She thought I might be bluffing, and she said so.
“A big brown book in your office,” I said.
“I see,” she said.
“Can I ask you one question or two, Cassie?”
“Yes,” she said sweetly.
“Why did you want Judy to find the body? Why did you try to poison her? And what the hell did you get into all this for? You don’t need the money.”
Cassie looked at Judy calmly, and I took a few steps toward them as if I just wanted to hear what was being said.
“I hate her,” said Cassie with a thin smile.
Judy started to rise, and Cassie picked up the knife. It was sharp, long, and in the hands of an expert.
“Sit down, Judy,” I said calmly. She sat down and kept her eyes fixed on me. Cassie’s eyes were fixed on the girl in front of her as she spoke.
“She got what I deserved, what I worked for. I had the looks and the talent. I still do, but I didn’t have the luck. I got over it, though. I had a second chance through my sister. My kid sister was even better than I was, and I put everything I had into her career. I bought costumes, publicity. I set up parties, gave her lessons. She was doing fine. In another year she would have made it. We both would have made it, but she lost a part to Judy. It wasn’t much. She,” Cassie said, nodding at Judy, “probably doesn’t even remember it or my sister’s name: Jean James.”
I could see by Judy’s face that the name meant nothing to her.
“She lost another part to you, too,” Cassie went on, her lips getting thinner and her brow tighter. “Then she began the drinking and the pills. I warned her, but in less than a year her looks were almost gone. She tried to live a lifetime in one year. She died two years ago in a car crash. I have no more sisters.”
“I’ve got another explanation,” I said. “Got it from a doctor named Roloff. Your jealousy of Judy has nothing to do with your sister. You’re jealous of her success because you see it as sexual success. So you take men who come near her, and you turn out porno movies that ridicule her. I’ll bet you even appear in the movies.”
“You’re dirt,” she hissed at me as I took a step toward her. She moved quickly to Judy’s side and put the knife at the girl’s throat.
“You don’t need the money,” I said. “You need the excitement; the sex and the sexual substitute. You needed the next substitute, murder. You started putting that long knife into men. Was I next, or was it Hoff? I don’t think you even know, do you, Cassie?”
“I’ll have the satisfaction of killing her,” Cassie said, her eyes glaring at me.
I could see Woodman and Fearaven out of the corner of my eye. Woodman had a gun in his hand, but I knew he couldn’t take a chance. He’d have to be good to be sure he wouldn’t hit Judy. There was nothing much we could do but wait while I tried to keep her off balance.
At least that’s what we thought. While I was trying to dig a new track out of my head, Judy suddenly threw the coffee pot at Cassie James. I hadn’t seen it, but the girl had been reaching her hand out for it while she did her fear act. Cassie screamed and looked ready to plunge the knife. I leaped forward and fell a few feet short on the table. Woodman took a shot and missed. Time was frozen. I waited for the enraged Cassie, coffee dripping from her hair and eyes, to move forward. But it was Judy Garland who moved. She threw her elbow into Cassie’s stomach and pushed the woman away from her. It was an act of rejection I would have liked to make, but wasn’t sure I could have.
The knife hit the floor, and Woodman and Fearaven were on Cassie. She turned, suddenly calm as they lifted her. She was a wet, dripping mess. Her beauty was still there, but it was ruined by her makeup, which looked as if it had melted under strong lights.
“I trusted you,” Judy said quietly.
“I hated you,” Cassie said, without looking at the girl.
I called my brother while the two men held Cassie. Then I took Judy out and into my car.
“It’s like a bad dream,” she said.
I agreed. It was like a bad dream for both of us. I wasn’t sure whose loss was greater, but since I’d lived longer I gave her the benefit of the doubt and hoped her life wouldn’t be a series of disappointments from people she put her trust in.
On the way to her house, she told me she was thinking of getting married. She said he was a composer or bandleader named Rose. I’d never heard of him, but I told her I hoped he was a good man. When I drove up in front of her house, she leaned over and kissed me.
“I’m glad I called you, Mr. Peters.” Then she ran out of the car and up the walk.
I wasn’t so sure I was glad she called me. I’d lived a lifetime in three days. At least Cassie’s sister had a year. My pay for the trouble would be some bad memories and about $300 from M.G.M. My body told me to pull over and go to sleep, but my mind reminded me of what happened the last time I’d slept in a car. My brother would find me if I went home, and Shelly was probably at the office wondering what the hell happened to his car. I could go to a few people to be put up, but a better idea came to me.
In fifteen minutes I was back at the hospital. A woman at the front desk tried to stop me. She said visiting hours were over. I told her I wasn’t a visitor; I was an in-patient.
The elevator took me up slowly, and the lampshade nurse met me when the doors opened. Her face was lined with professional anger and a look of betrayal.
“Where were you?” she asked.
“Saving Judy Garland’s life,” I said, and walked into my room. I flopped on the bed in the dark and fell asleep.
There were no dreams of flying monkeys, muscled maniacs, or Koko the clown. There was only darkness, which suited me just fine.
10
When my eyes opened on Wednesday morning, Franklin Roosevelt was sure of another four years in the White House, but I didn’t know that for a while. What I knew was that someone had taken my clothes off and put a gown on me, that a termite in my head was trying to get out the hard way, and that my brother and Charlie Cimaglia, the little muscle man, were looking down on me.
I moaned pitifully and tried to turn over, but Phil wasn’t about to let me.
“Let’s talk, Toby,” he said.
“Can’t,” I said, letting out a fearful groan.
“I’ll punch you in the back so hard your kidney will turn to mud,” he whispered.
I turned back over and sat up on my elbows.
“Let’s talk,” I said.
“This the man, Mr. Cimaglia?” he said.
The man with all the muscles looked at me without anger and said I was the man.
“What was in the can, Toby?” asked Phil.
“Movies,” I said. “Mostly stuff stolen from Metro. I returned it to them.”
“The charge wasn’t theft,” said Phil. “It’s assault with a deadly weapon. You took a shot at Mr. Cimaglia and threatened his life.”
“I don’t remember threatening his life, and I was five feet from him when I shot. If I wanted to hit him, I would have hit him. Hell, I did him a favor. I got Grundy out of his place. He should be giving me a reward.”
For some reason, this amused Cimaglia, who laughed and said, “You got balls, Mister. You really have.”
“You want to talk to a lawyer, Toby?”
“My lawyer’s name is Leib, Martin Leib…” I began, but I didn’t finish.
“Hold it,” said Cimaglia putting up his hand. “I made a mistake. This isn’t the man.” Cimaglia looked at me with a grin.
Phil turned toward Cimaglia, his hands in tight fists, his belly rumbling. There wasn’t much room in there, but
