The Renewable Virgin (6 page)

Scene of the crime
—Rudy's apartment, which I'd just closed. ‘And?'

‘And they found some undissolved Lysco-Seltzer crystals caught under the surface rim of the drain. The drain in your son's kitchen sink.'

I failed to see the significance. ‘And?' I repeated.

‘Don't you see what that means, Dr. Benedict? Somebody dumped out the Lysco-Seltzer right there in Rudy's sink. That bottle hadn't been tampered with before it went through the postal service and ended up in Kelly Ingram's mailbox.'

I began to see—dear God, I began to see.

‘What probably happened was, your son came home from visiting Kelly, put the Lysco-Seltzer on the kitchen cabinet, and just left it there. He may have taken part of the bottle that night or he may not have, the medical examiner can't tell us that. But some time the next day somebody emptied out whatever medicine was left in the bottle and substituted cyanide crystals.'

‘So the poison wasn't meant for Kelly Ingram at all,' I said woodenly.

Captain Michael's florid face was drawn into a scowl. ‘'Fraid not. It seems your son was the intended victim all along.'

CHAPTER 3

KELLY INGRAM

I was so relieved when Rudy's mother went back to Ohio I felt like celebrating. I know that sounds callous and I can't help it, but I was glad she was g-o-n-e,
gone
. She'd had one bad shock after another, enough to flatten most people, she'd handled it all with considerable aplomb, I think I'm using that word right, and she'd been courteous to me after that first meeting when I went off my head and flew at her.
Stiflingly
courteous. She drove me nuts.

And I'm not going to say how sorry I was to hear poor old Rudy was the ‘right' victim after all, because for starters nobody would believe me. I was truly sorry Rudy was dead and I hated the idea that his murderer hadn't been caught, but I still liked that scenario better than the one that cast
me
as the body on the floor. So I'm thick-skinned and unfeeling—okay, that's too bad, I'm sorry. But I'm also alive and likely to stay that way, and I'm happy about that part of it.

Now that I've got that out of my system, I can say I did feel sorry for Dr. Benedict, in fits and spurts. (Starts?) She made it hard for you to feel sorry for her, being so formal and remote like that. She did it on purpose, that
don't-touch-me
bit. I don't like people getting too close either, unless I say so, but I'm no ice lady like Dr. Mrs. Fiona Benedict. No wonder Rudy didn't talk about her much. I tried to help; I even took Howard Chesney along to handle the legal details for her. She thanked me, but it was obviously killing her to make the effort.

She was still blaming me for Rudy's death, right up to the time Captain Michaels told her about the Lysco-Seltzer in the sink. I saw her only once after that; she stayed on for a few more days to answer what questions she could about Rudy, but then she had to get back to her classes. That couldn't have been easy for her, going back home with all those questions about Rudy's death still not answered. And then having to stand up in front of a classroom with all those students knowing—well now, wait a minute, maybe they didn't know. Would the murder have made the Ohio papers? Dr. Benedict sure as hell wasn't going to make a public announcement if she didn't have to.

Marian Larch seemed to think Rudy's death was somehow tied up with a cheap painting that was missing from his apartment, but she admitted nobody else at Police Headquarters thought so. Captain Michaels had told her to stop wasting time on it.
I
still thought the play Rudy'd been going to write had something to do with it, but I couldn't get Marian interested in that at all. I kept trying to tell her the whole thing seemed wrong, somehow. Rudy Benedict just wasn't the
type
of person to get himself murdered, it seemed to me.

That amused Marian, in a morbid sort of way. ‘Oh?' she'd said. ‘Tell me, Professor Ingram, what do you consider the right
type
to get murdered?'

‘Don't get smart, I'm serious,' I told her. We were on a break in shooting
LeFever;
Marian Larch had gotten into the habit of dropping in—continuing her investigation, she said. I think she just liked to watch what was going on. Or maybe she liked watching Nick Quinlan; lots of women did, Lord help us. ‘Rudy wasn't a threatening person,' I said. ‘Aren't people who get murdered supposed to be a threat of some sort?'

‘You'd be surprised,' Marian said. ‘Some of the people who get killed were so mousy when they were alive you could forget they were there at all.'

‘I didn't say Rudy was
mousy—'

‘I know, I know, that was just an example. Don't be so loose and easy with that word
type
. Kelly, there just aren't any murder victim
types
—not really. A guy overhears something by accident that makes him a danger to the mob so they put out a contract on him …'

‘Yecch,' I said.

‘… so what does this guy's “type” have to do with anything? He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time so they kill him for it. It happens like that, you know, more often than you'd imagine. Couple of months ago an old woman was fished out of the East River, a landlady from Lois Aida—'

‘From where?'

‘Lower East Side, that's the way they say it. One of her tenants was a pusher and she stumbled on his cache and he killed her. She probably would have kept her mouth shut, but it was easier for him to kill her than worry about her talking. We got the pusher, but that didn't help the landlady any.'

‘You know, I was beginning to feel safe again until we started this conversation.'

‘And what do you really know about Rudy Benedict?' she plowed on. ‘You hadn't seen him for two years, Kelly. You don't know what kind of enemies he might have made in that time. He could have changed completely from the last time you knew him.'

‘No, he was the same old Rudy.' I was on firm ground there. ‘Putting on the dog a little because of that play he was going to write, but he was still Rudy. Wanting more than he had, but not really knowing how to go about getting it. Trying to change, but not really making any big break from what he'd always done.'

‘Well, there—what about that?
Trying to change
. Doesn't that indicate things weren't the same for him as they used to be, that he wanted something different?'

‘Aw, no. Rudy was always complaining—even when I knew him in California. He grumbled all the time about the tripe he had to write every week. But the money was good and Rudy wasn't about to throw that away. He didn't really like what he was doing, but he didn't know how to get out of it without giving up the comfortable way of living he was used to.'

‘But he had decided to go ahead and write a play. He must have been giving something up for that,' she mused.

‘Not really,' I said. ‘He was still getting a salary from Nathan Pinking—his contract hadn't quite run out yet. He wasn't taking any risks. Rudy just wasn't the daring type, Marian. If you'll pardon the four-letter word.'

‘You mean “type”? I'll pardon it. But there had to be something out of the ordinary in Rudy Benedict's life or else—Kelly, is that man trying to get your attention?'

I glanced across the set of LeFever's office to see a familiar figure jumping up and down and waving his arms. ‘That's Leonard Zoff, my agent. He doesn't like coming here—something must be up. Come on.'

We picked our way around the set, Leonard helping us by pumping his arms faster. He wouldn't have dreamed of working his way over to us; too many things to trip over.

‘Hello, Leonard, why didn't you just yell, the way you usually do?'

‘Laryngitis,' he whispered, and peered suspiciously at Marian. ‘Whozis?'

‘Marian Larch, of the Detective Bureau. Marian, this is Leonard Zoff.'

‘Oh—okay,' Leonard rasped before Marian could say anything. ‘Kelly, we gotta talk. We—'

Sometimes he really bugs me. ‘Not
Oh, okay
, Leonard.
How do you do
or
Pleased to meet you
or just plain
Hello
. But not
Oh, okay.'

Leonard had a standard response for that kind of situation. He slipped an arm around Marian Larch's waist, leered into her face, and whispered, ‘Don't mind me, darling. No offense intended—I'm just in kind of a rush, y'know?'

She stared at him. ‘I think I liked
Oh, okay
better.'

Rolled right off him. ‘Kelly, we got a biggie coming. You ready for this? The Miss America people are considering you for one of the judges. Whaddaya say to that?'

Me, I didn't say anything; I was speechless. But Marian snorted, ‘That meat parade!'

‘Meat, schmeat, it's
exposure
, darling.' Leonard's eyes were dancing and his lived-in face was one huge grin; he was angling a big one, all right. ‘Every year they have one professional beauty among the judges to show the little girls how it's done, and I been telling them how next year it's gotta be Kelly Ingram.'

‘This is for next year?' I asked.

‘Oh yeah, these things gotta be settled way ahead—you got your foot in the door now because the broad, 'scuse me, the
lady
they had lined up went and got herself preggie. You're still on the pill, aren't you, darling? Anyway, they were thinking Bo Derek but I talked them out of it. By the end of the season, I told them, Kelly Ingram's going to be the biggest thing on the tube. I said you want somebody visible, don't you? Shit, I got other clients, I said, but I'm telling you Kelly's the one you want. How do you like that—I'm in there pitching for you, Kel. You got that?'

‘I got it, Leonard.'

‘Right. So now all I got to do is persuade Nathan Shithead that it's just what the
LeFever
image needs. And it is, it is!'

Marian was looking puzzled. ‘If this other woman is pregnant now and this contest isn't until
next
year …?'

‘Why can't she go ahead and do it?' Leonard rasped. ‘Because this is her first baby and some women lose their looks when they become mommas. Sorry, darling, but that's the way it is. The Miss America people just can't take the risk.' Leonard's grin had disappeared; he swallowed, painfully—his throat must really have been hurting. ‘Nathan Shithead has graciously granted me an appointment, ain't that generous of him? The Miss America Apple Pie folks want a guarantee there's no contractual problems before they'll even negotiate.'

‘Why didn't you tell me this was in the works, Leonard?' I asked. ‘You know I like to be kept posted.'

‘I didn't want to get your hopes up.'

‘Meaning you didn't think the pageant people would go for it.'

‘Now, darling, don't go putting yourself down like that—you've got to have faith!'

‘In myself, I got faith. It's you I'm not so sure about.'

‘Don't be so hard on a sick old man,' he rasped. ‘Call my office later—I'll leave word. Glad to've met you, uh, Marilyn.' His grin flashed back on for a tenth of a second and he was gone.

‘Whew,' Marian said, looking after him. ‘Is he always like that?'

‘Usually he's noisier.'

Just then they called me to do my half of a telephone scene. The assistant director stood off-camera and read LeFever's lines to me with far more expression than Nick Quinlan would ever be able to manage. When I finished the story editor's secretary came up and handed me some green pages. I groaned.

‘Only two lines in your part, Kelly,' she smiled. ‘Easy changes.'

I managed to smile back, but I didn't mean it. I hate it when we get as far as green pages.

‘What's the matter?' Marian Larch wanted to know.

‘Script changes,' I told her. ‘Every new set of changes comes through on a different color paper. This week's script already looks like a rainbow and now—well, I guess these aren't so bad.' I read through the new dialogue quickly. Two new lines for me, I already knew them. Trouble was, I still knew the old ones as well. The trick was remembering which set to say when you were in front of the camera.

‘Kelly—'

‘Come into my dressing room, they're getting ready to shoot.'

With the door to the dressing room closed we could talk, if we kept our voices low; the soundproofing wasn't all it was supposed to be. Marian was worrying about what Leonard Zoff had said. ‘Is that true about the pregnant woman? That the Miss America people won't take a chance on her keeping her looks after she gives birth?'

‘No,' I laughed. ‘There's not a word of truth in it. In fact, I'm pretty sure there wasn't any pregnant woman at all—Leonard just made her up.'

Marian Larch's eyebrows climbed. ‘But why?'

‘To keep me in my place, grateful and grovelling. Notice how Leonard supposedly slipped and said
broad
—and then made a big production of correcting the word to
lady?
Well, that was deliberate, that was. Good old subtle Leonard, reminding me I'm just a package to be sold but
he
's the salesman. Then he came on with this story about the pregnant woman—to make me think I was the pageant officials'
second
choice. And then they only came around to considering me because of Mr. Leonard Zoff's superior powers of persuasion.'

‘You mean you might have been their first choice?'

‘I mean I'll never know—which is exactly what Leonard had in mind. He knows I don't swallow most of that guff he dishes out, but he likes to keep me off-balance. Figures he has more control that way.'

She just looked at me. Then: ‘Why do you stay with an agent like that?'

‘Find me a better one and I'll change.'