Murder among the Stars Page 5

  There was a part of Lulu that wanted to agree . . . almost. It wasn’t a part of her that she liked, or planned to share with the world.

  “Whatever you did,” Lulu said, “it went terribly wrong. What did you do to her?”

  “We didn’t kill her,” Eleanor said. “Come upstairs. We’ll show you what we had planned. It was nothing, I swear! Nothing much . . . ,” she added in a mutter.

  The four young actresses slipped out of the Assembly Room and upstairs to the suite of guest bedrooms where the most fortunate guests were staying. “This is Juliette’s room,” Boots said. The door was slightly agape. Boots, Eleanor, and Toshia lingered in the hallway, looking ashamed. Lulu, however, moved cautiously toward the door, uncertain but mindful that she might be walking into the scene of a heinous crime.

  “No! Stop!” the other girls cried, and Toshia grabbed for Lulu’s arm. “Look out for the . . .” Lulu shook her off and shoved her way inside.

  Her shoe squelched into a puddle and she slipped down to her backside into freezing water. “What the . . . ?”

  “Are you all right?” squeaked Toshia.

  “Peachy,” muttered Lulu. As she gasped and sputtered, trying to stand and slipping, she kicked a metal bucket.

  “See!” Boots said triumphantly. “It wouldn’t have killed her, even if she had gone to her room.”

  It took Lulu a moment to catch her breath after the sudden shock of her cold bath. When her friends had hauled her to her feet, she said, “You had a bucket of water set up over her door? That was all you were going to do to her? Give her a drenching?”

  “Cross my heart,” Boots said. “We figured she’d go back to her room after digging in the dirt to bury that paper bug. We thought it would be a big comedown to get soaked before dinner. She’d have to show up all wet, or else be late for dinner. Hearst would be furious either way.”

  “But she never showed up to her room, did she?” Lulu said, squeezing out the skirt of her dress. “She was dry when I found her, and her hair and makeup were perfect. Who set off the booby trap, then?”

  Boots shrugged. “All I know is that we three are in the clear.”

  “I almost hoped it was you three,” Lulu confessed, to their shocked stares and gaping mouths. “Oh, I didn’t really want you to be guilty—though at the moment I’d be happy to send the three of you to Sing-Sing for what you’ve done to my clothes. I knew in my heart that you wouldn’t kill anyone on purpose—and were probably too sensible to kill someone by accident. But I’d hoped that maybe it was just an innocent prank gone wrong, somehow.”

  “I don’t see how a girl can be accidentally strangled to death,” Eleanor pointed out.

  “Call it wishful thinking,” Lulu said. “Because if you three didn’t do it, that means there is a real honest-to-goodness murderer in this house. And I think I know who he is.”

  The girls gasped. But though they pressed her, she wouldn’t give them a clue. She had to talk to Freddie.

  Anxious as she was to get to him, she knew she had to start thinking like an investigator if she was to be of any help. Juliette obviously hadn’t gone to her room after completing Hearst’s preposterous, childish punishment. Still, there might well be a clue inside. If the murderer was who Lulu thought it was, he probably had some personal connection to Juliette. If she could find some proof and bring it to Freddie, the case would be all but solved, and her life would become exponentially less dangerous.

  Mostly, Lulu wanted to solve Juliette’s murder for the good and simple reason that life was precious and killing abhorrent. But a tiny part of her—again, the part she didn’t particularly like, or wish to share—knew that the sooner this case was wrapped up, the sooner she could spend more time with Freddie.

  “I’m going to look around,” Lulu said.

  “Are you sure you should?” Eleanor asked.

  “The police will want to look first,” Toshia said.

  “I won’t touch anything,” Lulu said, and dripped and sloshed her way around the room.

  Like all the rooms in the castle, Juliette’s bedroom was more of a way to display art and artifacts than it was a living space. The overall theme was French, but the decor spanned hundreds of years. Tapestries crowded with paintings along the walls, gilded walnut tables perched cheek by jowl with heavy brocade chairs, and the bed was canopied in blue and gold. On the pillow sat a small opened box, empty, with striped crimson and silver paper strewn nearby.

  It was certainly an impressive room, Lulu thought, but not a very comfortable one.

  “She’s a slob!” Boots said.

  “Was a slob,” Toshia said sadly.

  Every drawer and door in the room was half open. Juliette’s clothes were strewn haphazardly over chairs, and makeup and cold cream littered the tables. Lulu bent over a hairbrush with tangles of blond hair. She could see dark brown at the root of each strand.

  “No one should die with their roots showing,” Lulu said, then flinched inwardly at the shallow thought. Had she really said that? Hollywood was changing her. “Poor Juliette. Look at all the clothes she brought. Enough for a month.”

  “Why didn’t she take care of them, or put them away?” Boots asked. “If I had all these clothes, I’d make sure they were hung up neatly. And her underthings are thrown ’round like confetti.”

  Lulu gasped. This wasn’t just random chaos. “Juliette wasn’t a slob. This place was searched! Probably by whoever set off your surprise.”

  “Unless it was just an unfortunate chambermaid,” Toshia said.

  “Either way, whoever got drenched might know something,” Boots said, looking excited to be part of an investigation.

  “Or they might be the murderer. I have to tell all this to Freddie. Immediately!”

  But when she ran up to Freddie in the Assembly Room, he greeted her with a smile and said, “Good news—they’ve caught the murderer!”

  Five

  Really? Are you certain? I just found some very strange evidence in Juliette’s room, and I was so sure that . . .” Lulu trailed off, strangely disappointed to have the mystery solved so quickly.

  “I’m so sorry that you find this news disenchanting. One is usually happy when a murderer is caught,” Freddie said, putting his arm around her in mock sympathy.

  “Oh, stop teasing me!” she said, pushing his arm off in annoyance. “Someone absolutely ransacked her room. Her clothes were everywhere, and not like a messy-girl kind of everywhere. It was a definite ransacking kind of everywhere. And there was a missing present, but I don’t know what it was, and . . . Freddie, where’s Sal?”

  Freddie’s eyebrows twitched upward. “Smoking upstairs in the billiard room, I think. Why do you want to know? I’d have thought you’d want to stay as far away from him as possible.”

  “Wait a minute. You mean Sal’s not the murderer?”

  “Darling, I don’t like him much either, but for the life of me, I can’t imagine why he would kill Juliette. Not that I wouldn’t be happy to see him locked away. I don’t very much care for the way you and he—”

  “Well, why would anyone kill anyone? He’s the only person here who I positively know has killed before. The first time I met him, he . . .” She stopped.

  “When you first met him, what?” Freddie asked. There was always something strange between Sal and Lulu, and confident as he was, it made him just the slightest bit uneasy.

  She bit her lip. As intimate as she was with Freddie, as much as she trusted him, she had never revealed the story of her first meeting with Sal, or what she’d done afterward. Freddie knew that Sal was obsessed with her, but she’d never corrected his natural assumption that Sal had become intrigued with her after seeing her on-screen.

  “I just knew that he was dangerous. That’s all. I’m sure he’s killed people in the line of work, or at the very least, he’s ordered his goons to do it for him. He has everyone out here convinced he’s just a businessman, but I know that he’s a criminal. He must have been the one wh
o killed Juliette. Now, if we can just figure out why . . .”

  “Much as I hate to disappoint anyone as charmingly enthusiastic about a murder as you are, and as happy as I would be to throw that crook in jail, it really doesn’t look like it was him,” Freddie said. “Just a few minutes ago Hearst’s private security team found a trespasser on the grounds, and apparently, he had some stolen items on him.”

  “I’m telling you, something’s off about Sal being here.”

  Just then Hearst came back into the Assembly Room. “My friends and guests,” he said in his booming pompous voice. “I apologize for the unfortunate interruption.”

  “Unfortunate interruption!” Lulu couldn’t help but repeat audibly. How could he be so blasé, as if a rainstorm had spoiled their picnic? “A girl’s life was interrupted—permanently! How can you say . . . ?”

  Veronica rushed to her side and shushed her. “Admirable sentiments,” she hissed, “but no opinions, please, if someone wants the job of a lifetime.”

  Lulu rolled her eyes, and Hearst went on, watching her warily for further interruption.

  “An intruder was spotted on the grounds near the Neptune Pool. The suspect was handily apprehended and knocked unconscious, thanks to my outstanding security staff. Now, given his insensible state, taking him into custody should be well within the prowess even of our rural police force. The murderer has been caught, and we are all safe! Cheers!”

  He raised his glass, and everyone in the room followed suit. Not Lulu. She stepped forward slowly, eyebrows furrowed with frustration.

  “But how do you know he was the one who killed her?” Lulu asked. “Who is he?”

  “The culprit is a colored man in his twenties,” Hearst said. “I never saw him before in my life, and neither has any of the staff. The man had scratches on his face and arms, clear evidence of a recent battle with one of the fair sex. When my men searched him, they found a diamond ring in his pocket.”

  The women in the gathering murmured in great alarm, checking their fingers, as if the prisoner might have escaped, slipped into the room, and snatched their jewels. How awful and self-absorbed these people are, Lulu thought.

  “It appears the intruder’s plan was to rob us while we gathered before dinner,” Hearst went on. “He must have searched the rooms and found the ring, then left. Miss Claire must have surprised him, perhaps even confronted him, and met her sorry end at the hands of the desperate criminal. Please, let’s have a moment of silence for the lovely, unfortunate Miss Juliette Claire, struck down in the prime of her youth.”

  The whole room bowed their heads and went silent, but Lulu could feel all eyes shifting around, knowing full well that this was a bona fide viper’s nest full of enemies Juliette had made. Many that very day.

  The capture of the trespasser was certainly damning, but something was gnawing at Lulu. If the man had broken in to steal jewels, why would he stop at one ring? The actresses’ rooms were most certainly littered with valuable gems, owned or borrowed from the biggest jewelers in Hollywood to add glitter and a sense of entitlement, if not outright envy, to the party at the Ranch. And if he had indeed killed Juliette, why would he still be hanging around the estate? He should have been halfway down the mountainside, not lingering by the swimming pool.

  She had a lot of questions. But right now one seemed to be the most important. Despite the thick, agitated silence of the partygoers, heads bowed in insincere reverence, Lulu felt compelled to ask, “The man you caught—was he wet?”

  Hearst looked at Lulu as if she’d lost her mind. And Freddie, head popping up, had to pinch himself to keep from bursting out with laughter. She just couldn’t help herself, and he loved her all the more for it, though her timing could use some work.

  “I think the strain has been a bit much for her,” Freddie said. “I’ll escort her to her room, if you don’t mind.”

  He took her by the upper arm and began to hustle her away. Lulu couldn’t believe it. “Why, of all the condescending, insulting . . . Strain? I’ll show you strain! How dare you? You think you’re superior because you’re a man, and I’m just some weak female! Well, I’ll show you who’s weak!”

  When they were outside Freddie released her.

  “You’re lovely when you’re angry. Your eyes are so pretty when your face turns red like that.”

  “You are a monster!”

  “Entirely possible, but we’ll save that conversation for another time. For now I simply thought that was the most convenient way of getting you out of that room—and outside, where they’re keeping the suspect. You want to see him, don’t you? You might sound crazy to the rest of them, but I’ve seen you in action and I have a fair guess you can out-sleuth me in a heartbeat. When you start talking about missing presents and wet murderers, I know you must be onto something.”

  “Oh, Freddie!” she said, and kissed him in the silvery moonlight.

  The police were pulling into the driveway when Lulu and Freddie arrived. Mr. Waters was already there, talking with Hearst’s security. At their feet lay a man trussed like a Christmas goose.

  The young man appeared to be in his early twenties. He was handsome, even in his unconscious and unfortunate state. His hair was trimmed neat and very close to his head, as if he had just had a fresh haircut, and he sported a pencil-thin mustache. He was nattily dressed in a well-tailored checked suit marred only by a damp, muddy patch on one knee. An expensive and fashionable paisley bow tie was neatly knotted on his neck. In the harsh headlights of the police cars, Lulu could see a dark stream of blood running down his head.

  “He’s not just unconscious,” she said. “He’s badly hurt.”

  “But not wet, evidently,” Freddie said, and knelt by the man’s side.

  Lulu bent to look closer. “See that shine on his shoes? And look at those fingernails. They’re buffed. I’d swear to it. He doesn’t look like a thief.”

  “Doesn’t look like a murderer, either,” Freddie said. “Why did you want to know if he was wet?”

  Lulu told him about the prank that Boots, Toshia, and Eleanor had planned to play on Juliette. “Someone was in that room and set off their ridiculous trap. Hearst said that this man was inside the house. I thought maybe he was the one in Juliette’s room, that it was her ring he stole. But if it was him, he’d be drenched.”

  “Unless he went in after someone else set off the prank,” Freddie pointed out.

  Lulu shifted in her squelching shoes. “The rug was soaking, and there was a deep puddle inside the door. Check his shoes.”

  The soles were muddy, but the shoes were dry.

  “So he didn’t go in Juliette’s room. That doesn’t clear him. He still has the stolen ring.”

  “But there’s nothing connecting him to Juliette. Look at all that dirt on his feet. If he’d gone inside he would have left tracks. And if he killed her outside, why would he take the risk of going back inside, where it’s crawling with guests and staff, to hide her in the dining room? And how do you know the ring is stolen? If his suit, shoes, and grooming are any indication, this man is hardly hurting for money!”

  “Good questions,” Freddie said. “Mr. Waters, any chance we can speak with the suspect?”

  Waters shook his head. “Boy’s out cold. The officers will take him down to the chokey and see if a bucket of water can’t revive him. Then they’ll get the truth out of him.”

  “I don’t think he did it,” Lulu said resolutely.

  Waters smiled indulgently and took a long tug off of a flask nestled inside his coat pocket. “Well, ain’t you a softhearted little missy. What else would a colored boy be doing hanging around a mansion?”

  Racism did not sit well with Freddie. He had made too many friends and shared too many hard times with men of all backgrounds during his time as a vagrant to pass judgments on a man simply because of his skin tone. But he valued his job and knew that men like Waters had to be handled carefully.

  “All due respect, sir, we have no clear evidenc
e here that ties this man to the victim. No murder weapon, no motive—”

  “That we know of,” Waters sneered. “But we’ll get it out of him. This man had no business here except for evil.”

  “He could have been looking for a job, or coming to see someone, or his car could have broken down along the road,” Lulu said indignantly. She shared Freddie’s distaste for bigotry.

  “You have too much faith in human nature,” Waters said dismissively. “When you’ve seen the things I’ve seen, you’ll realize that most of the world is bad, and the rest of it is downright rotten.”

  “I promise you, Mr. Waters, I have seen things,” Lulu said with a frown. “Perhaps too many. But I don’t think this man killed Juliette.”

  She watched as the handsome young suspect was carried away and tossed, still unconscious, into the backseat of the police car. She would have given anything to be able to talk with him.

  As the car pulled away, Lulu tugged Freddie back toward the house. “I want to see the body. Well,” she amended, “I don’t actually want to see it. Her, I mean. Juliette is still a person.”

  “You want to look for more clues?” Freddie asked.

  “Tell me to butt out if you think I should.”

  “Never,” Freddie said, arching up his left eyebrow mischievously. “If you have a hunch, I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do.”

  Lulu smiled and looked into his beautiful eyes, and felt more love for him in that moment than she had ever before. “I don’t know what I think. I just want to have another look.”

  When they got to the Refectory, they found a dignified-looking butler standing watch over Juliette’s corpse at a respectful distance. Lulu wondered if this was the most unusual thing he’d had to do in service for Hearst.

  “I have been instructed to inform you not to touch the mortal remains,” he said, his lined face expressionless.

  “We won’t,” Freddie assured him. “I’m Mr. Waters’s assistant.”