Scripted Murder

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Scripted Murder - book excerpt

Chapter One 

New York, 1932— 

Virginia ‘Ginny’ Weltermint waved goodbye to her mother and younger brother at the train station in New York and showed her first-class ticket to the blue-uniformed man to board the luxury passenger train The Sunshine Express for the five-day return trip to Hollywood. A porter dressed in red, with a gold hat, came to collect her luggage to take to her cabin. She had her pet Siamese cat Scarlet with her on a leash.

The past few months had been difficult for her after Paul, her Hollywood choreographer fiancé of a year, had left her at the altar. By the time she returned to Hollywood, she hoped that almost everyone would have forgotten about the incident. Since she was from a well-known New York theatre family, it had been a scandal and in the newspapers at the time. The fact that Paul had been a few years younger than Ginny, and Ginny herself wasn’t exactly a girl anymore, had made it even more scandalous. Ginny had sought refuge with her family at their townhouse in New York for a few weeks after. Now she was on her way to return to her place as one of the most coveted screenwriters of Westerns in Hollywood under her pseudonym Jake Byrne, who kept a low profile and was a mysterious presence in the Hollywood gossip columns, talked about but never seen. Ginny had learned all about cowboys from her uncle, Robert, who’d worked on a ranch in the West, and grew to love the genre.

Often it seemed her brain worked differently than others like her, and she had the ability to become so intensely focused on whatever project she was working on at the time. Everything else faded away. Of course, nobody in the press knew of her Jake identity. The only people who knew were her family, the studio boss she worked with, and some friends.

Following the porter, Ginny turned around one last time before making the ascent with Scarlet leading the way aboard the sleek train.

“Goodbye, mother! Goodbye, Lawrence!”

Both of them smiled wistfully and waved. They had promised to stay until the train departed.

A man of impressive stature and physique bumped into her as soon as she entered the train. She dropped her purse to the ground.

“Pardon me, miss,” the man said in an accent that she thought sounded Dutch. He picked up her purse and handed it to her as Scarlet sat at her side.

He tipped his hat to her, and she could see his face clearly for the first time. He was handsome and looked a bit younger than she.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him politely.

He offered her his hand to shake. “Hendrik Bergen.”

Yes, he was Dutch. She shook his hand and introduced herself.

“Perhaps we could have a drink after you get settled?” he offered. “I’m travelling for business. And you?”

“Returning home from a sort of vacation.”

“Sounds intriguing. You’ll have to tell me more. How about that drink?”

“Yes, a drink sounds nice, but later. I have to go to my room first and unpack.”

“Of course. Before dinner? Say an hour?”

“All right, I’ll see you then.”

He bowed to her as she walked away, which she found charming, but after what happened with Paul, she’d made a promise to herself to avoid men. For a little while longer, at least, because there had been others before Paul and she knew there would be others after him.

She’d lost track of the porter after bumping into Hendrik, and the man had continued on with her luggage without her. Her ticket said nineteen, and she reasoned she had a good enough sense of direction to find her cabin on her own. Another porter was standing nearby and pointed the way out to her. She caught up with the first porter, and he didn’t seem to comprehend that she hadn’t been behind him the entire time. She planned to tip him well regardless, as her father, who had passed on last year, leaving his estate to his family, had stressed the importance of tipping throughout her childhood.

Ginny now walked ahead of the porter toward the sleeping car and into her private cabin, which was as spacious and as lovely as the brochure had suggested. Behind the curtained window, she would have a marvelous view of the passing scenery once the train left the station.

The porter set down her luggage, and she thanked and tipped the man. He set her key on the table and shut the small door behind him. Ginny began to unpack her belongings but soon grew tired and left it for later. She checked her watch. She had plenty of time to explore the train before meeting Hendrik for that drink. She heard the conductor announcing the train’s departure soon.

She set out to the smoking car, where she would have a good view of the station outside. She planned to wave goodbye to her family. The late spring afternoon weather outside was warm, but inside the train, she was cool in her dress and jacket. Soon it would be evening-time. Her heels clacked on the surface as she went inside the smoking car with Scarlet in tow.

She sat next to an ebullient, plump older couple and lit a cigarette. Even seated, the woman seemed short and stout, and her bewhiskered husband looked as round and nearly as short as she.

They introduced themselves to her as the Warwicks.

Mr. Warwick looked down at Scarlet seated at Ginny’s feet and exclaimed, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cat on a leash!”

“Her name’s Scarlet,” Ginny said and introduced herself.

“You’re the daughter of the New York Weltermint acting duo, aren’t you?” Mr. Warwick asked. He seemed fascinated by the possibility.

Ginny nodded. She didn’t dare tell them about her screenwriting career, because she had to be careful. Like with everyone else, she let them assume she was simply a rich woman.

Mrs. Warwick seemed a touch bothered by the confirmation, and Ginny thought that perhaps she didn’t approve of entertainment people. But she gradually became more cordial.

“Traveling by yourself?” Mrs. Warwick asked Ginny. She seemed to be searching Ginny’s finger for a ring.

Ginny nodded slowly. She didn’t know how they’d react, being of the older generation. Some people of their age still thought it improper for a single woman to be traveling across the country without an escort. The women of Ginny’s family had always considered themselves to be independent, starting with her grandmother, who had also been an actress.

“I’m going to Hollywood,” Ginny said.

“How interesting,” Mr. Warwick said. “It must be exciting being from such a talented family.”

Ginny noticed they didn’t ask her whether she had a career, and she would have had to answer no if they’d had. They seemed to assume that her going to Hollywood just made sense because of her family.

Mrs. Warwick patted her hand. “You must be careful. There are many men about here looking to deceive a nice-looking, unaccompanied lady such as yourself.”

Ginny thought of Hendrik and almost chuckled. She put out her cigarette in the ashtray on the little table in front of them.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Mr. Warwick said to his wife. “We’ll keep an eye on her.” He gave Ginny a look that perhaps a grandfather or uncle would have given her. “We’re headed to California as well, to visit our son and his family, but they don’t live in Hollywood,” he told her.

Ginny didn’t need anyone ‘keeping an eye’ on her, but to protest would look uncouth, so she merely thanked the couple and turned her attention to the people waving goodbye on the train platform. The whistle sounded, and the train lurched forward, and Ginny could feel the motion of the wheels as they left the station. Ginny joined in with everyone else and waved goodbye to the people outside. Her mother and brother appeared to have left already. So they hadn’t waited after all. Lawrence would be on his way to back to university to finish the term and their mother returning home to the family’s townhouse across the street from the grand museum. Her family had been fortunate that the Depression hadn’t cut much into their wealth.

Ginny thought of Paul and how he would be sitting next to her if it hadn’t been for his cold feet, assuming they even returned to New York at all. They were supposed to have gone to Europe after their wedding. But now Paul was set to marry Ginny’s younger, former friend, the singer, Beth Bright, which had inflamed the scandal further. In Hollywood and the gossip columns, Ginny had been known as Paul Blair’s “girl” and the daughter of a New York theatre dynasty. But both Paul and Beth knew of her screenwriting identity. Both had kept it a secret, which Ginny felt would continue. Apparently, Beth and Paul had been carrying on for quite some time behind Ginny’s back. She was the reason for Paul’s cold feet. Ginny had sold the bungalow she’d lived in with Paul and taken a small apartment.

Beth had tried to reach out to her through Ginny’s mother, who she knew through the theatre. Ginny hadn’t replied. Although enough time had passed that she no longer despised Beth and Paul, she still didn’t like either of them. Ginny reasoned she wouldn’t protest their engagement, which she had read about in the newspaper, but she wouldn’t congratulate them either. That had been part of Ginny’s reason for leaving California a few weeks ago, since she hadn’t wanted to be around for the aftermath in the press. The announcement in the newspaper had said that the couple would be getting married in Beverly Hills in the summer and were looking forward to starting a family after their marriage. Paul had told Ginny he didn’t want to have children.

She looked around the car, which had filled up with many passengers, to see if she could spot Hendrik. But there were too many people seated or walking about for her to really look. She checked her watch as the train rode farther and farther away from the station. Soon the platform seemed small in the distance. She needed to meet Hendrik in a few minutes before the evening meal was served in the dining car. She said goodbye to the Warwicks and half-expected them to follow her. They didn’t, but she sensed their eyes on her as she left. Ginny carried Scarlet as she walked.

Inside the red-and-white lounge car, she checked in with the man at the front, who said she could bring Scarlet inside the lounge but not into the dining car, and found Hendrik seated at a corner table, smoking a cigarette. He had waited to order a drink until she arrived. Ginny set Scarlet on the ground and walked her on the leash. Hendrik stood up as Ginny approached his table and waited for her to sit before sitting down again himself, like a true gentleman.

Hendrik smiled attractively across at her. She could see his face very well in the lounge with its wide windows looking out to the passing grey urban scenery, and it was a very nice face. Soon the lounge would be lit for the nighttime.

“I’m glad you could join me,” he said.

“And I as well,” Ginny said.

A waiter appeared, and they ordered lemonade, given Prohibition.

“Are you alone on the journey?” he said. “I realize I should have inquired about that before asking you to join me.” He seemed to be searching her hand for a ring, just like Mrs. Warwick had. From the look in his eyes, she felt he wouldn’t have minded if she had been wearing a ring and that he would have been just as comfortable continuing as they were.

“Yes,” Ginny said. “I’m not with anyone.”

“In that case, would you like to join me for dinner?” He sounded pleased.

Ginny couldn’t deny his appeal, but it was too soon after Paul for her to be interested in romance, and she sensed Hendrik was. She didn’t want to spend her night attached to a man, or the entire trip back to California for that matter. “Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Lunch, perhaps?” Lunch seemed less intimate than dinner.

His gaze clouded over with disappointment. He said with a grin, “Looks like I will have to wait. We’ll have lunch tomorrow.”

The waiter brought their drinks to the table. Ginny took a cigarette out of her bag, and Hendrik lit it for her.

Hendrik gestured at Scarlet by Ginny’s feet. “Say, it’s quite funny you keep your cat on a leash.”

“She wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Hendrik smiled at Scarlet genuinely and reached down to stroke her, and she hissed at him.

Ginny laughed. “I don’t think she likes you very much.”

“No, she doesn’t,” he said with a laugh.

“What kind of business are you in, Mr. Bergen?” Ginny asked him.

“I work for an automotive company,” he said.

Ginny felt that his answer was a bit evasive. “And what do you do there?” she asked.

“I’m an engineer.”

“How intriguing.” Ginny wished she knew something about engineering so she could ask him a thoughtful question or two. But her parents had both been acclaimed stage actors and theatre owners, now retired—their marriage had been somewhat of a scandal at the time given that her mother had gotten divorced from her first husband so she could marry Ginny’s father—and Lawrence, the odd duck out in the family, was studying medicine at university and not going in to a career in the arts. Ginny herself had gone to college to study Literature and the Classics and had taken courses in writing.

“What brings you to California?” Ginny asked. “You mentioned business, so I assume you aren’t traveling for leisure or returning home.”

“The company I work with, Blue Automobiles in New York, where I live, wants to expand out in California. I’m assuming a woman like you owns a Blue.”

“Don’t so many these days?” Ginny said. A Blue auto was almost as popular among her crowd as a Rolls Royce.

“Yes, of a certain income. I don’t own one myself. I must admit I am a bit of a communist,” he joked.

Ginny laughed. “Don’t tell me you still use a horse and carriage?” She gave him a wink.

Hendrik smiled from ear-to-ear. “I have to say I find you very intriguing, Miss Weltermint. It’s not often that a young lady of your standing—you are related to the Weltermint theatre empire, aren’t you—travels by herself.”

Ginny was flattered he’d referred to her as a “young lady” when she wasn’t exactly young anymore.

“Yes, Joseph Weltermint was my father.”

“I was sorry to read of his death in the newspaper.”

Ginny thanked him. After a moment, she gave him her reason for her New York vacation, and she vaguely told him about Paul. Hendrik acted surprised when Ginny had thought he would have heard of the incident in the papers. “You really didn’t know?” she said.

“Not in the least.”

“The Warwicks said a similar thing to what you said—about my traveling alone.”

“Who are they?”

“An older couple I met in the smoking car.”

“They don’t approve of single ladies traveling alone?”

“No, they don’t seem to.”

“Why not?”

“I believe it’s because of men like you.”

“Men like me?”

“Yes, men who ask women they don’t know to join them alone for drinks.”

“The lounge isn’t my cabin,” he countered.

“True,” Ginny said with a grin. “I certainly wouldn’t have gone with you alone in there.”

Hendrik laughed, and Ginny did as well. Her boldness was one of the things that Paul had said he’d cherished most about her. Then he’d gone and left her for Beth.

“Do you travel to California often for business?” Ginny asked Hendrik.

“Sometimes. I prefer the train to driving, which takes longer. I don’t like boats either because I can’t swim, which is a problem when I have to travel to Europe for business, which is once in a while. Have you ever been to Europe? I’m assuming a lady of your class would have been there more than once.”

Ginny thought of the trip she had been supposed to take with Paul, then she nodded. She didn’t want to discuss Europe at the moment.

“You’re the opposite of me, I love the water,” she said. “I was a competitive swimmer at the women’s college. Of course, at the time, a few people thought it scandalous that I appeared in public in a bathing suit.”

“I bet you looked gorgeous in your bathing suit.” He grinned.

Ginny nearly dropped her cigarette at his brazenness, but she didn’t want him to see the effect he had on her, so she stabilized herself. Scarlet purred against her legs under the table, calming her.

“I’ll have to teach you to swim someday,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I’d certainly like that, when the weather is a bit warmer. And what do you do; do you work?”

Many assumed that because of her family’s status she wouldn’t need to work, and she didn’t reveal her Jake Byrne identity to just anyone. She had to trust them first. It would create quite a scandal if the press got wind that Jake was actually a woman and that he was Ginny Weltermint, no less. At first, no one in Hollywood had even known her true identity. She had submitted her scripts to the studios under her alias, and once she secured interest from them, a few hadn’t wanted to work with her after learning of her true identity. But the biggest name in Hollywood, the studio boss Mickey Goldstein of Gilded Pictures, had taken a chance on her, and she still worked for him today. Could she trust Hendrik with her secret? The newspapers would go wild over a female Western screenwriter. But for some reason, she felt she could trust Hendrik, though she’d only just met him, so she told him about Jake. He didn’t live in California, and she’d probably never see him again outside the train anyway.

“How fascinating. I have heard of Jake Byrne.” He didn’t seem shocked but intrigued.

“It doesn’t shock you?” she asked.

“Not at all. I admire you, actually.”

She found his take on it modern and refreshing.

“Do you have someone else to have dinner with tonight?” he asked.

“I imagine they’ll sit me with some interesting people.” Ginny wondered if he would push the dinner invitation on her again. But they finished their drinks and parted ways before they could order another. Hendrik kissed her hand.

“I will see you tomorrow at lunch,” he said.

Charming, Ginny thought, but too obvious to pursue. She could only imagine the further sensationalist articles that would ensue in the newspapers if she brought home a lively Dutchman so soon after the disaster at the altar. Her mother was understanding, but that might be a breaking point for the public. Then again, Paul had seemingly been so stable yet left her in the end. Perhaps what she needed was a bit of excitement this time around.

Ginny walked to her cabin to get ready for dinner. She thought she felt someone watching her and checked behind her to see if the Warwicks were there, but there was just a group of children scampering about as their glamorous mothers in hats stood near them, observing. She thought nothing more of it and went inside her cabin. She glanced out at the now dark sky, closed the curtains and let Scarlet sit on the bed.

Ginny unpacked her typewriter and record player and played some jazz music as she prepared for the evening. Scarlet rolled and purred along to the beat of the music. Ginny dressed in a blue and white dress with a strand of shiny, dark pearls and black shoes. She turned off the music when a song came on – the female singer reminded her of Beth.

Ginny looked at herself in the mirror in her room. She cut a stylish figure with her rounded hips, and with her ginger hair swept up in a twist, making her brown eyes seem dramatic. She put on more red lipstick and added a little rouge and a spritz of perfume. She selected a beaded purse from her luggage and was ready for the night.

Ginny said goodbye to Scarlet on the bed—she trusted her enough not to put her in a carrier—and left her room clutching her purse. She hoped that she really would be seated with some interesting people at dinner. Hendrik probably had thought he could bribe a waiter so they could have sat together. Ginny smiled to herself and, for a moment, regretted turning him down. He would have certainly made interesting company. She would stop and chat with him at dinner if she ran into him, and if she didn’t, they would have lunch together tomorrow.

Outside her cabin, the Warwicks were walking toward her.

“Leaving dinner early?” Ginny asked them. But as far as she knew, dinner hadn’t even been served yet.

“Mrs. Warwick feels queasy,” Mr. Warwick explained.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Ginny replied.

Mrs. Warwick did look pale.

“We were on our way to eat, and then she felt terrible. It’s unfortunate because I heard they’re supposed to serve a lovely meal,” Mr. Warwick said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do without our company.”

Ginny would never say it aloud, but she was a little relieved they wouldn’t be keeping an eye on her in the dining car. She could only imagine what they’d think of her if they knew she had a career and what it was. She gave them a polite smile and went on her way. The Warwicks went into their room behind her and shut the door.

An attractive young blonde woman, a girl, really, in a rather plain dress, crashed into her. Her perfume smelled of lilac.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Ginny said.

In silence, the woman didn’t look at her and continued walking quickly, running almost. Why was she in such a hurry?

For a moment, Ginny wondered what the woman was up to, for her behavior was so peculiar. She went on her way and walked past a room with the door opened. She saw a man lying on the floor in the room, which was strange in itself, as was the fact that he wasn’t moving. Ginny stopped on her heels, turned around, and walked back to the room. What she saw made her gasp.

The man was in a tuxedo, as though he’d dressed for dinner, and he appeared to be dead.