She rose, went into the living room, and picked up the phone.
“Operator, I’d like to call a Seattle newspaper . . . No, I don’t care which one . . . Yes, the Post-Intelligencer sounds fine.”
The phone was answered by a receptionist who sounded rushed. “How may I direct your call?”
“I’m a reporter in Burning Cove, California. I’d like to speak with one of your crime reporters.”
“Hold one moment. I’ll connect you.”
A short time later Irene found herself talking to a bored-sounding individual who identified himself as George.
“You want me to dig out a year-old obituary notice? Why should I do you any favors?”
“Because I’m working on an investigation that involves Nick Tremayne.”
“The actor?” The boredom was replaced by a flicker of interest. “What have you got?”
“I’m chasing leads at this point. But if you give me a hand, I promise to call you as soon as I’ve got a story you can run with.”
“Nick Tremayne, huh. All right. Give me time to go down to the morgue and pull some clips.” He paused. “I’ll have to reverse the charges.”
“That’s fine.”
George called back fifteen minutes later.
“I found the Scott obit but there’s not much info here,” he said. “I don’t see how this is going to help. Scott slipped and fell in her bathtub. Worked at a café. Survived by an aunt who lives here in Seattle.”
There is always one more detail.
“I need the name of the aunt.”
“Dorothy Hodges. Look, what have you got on Tremayne?”
“I have to move quickly here. I give you my word I’ll contact you as soon as I’ve got all the facts.”
Irene hung up and made the next call.
“Operator, please connect me with Dorothy Hodges in Seattle, Washington. No, I don’t have the number or the address. Yes, I’ll hold.”
It turned out that there were three D. Hodgeses in the Seattle telephone directory. The operator connected Irene to the right one on the second attempt. A middle-aged woman answered.
“This is Dorothy Hodges. Whom did you say is calling?”
“You don’t know me, Miss Hodges. I’m a journalist doing some background research on a movie actor named Nick Tremayne.”
“Heavens, dear, you must have the wrong number. I don’t know Nick Tremayne. I don’t know any movie stars. This is Seattle, not Hollywood.”
“I have reason to believe that Tremayne may have known your niece, Betty.”
“Betty? She passed almost a year ago.”
“Yes, I know, Miss Hodges. Did you ever meet any of Betty’s boyfriends?”
“No. I know that, for a time, she dated a young man who wanted to become an actor. Betty fancied herself in love with him. But she never brought him around to introduce him. I don’t remember his name.”
“I understand Betty lived in a boardinghouse.”
“She was a bit wild, I’m afraid. Ran with a fast crowd. I had to insist that she move out. I just couldn’t tolerate the smoking and the drinking and the partying. She visited me once in a while when she needed rent money. All she ever talked about was her dream of going to Hollywood with her boyfriend. She was sure they would both become stars. Poor, foolish girl.”
“Did she ever do any real acting?”
“Oh, yes. She made a couple of films here in Seattle. She was very excited about them. But they never got released.”
“What happened?”
“The studio burned down a few months before Betty died. She told me that all of the films including the ones she made were destroyed. Between you and me, I did wonder exactly what sort of movies they were, if you take my meaning.”
The kind of movies that could ruin a rising star’s career, maybe, Irene thought.
“I understand, Miss Hodges. You said you never met any of Betty’s boyfriends. What about her girlfriends? Did you know any of them? I’d really like to talk to someone who knew Betty well.”
“Why are you so curious about my poor niece?”
“It’s a long story, Miss Hodges. But I think it’s possible that Betty’s death wasn’t an accident. I think she was murdered.”
“Murdered.” Shock reverberated through the telephone line. “But that can’t be true. They said that Betty slipped and fell in the bathtub.”
“I know, Miss Hodges. But as it happens, she’s not the only woman to die that way. I’m hoping that if I track down someone who knew about those films that Betty made, I might be able to get to the truth.”
“I see. Well, I’m afraid the only girlfriend that Betty ever mentioned was another aspiring actress. She lived at the same boardinghouse. As I recall, she was in those films that Betty made here in Seattle.”