Twenty-One

Kathlyn Williams looked frazzled and worn around the edges, but she had presence, nonetheless. Her blonde hair was curled around her face and pinned up in an attractive French style. She wore a navy walking suit with a white silk blouse trimmed with lace, a little bundle of it fluffed up under her chin. Her hat was wide brimmed and decorated with white silk ribbons. Her eyes looked a deeper blue without the bright lights they used for filming. I thought Clara was every bit as grand looking, but Kathlyn’s figure was curved and rounded into a more voluptuous form than any academic woman I had ever met. I was conscious that I myself would appear as barely a penciled figure beside the rich hues of the film star. How could any man not be tempted? And yet, I knew both Whitbread and my husband would be blind to her charms. Why couldn’t Alden be as well? But Whitbread and my husband would never be observant enough to be newspaper reporters, either. I suppressed a sigh.

The men had risen at her entrance and Fitz helped her to a chair. Not that she needed it. After all, this was a woman who’d stepped voluntarily into a cage with the very leopards who later tore Arnold Leeder apart.

“Miss Williams, you are aware of the tragic occurrence in the leopard cage. Can you tell us when you last saw Mr. Arnold Leeder and anything that may assist us in understanding how and why he came to be in that cage?” Whitbread asked.

She sat with her gloved hands in her lap, pulling at a lace-edged handkerchief. “I last saw him at the roadhouse. Everyone was there…last night. I had no idea he was coming back to the studio. He’d been drinking…rather a lot.”

“Do you know why he might have returned here?”

“No. Not really. He didn’t say anything about coming back here. But we were supposed to shoot a scene with the leopards today.” She shivered. “It’s a film about a girl who grows up with leopards. I play the girl.”

“You were rehearsing with the animals yesterday?”

“Yes. Olga was giving me instructions.”

“Isn’t it dangerous, what they were asking you to do?” Whitbread asked.

I bent over my notes, anxious to hear her answer. How could she agree to enter a cage with wild animals who were capable of tearing a person apart? Didn’t the bloody death of Leeder prove that? What would cause her to take such a risk? I couldn’t imagine anything that would persuade me to do such a thing. Of course, I had my children waiting for me at home. How could I leave Stephen to explain it to them, if I were mauled to death? And who would raise them? But I supposed an ambitious woman who had no children and was divorcing her husband, in order to pursue film stardom, might be selfish enough to risk it.

Her face stiffened. I was reminded of her reaction when I asked about her divorce. It seemed she brooked no questioning on certain subjects. “That was the point of having Olga instruct me. She spends a lot of time with the leopards, so she’s very familiar with them. Of course, she warned me never to let down my guard. They are always wild creatures when it comes down to it. She told me never to forget that is their essential nature. I assume Mr. Leeder must have let down his guard. He should have known better than to go into the cage like that.”

“But you’re willing to do so for the film?” I asked.

There was a swish of fabric as she turned to look at me. “For the film, yes. It’s part of the job. This is a very competitive business. To succeed, you must be willing to take risks. These films are mostly made in a day. There are no months of rehearsals like there are for stage plays. The schedule is such that many feet of film must be turned out every day. And you have to be prepared to take risks, just as Col. Selig has. He bought this whole circus and brought it here to move fast and get these animal pictures out before someone else copies them. Yes, I’m willing to take a chance on it because, if I weren’t, somebody else would. I chose to turn my back on other things to do this, and I’ll put everything I have into making it a success.”

Clearly, she was passionate in her dedication, so committed to her career she’d turned her back on her husband. It seemed mad to me. What was she doing this for? To appear on a flickering screen in some brief scenes that would be forgotten tomorrow? It was the heat of her sentiment that impressed me, however, and I thought that was what had infected my brother. Compared to the chill intelligence of my friend Clara, the scientist, here was the fiery passion of the film star. I resented the woman, both for my friend and for myself.

“I suppose Mr. Leeder was just as enthusiastic?” I said. “I suppose that dedication led to his end. He was torn apart by those leopards because he was devoted to his films?”

She closed her eyes as if the picture was too much. But, more likely, she was viewing the stalking cats as they’d been the previous day. “It must have been awful,” she said.

Whitbread coughed. “Yes, well, let me ask you, we’ve heard that Leeder’s actions toward the ladies in the studios were not always as they should be. Did you have any trouble with him?”

She frowned. “It’s true. He was very forward and he tried to take advantage of young women. They didn’t dare complain since he often had the last word about which actresses would be used in his films. But Col. Selig has promoted my career, so Mr. Leeder was quite anxious to take advantage of my popularity. I had no need to fear him. Some of the other girls were not so lucky.”

I was not surprised by her answer, as I was sure she was well able to handle any man who came her way. I pictured her like one of the wild cats, stalking around, quiet and dangerous.

“Can you think of anyone who might have locked him in with the leopards, then?” Whitbread asked.

“Oh, no. I can’t imagine who would do such a cruel thing.”

Whitbread let that hang in the air long enough that I heard Fitz move restlessly beside me. Finally, the detective said, “I understand you received a note at the roadhouse last night that seemed to upset you. Is that true?”

She lifted her head, startled, then looked down at the handkerchief in her lap. “No, it was nothing. I left because I was tired. We were going to shoot the scene with the leopards today so I wanted to get my sleep. My driver was outside. He took me home, and then he took Mr. Cabot to Hyde Park. We were both quite done in.”

I looked up at that. Alden had gone home to Hyde Park. He hadn’t stayed with Kathlyn Williams, after all. I felt a catch in my breath. Perhaps I’d been wrong and he wasn’t leaving Clara. I was so surprised I left a long line across the paper where I should have been taking notes. I caught Whitbread’s eye. He raised his eyebrows but continued with a few more questions before letting Miss Williams leave and asking for Alden to be called in next.