Free The Ghost and the Femme Fatale by Alice Kimberly Page A

stuck him for murder instead of manslaughter,” Seymour went on, “but there was a glitch. Vreen died from a stab wound, but Armstrong didn’t actually stab him. I don’t know a lot of the specifics—”
    “It was Hedda,” I blurted out. “Armstrong tripped and fell in a restaurant. He knocked Vreen onto a large steak knife, which Hedda was holding.”
    Seymour looked at me, puzzled. “How do you know that? I mean, it isn’t exactly in the mainstream. The only reason I know about Pierce Armstrong going to prison is because of a bio attached to his filmography in Films of the Forties . That’s the only thing in print about the man, as far as I know, and it’s been out of print for thirty years.”
    “Oh... er ... someone told me last night—at the theater.”
    “Well, Armstrong did hard time in Ossining—you might know it better as Sing Sing. And by the time he got out, his star turn was over.”
    Tell your mailman pal to keep wagging his tongue , Jack urged. He’s giving us good gravy.
    “So what did Armstrong do?” I asked Seymour. “After he got sprung from Sing Sing.”
    “Well, people on the East Coast wouldn’t hire him, since they still remembered the Vreen murder and held it against him. So Armstrong went back to Hollywood, where he still had friends in the stunt profession. They helped him get back his old career as a stuntman in cowboy pictures. If you know what to look for, you’ll see him taking punches or bullets in just about every classic Western, from John Ford’s The Searchers to The Gene Autrey Show .”
    “What about Hedda?” I asked.
    Seymour shrugged. “She was never charged with anything, as far as I know. In fact, I’m pretty sure she testified against Armstrong at his trial.”
    I frowned. That didn’t seem right at all. “But she was holding the knife.”
    Seymour shrugged. “If you’re implying that Armstrong was railroaded, I won’t argue. He’s always been one of my favorite B-movie guys, so I’d be the first one to give him the benefit of the doubt. And Hedda paid another way. With Vreen dead, Gotham Features collapsed and her career was over.”
    “Did you hear that, Jack?” I silently asked.
    I heard, baby. If Hedda set up Vreen for murder, then she simultaneously set up her own career for sudden death.
    “Then what possible motive could she have had to kill Vreen?” I quietly wondered. “It must have been a tragic accident . . .”
    “Yeah,” Seymour went on, “today’s Tramp Pack of starlets and pop divas may thrive on bad- girl publicity, but back then, scandal was heavy baggage. Hedda’s ex- boyfriend had been sent to prison for the death of her married lover. It was obviously too much for the public to accept because no studio would touch Hedda after that. But I guess she made out okay, anyway.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “I chatted with Brainert’s soda pop academic pal last night—you remember, Dr. Pepper? He told me Hedda lived the life of Riley after her movie career was over. She married Lincoln Middleton, a televi sion executive. When he died, she inherited a ton of money, along with his family’s horse farm in Newport.” Seymour snorted. “Nice life, if you can steal it ...”
    CHAPTER 5

An Explosive Notion
    Thanks for the ride, the three cigarettes, and for not
    laughing at my theories on life.
    —The Postman Always Rings Twice, 1946
    THE MAILMAN AND I arrived at the Cooper Family Bakery to find it mobbed. Dr. Lilly hadn’t been exaggerating—the line of customers ran down the block. Some were locals, but most appeared to be festival attendees.
    “Look, Pen!” Seymour elbowed me. “A friend of ours is almost up to the counter. C’mon!”
    Seymour was fine with cutting the line. Me? I wasn’t so comfortable with the dirty looks we were getting until I saw who the “friend of ours” was: Bud Napp.
    This is your chance, baby. Wait till Buddy boy’s all sweetened up with pastries, then grill him!
    “Check!” I told