“YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN me, Mr. McNally. My first film role and I did it in one take.”
“Tell me about it, Todd,” I said, knowing he would whether I wanted to hear it or not.
I was once again in Todd’s furnished apartment, having called, telling him only that I needed a favor.
“I went to the Meecham yacht and Max introduced me to the Hollywood crew. Then he got this great idea. He said I could be in the test.”
“What part did you play?”
“A waiter,” he laughed. “Typecasting, they call it. You see, the shot had Jackson Barnett and this real beautiful gal sort of meandering around the deck like they’re on The Love Boat. Max thought the shot would look more authentic if a waiter came into the scene with a tray of drinks for the lovebirds, and I got my chance.”
Todd had conveniently forgotten that Max Sterling had told him the screen test hoopla was pure Hollywood hype. I guess when you’re part of the hype it gains respectability. But Todd was so thrilled, the exhilaration was catching.
“I know it’s just a test for their big star, but I got my name on the clapboard. Rick Brandt, in white chalk.”
“You’re no longer Todd?”
“Well,” he hesitated. “I’m Edward at home, Todd to the crowd, and Rick in Hollywood. You see?”
No, I didn’t see, but pretended I did. One doesn’t like to be thought dense. “Before you head west, Todd, I need a favor.”
“Name it, Mr. McNally. I owe you my life.”
Bite your tongue, dear boy, bite your tongue.
“I want you to play a scene for me,” was how I phrased it.
“Is that all? I even sing and dance, Mr. McNally.” He cleared his throat and flexed his knees, but I stopped him before he auditioned.
“Sit down, Todd.”
No fool, he quipped, “That bad, eh?”
When he was settled, I let him have it. “I want you to call Lance Talbot. Tell him you’re a friend of Jeff’s, the bartender at the MacNiff party. He’ll know who you are. Trust me.
“Tell him you know Jeff was blackmailing him, and why. If he asks for specifics, just say the words left hand. He’ll get it. Say you want ten thousand dollars or you’ll go to the police and tell them he killed Jeff.”
The movie star blanched. “Did he, Mr. McNally?”
Briefly, I let him in on what we now suspected. It was the least I could do.
“What do you think they’ll do?” he asked.
“Try to kill you, I hope,” I answered.
“That’s what I thought. I’ll go down in the Guinness Book of Records as the movie actor whose career spanned seventeen seconds.”
“The police and I have given this a lot of thought,” I assured him, “and we have all bases covered. I know the layout here and this is how it’ll work.”
The meeting would take place here, in Todd’s apartment. Counting on Brecht to accompany his son, they would search the place to make sure it wasn’t a trap. No fools they. The patio door was cut into the wall, leaving about six feet on either side of the frame. Two men, with their backs flat against the outside wall, could hide out there and not be seen from within.
“Is there a patio light?” I asked Todd. He showed me the switch. “Even if they put on the light to check outside, they won’t see us and I doubt if they’ll take the time or trouble to come out.”
“What if they do, Mr. McNally?”
“Then we’re done for, but you’ll be okay.”
Denny and I would be on one side of the door, Al and Eberhart on the other. We would leave the door open a crack so we could hear what was going on. When they made their move, we would burst in, catching them in the act.
“Suppose they have a gun, or a knife,” he wisely speculated. “You couldn’t get in fast enough to stop them.”
“It’s not Brecht’s choice of weapon. Chloroform is, and it takes time to work.”
“I hope you’re right, Mr. McNally.”
So do I, son. So do I.
“You don’t have to do this, Todd. I’ll understand if you refuse.”
He heaved a sigh. “For Jeff, Mr. McNally. I’ll do it for Jeff.”
“Todd, this phone call is going to show if you’ve got the makings of an actor,” I said, to boost his enthusiasm for the plan. “You have to make them believe you’re telling the truth and, at the same time, that you’re stupid enough to leave yourself wide open for their retaliation. But not that stupid. That’s why you insist they come here and not meet you in a dark alley or the Talbot mansion. You play the wise kid, not the wise guy.”
Contemplating that, he said, “I’ll play it like Willy Loman, Mr. McNally. Desperate. It’s not his job going down the drain, it’s his life. I’m stupid enough to do this because my mother needs an operation...”
“Cut!” the director cried. “Let’s try it with less passion and more conviction, kid.”
I knew Lance, or Hans, would fall for it because he had seen Todd at both the MacNiff parties and had asked me if Todd was a friend of Jeff’s. Those who kill to silence an adversary will forever wonder who else knows their secret. Friends of Jeff were all suspects, because the young talk and it was well known that Jeff liked to boast about his achievements, true or false.
The Brechts would be relieved to hear from Todd. The guessing was over and their course clear.
Todd made the call and I silently nominated him for a Tony, an Academy Award and a Golden Globe.
“What should I wear, Mr. McNally?”
“A bulletproof vest.”