Murder Can't Stop (Jerry eBooks)

A SELECTION FROM CHAPTER 1: BILL LENNOX was getting drunk. He had been working at it with steady purpose for almost an hour, and he was pleased to notice that the back-bar no longer made a sharp line against the yellow dirtiness of the wall. Here, then, was proof that he was making progress, and that the quart of Scotch which he had already consumed had not been drunk in vain. The excursion into the realm of alcoholic bliss was Lennox's way of illustrating a point. It was, he thought, as he watched the bartender open a second quart and pour a generous portion into the glass, what you could expect when a man stuck his neck out to help a friend.

Had he been one who became tearful while in his cups, he might have sobbed at this point, but he was not given to tears. He was angry, angry at himself for ever having embarked on such a life and for ever having let personal friendship sway him in his course.

He had never dreamed that at thirty, he would be an executive in one of the world's largest picture studios. He had not gone to college with that in mind. Nor had he worked three years on a Chicago newspaper in preparation for a producer's existence.

Accidents had shaped the course of his life. It was an accident that his paper had run a beauty contest and assigned him to cover the awards. An accident that a Hollywood publicist had noted his handling of the contest and offered him a job.

He'd liked that job. He'd liked the handling of the Santa Claus parade, and his work in that connection had brought him to the attention of Sol Spurck.

Spurck in his own way was king. Vice president in charge of production for General Consolidated's west coast studio, he had stretched out his short fingered hand and touched Lennox, hiring him away from the public relations agency for which he worked.

Lennox found himself an executive without a title, a high salaried employee without a job. Spurck had been busy. There were many men upon the sprawling lot. Lennox had looked around and found a dozen things which needed correction. By the time Spurck remembered his existence, he'd corrected them.

An executive producer, he found himself Spurck's unofficial assistant with more power on the lot than anyone save Spurck himself.

An ordinary man might have been happy. Lennox wasn't. He was bored. General Consolidated demanded his full attention and gave him no time for the things which he had meant to do.

In the ordinary run of things, Lennox would have enjoyed a month at Skull Lake. The place was beautiful, set as it was near the crest of the rugged Sierras, a dot of blue, some five miles long, and a mile wide, almost lost in the forest of green timber.

Two things ruined it for Lennox. First it was a movie playground. Expensive lodges nestled along the ridge which ran down the west side of the lake, and the movie great rusticated with the aid of their maids and Filipino house-boys.

His second objection was his companion. He loved Peter Ashley like a brother. He'd known Ashley five years, ever since the actor had made his first hit in New York. It was Lennox who had brought Ashley to the coast, Lennox who had signed him to a seven year contract.

But Ashley had cracked up. There'd been a love affair in New York. The girl had married someone else and Ashley had arrived on the coast, nervous, jumpy and in no condition to work.

Spurck had been ready to tear up the contract, but Lennox had pleaded for his friend.

-Give me a month,- he'd begged. -I need a vacation anyhow. Let me take him up to your Skull Lake lodge and get him in shape. In a month he'll be a different man.-

At the time it had seemed like a stroke of genius, but after the second day, Ashley had become bored. He'd started to drink, and his shattered nerves couldn't stand the strain.