The Mammoth Book Of Roaring Twenties Whodunnits Part 47

"The police have to be called," Means said. His words quieted the room.

"Then we should clear out so they can do their work. Write up their reports. Whatever it is they do." Dorothy Parker walked to the bar and sat her empty gla.s.s on a coaster.

Judith returned with the list and handed it to Means. He held it over his head. "I have the names of every person in this room and I'm going to check to see if we're all here."

An elderly woman wearing a diamond choker timidly asked, "But what does that matter? Lily had an accident and . . ."

"It wasn't an accident!" Arbuckle shouted from his side of the huge room.

"Is this true?" Judith asked.

"Well, possibly. Maybe. I believe her death was caused by someone other than . . . herself."

Fatty came closer. "He means she was murdered."

"I have to get out of here," W.C. Fields said. "I can't be a.s.sociated with any of you. Look what happened to ole Fatty there. No, no, this would definitely ruin me. Excuse me, but I must be on my way."

"Sorry, Mr Fields. That is precisely why you should not leave. We must all stay here and be accounted for. There is strength in numbers. If we all remain calm and vouch for each other, we're safe."

"Then tell me, my good man," Fields asked, looking down at Means with disgust, "why did you tell us Lily succ.u.mbed to an accident when in fact she was murdered?"

"I'll tell you why," Fatty said, "because he was a hot shot with the FBI, then a private investigator after he got involved in one too many scandals. Now he's looking to solve a murder make the headlines and a new name for himself. Think all will be forgiven, Mr Means? Think you can write a brand new book about the murder of Lillian Armstrong-Smith?"

Means was the confused one now. "No, why would you ask me that? I thought we had an agreement? An understanding of sorts."

"I did too until you lied to me out there, when you showed me Lily's shoe."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I know you think I'm just a big, fat, dumb clown. Everyone does. But I'm real good at what I do. I spent years practising falls, tumbling, figuring out where arms and legs land when you chase someone. h.e.l.l, I did nothing else for hours at a time with the Keystone Cops. I'm a professional, Mr Means, and d.a.m.n good at what I do did.

"The shoe you showed me was dug deep into the ground. If someone dragged Lily, as you a.s.sumed they did, her shoe would have slid off and fallen away not pushed down into the soil. For the shoe to end up where and how we found it, would have meant one of three things: someone pushed her forward, she walked to that place willingly, or she was running away from her attacker. However, it was you who found the shoe, in the dark. Odd, considering I had been out on the grounds in the yard on that very spot earlier and missed it. Imagine! In the light of the full moon, I missed a silver object the size of a shoe, sparkling there like a spotlight. Therefore, I can only a.s.sume you planted it yourself, Mr Means."

Means fell down into a plush club chair forcing it against the wall. "All right, I admit I put the shoe there, but only after I'd stumbled over it earlier."

"Why would you do such a thing?" Judith asked, stunned.

Embarra.s.sed to look the woman in the eye, he spoke slowly. "I needed to be believed."

"You mean admired," Fatty said. "You thought this was just the opportunity you needed to regain some credibility."

"Is that true?" Bing asked.

"Yes," Means said, still too cowardly to look up. "I worked for the FBI. I had respect, a position close to the President of the United States. The most powerful man in the world."

"And you brought disgrace down upon yourself," Bing ranted. "You brought disgrace to your office and your country. There is no one to blame for your misfortunes except you, sir."

"I know. Don't you think I know all that?"

"So," Judith said, "let me see if I understand this. You took Mrs Armstrong-Smith's death as an opportunity to benefit yourself?"

Dorothy Parker sniffed. "Typical man, you'll always land on somebody's feet."

Judith McKeon shook her head. "Poor Mrs Armstrong-Smith."

"Oh come now, you hated her . . ." Arbuckle's fat hand swiftly clamped over his mouth.

Means' head jerked upward to look at the secretary. "You did?" And then shifting his eyes to Arbuckle he asked, "How would you know something like that? Have you met Miss McKeon before this evening?"

"Well, yes, and . . ." He looked to the woman contritely.

"It's okay, Roscoe, I'm not ashamed of our friendship."

"Friendship? This is all so cozy I can't stand it," Parker quipped.

"Miss McKeon wrote me several letters while I was going through my ah, trouble."

"Fan letters?" Means asked.

"It started out that way," Judith told them. "I was infatuated with . . ."

"A star. It happens all the time," Crosby said. "But the papers, magazines, they were full of stories. All the gory details. Weren't you afraid you were corresponding with a murderer?"

Judith looked at Fatty adoringly. "Oh, no. I could tell Roscoe would never hurt anyone. He's a gentle, kind, sensitive soul."

"And you could tell all of this from . . . what?" Bing asked. What ever led you to believe you knew this man so intimately . . . unless . . ."

"No! Don't even think it! Nothing happened between the two of us."

Means studied the guest list he had gotten from Judith. "I notice here that your name is not among those invited, Mr Arbuckle."

"And if you look closer, Mr Means, neither is yours," Judith pointed out.

"I don't understand."

"I invited you both of you. It was easy just to slip in a few extra guests, being responsible for the invitations and all. Mrs Armstrong-Smith never saw what went out in the mail or what I didn't want her to know came back."

Dorothy Parker finished her martini, held the empty gla.s.s up to attract a waitress. "So why the invites?" she asked.

W.C. Fields laughed. "Life is certainly a stage and how we all do strut. Our little lady here set us up. We were all here for her entertainment. Isn't that so, my dear?"

"No. I just wanted to see Roscoe. I knew he'd never consent to meet me otherwise. So I spoke through Mrs Armstrong-Smith. But it wasn't as if she would have appreciated a man like you," she said to Arbuckle. "Truth is, she always thought you were a killer."

"So knowing what her reaction would be at the very sight of me, you wanted to shock her? Upset her?" Arbuckle's face fell into a soft frown.

"It's terrible," Judith admitted, "I know it's unforgivable but, Lord help me, as much as I wanted to be with you, I wanted to see her uncomfortable more. I wanted to see her frightened."

Cal walked over, Irma trailing behind. "Miss McKeon, should I tell the boys they can pack up and go home? Or do we have to wait around for the police?"

Judith was glad for the interruption. "What do you suggest we do, Mr Means?"

"Why in Sam Hill are you asking that imbecile?" W.C. Fields wanted to know.

"Because he's the closest thing we have right now to any kind of law."

"Law by a.s.sociation? That's rich." Parker laughed.

"Tell your band to hang around," Means addressed Cal, ignoring Dorothy.

"Sure thing." Cal turned to leave and Judith spotted the necklace around Irma's neck.

"Hold on a minute, you." She grabbed Irma by the arm. "Just where did you get those pearls?"

Means stood up and advanced on the woman, hoping to frighten her into an answer.

"Cal gave them to me. Honest! I ain't no thief, I'm a good girl!"

The bandleader started for the French doors. Means chased after him.

A group of drinkers sitting in lawn chairs laughed as Means shouted for help. It was Novarro who ended up tackling the man.

"Get offa me!" Cal shouted to the actor. Then to Means, "I found them. Honest, Mr Means. Over there. I swear! Just go ask that guy." He pointed to the bartender stationed under a green awning.

"Bring him over here," Means told Novarro.

Grabbing the man by the collar of his tuxedo jacket, the actor dragged Cal across the lawn.

The bartender smiled, oblivious to the commotion. His attention had been focused on one of the attractive waitresses. "What'll it be, gentlemen?" he asked when he saw them.

"The gentleman here," Means said pointing to Cal, "claims he found a strand of pearls out here and that you can vouch for his story."

"Name's Howard Pearson, sir, and no, I'm sorry but I never saw any such thing. I'm afraid he's lying to you."

Cal's shoulders went limp. Novarro released his hold but stood close. "Come on, Howard, tell them how I found those d.a.m.n pearls right over there." Cal pointed to a spot near the cliffwalk. "Ya saw me. I showed ya them. Ya acted like you didn't know where they came from, that ya'd never seen them before."

Howard rubbed his chin, the stubble looked like dirt stuck to his face. "Sorry, Cal."

Before anyone could stop him, Cal lunged across the bar and grabbed the bartender. "I thought we were friends here, Howard. Ya told me if I covered up for you, I could have the pearls for Irma. Ya told me . . ."

"Get him off me," Howard grunted.

Hearing the commotion, Judith McKeon came running, leaving the rest of the party inside, watching the scene as if it were a moving picture. "Howard," she said jerking to a stop. "I didn't know you were here."

"Isn't he one of the bartenders you hired?" Means asked.

"I called the agency and they sent over some people. I've used Howard in the past. There's never been any trouble before. We have a good working relationship."

Howard pushed himself away from the men. "Working relationship? Judith, we both know it was a h.e.l.l of lot more than that."

Before she could speak, Means addressed the man. "Tell us how you would define your relationship with Miss McKeon."

"I have connections, know what I mean? I'm very popular with the upper crust, especially in these difficult times. Understand what I'm saying here? I can get alcohol illegal hooch. High quality and lots of it. I've helped her out on more than one occasion."

"That's true," Judith said. "Mrs Armstrong-Smith is very demanding and when she wants something I either accommodate her or I'm not only out of a job, but as she has threatened many times, never going to find work in this country."

"It's a big world out there, Miss McKeon," Means said, "and I'm sure an intelligent woman such as yourself . . ."

"You don't understand how influential Mrs Armstrong-Smith is . . . I mean was. And excuse me, Mr Means, but you of all people should understand how difficult it is to start over with a questionable reputation. It follows you everywhere. I've watched it happen over and over again."

Means nodded. "You're right; I do understand." Turning to Howard he asked, "So you've done some favors for Miss McKeon from time to time, and worked as a bartender at a few parties. That's all there is to it, then?"

"Yes," Judith answered. "That's all."

"And when did you last see the pearls?" he asked her.

"Days ago. In fact, Mrs Armstrong-Smith was still looking for them earlier this evening."

"Cal, do you want to stick to your story or are we calling the police now? I think we can drum up a burglary charge if not murder."

"Okay, no police. I swiped them so what? I didn't know they were hers. I didn't know who they belonged to."

"Explain," Novarro said, anxious to hear the man's story.

"I got here earlier this afternoon to check things out set up. I saw the pearls on the floor in the hall. I picked them up, put them in my pocket, and gave them to Irma. Thought maybe I'd get lucky after we were done tonight."

"And if Irma got caught wearing them, she'd be the one in trouble, right?"

"To be honest, I never thought that far ahead. I had other things on my mind."

Arbuckle joined the group in the middle of Cal's story.

"Let's go back inside," Judith suggested. "It's getting cold out here."

Means stood fixed in thought. "You never saw Mrs Armstrong-Smith leave the house?" he asked Judith.

"No, I told you, the last I heard she was getting dressed in her room."

"What side of the house is your room on?"

"The opposite side."

"Why? Wouldn't she want you close by?"

"Yeah, you were always telling me what a tyrant she was," Fatty said.

"Precisely, that's why I insisted I be in the other wing. I needed some privacy. I do have a personal life."

"I'll say," Howard laughed.