The Dragon’s Teeth (6 page)

BUT it was destined to be a long debauch.

The landlady, true to Beau's prediction, did her joyous work. On the heels of daylight came a rush of reporters and photographers that engulfed the shabby little stucco house like a Pacific tidal wave. They yanked their copy out of Violet Day's arms and, scarcely permitting her to rub the sleep out of her eyes, overwhelmed her. In five minutes the floor was treacherous with blackened bulbs. Beau, roused by the bedlam, had to fight his way through an excited mass of roomers. He spent a busy half-hour then, careful to keep the press from photographing him, evicting them one at a time.

When the room was clear he said: “Well, Cinderella, how do you like it?”

“I'm … a little scared,” said Kerrie, “but—I think I do!”

“Well, I'll have to tear you away. Get some sleep and then we'll talk about going to New York.”

“Is there really a rush?” pleaded Kerrie. “There are so many things I've got to do! Clothes, hair, face—”

Vi winked at him, and he left. But only to nap for another hour, bathe, shave, dress, and sit down outside her locked door.

Vi awoke first. He had a long talk with her, in undertones. There were several things he must do. Establish credit through New York. Corral her proofs of identity, and so on. He would be back as soon as he could. Meanwhile, Vi was to guard Kerrie with her life.

Vi said fervently: “Thank heaven for a man! Queen, I had my doubts, but you're okay. Hurry back, will you?”

He left the house with the brim of his hat far down over his eyes.

He had a long talk with Lloyd Goossens by telephone. Then he called Ellery in the Adirondacks.

“I'm glad it turned out all right,” said Ellery. “Get the girl back East, Beau, and go to work on Margo Cole.”

“Have a heart,” growled Beau. “The kid's in a fever. Give her time. I'll get her back as soon as I can.”

“Well, don't bite my nose off,” said Ellery. “What's the matter, Beau? You sound strange.”

“Who, me?” said Beau, and he hung up. By the time he got round to the bank, Goossens had established an account there for Kerrie Shawn in the name of Ellery Queen.

When he returned to Argyle Avenue the narrow little street was black with people. Beau looked gloomy. He knew what lay ahead.

The next week was the hardest of his life. He was bodyguard, lawyer, big brother, and nuisance-fender all in one. Hollywood was excited. An unknown extra, Cinderella in rags, turned into a wealthy heiress overnight! All the studios wanted her—to sing, to dance, to act; for epics, newsreels, anything … but sign here please, Miss Shawn! The newspaper syndicates offered fabulous sums for her life-story. An army of cameramen followed her wherever she went. Tradespeople sent representatives in all humility, offering their best for nothing—wouldn't Miss Shawn do them the honor of shopping in their establishment? Anything, anything her heart desired. As a gift of the management. If Miss Shawn would only … She was offered contracts, silver foxes, imported automobiles; she was deluged with invitations to premières, to swanky parties, to the castles of Hollywood's great.

In all this madness Beau and Vi moved quietly by her side, hemming her in, Vi practical and cool, Beau silent and with his hatbrim shading his face.

Kerrie moved through events with a vague smile, as if she were floating in a dream. At the party she insisted upon having, she walked among her friends like a shy and, happy child. Every one she knew in Hollywood was there, and they were all the poor, the strugglers, the fringe, the people of the frayed and starched clothes and the starved fixed smiles. But many of them wore new clothes that night, and looked well-fed, and their laughter was real.

“Isn't she grand?” sighed Violet Day to Beau. “Just like Lady Bountiful. She told me today she thinks she ought to do something for Inez. Inez has the bugs, and Kerrie's going to send her to Arizona. And Kerrie's financing Lew Malone's ulcer operation, and goodness knows what else!”

“She's drunk,” smiled Beau.

“What? Say, Queen, I don't think you like Kerrie very much!”

“Who, me?” said Beau.

Kerrie refused to move from Argyle Avenue. “I'm going to be in Hollywood just a little while longer,” she said firmly, “and I won't have my friends think I'm putting on the dog. Nothing doing, Vi; we stay here.”

But they had to. take two rooms more to hold all the clothes and trunks she bought. The landlady actually beamed. She raised her rents from six to eight dollars a Week; but when Kerrie heard about it she threatened to move out, so back went the rents to six dollars.

It was like that for an incredible week—driving from shoppe to shoppe in the rented Isotta; exciting hours in the beauty emporia patronized by only the starriest of the stars; furs, evening gowns, sport clothes, wraps, jewels; the
Brown Derby,
the
Clover Club,
the
Beverly-Wilshire;
prevues and premières, until Kerrie's conscience began to bother her.

“Aren't we spending too much money?” she asked Beau.

“There's more where that came from, kid.”

“It's a wonderful dream! Like a fairy tale. Magic money. The more you spend, the more you have. Well, maybe not quite … Ellery, did I tell you I heard from Walter Ruell? He's back home in Ohio and darned glad of it. Poor kid—”

“Kerrie, I've had three wires from Goossens.” Beau did not mention the four from Ellery. “He can't understand what's holding us up here. I tried to explain—”

“Oh, darling, so soon!”

“And don't call me darling!”

“What?” Kerrie was surprised.

“It's a bad habit,” muttered Beau. “For a gal who's promised not to tangle with men.”

“Oh, but, Ellery, I don't say ‘darling' to any man but you! You wouldn't sue me for breach of promise, would you?” Kerrie laughed.

“Why pick on me?” said Beau sullenly.

“Because you're my own special darling, my—” And Kerrie stopped short. Very short. Then she said in a subdued voice, not looking at him: “All right, Ellery. We'll go whenever you say.”

KERRIE was unusually quiet after that. The vagueness went out of her smile; everything sharpened in her face; most of the time she wore a serious expression. Beau was quiet, too. He bought the tickets and arranged for the luggage and took Kerrie's proofs of identity out of the bank vault and saw the bank manager and wired Goossens.

Then there was nothing to do but wait for the next day, which was to be Kerrie's farewell to Hollywood.

But while Beau was busy with the arrangements for their departure Kerrie shut herself up in one of the rooms and refused to come out, even for Vi.

Vi said worriedly to Beau that last night: “I can't understand her. She says she's all right, but …”

“Maybe it's the hangover.”

“I guess it's the idea of leaving. After all, her mother's buried here, this is about the only home she's ever had, and now she faces a whole new world.… I guess that's it.”

“I guess.”

“Why don't you take her out for a walk, or something? She's been cooped up here all day.”

“I don't think—” began Beau, flushing.

But Vi went into Kerrie's room and remained there for a long time, while Beau fidgeted outside. Finally Kerrie came out dressed in black slacks covered by a long coat, and no hat, Hollywood fashion, and said with a rather pale smile: “Want to take me for a walk, Mister?”

“Okay,” said Beau.

They strolled in silence to the corner and turned into Hollywood Boulevard. At the corner of Vine Street they stopped to watch the swirling traffic.

“Busy, all right,” said Kerrie. “It's—hard to leave.”

“Yeah,” said Beau. “Must be.”

They walked ahead into the forest of neon signs.

A little while later Beau said: “Nice night.”

Kerrie said: “Yes, isn't it.”

Then they were silent again. They passed Grauman's
Chinese
and soon were strolling through the darkness of the residential district beyond.

Kerrie paused finally and said: “My feet ache. Wouldn't you think shoes costing twenty-two fifty would fit?”

“The curse of gold,” said Beau. “It has its advantages, too, though.”

“Let's sit down for a while.”

“On the curb?”

“Why not?”

They sat down side by side. Occasionally a car flashed by; once a ribald voice shouted at them.

“I really haven't thanked you,” said Kerrie in a muffled voice, “for having been so grand this week. You've been like a—like a brother.”

“Brother Rat,” said Beau. “That's what they call me.”

“Please, Ellery. I—”

“I'm getting paid for it,” said Beau gruffly. “Fact, it's your dough that's paying. So don't thank me.”

“Oh, money!” said Kerrie. “It isn't everything—” She stopped, appalled by what she was saying.

“No?” jeered Beau. “There are a million fluffs who'd give their right arms to be in your shoes—ache and all—this minute.”

“I know, but … Oh, it's nice being able to do things for people, and to buy and buy without thinking of the price when you've had to watch all your life for basement sales and to make over old dresses, but …”

“No buts. It is wonderful, and you're a lucky squirt. Don't spoil it by being—restless.”

“I'm not!” said Kerrie quickly. “It's just that I've been thinking about …” She stopped.

Beau laughed. “Don't tell me you've been regretting that anti-marriage condition already!”

“Well … it might be awfully hard on a girl—under the circumstances—if she … fell in love.”

She screamed, grabbing him. Something wet and cold had touched the back of her neck. But it was only a friendly, night-prowling Schnauzer investigating her scent.

Beau's arms tightened about her. She clung to him, her head falling back. Her lips were parted.

“Kerrie.” Beau failed to recognize his own voice. “Don't leave Hollywood. Stay here. Give up the money.”

Their lips almost touched as they stared into each other's eyes. He was going to propose. He was! He didn't want her to go East! That could only be because the money stood between him and her. Oh, she didn't care about it! She didn't. She just wanted him. Never to let go. If that was love, she was in love. He was going to propose … Oh, ask me, ask me!

He let go of her and got up so suddenly that she cried out again and the Schnauzer whined in alarm and ran away.

“You'd” throw away twenty-five hundred bucks a week?”

“Maybe,” whispered Kerrie, “I would.”

“Then you're an idiot!”

She closed her eyes, all jumpy and sick inside.

“If it happened to me,” he shouted, “do you think I'd give it up? Like hell I would! You ought to be examined by Freud!”

“But—but you asked me—told me—”

Beau glared down at her as she crouched, hugging her knees, staring up at him. He was furious with himself, and with her for having made him lose his head. The plea had slipped out under the pressure of her arms, the warmth of her breathing, the joyful yearning and hope in her eyes. He saw her hungry, tramping from studio to studio, one of the thousands of starched, frayed, and fixedly smiling Hollywood job-hunters.…

So he sneered: “You dames are all alike. I thought maybe you were different. But you're a pushover like the rest of 'em!”

Kerrie jumped up and ran away.

Just before they left the rooming house for the station the next day, Beau received two telegrams.

One was from Lloyd Goossens.

“
MARGO COLE FOUND IN FRANCE
”

The other was from Mr. Ellery Queen, and it said:

“
MARGO FOUND STOP MORE CONVINCED THAN EVER MURDER IN THIS CASE STOP JOB JUST BEGUN FOR THE LOVE OF MIKE GET BACK ON IT WILL YOU
”

Beau glanced at Kerrie Shawn, his eyes a little red, two deep lines running from his nostrils to the corners of his mouth.

But Kerrie sailed past him with Vi as if he didn't exist.

He grinned wryly.

PART TWO

V.
Fists Across the Sea

The instant Kerrie gazed into her cousin Margo's eyes, she knew they would be enemies.

In the midst of the hurly-burly of presenting her proofs of identity to Lloyd Goossens and Edmund De Carlos, whom Kerrie immediately disliked, of moving into and exploring the Tarrytown mansion and its broad acres, complete with woods and bridle-paths and hidden streams and unexpected arbors, of selecting personal servants and cars and of refurnishing her own suite of rooms, turning them from gloomy chambers into bright and chintzy places, of shopping and granting press interviews and the whole feverish process of settling down to her new life in the East … in the midst of all this, Kerrie had looked forward to her cousin's arrival from France.

It was a peculiar anticipation, touched with sadness, for Kerrie felt as if she had lost something, and she wanted to make up her loss in another way.

But when she saw Margo Cole, she knew she had wished for the moon.

They all went down the bay in a cutter to meet the
Normandie
in quarantine—Kerrie, Vi, Goossens, De Carlos, and Beau. Goossens, brief-case in hand, boarded the liner to meet Margo; they appeared a short time later and descended the ladder to the motor-launch, which ferried them to the cutter.

Margo Cole stepped aboard in a swirl of furs and scent, followed by a pert French maid and a mountain of luggage. She kept chattering gaily with Goossens as her eyes flickered over Vi indifferently, paused on Kerrie, examined her briefly, tossed her aside, and traveled on to De Carlos and Beau. De Carlos's bearded cheeks and toothy grin she greeted with a smile; but her blue eyes, slant, almost Egyptian, narrowed when they came to Beau, and then swept over him from unkempt head to disreputable toe with an astounding relish.