My heart thrummed in my ears. The two most powerful people in Hollywood, some would say, and I was about to cross themboth. Hearst was responsible for at least two murders. Louella had destroyed me with her column and radio show. Adams stared at me, a tough guy with a gun, willing to do whatever Hearst told him. I was glad I was sitting down, because my legs were so weak, they would have buckled.
I lifted a finger at Florence, who was pretending to refill coffee cups that we hadn’t touched. “Please bring us a telephone,” I asked her. Then to Hearst and Louella, “You’ll get what you want when you’ve both done something for me.” I was surprised at how composed I sounded. I guess I would have made a good actress after all.
“And if I refuse?” Hearst growled.
Brody smiled in a friendly way. “We’ll make sure your little tell-all gets to the right people.”
“It’s nothing,” Hearst bit out. “Just the scribblings of a drunk old man. One who’s dead now, anyway.”
“Maybe.” Brody gave him a nod like he was conceding a point. “And maybe Marion won’t mind the nitty-gritty details about Catalina Island and the showgirls.” He turned to Louella. “And Docky won’t mind about you and Lester and that trip to Tijuana.” He didn’t look friendly anymore. “But that part about Thomas Ince...” Brody let the name hang in the air, and I saw Louella wince and Hearst’s hand close in a fist.
“They can’t prove anything.” Hearst looked like he could spit tacks, but he’d lost some steam, and anybody could see that he was worried.
Brody put both his huge hands flat on the table and leaned toward Hearst. “Maybe not. And maybe I can’t pin Feng’s or Lester’s murder on you. Or even poor Ince’s. But one thing I can do is raise a stink for you and your rising star, Victoria Lester, that will make your eyes water.”
Hearst stared at Brody. Louella bit her lip and tried not to look at anyone. Max let out a low whistle through his teeth and looked impressed. Florence came back with a telephone and plugged the cord into the wall next to our table.
Brody picked up the receiver and held it out to Hearst. “We both know Miss Sinclaire, here, didn’t kill Roy Lester. So to start, you’re going to call your friend the DA right now. Clear Miss Sinclaire’s name. Then put the same statement in today’s edition, front page... above the fold.”
Hearst looked for a minute like he was going to call Brody’s bluff. My heart went into double time. Then he picked up the receiver and rattled off a number, waited, barked some instructions, then slammed the phone down. “It’s done.”
I passed Brody the diary, like we’d planned. He paged through as if perusing one of his favorite novels. He tore the dog-eared page—the one about Thomas Ince—from the book, folded it, and slipped it in his pocket.
“See here—” Hearst sputtered.
Brody raised his caterpillar brows. “Settle down. Just until you’ve come through. Then I’ll dispose of the evidence.”
“How do I know I can trust you?” Hearst demanded, looking like he could crawl across the table and grab Brody by the throat.
“You don’t.” Brody smiled. Then he passed the diary to me.
Hearst clenched his teeth and held out his hand for the book.
I took a deep breath. This was the part that needed nerve. “Not yet,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “You owe me something more for what you did. The reward you were willing to pay for me should do nicely. One thousand dollars.”
Hearst looked at me like I was talking nonsense. “It doesn’t work that way, sweetheart.”
I straightened my back and looked him in the eye. “Don’t call me sweetheart.” I let the silence talk for me. Blackmail was a dirty business and I didn’t like dipping my toe into it. But this wasn’t for me. Not this time.
Louella broke first. “For goodness’ sake, William, give her the money so we can put this all behind us.”
Hearst pulled out his checkbook from inside his jacket pocket. He scribbled on it, ripped out a check, and slid it across the table to me. I took a good look.Miss Minerva Sinclaire. One thousand dollars.Enough to put Papa and the farm in the clear, if that’s what I had in mind. I put it in my handbag and saw my hands were shaking.
Hearst tucked his checkbook away and reached for his hat. “Are we done?”
“One more thing,” Max drawled. “Louella here is going to do the biggest turnaround this city has ever seen.” His voice was thick with disdain. “You were wrong about Minerva Sinclaire and you’re going to tell the world. Your column and radio show are behind this girl one hundred and ten percent.” Max laid one hand on the diary. “You follow, Lolly?”
“People don’t forget,” Louella huffed.
Max’s voice hardened. “That’s bushwah and you know it. Look how fast they forgot your first two husbands. And that little knock-up last year about Docky’s work with the studio?”
I had to hand it to Max. He was no slouch in this game.
Louella crossed her arms. “I don’t kowtow to the likes of you.”
Hearst let out a frustrated breath. “She’ll do it. I’ll make sure she does. Now give me the book.” He reached toward me.
“She said I’d get it.” Louella leaned across the table.
