Hollywoodland Page #4

The what?

Superman was filmed

on our lot.

And I'm here to express how

saddened we are over your loss.

My son was not lost, Mr.

Engelmann. He was taken.

One more, Mrs. Bessolo.

Over here, Mrs. Bessolo.

What the hell did you

drag them here for?

Freedom of the press,

right?

Were these in the report?

They weren't

there then.

Hang on there, Mrs. Bessolo,

hang on, hang on. Come on.

Just let me sit for a minute.

Okay.

Come on, make yourself useful,

grab a chair.

Sure. Come on, let's

get her out of here.

There you go.

There you go.

Okay? There you go,

very good. Okay, good.

Here.

Okay? I'm gonna go

handle this. You just relax.

Is she all right?

That's her boy's blood.

You tell me.

The deceased woke up, joined his

guests for approximately half an hour,

returned to bed, no sign of

forced entry or physical struggle.

The Luger, found there on the

floor, heavily oiled. No prints.

He kept it in the night stand.

The slug, there.

And the casing, on the bed,

underneath the body.

You want to explain to me

how a man can shoot himself

and end up

on top of the shell?

Is this your strategy, Mr. Simo?

To impugn the laws of physics?

There's no prints

on the gun.

What, did he wipe it clean after

putting that hole in his head?

Prints aren't automatic. Certain

conditions have to be present.

Did you question

the people in the house?

They all signed

sworn statements.

Forty-five minutes

to call the cops.

That's plenty of time to

come up with some bogus story.

But you got sworn statements.

You accusing me of something?

Was Reeves checked

for powder burns?

It's a suicide shot to the

temple. Where's the burn?

When a gun is discharged

directly against...

Listen, the coroner

never checked.

He didn't notice the bruises

on the body, either.

Which, by the way, aren't automatic, okay?

Certain conditions have to be present.

Like, maybe a fight with a guy

that's about to...

Cause your expiration.

He won't be buried

in that cape.

Mrs. Bessolo,

RKO-Pathe would be honored

to help you pay for

any sort of a floral tribute

that you might deem

appropriate for your son.

Since when do suicides miss twice,

lay down a rug and start over?

Is that normal? Just asking.

That cost the studio 15 grand.

You think you're worth that?

We were just...

This Farmer's Daughter

picture. What is it?

The Mating Game.

A million-dollar investment.

You think I'm going to let you

f*** with that?

You think you're

gonna be a star?

Our concern here is...

You're a face.

Faces change.

What Mr. Mannix means...

He knows what I mean.

Out of my sight.

Set something up.

Him and some starlet.

Picnic, soda pop.

Already arranged.

They treat their

contract like sh*t, Howard.

Whatever the f*** they want.

The business is changing.

Fags and television.

And what are we, huh?

The Last of the Mohicans.

That was a UA picture, Eddie.

That spic,

wop, prick detective.

I sent

Jim Engelmann over.

He used to work for us. I'm sure

you don't want MGM coming into it.

And?

Louis Simo.

Two years

with Rick Harris.

He shot his mouth off

about Susan Humphries

to Confidential for 5,000.

Harris fired him.

Susan Humphries?

Jennifer Jones type.

Under contract at Fox.

Heroin addict.

Drove off Topanga

doing 90.

You have a good memory,

Eddie.

What's the prick want?

Money. Press.

Whatever he can grab.

What's he got?

Some questions.

My wife

won't get out of bed.

It's been almost a week,

she won't get out.

I'll stop by and see her.

Do that. Cheer her up.

She always liked you.

Eddie.

Yeah?

You have anything

to tell me?

About what?

Anything I need to

have a story ready for.

She's not here.

Miss Lemmon?

That's interesting.

What is?

That you thought I wanted to talk

to her, since this is your house.

Is that your father?

My husband.

Oh, sorry.

He's a screenwriter.

Well, no one could blame you for wanting

to hang around people your own age.

What was his name again?

Robert Condon?

I'm sure you're just friends.

Around back.

You really ought to

prune these.

My husband does the gardening.

It takes his mind off his writing.

Well, what do you do,

Mrs. Van Ronkel?

I don't go around trying to

get my picture in the paper.

You saw that, huh?

What are you going to do when

this blows up in your face?

There are two holes in the bedroom

floor. What do you know about that?

Leonore made them.

Yeah?

Months ago.

Why?

I asked her to.

You asked her

to shoot a gun in the floor.

When you're drunk,

everything's funny.

He shoots himself, you all wait

That's unusual.

You ever been to a party where a man

goes upstairs and blows his head off?

No.

Then how do you know

what's unusual?

So how do I find

Miss Lemmon?

She's not the way

you think she is.

Yeah?

What way is she?

She was only

looking for love.

I just want to remember

that one. That's good.

That's nice,

it's very futuristic.

Hey, you're a detective,

right?

Yeah.

So, men hire you to find out what their

wives are up to, that sort of thing?

Yeah, they do that.

Does the truth

make them happier?

Hardly ever.

You know, he wasn't

going to marry her.

Reeves?

Mmm-hmm.

How do you know?

Oh, she ran over here

when he told her.

I heard every word.

And how did

Miss Lemmon react?

Like a longshoreman

on a bender.

Christ!

F*** you.

Nobody wants to hear

your mopey singing.

This is my house.

I am tired of you treating it

like a goddamn bus station.

Woe is f***ing me.

You goddamn miserable

son of a b*tch.

Christ!

Don't you walk away from me.

Shut up!

I haul myself out

to this shithole burg for you,

and you have the balls

to tell me it's off?

God damn it. Listen,

what are you doing?

Put that... I'm the

f***ing man in this room!

You're a fool!

Do something, all right?

You has-been! You sad old drunk!

Give it to me! God damn it!

Georgie?

I had to take a leak.

What's your excuse?

This is

a sealed crime scene.

Then I guess we both deserve

to get our bottoms spanked.

What's that?

Last I looked, it was 4,000

in traveler's cheques.

Georgie put it aside

for our honeymoon.

That's off the plate now,

isn't it?

Is that why you killed him?

You think he was rich?

That Superman gig paid sh*t.

Oh, yeah? Well, maybe you

found out a little too late.

He was fun, knocked back the

booze like nobody's business.

Pretty good in the sack.

Yeah.

Yeah?

Lady, I can nail you

with this.

D'Artagnan, you couldn't nail me

with roses and a trip to Vegas.

And you're not a cop.

So what the hell are you doing following

me into my dead fianc's bedroom?

"And then, Mr. Simo showed me

his member, Your Honor.

"And I became frightened. "

You're in my way.

I'm going to be on you,

Miss Lemmon.

Not unless

you dope me first.

See how I got us in the paper?

Look at this.

Guaranteed,

LAPD is going to sweat this.

Now, the more heat they feel, the more

pressure they're under to reopen the case.

The police reopened the case?

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