Not Safe to Be Free [= The Case of the Strangled Starlet]

I

Jean Thiry walked out of the cinema a few paces behind Floyd Delaney.

Delaney was talking to his business manager, Harry Stone, a big, heavily built man who wore rimless glasses and a fawn light-weight suit. Sweat beads made his bald head glisten.

Thiry wondered if this might be the opportunity he had been waiting for to approach Delaney. If only he could get Delaney interested in Lucille, his financial troubles would be over. There were now only three more days of the Festival and then his chances of getting Delaney to sign Lucille up would be gone.

Lucille was Thiry’s one great hope. His agency had been going down-hill now for the past two years and Lucille was the only promising star on his shrinking list of clients. The others were has-beens: good, efficient actors and actresses who at one time had been names, but now were too old for anything but bit parts and the commission he got from them wasn’t enough to take care of the office overheads.

Thiry glanced at his wrist-watch. It was just on six. He had told Lucille to meet him in the Plaza bar at six. If he hurried on ahead of Delaney, he could fix it that he and Lucille were in the lobby when Delaney entered the hotel.

As he was about to move towards the cinema exit, Delaney walked directly past him.

Grabbing at the opportunity, Thiry said, “Good afternoon Mr. Delaney.”

Floyd Delaney gave him a quick, sharp stare and then paused.

Delaney was tall and broad with blonde, wavy hair, turning white at the temples. His deeply tanned face was arresting rather than handsome. He had grey eyes, a cleft chin and a sensitive mouth. He looked a lot younger than his fifty-five years.

He frowned, trying to recall where he had seen Thiry before.

“Let’s see... you are... ?”

Harry Stone moved up.

“This is Jean Thiry, Mr. Delaney. Lucille Balu’s agent.”

Delaney’s face showed sudden interest.

“Yeah, that’s right. I remember.” He offered his hand to Thiry. “You have a nice little property in that kid, Thiry. I’ve been thinking I might do something about her. How’s she fixed?”

Thiry took Delaney’s hand as if it were made of eggshells.

“She’s just finished a picture, Mr. Delaney. She’s free right now.”

“Suppose we all have a drink together?” Delaney said. “I’m not free until nine. Bring her along then. Nine in the bar, eh?”

“Yes, Mr. Delaney,” Thiry said, scarcely believing his good fortune. “We’ll be there and thanks.”

Delaney nodded and, taking Stone’s arm, hurried with him across the foyer and down to where his big Bentley was standing in the sunshine.

His heart thumping with excitement, Thiry ran down the cinema steps and started along the Croisette towards the Plaza hotel.

What a break! he was thinking. Delaney wouldn’t be wasting his time buying us drinks if he wasn’t really interested. This could be a thirty million franc contract! A ten per cent cut on that figure would be a life saver!

He had difficulty in stopping himself from breaking into a run. What a bit of luck for Lucille too! he thought. Well, she deserved it. She had worked hard, hadn’t given herself airs, hadn’t been hard to handle, had done just what he had told her to do and now this looked as if both of them were going to reap their reward.

He pushed his way through the crowd in the Plaza lobby and entered the bar.

The clock above the bar told him it was now five past six. The bar was pretty crowded. He looked around but he couldn’t see Lucille.

Not like her to be late, he thought, elbowing his way to the bar. Feeling it was a moment to celebrate, he ordered a whisky and soda, and, while he was drinking it, he leaned against the bar and watched the entrance.

Joe Kerr, sipping his third whisky, watched him.

A page put his head around the bar door and called, “Monsieur Jean Thiry, please.”

Thiry signalled to the boy, who came over and gave him a slip of paper.

Frowning and watched by Joe Kerr, Thiry read the message.

Thiry stared at the message, then, as the page began to fidget, he tipped him and then moved over to one of the big windows that overlooked the Croisette.

Why in the world had Lucille gone to Monte Carlo? he wondered. Who had she gone with? She wouldn’t have gone all that way alone.

He again looked at the clock over the bar. The time was now twenty minutes past six. He had two hours and forty minutes to find her and get her back to the Plaza hotel. Well, it wasn’t impossible. Monte Carlo was a small place. She was certain to be in the Casino.

He crumpled the message slip and tossed it from him, then he hurried from the bar, through the lobby and out of the hotel to where he had parked his shabby, overworked Simca Verdette.

Before Thiry had reached the bar door, Joe Kerr had slid off his stool and had picked up the crumpled message slip. He carried it back to the bar and carefully smoothed out the paper. He read the message and his red-raw face puckered into an expression of blank bewilderment.

Had the girl left the suite after all? Had he missed her somehow?

He put the message slip into his wallet, finished his whisky and leaving the bar, he went to the hall-porter’s desk.

“Have you seen Mademoiselle Balu leave?” he asked.

“She hasn’t left the hotel, monsieur,” the hall porter returned, and, knowing the man’s efficiency, Kerr didn’t doubt him for a moment.

“None of the Delaneys been in yet?”

“No, monsieur.”

There was a side exit near the entrance to the Television Studios that was housed in the Plaza and Joe decided it would be worthwhile to check there. He hurried down the long corridor to where a couple of pressmen were sitting outside the studio, patiently nursing their cameras.

“Seen Lucille Balu go out?” Joe asked.

They shook their heads.

“She didn’t come this way.”

She must still be in Delaney’s suite, Joe told himself as he returned to the lobby. Then why the message? Had she sent it? Maybe she was planning to spend the night in the boy’s bedroom. Was that it? It seemed odd to Joe that the girl should get herself locked in the suite as early as this.

He saw Floyd Delaney and Harry Stone come into the hotel.

Stone went over to the desk and got Delaney’s key while Delaney paused for a moment to have a word with Edward G. Robinson, who was passing through the lobby.

Joe heard Delaney say to Stone as Robinson moved on: “I’ll go on up. See you in the bar at nine, Harry. If we can come to terms I’d like to get this Balu girl under contract.”

Moving quickly, foe crossed the lobby and ran up the stairs to the second floor. He paused at the head of the stairs to make sure the hotel detective wasn’t still prowling around then he hurried to the alcove window and had just got out of sight as the elevator door opened and Delaney came out and crossed to the door of suite 27.

Delaney unlocked the door and entered, shutting the door behind him. He went over to the telephone and called his secretary Miss Kobbe, who had a room on the third floor.

“Come on down, will you?” he said, then dropped the receiver back on its cradle and going into his bedroom, he stripped off his clothes and put on a dressing gown.

He heard Miss Kobbe come in.

“Get Sanson,” he called. “I’ll be out in a moment,” and he went into the bathroom and took a cold shower.

When Sophia came into the suite, she found Floyd talking on the telephone. He waved to her and she went over and kissed his forehead, then went into her bedroom.

Miss Kobbe, a tall willowy girl, began to mix a batch of martinis in a silver shaker. With a speed born of long practice, she poured two drinks, put one of them on the table where Delaney could reach it and then, carrying the other, she rapped on Sophia’s bedroom door and entered.

Sophia was sitting at her dressing table. She had taken off her frock and now, clad only in panties and brassiere, she was painting her lips with a fine-haired brush.

“Thank you,” she said as Miss Kobbe put the martini on the dressing-table. “Do you know if Jay is in his room?”

“I don’t think he is, Mrs. Delaney,” Miss Kobbe said. “I haven’t heard him. Do you want me to see?”

Sophia hesitated, then shook her head.

“No, it’s all right. Will Mr. Delaney be tied up for long?”

“He’s waiting a call from Hollywood. Mr. Cooper is coming up at six forty-five.”

“What’s happening to-night?”

“Mr. Delaney is meeting Miss Lucille Balu in the bar at nine. He then wants to catch the last part of the film showing to-night. You and he are having supper at half-past twelve with the van Asters at the Château de Madrid.”

Sophia sighed.

“When Mr. Delaney is off the phone, please tell him I want to speak to him.”

“I will, Mrs. Delaney.”

Miss Kobbe went out.

Sophia drank half the martini, then, lighting a cigarette, she slipped on a wrap and lay down on the chaise-lounge by the open window.

She had been uneasy and worried since she had left Jay. His explanation about the girl in his room hadn’t satisfied her. It had been too glib: too calculated. She was sure he had been lying and she had an instinctive feeling that something was seriously wrong. The scratches on his arm, the way he had held the curtain cord, the blue bead she had found on the floor and the atmosphere and tension that had been in the room had formed a sinister impression in her mind.

The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she had become. She felt that Floyd should be told and yet she was anxious that he shouldn’t go off the deep-end, as he so easily did. She knew he didn’t take much interest in his son and that he was inclined to be unfairly critical of him. She didn’t want to make the already big rift between the two any bigger, but she was now so uneasy in her mind that she felt compelled to shift the responsibility on to her husband.

She heard the telephone bell tinkle as Floyd hung up and then, after a pause, her bedroom door opened and he came in.

“Well, honey, did you have a nice swim?”

“Yes, it was nice. Sit down, darling. I want to talk to you.”

He moved over to the chaise-lounge, his half-finished martini in his hand and he sat down by her side. He put his glass on the side table and then rested his hand, under her wrap on her knee, smiling at her.

“What is it? You looked worried. I don’t like to see my baby doll worried. Is there anything wrong?”

For a moment she hesitated. Floyd was unpredictable. Was it her business to talk to him about his son? Would he be offended? Then she thought of the way Jay had moved across the room, the curtain cord in his hands and the sudden frightening feeling she had had that perhaps he meant her harm. This recollection decided her.

“Not exactly wrong, Floyd. It’s about Jay... ”

Delaney’s smile faded and two deep lines of disapproval appeared above the bridge of his nose.

“Jay? Why should you be worrying about him?”

“Floyd, this is in strict confidence. Please... ”

His hand slid over her knee and along her thigh and he smiled again.

“Of course. What is it?”

“He had a girl up here.”

Delaney stared at her, then took his hand away and rubbed his jaw, his eyes hardening.

“A girl? Up here?”

“Yes. When I left you, I came back here to pick up my swim-suit. I found the door locked. When I finally got in, there was a smell of perfume in the room. I knew at once someone had been in here. I asked him if he had brought a girl up here and he admitted it.”

“Well, for the love of mike!” Delaney said and got to his feet. He began to prowl around the room, his face set in a heavy frown. “Who was she?”

“I don’t know. She was in his bedroom. He said he was lonely. He met the girl in the lobby and thought she was attractive and brought her up here. Then he decided she wasn’t so attractive and was wondering how he could get rid of her when I arrived.”

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Delaney said, his voice suddenly harsh. “I’ll kick his tail for him! Where is he?”

“Floyd, please... I promised him I wouldn’t tell you. You mustn’t say anything to him, but I thought you should know about it.”

Delaney moved over to his drink, picked up the glass and finished the martini.

“There’s not much point in knowing if I can’t do anything about it,” he said impatiently. “I don’t object to him fooling around with a girl. At his age, that’s natural, but I’m damned if I’ll stand for him bringing some tart up here.”

“He won’t do it again, Floyd. We had an understanding about that,” Sophia said quietly.

Delaney ran his fingers through his hair.

“Well, then... ”

He glanced at his watch. His mind was already beginning to move away from the subject of his son, which never interested him for more than three or four minutes at a stretch. He had a lot to do this night. The Hollywood call bothered him. He had made an offer for the new Atlantic Book of the Month choice and he had just learned that M.G.M. were also interested in the book. If his agent, Brennon, didn’t hurry up, the book might cost him more than it was worth.

“Floyd... Jay is a little odd, isn’t he?” Sophia said. “Ever since I’ve known him I’ve thought he was — well, a little odd.”

Delaney looked sharply at her.

“Odd? I wouldn’t say that. Perhaps he’s a bit too quiet for his age and maybe he doesn’t mix enough, but I wouldn’t say he was odd. What exactly do you mean?”

What exactly did she mean? Sophia wondered. She really had nothing to go on except this instinctive feeling the boy wasn’t entirely normal.

“It’s a feeling I have.” She hesitated, then went on. “Sometimes I think he’s a little sinister. Why does he always wear those dark glasses? It’s as if he is hiding away his real thoughts from everyone. There’s an atmosphere about him... ”

Delaney was suddenly bored with all this. His mind was too absorbed in his own affairs to be bothered with abstract impressions.

“For heaven’s sake! Jay, sinister? You’re imagining things. There’s nothing sinister about the boy... nothing at all.”

Again Sophia hesitated, then, compelled to go further because of her genuine alarm, she said quietly, “His mother was a little queer, wasn’t she, Floyd?”

Delaney’s face hardened.

A little queer was an understatement.

Harriette would have been certified as insane had she not thrown herself out of a tenth-floor window of a hotel in Los Angeles. Although it was now twelve years since that fatal day, the thought of it still made Delaney flinch.

His mind shied away from the memory of the years he had spent with Harriette. Admittedly the first year had been enchanting. She had been breath-takingly beautiful, vivacious, wealthy and exciting. But from the very first, she had been eccentric, but amusingly so. To anyone with any insight the hint of mental instability was there but Delaney had no insight. Her fits of crying, her outbursts of violent temper and her sudden hysterical elation made her to him interesting and unpredictable. Her passion for dangerously fast driving, her long periods of sulky brooding and her restlessness were things that Delaney shrugged off as part of her personality.

Jay was born a year after the marriage and Harriette gave the boy over to a nurse, taking no interest in him. As the years went by, she developed such an active dislike for him that Delaney sent him to boarding school and during the vacations arranged that Jay didn’t come home.

Harriette’s mental condition slowly deteriorated. Although Delaney’s friends had long realized that she was mentally sick, Delaney himself, absorbed in his work, was still unaware that there was anything seriously wrong with her. His married life was no longer happy. Whenever they were alone together, which was seldom, they invariably quarrelled, but this he shrugged off as inevitable.

Then one night something happened that brought the facts brutally home to him.

The memory of that night, although now twelve years ago, still had the power to increase his heart-beat whenever he allowed himself to think of it.

He had returned from the Studios late to his luxurious home in Beverley Hills and had settled down to read the script of a film he was planning to produce.

Harriette sat away from him, silent and brooding. He had spoken to her, but she hadn’t replied, and, mentally shrugging, he put her out of his mind and concentrated on the script.

He had read for about an hour, then suddenly he had become aware of an extraordinary tension in the room. He had looked across the room to where Harriette had been sitting, but she had left the chair and had moved behind him out of sight. There was a mirror on the wall facing him and he had glanced at it. What he saw reflected there gave him the shock of his life.

Harriette was creeping up behind him, a carving knife in her hand and an expression on her face that still haunted his dreams.

He realized in those brief seconds as he stared at her in the mirror that she was insane and the shock momentarily paralysed him.

It was only when she was within a few feet of him and had lifted the knife that he threw aside the script and jumped to his feet.

She had come at him with the ferocity of a wild cat and he had been appalled by her strength. Before he had managed to get the knife away from her, she had slashed his arm and inflicted a long, deep scratch down the side of his face.

She had broken away from him and before he could stop her, she had run out of the house.

That was the last time he had seen her alive.

She had taken his car, driven to a hotel in Los Angeles, taken the elevator to the tenth floor, entered an empty bedroom and had thrown herself out of the window.

Yes, ‘a little queer’ was an understatement and Delaney was irritated that Sophia should revive such a painful memory.

“Yeah, I guess she was,” he said frowning, “but that doesn’t mean... ”

He broke off as he heard the telephone bell ring.

“That’s my call. Look, honey, forget it. There’s nothing to worry about. Jay’s all right. Damn it! I’ve lived with him for twenty-one years. I know he’s all right.”

Miss Kobbe put her head around the door.

“Mr. Brennon on the line, Mr. Delaney.”

“I’m coming.”

Delaney patted Sophia’s cheek, then went into the other room, closing the door behind.

Sophia stared up at the ceiling, frowning.

She again thought of Jay, picturing him as he had moved towards her, the scarlet cord between his fingers, his eyes hidden behind the dark glasses and she moved uneasily.

Where was he? What was he doing? Who had been the girl he had brought up to the suite?

Miss Kobbe looked in.

“Another martini, Mrs. Delaney?”

Sophia nodded.

“Yes, perhaps I will. Has Jay got back yet?”

“Not yet, Mrs. Delaney.”

A sudden impulse made Sophia get to her feet and walk into the lounge.

Delaney was talking on the telephone. His assistant producer, Jack Cooper, sat on the arm of a lounging chair, smoking.

He smiled at Sophia as she crossed over to Jay’s bedroom door.

She nodded to him as she turned the handle and entered the room.

Shutting the door, she leaned against it and looked around.

The hotel maid had been in. She had turned down the bed, put Jay’s blue pyjamas on the bed and had half lowered the blinds.

The smell of perfume was noticeable still in the room.

A photograph in a silver frame of Harriette, looking very lovely and very innocent, stood on the dressing table.

Sophia studied the photograph. She could see how like Harriette Jay was. They had the same mouth and the same facial bone structure and the same beguiling innocence.

From the photograph she looked at the big cupboard against the wall and noticed the key wasn’t in the lock. She crossed to the cupboard and tried to open it, but found the doors locked.

Then suddenly, for no reason at all, she felt an urge to get out of the room. The same sharp feeling of fear she had experienced when Jay had moved towards her, the scarlet cord in his hands, took hold of her.

She stepped away from the cupboard, her heart beating fast. She paused by the door, staring at the cupboard, trying to control this inexplicable feeling of panic. Then she jerked open the door and walked into the lounge.

She came to an abrupt standstill when she saw that Jay was in the room. He was standing by one of the big windows looking towards her. She could see herself, very tense and still reflected in the dark surfaces of his sun-glasses.

Delaney was saying over the telephone: “Fine Ted, get the contract signed and fast. Get it done to-night.” He seemed oblivious of the tight, strained atmosphere.

Sophia moved quickly to her room. She felt Jay s hidden eyes on her as she pushed open the door.

She looked back at him and he smiled at her. It seemed to her it was a sinister, threatening smile and it sent a chill crawling up her spine.

II

Jay leaned against the polished bar, a tomato juice in his hand He watched the small group of men standing a few feet from him. There was his father, Harry Stone and Jack Cooper, all in tuxedos. They surrounded Jean Thiry, who was wearing a beach shirt, fawn slacks and sandals. He looked hot and tired and bothered. The gay beach shirt stuck to his back in black patches and his face was shiny with sweat.

He was saying: “I’m sorry, Mr. Delaney, I don’t know where she’s got to. I’ve hunted everywhere. She left a note saying she was spending the evening in Monte Carlo, but there’s no sign of her there. I’ve only just got back.”

Jay sipped his tomato juice. He listened and watched with concentrated interest.

Floyd Delaney snapped his fingers impatiently.

“Well for heaven’s sake! Don’t you take care of that girl better than that? Okay, if she’s not here, she’s not here.” He turned to Stone. “Handle this, Harry. I want to catch the film.”

“Yes, Mr. Delaney,” Stone said.

“I’ll see she’s here for you to-morrow any time, Mr. Delaney,” Thiry said miserably. “It’s just one of those things. Someone must have invited her... ”

But Delaney wasn’t listening. He moved away from Thiry and walked over to where Jay was standing.

“You come along with me,” he said. “I want you to see this movie.”

Startled, Jay groped for an excuse. He was surprised to see how hostile his father’s eyes were. Had Sophia told him? She had promised not to, but she might have changed her mind. Why had she been in his room? That was a question that had puzzled and disquieted him all the evening. He was thankful he had thought to lock the cupboard and take the key away with him.

“And, look, take those glasses off,” his father went on. “You don’t have to live in them, do you?”

Jay took the glasses off and tucked them into his top pocket.

“I’d rather not see the movie, father,” he said. “I’m not dressed. I was thinking of going over to the Eden Roc for a swim.”

Delaney’s face tightened.

“I want you to see this movie. I want your opinion. What’s the matter with you? You’ll be coming into the Studio next year. How the hell do you expect to get anywhere if you don’t show some interest in your career?”

“All right,” Jay said meekly. “If you really want my opinion, of course I’ll see the film. I’ll go up and change.”

“Yeah, do that.” Delaney’s face relaxed and he grinned, slapping his son on the shoulder. The kid was okay: a little lazy perhaps, but, if you handled him right, he was cooperative. Sophia had said he was odd. That just showed you. Women were always going off at half-cock. Odd? Nonsense! “I’ll tell the guy at the door to keep you a seat next to me. Snap it up, boy. It’s due to start in twenty minutes. See you,” and leaving Jay and ignoring Thiry, he walked fast from the bar, waving to right and left to people he knew.

As soon as his father was out of sight, Jay put on his glasses again. He finished his tomato juice and edged a little closer to where Thiry and Stone were standing. He heard Stone say, “You can take it or leave it. She hasn’t any name in the States.”

Jay was tempted to tell Stone he was wasting his time. He thought of the girl lying in his cupboard and he felt a little trickle of excitement crawl up his spine. He had still six hours before he could attempt to move her. He might just as well sit in the cinema as wander about waiting for the time to pass.

Leaving the two men still talking, Jay left the bar, crossed the lobby to the elevator.

He said casually to the elevator attendant: “What time does the elevator go on automatic?”

“Three o’clock, sir,” the attendant told him.

Jay nodded.

It was as he had thought. He would need the elevator when he moved the girl. The thought that, within six hours, he would have to get her out of the cupboard, across the lounge, across the corridor and into the elevator, made his heart-beat quicken. There was a risk that Sophia or his father would hear him take her across the lounge. There was a risk someone would see him cross the corridor. He was ready to take the risk: it was all part of this intense excitement he had to have.

He was a little startled to find the door to suite 27 unlocked and he opened it cautiously and looked into the lounge. The lights were on and he heard movements in Sophia’s room.

He moved silently to his room, opened the door and stepped into the room, shutting the door before he turned on the light.

Sophia would be going to the movie. She would be leaving in a minute or so. He took the cupboard key from his pocket, unlocked the door and opened it.

The dead girl lay exactly as he had left her. He stared at her for a moment, then he reached down and touched her bare arm. The flesh felt cool and hard and he grimaced. She would be awkward to handle unless by the time he was ready to move her the rigor had passed off. He vaguely remembered reading somewhere that rigor did pass off after some hours, but just how long he couldn’t recall.

He took his tuxedo from the cupboard and tossed it on the bed, then, unable to wait, impelled by the urgent need to know for certain, he took hold of the dead girl’s arm and experimented in trying to pull her upright.

He was shocked by her weight and awkwardness. He felt a doubt that perhaps he wouldn’t be able to get her from his room to the elevator.

He put his hands under her armpits and, straining, he managed to lift her upright. Then, as he propped her up against the wall of the cupboard, he heard a knock on his door.

His heart gave a painful little kick, then began to thump so violently he had trouble in breathing. He heard the handle of his bedroom door turning. Letting go of the girl’s body, he slammed the cupboard doors shut as his bedroom door swung open.

He turned, feeling cold sweat on his face.

Sophia stood in the doorway. She was wearing a flame-coloured evening dress, cut low and tight in the bodice and flaring out at the skirt. There was a large diamond brooch in her hair and diamonds around her slender throat.

They stood staring at each other.

Sophia hadn’t expected to find him in his room. Her uneasiness had increased while she had been dressing and imagining she was alone in the suite, she had decided to take one more look at Jay’s room in the hope of finding something that would either reassure her or confirm her suspicions that something was badly wrong.

Seeing Jay, motionless, white-faced and so obviously frightened, she knew she had caught him in some guilty act.

She watched him take hold of himself.

“Hello,” he said and there was a slight quiver in his voice. “I was just going to change. Father wants me to see the movie to-night.”

“Does he?”

There was a pause, then he said: “I’ll have to hurry. You’re going, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m going.”

He moved away from the cupboard and, going over to his chest of drawers, he began to empty his pockets, putting his gold cigarette case, his lighter, handkerchief and money on top of the chest.

Sophia drew in a long, slow breath.

“Jay... is there something wrong?”

He stiffened, then slowly turned his head. The dark lenses of his glasses gave him a sinister appearance.

“Wrong? Why, no. What do you mean?”

“It’s a feeling I have,” she said, not moving. “This girl... ”

“You don’t have to worry about her,” Jay said. “She has gone now.”

“But is she likely to make trouble?”

“Why should she?”

“She might try to blackmail you.”

Jay smiled: at least his lips curved into a smile but the rest of his face was stiff and tense.

“She won’t do that. What makes you think she would do such a thing?”

“A girl like that... ”

The words hung in space. Sophia saw that Jay’s eyes were riveted on the cupboard and she looked too.

Very slowly, the cupboard doors were opening.

Sophia suddenly felt very frightened.

She saw Jay make a movement forward and then stop. His face had gone the colour of tallow.

The doors of the cupboard swung fully open.

Lucille Balu’s rigid body swayed uncertainly, then as Sophia’s hands went to her mouth, stifling her scream of horror, the dead girl slid to the floor at Sophia’s feet.