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Page 34
"By the time you've dug up all the gossip about Gordon and
Shirley you won't be so sure, Walter."
I was, however. Kennedy was not as familiar with the picture
world as I. I had heard of too many actual happenings more
strange and bizarre and wildly fantastic than anything
conceivable in other walks of life. People in the film game, as
they call it, live highly seasoned lives in which everything is
exaggerated. The mere desire to make a place for Enid might not
have actuated Werner, granting he was the guilty man.
Nevertheless it could easily have contributed. And it struck me
suddenly, an additional argument, that Werner, of all of them,
was the most familiar with the script. He had been able to cast
himself for the part of old Remsen. There was not a detail which
he could not have arranged very skillfully.
At the Goats Club I was lucky to discover a member whom I knew
well enough to take into my confidence by stating my errand. He
was one of the Star's former special writers and an older
classman of the college which had graduated Kennedy and myself.
"Merle Shirley is not a member here," he said. "As a matter of
fact, I've only just heard the name. But Jack Gordon's a Goat,
worse luck. That fellow's a bad actor--in real life--and a
disgrace to us."
"Tell me all you know about him?" I asked.
"Well, to give you an example, he was in here just about a week
ago. I was sitting in the grill, eating an after-theater supper,
when I heard the most terrible racket. He and Emery Phelps, the
banker, you know, were having an honest-to-goodness fight right
out in the lobby. It took three of the men to separate them."
"What was it all about."
"Well, Gordon owes money right and left, not a few hundred or
some little personal debts like that, but thousands and thousands
of dollars. I got it from some of the other men here that he has
been speculating on the curb downtown, losing consistently. More
than that, he's engaged to Stella Lamar--you knew that?--and he's
been blowing money on her. Then they tell me his professional
work is suffering, that his recent screen appearances are
terrible; the result of late hours and worry, I suppose."
"The fight with Phelps was over money?"
"Of course! I figure that he kept drawing against his salary at
the studio until the film company shut down on him. Then probably
he began to borrow from Phelps, who's Manton's backer now, until
the banker shut down on him also. At any rate, Phelps had begun
to dun him and it led to the fight."
"That's all you know about Gordon?"
"Lord! Isn't it enough?"
I walked out of the club and toward Broadway, reflecting upon
this information. Could Gordon's debts have any bearing upon the
case? All at once one possibility struck me. He had been
borrowing from Phelps. Perhaps he had borrowed from Stella also.
Perhaps that was the cause of their quarrel. Perhaps she had
threatened to make trouble--it was a slender motive, but worth
bringing to the attention of Kennedy.
My immediate problem, however, was to obtain some information
about Merle Shirley. At first I thought I would make the rounds
of some of the better-known cafes, but that seemed a hopeless
task. Suddenly I remembered Belle Balcom, formerly with the Star.
I recollected a previous case of Kennedy's where she and I had
been great rivals in the quest of news. I recalled a trip we had
made to Greenwich Village together. Belle knew more people about
town than any other newspaper woman. Now, for some months, she
had been connected with Screenings, a leading cinema "fan"
magazine, and would unquestionably be posted upon the
photoplayers.
Luckily, I caught her at home.
"Bless your soul," she told me over the phone, in delight, "I've
just been aching for some one to take me out to-night. We'll go
to the Midnight Fads and if Shirley isn't there the head waiter
will tell you all I don't remember. It was a glorious fight."
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