The Last Embrace (35 page)

“This is our insurance, for when we come back,” Beverly said, depressing a button.

The machine hissed and popped. They heard quiet weeping. Then a girl’s ragged voice. Kitty. Speaking from beyond the grave:

“He told me to meet him at a motel in Duarte. He said it was safer if we went far away from RKO, where no one knew us.”

“I guess you had no choice.” Beverly’s voice oozed sympathy.

“He knew all about Kirk and the baby.” There was muffled crying.

“Good heavens, how did he find out?” Beverly said.

“I h-h-have no idea,” Kitty hiccupped. “But I explained that Kirk’s marriage was on the rocks and he loved me and we were planning a future together. Then he told me not to be a stupid little twit. He said, ‘You are going to break off with him immediately, and you are going to get rid of it.’”

“Was Kirk there too?” Beverly asked.

“God, no.” Kitty’s voice choked and dissolved again. “If he had been there”—Lily heard her struggle to get hold of herself—“it never would have happened.”

“What happened, hon?” Beverly’s voice rose with urgency.

Lily heard sniffling, then a stuttering intake of breath.

“He forced himself on me.” Kitty’s voice was flat and without emotion. “He’d made passes before and I’d always managed to avoid him. Until that day.”

“But hon, you agreed to meet him at a motel…”

“I didn’t realize…When he grabbed me, I pulled away and he got mad. ‘You only want the stars, you think you’re too good for me?’ The look on his face was terrifying. ‘But you haven’t paid your dues, Kitty. Every starlet has to pay dues.’ I shoved him. But that just excited him. I fought, but it was no use…Afterward, he said I had to do whatever he told me, that I was a slut, and if I didn’t, the hotel manager would testify I’d gone there willingly, and that I’d cooked up these lies to blackmail Kirk and attract publicity for myself. Then he pulled out some photos.”

“What photos?”

“Oh, Beverly. I did a stupid thing some time back. I let Freddy take pictures of me.”

“What kind of pictures?” Beverly’s voice quavered.

“Not nice ones. Of me tied up. With my clothes torn. And fake blood.”

“Kitty! How could you?”

“I had no idea he would show them to anyone. He said they were for research.”

“He must have sold them.”

“Yes.” Kitty’s voice was tiny. “I don’t know where to turn anymore. Dear, dear Beverly, you’re my best friend in the whole world. If I couldn’t tell you, I’d just die.”

The machine whirred, then Beverly’s voice continued.

“Now, hon, we’ve got to get some things straight. Does Kirk know what happened?”

“I can’t imagine he did. Kirk is a good soul. And he loves me. I know he does. That’s why I couldn’t tell him. I was so ashamed. What if he thought I’d brought it upon myself? It’s not like I see him every day, with his schedule, his family…we have to make elaborate plans. And now he won’t return my calls. Just when I need to talk to him so badly.”

Lily turned the machine off.

“Who raped Kitty in that motel room?”

“I don’t know,” Beverly’s eyes glittered. “She said it would come out with his arrest. Mama and I told her not to go to the police. We warned her it might be dangerous. But Kitty was determined to get justice against the man who wronged her.”

“Wouldn’t her gangster friends have taken care of this guy if she asked them?”

“She wanted him led off in handcuffs in front of everyone,” Beverly said. “Not dead.”

Lily thought about the note in Kitty’s purse. “But eventually she changed her mind about keeping the baby? How did she even know it was Kirk’s?”

“Kitty wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. Mickey Cohen and his men, that was just a good time. She was pretty old-fashioned, really. And she wanted to show Kirk how much she loved him. She wrote that note in my room:
Dear Kirk, I’m going to see the doctor next week. I think it’s for the best.
”

“And just when she decided to take care of the problem, she gets killed?”

“She shouldn’t have gone to the DA. The police were bad enough.”

Lily wrinkled her brow, trying to put the pieces together. “How did Kitty’s rapist find out about the affair and the pregnancy?”

Beverly didn’t answer. She carried the tape recorder to the suitcase, wrapped it in a towel, and laid it inside. She covered it with clothes, lowered the lid and locked the suitcase.

“Mama might have had something to do with that,” she said at last.

Just then, Mrs. Potter came back into the room.

“All ready, pet?” she asked. Seeing Lily’s stricken look, she added, “Kitty was stubborn. She insisted on heading down the path of destruction. We just gave her a helping hand and helped ourselves in the process. Information,” she said cheerily. “The best currency.”

“Who killed Kitty?” Lily said.

“You’ll find out,” Mrs. Potter said. “I made a call. They should be here soon.”

And then Lily knew she had to get the hell out of that spider’s lair.

“Go ahead and run, coward. It won’t be long now. Why don’t you try the Hollywood PD? I hear Kitty had a lot of luck there.”

Mrs. Potter’s caustic laughter trailed after her as she fled.

H
arry’s police radio was squawking like a cageful of parrots. There had been a shooting in front of Clifton’s Cafeteria and a man was down, the ambulance on its way. A young woman who’d fled the scene after dodging bullets herself was wanted for questioning. The mystery gal had auburn hair, was about five foot six, midtwenties, and was wearing a white blouse, black skirt, and black high-heeled sandals. Harry’s first thought was he had to get over there with his camera. His second, especially after hearing more details, was a queasy fear that he knew who the gal was.

He remembered Shorty’s questions about Max the other night, feared he’d given too much away. Trusting his instincts, he sped to Mickey’s haberdashery, where a nattily dressed clerk, a tape measure around his neck, asked if he could help him.

“I’m looking for Shorty Lagonzola.”

“If you’d like to wait a moment, I’ll see if—”

“To hell with that,” Harry growled, already stalking into the back, where he was confronted by a gun muzzle in a twitchy hand.

“Jesus Christ, Harry, I almost blew your head off,” Shorty said. “What the fuck you doing here?”

The bonhomie of earlier was gone. Shorty’s eyes were flat and reptilian.

“Some men in a car just—”

“Harry, Harry,” Shorty said. “You look like you could use some fresh air. Let’s take a stroll around the block.”

As soon as they were halfway down the alley, he said, “Don’t you ever talk like that inside. There could be bugs. We never discuss—”

“Your boys just killed an innocent man. Mickey’s behind this, isn’t he?”

“What if he is?”

“Max Vranizan is innocent of Kitty Hayden’s murder. You got the wrong guy.”

Shorty’s eyes flickered. “That’s not what the LAPD says. They were getting ready to arrest him, according to our source there. Got some new evidence that looks pretty bad. When I told Mickey, he gave me the green light.”

“Oh Christ. Oh no. It’s too late for Vranizan, the poor bastard, but you’ve got to call off your thugs before they kill Lily.”

“Who?”

“There was a girl with him. They shot at her too, but she got away. They’ll turn the city upside down looking for her.”

“What girl?”

“Shorty, look at me. By all that’s holy. You can’t let them kill her.”

“Stupid jackasses were supposed to get him alone,” Shorty muttered.

“Well, they didn’t.”

“If she got a good look at them, she’ll be able to ID them. The rule is, no witnesses.”

“She’ll forget what they looked like.” Harry proceeded to invoke Boyle Heights, their shared history. “On my father’s grave. I promise. Call them off.”

Still, the gangster said nothing.

“Don’t you see the cops are setting up this guy to take the fall for someone? And you fell for their little plan. It’s perfect, they announce they know who killed Kitty Hayden and right before they arrest him, he gets popped. You’ve done their dirty work for them. Dead men tell no tales. Call off your boys before they kill another innocent person.”

Shorty shifted uneasily. “I can’t. No way to reach them.”

Harry stared grimly at the ground.
Lily,
he thought, picturing her running for her life.
I’ve got to save you.

Shorty cleared his throat. “But we fixed it so they’d call at eight with an update.”

Hope filled Harry once more. “When they call, you hafta tell them. Please, Shorty. You saved my pa’s life years ago. Then I helped you the other day. Now it’s your turn again, and then it’ll be mine. As long as we live. Cuz we’re brothers, right, Shorty? And brothers have each others’ back. This gal is dear to me.”

Shorty Lagonzola gritted his teeth. The boss would be furious. But if Harry was right and they’d killed the wrong man, there’d be hell to pay.

Lily ran all the way to the drugstore, and made for the phone box in back.

Stephen,
she prayed.
Please be there.
If Magruder answered, she’d hang up. But when the older cop’s raspy voice came on the line, she changed her mind.

“Could I please speak to Detective Pico?” Lily said, trying to keep her voice normal.

“Miss Kessler? It’s Magruder. Pico’s not here, can I help you?”

“Where is he?”

“Interviewing a witness.”

With a sinking heart, Lily remembered. Pico was at the harbor, checking DiCicco’s alibi. “I need to speak to him. It’s an emergency.”

“Please calm down, Miss Kessler. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“No.” She felt the room spin. She hadn’t escaped the carnage downtown, and then Mrs. Potter, only to waltz into this dirty cop’s arms. What if he had orchestrated Max’s murder? Pico was the only one she could trust. Pico loved her. Pico wouldn’t hurt her. She had to get through to him. He’d protect her. That was the only thing she knew beyond a doubt, and she clung to it.

“Are you at home?” Magruder asked.

“I’m at a pay phone.”

“Where?”

Lily knew he mustn’t find out.

“What’s the number at the San Pedro Station? I’ll call him there.”

“Whatever you have to say to Detective Pico, you can share with me. We’re partners on—”

“No.” Lily crouched over the phone, panting. “I’ll only speak to Pico.”

There was a short, deadly pause in which she wondered if she’d gone too far.

“Very well,” Magruder said, giving her the number. “But bear in mind that he’s an hour away. If you’re in immediate danger, he can’t help. Tell me where you are. I’ll send some men. I’ll come myself—”

But Lily had already replaced the receiver.

When she got through to the San Pedro Station she asked for Detective Pico.

“He’s doing an interview,” a gruff voice said.

She gripped the walls of the phone booth, trying to catch her breath.

“It’s an emergency. Tell him Lily Kessler’s on the phone.”

“Hold on.”

She waited, glancing over her shoulder. Mrs. Potter knew she often ate here. Would she send Kitty’s killers after her? Two men entered the drugstore and looked around and she felt sure they were after her.
Please,
she thought, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. When they headed for the lunch counter, she was sure it was to keep an eye on her, grab her as she came out. She trembled. She had to get hold of herself.

After what seemed like hours, Pico came on the line.

“Lily? What’s wrong?”

Hearing his voice, she almost started sobbing.

“Two men just shot Max Vranizan. Downtown. They opened fire in front of Clifton’s. I was with him, they shot at me too, then chased me into a department store. I managed to ditch them and ran home, but Mrs. Potter—”

“Where are you?”

“In a phone booth on Hollywood Boulevard. What should I do? Stephen, I’m afraid.”

She heard him breathing heavily. “Go right home. Lock yourself in your room. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“It’s not safe. Mrs. Potter and Beverly are tied up in this somehow.”

“Then stay put. What’s the address? I’m on my way.”

“I don’t know if it’s safe here either. They shot Max, Stephen,” she cried into the phone.

“Okay, okay. Try to stay calm. Who knows you’re there?”

“I had to call Magruder to get your number. He knows I’m at a phone booth. And this is the one closest to the house.”

“Oh no.”

Lily ran her nails along the glass, relishing the screech. “Tell me what to do.”

“You’ve got to put some distance between yourself and that house. Let me think…”

“Should I go to a police station?”

“No! I don’t know who we can trust. I’ll take the coast back, it’s fastest. That’ll bring me in to Ocean Park. Yes. That’s where I want you to—”

“Oh, Stephen, I don’t—”

“I’ve got a friend who runs the oyster bar at Ocean Park Pier,” he interrupted. “He’s a retired cop. Next to the carousel. You know where that is, right? You grew up around there.”

“Yes, but—”

“He’ll hide you until I arrive. Can you get a cab?”

Lily’s hands were slick with moisture as she held the receiver to her ear.

“I suppose. But are you sure? That’s so far.”

“Far’s what we want right now. My friend’s name is Ernie Carlson. Tell him I sent you. Everything will be okay. I’ll be there before you know it.”

“Hurry. Oh God, please hurry.”

“Lily, I love you. I’m on my way.”

Lily hung up and looked around. The men she’d found suspicious earlier were laughing as the waitress took their order. But there could be others. On their way. Looking for her. She realized she didn’t have enough money to get a cab all the way to Ocean Park. That left the trolley.

At the San Pedro Police Station, Pico hung up the phone, his heart pounding.

A uniform popped his head in. “Call for you on the captain’s line.”

“Where is she?” Magruder bellowed when Pico picked up.

“Who?” Pico said, playing dumb.

“The Kessler broad. She called here, sounding scared to death, and demanded your number.”

“It’s nothing,” Pico said. “She gets overly dramatic sometimes. I’m going to meet her and then I’ll call you—”

“Don’t bullshit me. Someone just gunned down Max Vranizan downtown and I know she was there. They’ll come for her next. She’s scared shitless and whatever’s about to go down, you’re not going to get there in time. Where is she?”

“I’d like to handle it, sir.”

“All you’re going to handle is a dead body if you don’t let me get some men out to protect her. You can’t be the knight in shining armor this time, Pico. There isn’t time.”

Pico wondered if his partner wanted to get there first to silence her.

“Sir, I have reason to believe that whoever killed Kitty Hayden and Max Vranizan has ties to the LAPD. And with all due respect, she may not be safe with your men.”

There,
he thought,
it was out in the open.

“So that’s how it is,” Magruder said, his voice cold as steel.

“Let me bring her in,” Pico said, “with enough media hoopla and some high-ranking official from the DA’s office along to take her statement, so that she’s protected. I don’t want any more blood shed today.”

“Where is she?”

“Sir! I respectfully decline to say.”

“Why?”

“Because the truth of the matter, sir, is that I don’t trust you either.”

Instead of exploding, Magruder’s voice grew soft.

“Stephen, Stephen. We both know my hands aren’t exactly clean. And my son’s care doesn’t come cheap. But if you think for one second that I’d kill an innocent girl, you’re out of your mind. I’m not an animal, Stephen.”

Pico stared into the phone. He remembered Magruder staggering into the hallway at the whorehouse, naked and covered in blood, the girl screaming. But it had been chicken blood, the girl scared but unhurt.

“I don’t know, sir. I’m only trying to do the right thing.”

“As am I, Stephen. And I give you my word. Tell me where she is and I’ll be there with two men in twenty minutes.”

Pico looked at the clock. It would take him more than an hour to get to Ocean Park. And whoever was chasing her might find her first.

“Where is she, son?” Magruder asked again. “For god’s sake, if you care about this girl, if you ever want to see her again, except stretched out on a coroner’s slab, tell me now.”

Pico doubled over in a soundless cry. He thought of Lily in his arms last night, her smooth flesh and scent, the way she’d cried out, the hunger he felt bubbling up for her even now. He had to protect her. Again, he heard the terror in her voice, recounting how the men had shot at her and chased her. Two men. Thuggish men. Not cops. Not Magruder.

“I sent her to Carlson,” he whispered. “At Ocean Park Pier.”

Magruder gave an enormous sigh of relief. “We’ll be waiting for you there, Stephen. I’ll see to it that she doesn’t come to any harm.”

As soon as he hung up the phone, Magruder collapsed against the wall, then crossed himself, ending with a reverent kiss on his thumb.

Picking up the phone again, he dialed a number.

“Boys,” he said, “Lily Kessler is on her way to Ocean Park Pier. Pico’s sent her to the oyster bar next to the carousel. Yeah, Ernie’s place. We’ll need to get out there on the double. And you’re not to move in until I give the word.”

The trolley dropped Lily at the foot of the pier. As she stepped onto the boardwalk, her eye was drawn to the marquee of the Moroccan-themed Dome Theater, where a Kirk Armstrong movie was playing. A bad omen. She thought of Kitty running through Hollywood on the last night of her life, seeking safety and shelter, much as she was doing now.

Would the oyster bar even be open? She hurried toward the illuminated attractions, unwilling to linger in the dark. She heard the muffled roar of the surf, smelled the briny sea air shot through with the sweetness of caramel corn and cotton candy.