I lowered my coffee cup. “Should I have?”

“Naturally. There will be numerous occasions you'll have to dress for. That navy suit of yours will only go so far.”

I brushed a chunk of pie crust off Old Reliable. Then another. “I love this suit.”

“As you should. It's quite flattering. And may I say you've accessorized it beautifully.”

My fingers strayed to the brooch on my lapel. Two intertwined gold circles set with garnets. It was high time my mother's legacy got some California sunshine.

“You need a host of such suits in neutral colors. Light gray, tan.” Edith looked me over, and for an instant I felt more like a project than a person. “We'll work within your new salary. If you can secure a clothing allowance in the meantime, so much the better.”

On the walk back to the Wardrobe building we passed the
College Swing
soundstage. The joyful noise of the band rehearsing the title tune barreled through the open doors. Not that I could enjoy it with Edith listing the bounty of clothes I'd need to serve as Addison's secretary.

“Gowns for parties, dresses for afternoon teas, lighter clothes for trips to his desert home. People never know how to dress for the heat. You're lucky that I do. Perhaps a riding habit. A man of his status must keep horses.”

My head was spinning, so I was relieved to see Bill Ihnen bounding toward us from the soundstage, jacket open and tie askew. “Heard the music and stopped for a listen. The lyrics are Greek to me.” He gave Edith a peck on the cheek, then me. “Good thing I ran into you, Edo. If my date's going to be in pale blue satin, do I wear—”

“No offense, buster, but wait your turn.”

Edith reared back in mock surprise. “You expect Bill to hold off until we've dealt with your work wardrobe? He doesn't have that kind of time.”

“I need your advice on what to wear on a date, too. And I'm more in the dark than he is.”

Bill bowed in my direction, yielding Edith's attention to me. “Would it be with Detective Morrow?” she asked.

“Yes. Gene's taking me to the fights this weekend.”

“How many bouts are on the card? Will you be going to dinner as well? Before or after the fights? And where?”

“He didn't offer me a contract, Edith. He just asked if I wanted to go.”

“You should have found that out first. Still, there are a few items I can show you that will double for the new job and your weekend plans. You can pick up something similar at Tremayne's when you share your good news. As for you, Bill … I'm sorry. You're on your own.”

Magnanimous in victory, I blew Bill a Bronx cheer. Edith had already resumed her fast-paced stride back to Wardrobe. I scrambled after her, rummaging in my handbag for a notepad as I ran. I couldn't afford to miss a word.

 

Acknowledgments

The movies are widely known as a collaborative art while writing a novel tends to be viewed as a solitary pursuit. The two halves of
Renee Patrick
have already shot holes in that theory. An abundance of people contributed to this book, all without the benefit of a craft services table.

We'd still be cooling our heels at Schwab's waiting for our big break if it weren't for our tireless agent, Lisa Gallagher, the epitome of elegance, even in a bicycle helmet. Editor extraordinaire Kristin Sevick took a look at a rough cut and didn't flinch, helping us find the story we wanted to tell. Our gratitude to Tom Doherty, Bess Cozby, Justine Gardner, and everyone at Tor/Forge. Artist Gerad Taylor created a cover we wanted to plaster on marquees across town.

We received a welcome dose of validation when an early version of the manuscript won a 2013 William F. Deeck-Malice Domestic Grant for Unpublished Writers. We are indebted to Harriette Sackler and the grants committee, and to the entire Malice Domestic community—particularly previous grant recipients—who welcomed us with open arms.

Eddie Muller is the godfather of this book. His work with the Film Noir Foundation, the Noir City film festivals, and Turner Classic Movies has not only saved individual films from disappearing but has also preserved moviegoing as a social experience. Knowing him sent us tumbling down this rabbit hole, and Eddie has been an invaluable resource every step of the way.

Our first readers came through big. Ray Banks sent an epic encouraging e-mail that got us through many a dark night of the soul; David Corbett kindly introduced us to the right person; and Christa Faust, G. M. Ford, and Skye Moody offered advice and, even better, support.

Any research into the life of Edith Head begins with her own books,
The Dress Doctor
(cowritten by Jane Kesner Ardmore) and
How to Dress for Success
, with Joe Hyams. Edith inspired three different biographers, each approaching her life from a unique perspective. Paddy Calistro based
Edith Head's Hollywood
on hours of taped interviews for Edith's uncompleted autobiography, with Edith credited as coauthor. David Chierichetti drew on his background as a costumer and his friendship with Edith for his book
Edith Head: The Life and Times of Hollywood's Celebrated Costume Designer
, while Jay Jorgensen places the emphasis on her handiwork in his lavishly illustrated
Edith Head: The Fifty-Year Career of Hollywood's Greatest Costume Designer
. Many thanks to Ms. Calistro and Mr. Chierichetti for being gracious enough to answer our questions.

Edith willed her papers to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. The staff at the Academy's Margaret Herrick Library made it a pleasure to review Edith's personal correspondence—while sitting at a table from Edith's house. Marilyn Moss contributed a critical research assist.

For a perspective on Edith's legacy, as well as the art of costume design itself, our thanks to Deborah Nadoolman Landis, the founding director and chair of UCLA's David C. Copley Center for the Study of Costume Design, and her associate Natasha Rubin. The dedicated team of archivists at Paramount Pictures rolled out the red carpet for us. To walk in Edith's footsteps was a thrill. We will never be able to repay Andrea Kalas, Randall Thropp, Geraldine Pace, and Jaci Rohr for their time, their enthusiasm, and their willingness to let us hijack a little of the studio's history. It's worth underscoring that all these talented, busy people happily assisted two novices out of a shared respect for Edith Head and her work.

We plotted many story twists, drowned every heartbreak, and celebrated each milestone at Seattle's Zig Zag Café. Throughout, the staff talked about the book as if its seeing the light of day were a foregone conclusion. And as always, they pour a lovely cocktail.

Vince thanks Bob Sobhani and the entire team at Magnet Management, as well as the readers of
VinceKeenan.com
. Rosemarie thanks her colleagues at Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center, and the vintage fashion and classic film online communities.

We'd both like to acknowledge our parents, who never forced their movie-obsessed children to go outside and play.

In writing
Design for Dying,
we strove to honor the Hollywood history that inspired us, but on occasion we adjusted time lines and geography. All mistakes are our own, and when in doubt, we printed the legend.

 

About the Author

R
ENEE
P
ATRICK
is the pseudonym of married authors Rosemarie and Vince Kennan. Rosemarie is a research administrator and a poet. Vince is a screenwriter and a journalist. Both native New Yorkers, they currently live in Seattle, Washington. You can sign up for email updates
here
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