Just what is going on at the Brown Derby and other various Hollywood locations in 1939? Some of my fiends on Facebook at FlickChick's Movie Playground are taking turns writing a portion of the story. It's anybody's guess how it all will turn out. Entries are posted weekly.
Please join us on our little literary journey and see if we can guess how this puzzle will be solved!
A
Hollywood Mystery
Part 1
It was a busy Saturday night at the Brown Derby. Hedda
held court in one booth, Louella in another (a respectable distance apart, of
course). Current King of Hollywood Clark Gable and new bride Carole Lombard had
their heads together like the lovebirds they were. Clark had just finished
shooting the highly anticipated “Gone with the Wind” and was looking forward to
spending some much needed alone-time with his wife before going off to the
Atlanta premier. Clark’s co-star Vivien Leigh and her companion, Laurence
Olivier, were deep in conversation in a dark corner and a bored Paulette
Goddard toyed with her luscious diamond and emerald bracelet while husband
Charlie Chaplin and best pal, and past King of Hollywood, Douglas Fairbanks
reminisced about the old days. Doug was with new wife, Sylvia, who Charlie only
tolerated. Paulette liked her just fine, but was hoping Doug’s ex, Mary
Pickford, would stroll in with her pretty hubby, Buddy Rogers, just to add some
spice to the evening. Money men, producers and directors chatted about their
next projects and everyone eyed everyone else to make sure they missed nothing.
Sitting below the caricatures of himself and Groucho Marx
were Cary Grant and his usual date, Phyllis Brooks. Miss Brooks was a pretty
blonde and a good, undemanding companion – just what Cary needed after a busy
year of filming “Gunga Din,” “Only Angels have Wings,” and “In Name Only.” They
were enjoying their dinner of Spaghetti and veal cutlets when suddenly a waiter
ran from the kitchen out onto the restaurant floor. His jacket was covered in
blood and, before he could utter a word, he collapsed, dead, right at Louella
Parson’s feet. All in attendance here horrified, Hedda was steamed, and it
became quite clear that there would be no desert served that night.
Management and wait staff attempted to escort everyone
out of the restaurant. Startled stars
wandered out onto North Vine Street, while Louella and Hedda had to be forcibly
removed before the police came. Cary and Phyllis were among the amazed crowd
that lingered in front of the restaurant. Cary thought it best to go home and
leave things to the police, but Phyllis wanted to stay. “Why, Phyllis?” he
asked. “What can we do except get in the way?” Phyllis started to speak, but
her speech was muffled by the sobs she had been suppressing. “We can’t leave”, she managed, “not just yet.
That waiter - I know him.”
To
be continued…….
Submitted by Marsha Collock
Part 2
Phyllis
looked up at Cary, her teary eyes held his gaze. "You see...I know him
from...."
Just then a long black limousine stopped in
front of them. A handsome chauffeur got out of the driver side and came around
to open the passenger door. Another handsome man in a tuxedo came out and
assisted Mae West out of the car. Her long satin gown was the color of
moonlight in evening. "Hey Cary, what's going on? This place looks deader
than a temperance meeting on St. Patrick's Day."
"A waiter was killed here tonight Mae, we
were just leaving," he said, taking Phyllis's hand in his.
"Oh, I missed all the drama. Let's go to
the Coconut Grove then," Mae said looking up at her date.
Out
of the shadows a lone figure walked up to the two couples. He smelled of
alcohol and was hiding something in his pocket. He stopped and swayed a little
on his feet.
"Any a youse got a quarter for some
coffee?" He slurred. Mae took a quarter out of her beaded hand bag and
gave it to him. "Thanks lady." He handed her a folded note and said,
"You'll want to read that, it's important" as he walked back into the
shadows.
To
be continued…….
Submitted by Tracey Witt
Part 3
And, earlier that day….
Charlie Chaplin steered
his Pierce-Arrow south on Vine and turned left onto Sunset Boulevard. He
swerved around the corner to view scores of hopeful actors lined up outside of Chaplin
Studios. They were all there for the same purpose -- to audition for a
handful of small parts in Chaplin’s new controversial film, The Great Dictator.
The crowd of actors moved away from the studio gate and allowed the pale blue
convertible to pass -- the aspirants all stretching to catch a glimpse of the
great Chaplin.
Once inside, Carl Voss
waited patiently as other actor’s names were called before his. “Another cattle
call. It never ends,” said Carl to a familiar looking mug in the next
seat. There were so many actors, and so few roles. Chaplin, forever
the perfectionist, took his time, hand selecting his choices for even the
smallest of parts. The hours passed and still Carl waited. He knew
he would soon have to leave if he was to be on time for work or he would pay
the consequences.
Like other actors, Carl
had to support himself between gigs. After all, he hadn’t had a paying
part since his bit role in Little
Miss Broadway, and that was months ago. The sweet Shirley Temple
film had helped to launch Phyllis’ career to the next level. So much so,
that she had moved on to a better social circle and left poor Carl flat --
brokenhearted and struggling. Phyllis really thought she was the cat’s
meow since she caught Cary Grant’s eye. She was all dolled up and rubbing
elbows with the right crowd now. Grant not only had the looks; he had
deep pockets. Carl felt double crossed, but he still carried a torch for
Phyllis and he wouldn’t give up. Carl felt sure that this new film would
bring him a perfect opportunity and his life would take a new direction.
If Chaplin only knew about his past he would know that Carl was made for this
picture. So much was riding on his success. Carl just needed one good
break so he would no longer have to wait tables at… The Brown Derby.
Sure, it helped pay the bills, and it allowed him to network with some of
Hollywood’s highest royalty, but Johnny, the abusive head waiter, seemed to
have some kind of beef with Carl. It started over a waitress named Betty.
Johnny had eyes for the little brunette tomato who liked to flirt with
Carl even though she wasn’t Carl’s type. Carl had to get out of
there. He wasn’t going to take it anymore. Just one lucky break was
all he needed to steal the show. Then Phyllis would come back. He
knew it.
The clock ticked. It
was now 4:27. Carl would have to leave soon if he were to race the 2
blocks to The Derby and still sign in before 5:00. He desperately wanted
a part in Chaplin’s new film. Carl opened his portfolio and removed a
small piece of stationery. He carefully crafted his note and then made
his way to the receptionist’s desk. “Hello, my name is Carl Voss.
Miss West asked Mr. Chaplin to see me today,” he said to the efficient looking
woman behind the desk. She looked back at him with an expression of
disinterest. “Mr. Chaplin is currently engaged in the last audition of
the day. You’ll have to come back tomorrow,” she said. “Please,”
Carl urged, “I wonder if you would be so kind as to give Mr. Chaplin this
note. Please!”
Carl ran out the door and
hurried up Sunset Boulevard toward Vine. Then – a lucky break. A
jalopy slowed and blasted the horn. “Hey, Hotshot! You headed to work?
Hop in. I’ll give you a ride!” It was Carl’s old pal Alan – another
aspiring actor/waiter. “Aw go chase yourself!” Carl called back
laughing. Carl and Al were chums from way back. Phyllis had
introduced them at an audition and they ended up sharing a bungalow for a
while. Al was a swell guy even if he had done some time in the big house
– something about getting even with a guy for not paying some gambling
debts. Carl didn’t want anything to do with it. But hey, sometimes
it’s good to have a pal who’s packing heat. Carl vaulted into the car and
they sped toward the Derby making it to work with time to spare.
To be continued…..
Submitted by Elaine Mosher
PART 4
Mae was not in the least bit surprised by the inebriated stranger
who had staggered over to her as she stood outside The Brown Derby with her
date, Roy, Cary Grant and his starlet of the month Phyllis Brooks. She
was accustomed to having strangers approach her for an autograph, a hand out,
even asking for a small part in one of her movies. She took the note with
her gloved hand and stuffed it in her beaded purse which had just enough room
in it for some lipstick and a gold compact. The purse had been a gift from W.C.
Fields. He had it sent to Mae after the movie, "My Little Chickadee"
had finished filming its last scene.
It was that horrid man's attempt at
an apology for the way she had been treated by Universal. The nerve of those
big shots they had the gall to give both Mae and Fields equal screen writing
credit for the movie. Everyone in Hollywood knew that Mae had written the
original screenplay. Now after waiting for an hour in her limousine for
traffic to clear and start moving all she wanted to do was go home...she had a
note to read.
"Phyllis darling," "Calm yourself" said Cary
with concern in his voice. "What did you mean when you said,"
"I know that waiter from"... after what seemed like an eternity
they had finally arrived at her modest apartment in Burbank. Phyll, as Cary
liked to call her, nervously paced the living room floor while smoking a
cigarette. "He is, I mean, he used to be my husband." she sobbed.
Instead of going straight to The Brown Derby from the auditions,
Al had made a stop to talk to an "acquaintance" of his. Carl,
was impatiently waiting in the car for Al to finish talking to the beefy guy in
the pin stripe suit. The guy’s name was Mick De La Rosa. Carl had seen
him hanging around the back entrance of The Brown Derby. Waiters had set up a
couple of tables and chairs outside and would take their breaks in the smelly
alley. Al was a swell guy but the crowd he hung out with made Carl’s skin
crawl. After waiting for 30 minutes Carl jumped out of the car and hurriedly
made his way to The Brown Derby...
To be continued……
Submitted by Tina
Cosio
Part 5
Solitude. Sometimes all a girl wants is some alone time.
Mae West had sent her insistent beau of the evening off to his own
devices. Having slipped into a comfortable, yet showy kimono Mae surveyed
her luxurious art deco living room with satisfaction. She had worked long
and hard for her success, and she enjoyed it. The bear rug, three paneled
mirror and meticulously cared for porcelain knick-knacks were signs that she
had made it. The small beaded bag she had taken with her for the evening's
entertainment lay on the silken upholstered divan. Inside was the start
of something big. She could sense it. She was never wrong.
Slowly she poured herself a glass of perrie in a Waterford cut glass and
circled the bag as if circling an admiring swain. Anticipation was often
the greatest part of pleasure.
Barely an hour had passed since the scene out front of the Brown
Derby. The well-dressed coterie Hollywood's elite shell-shocked and
wondering how to react in front of the press and the police with no script to
follow and no director to provide motivation. If only she could have
gotten inside to see the body. Surely the radio would have the story by
now. The top-of-the-line Crosley model 639M had a console to match Mae's
luxurious taste and worked at the push of a button with no muss or fuss.
"It appears that the murdered man was not an employee of the
restaurant after all, despite his attire. According to police sources no
identification was found on the body. Witnesses are being unco-operative
at the present time. Sources close to the scene have disclosed a possible
gangland connection to the incident. We will update you with further news
should it become available."
Mae turned the radio off and stretched out her full 5' frame on
the antique lounge. Another sip from the chilled glass and now to see
what Henry had to say for himself. She was the only one of the
group, too spellbound by the trouble to recognize dear old H.B. Warner on one
of his toots. Mae shook her head. Warner was getting lots of work
these days, why would he risk it in such a way?
The note was slightly crumpled from having been quickly tossed
into the crowded bag. The writing, however, showed an educated and
practiced hand. It read ...
"When is a marriage not really a marriage."
More hastily scrawled at the bottom, as if an afterthought:
"Someone likes to gamble."
Mae smiled softly and hummed a little tune. A phony
marriage? Gamblers? Wouldn't the police like to know? Well
maybe she'd tell them, but maybe first she'd do the Torchy Blane act and bring
the cops the solution to this crime on a silver platter. There wasn't
anyone in this town she didn't know and nothing Mae West couldn't do.
Plus, she had just the outfit for a lady detective!
To be continued……
Submitted by Patricia
Nolan-Hall
Part 6:
Cary
cradled Phyll in his arms. "Is there more that you want to tell me?" Cary
gently asked her.
Phyllis wanted to forget everything she had ever
known about her ex-husband. The memory of the days of being in love with him
and living the good life had been erased by the events preceding the end of
their marriage. He had become involved with unsavory characters who were a
threat to her career as well as her life. She did not want to reveal his real
identity, but she did feel some obligation to tell Cary more. After all, they
had just seen him murdered. And, Phyllis had as many questions as answers.
"I'm
not sure what to tell you," she began. "You see, my own life is in
danger if I tell all that I know. Bill, my ex, was known by the elite of the
Hollywood community early in his career; he was much older than I and knew some
of the most elite stars in Hollywood. I don't know much about his life before
me. But his star had faded, and many of his so-called friends had forgotten
him. He was devastated that he could no longer get work in Hollywood and began
to drink heavily and gamble. His drinking led to...well, let's just say, I
divorced him so that I could go on with my life. I suppose I should have kept
in touch with him, but I didn't, and now ... well, now I may not ever know what
really happened to him...or who he was involved with. Oh, Cary, what should I
do?"
To be continued...
Submitted by Linda Thacker
Part 7:
Cary was reeling. In the space of just under an hour he had witnessed a man
dying, learned that the dead waiter was a former movie star and that Phyllis
was once married to him. And, to make matters worse, she felt her life was in
danger. He wanted to help, really he did, but he was not thinking clearly
because earlier that night….
Cary had arranged to meet Phyllis at the Brown Derby
at 7. Normally he would have done the gentlemanly thing and called for her, but
both of them were meeting directly after a long day before the cameras and
meeting at the Derby for dinner seemed easier. Cary arrived at about 6:30.
Minutes later an assembled crowd of notable guests entered into the Brown
Derby. Among these were John Barrymore, Ethel Barrymore and Lionel Barrymore.
John, needing a pre-dinner alcoholic pick-me-up, saw Cary and asked him to join
him at the bar. Cary was thrilled – he admired John Barrymore so much, and soon
found himself engaged in a vodka-fueled conversation. John was only getting
started, but after 2 drinks, Cary was feeling a bit buzzed. While he and John
dished the Hollywood dirt, Cary noticed that many of the restaurants patrons
were tying one on. In particular, he noticed Mae West’s old pal, H.B. Warner
getting ready to go on one of his famous toots.
Back in the main lounge at the Brown Derby, Ethel and
Lionel became concerned over John’s disappearance to the bar. They thought he
might have forgotten where their table was in the large restaurant, but after a
half hour of waiting, John was nowhere to be found. Ethel began to worry about
her little brother. "Oh no, I hope he's alright" she said, but Lionel
knew brother Jack was either drunk or flirting with some starlet or both. Forty
minutes had passed and John still had not returned. Ethel spied Phyllis Brooks
sitting by herself, patiently waiting for her date. "I must go and see
where John is" said a worried Ethel. “Stay here, “said Lionel, “I’ll get
him – as usual.” Lionel scanned every section of the Brown Derby for John and
Cary, but they were nowhere to be found. Lionel was now starting to worry. Just
as he was about to head back to his table, he heard the sound of laughter
coming from an alley behind the building. Making his way back there he found
John, Cary and assorted waiters and other types engaged in a game of dice. Upon
Lionel’s appearance, John quickly hid the open bottle of vodka behind him. Cary
suddenly remembered Phyllis and dashed past the growling Lionel, feeling mighty
unsteady on his feet. But he was sure steadier than John Barrymore, who after
standing up and bowing to his brother, promptly passed out on the pavement.
Phyllis was annoyed at having
been kept waiting, but soon all of that was forgotten when Carl Voss a.k.a.
Bill Cassidy dropped dead before the appetizers were ordered.
To be continued….
Submitted by Crystal Kalyana Pacey and Marsha Collock
Part 8:The Scene
There's a method to a homicide investigation.
Police arrive and enter through the least
likely route, in this case via a back alley. They check the victim and note
their time of arrival. The victim is photographed and all physical evidence is
removed from the victim. The scene is roped off and all witnesses are
identified and statements are taken and duly recorded.
Attempts are made to establish the victim's
movements prior to the crime. This involves the identification of the victim,
and all background information, i.e. relatives, friends, employment, criminal
record, finances, romantic involvement(s), narcotics, gang involvement etc.
On this night, for this case, Detective Archer
conducts the investigation. All steps having been followed, Det. Archer sets
about the process of questioning witnesses and those present at the Brown Derby
at the time of the occurrence.
Hopper, Parsons, Gable, Lombard, Leigh, Olivier,
Goddard, Chaplin, Fairbanks. The detective's notes read like the credits of one
of Ken Murray's home movies. Their testimony is entered in Archer's notepad and
before dismissing them he announces that they are free to leave but cautions
them to refrain from travel outside the State until clearance is
authorized by the LAPD.
As the A-List cast strolls out of the
Derby, a lone figure waits behind. A waiter, sans his uniform jacket,
approaches Archer and asks the detective if he may speak to him privately. Once
he is certain that all the stars and starlets have gone, he begins to
address the detective.
“Well, what is it, young man?" Archer
asked.
" Sir, I think you should know that there
are a couple of witnesses that departed the restaurant before you arrived.”
" A couple?" Archer asked. "Is
that so?”
The waiter replied " Yes, and I believe
they may know more, much more, than you may have already ascertained from this
group "
Archer, intrigued asked " Do you know their
names ?"
" Oh sure I do. Everyone in this town, in
this state, in this country, in fact knows the name Cary Grant".
Submitted by Jerry Oddo
.....to be continued.....
Part 9
Even hardboiled Detective Archer,
usually underwhelmed by the so-called “stars” of Hollywood, felt a wave of
excitement over the prospect of questioning the debonair Cary Grant. He had
just seen him in “Gunga Din,” and had to admit that pretty boy could act. But
first, before confronting Mr. Grant, Archer had 2 orders of business to attend
to.
One was to find that out-of-uniform
waiter. Citizens are rarely so helpful unless they have something to hide. Good
Samaritans in Hollywood were like virgins in a cat-house – non-existent.
Archer watched as Carl Voss’ body was
removed. He remembered watching him in westerns as a kid when he was known as
Billy Cassidy. Poor Billy didn’t make the cut in talkies and had been reduced
to bit parts and waiting tables. But, just 10 years ago he was riding.
After Voss/Cassidy was shipped off to
the morgue and the crime scene was cleared, Archer began methodically
interviewing the Derby employees, who were told to remain on hand for
questioning. Not surprisingly, none seemed to know who the mystery informant
was. Finally, Frankie, a dishwasher who looked as though he needed a good
scrubbing, thought he knew the man in question. He was a fill-in guy
named Alan. Like everyone else in Hollywood he was an aspiring actor and
worked occasionally as a waiter or busboy, but mostly he was interested in the
gambling that took place in the alley behind the restaurant. Alan was a master
at knowing when some poor slob got paid and then separating that slob from his
paycheck. If anyone asked, Alan claimed to be an actor, but the reality was
that he but found cards and the occasional blackmail an easier way to make a
living.
Archer knew Alan was too smart to come
back to the Derby any time soon. So, he figured he’d do the next thing on his
list: question Mr. Grant. Questioning a big star without studio interference
could be tricky, but Archer had an ace up his sleeve. Once home, he’d call his
good friend and sometime girlfriend, Mae West, and ask her to arrange a
meeting. Mae gave Cary one of his first big breaks in Hollywood, and Cary
remained forever grateful to her. Archer was sure Mae could convince Cary to
meet with her. The detective was eager for any excuse to see Mae. Besides being
fun and sexy, Mae not only had a natural nose for trouble, but she loved a good
mystery.
Little did he know Mae was holding a
few cards of her own.
- submitted by Marsha Collock
Part 10
Mae West had called her friend Cary and told him that
Archer wanted to interview him and Phyllis about Billy Cassidy’s murder. Cary
confided to Mae that he was worried about Phyllis. She always seemed to be
short of money, even though she was working steadily. Just what was she doing
with her money? Mae knew Cary was – for a better word – thrifty, and while he
might not mind picking up the check for dinner, he would never volunteer to pay
for a girl’s new pair of shoes. Cary also told Mae that Phyllis confessed she
had once been married to the former cowboy star, but that she has refused to
talk about it since the night of his death.
So, Mae thought, the little blonde cutie finally came
clean. Mae and Billy went way back, way before he came to Hollywood. She knew
him as one half of the vaudeville act Voss and Ross, the other partner being
one Alan Ross. Voss was the straight man/singer and Ross was the
comedian/dancer. A male impersonator by the name of Anabel Rose traveled with
Voss and Ross. She was pretty darn good, as Mae remembered, if a bit on the
short side. Mae soon set her sights on Broadway and then Hollywood, while Carl
Voss headed for Hollywood, changed his name to Billy Cassidy, and became a
cowboy star. While sitting in a jail cell in Manhattan in 1927 for corrupting
the morals of theater-goers with her play, Sex,
Mae read in the papers that Cassidy had acquired a wife, the former vamp star
known as Anastasia Petrova. Mae never met Anastasia, since her star had flamed
out by the time she had married Billy, but Mae knew 3 things: 1. Anastasia was once Anabel Rose, sister of
Alan Rosenberg, aka Alan Ross, 2. Anastasia and Billy were never legally
divorced, and 3. the marriage to Phyllis Brooks was a sham. Mae also suspected
one other thing: It was Anastasia, aka Anabel Rose in drag, who slipped her
that note the night of the murder.
Now Mae had only one dilemma: should she tell Archer all
she knew before the meeting with Cary and Phyllis or after?
-
Submitted by Marsha Collock
Part 11
Cary was having second thoughts about meeting with
Archer. He had worked too hard to get where he was, to get dragged into a
scandal… especially a murder. The more he thought about it, the more he knew he
didn’t want to get involved.
He called his agent, Frank Vincent. Frank had recently
helped Cary become a “free-agent” (of sorts) with an unprecedented dual studio
contract with RKO and Columbia Pictures. Frank would know what to do!
The doorbell rang. It wasn’t Archer, at all. There stood
Old Mae, herself.
She looked behind her to see if she’d been followed, then
hurried in and slammed the door. Not the glamour girl her fans had come to
love, here instead stood an out of breath woman in a trench coat and galoshes.
She was surprised to see that Phyllis was still in tow.
“Cary, you’ve gotta help me. Phyllis, you might as well
hear this, too. You’re gonna find out soon enough, I think we’re BOTH involved
up to our elbows in this murder…”
Just then, lawyers from both studios arrived at Cary’s
bungalow. They were none too happy to see that, now, Mae West was also
involved. “Don’t say ANYTHING”, was their advice. A play-it-safe plan, to be
sure.
But what about Phyllis…? Frank was assigned the task of
driving the B-actress home. “Mae you’d better hop in, too. I don’t know what
you’re doing here… maybe you can fill me in on the way.”
As the threesome left, Mae muttered under her breath, “…
that damn Voss!”
Ten minutes later, Archer was bangin’ on the door.
To be continued….
Submitted by Missy Kendrick
