Fatal Follies

Prologue

Rested now, satisfied, she bundled up in her robe. Scooping back her dark hair, she examined herself in the little oval mirror, and surveyed the cut on her forehead. Not bad, not bad at all. All she had to do was brush her bangs over the worst of it. See? It didn't show anymore.

And all this over nothing, she surmised with a little, irritable puff of her bangs. He knew. He noticed. After all, he had placed it there. Of course, he'd done far worse before, although she had been able to cover up his sins. The others at the studio remained clueless about her volatile life. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Guilt overrode relaxation as she went to fluff her pillows and ready for bed. Although, she had to laugh. She had nothing to feel guilty about...or did she? For the longest time, she had been living a lie, a lie of her own making. The Hollywood publicity machine started it all, created her mystique. She just added to it over time, though mostly in private. She was a superb actress and knew how to fool even the most skeptical directors and producers...not to mention lovers.

As soon as the compartment door opened, she turned sharply. So, he had decided to come back after all! Before she said anything, she watched him trade his suit coat and shirt for the robe she gave him for Christmas, a silk, caramel number with brown velvet lapels. He had taken it out of his travel bag and hung it up on the door peg the minute they claimed this compartment. Neat and tidy—as always. Yet, when it came to an argument, he was always the first to leave those jagged edges of anger undone, making her sew up her bitter disappointment in a neat pocket of regrets. Now, when he turned back to her, she gave him a disapproving look.

Where you been...? she started, but he quickly moved forward and scooped her up in his arms.

I went to the lounge car, he told her in his rich, sultry voice. I needed a drink.

Why didn't you bring me one?

He narrowed his bold, blue eyes to give her a critical look, and then took one finger to sweep away the bangs so he could survey his work. Because, doll, you don't deserve one, not until you apologize.

Apologize? Her brows went up with surprise. For what? You hit me, remember?

His dark laughter, bordering on the cruel, filled their compartment. "I hit you when you deserve it, sweetheart. You remember that!" As he spoke, he allowed his hand to work beneath her robe, his fingers to stroke the smooth, velvety flesh of her breasts.

She stiffened and tried to pull away. You bastard! she hissed, angry now that he wouldn’t let her go. You think you're so tough! I got news for you, big shot! You’re nothing but a penny ante bum, and you'll never be anything else! Don’t forget: I found you. I made you. And you owe me.

The slap came before she could prepare for it, and she reeled back. In one, quick move he had her pinned down to the bottom bunk, his face on hers. She smelled the cheap gin in his drink, the sweat of desire now coursing beneath the tough guy facade. When his mouth found hers, he took her lips in a greedy, hungry kiss. She tried to speak, but nothing came out but a murmur of surrender. Sometimes it was good like this, after they fought. Other times, she hated him when he stung her with the barbs of his speech and stunned her with the back of his hand. Now, his lips trailed along her cheek, down her throat, to the valley of her breasts, and then back to her lips with soft, slow seduction.

She allowed him to undo her wrap, the fluffy pink feathers along the neckline tickling his cheek. She knew he hated her underthings, called her lingerie too girlish and cheap, even though he paid a pretty penny for their expensive Paris labels. Besides, she loved to bait him with those things he hated about her, those little habits that irritated him. Like now, when she pulled open his robe lapels and pinched the pale nipples of his chest.

In retaliation, he gave a low growl and claimed her body with skilled hands. She arched, moaned when he hit the right spots. To help him along, she reached down to undo his trousers and found him hot and hard.

He took her and demanded, and brought her to the brink of surrender, a wonderful, warm, flowing submission. I'm going to kill you. His gasp of a threat pounded in her ears as he filled her up with his fury of desire, his need to control. "I'm going to kill you, and I won't stop until I'm finished. You didn't make me, doll. I made you. So, you owe me, payable in full. In the studio and with the right lighting, I can make you beautiful, and I can make you hideous; but now, I'm going to make you famous."

His fingers dug into her, a bruising reminder of his ability to bring her both pain and ecstasy; and when he shot her to climax, he came right along. Stillness followed even though she could hear his breath, ragged and loose.

Closing her eyes, she savored the aftermath. She had nothing to fear. He told her he wanted to kill her all the time until it became an arousing litany. It was not until he wrapped his hands around her throat that the first pinpricks of fear invaded her soul. When she looked at him, she saw the murderous intent in his eyes, icy and cruel. He meant what he said… but why, why? Nothing came out of her mouth, her limbs stiff and unyielding. She dared to gaze up at him and glimpsed the wild look in his eyes, a heady combination of fiery hatred and icy intent.

What the fu— she managed to mutter as his hands tightened around her throat. Her limbs grew rigid as she tried, desperately, to catch a breath.

Crazily, she thought of the times she really did love him. Now those memories of love comforted her like a warm shroud, before she blacked out, before she allowed the final surrender, before she gave her last, best performance.

His excitement grew as he continued to throttle her, drain the life from her beautiful body. He felt bone crush beneath his hands, and laughed at the way her mouth formed a gaping O, the way her tongue jutted out, swollen and red like the rest of her face. Oh, beautiful Carla, not beautiful anymore.

Finally. Finished. Spent. Rising, he looked away, but gave a start when he realized Carla hadn't bothered to lower the blind. Now, he stared at a young woman standing at the window of her passenger car sitting on the rail directly opposite his, a pretty thing with blonde hair. There was barely six feet between the trains, and he could clearly see the girl’s blue eyes, wide and horrified. Leave it to Carlotta, to have an audience at the end! As his own train began to move, prepared to leave the station, he noticed the writing on the blonde’s luggage, a green trunk on the overhead bin: Fontaine's Follies.

No doubt about it, the girl had witnessed the murder! Panic gripped him, displacing his otherwise logical mind. He had to think! Think, think, think! Think of what he had to do next…

Chapter 1

Vie! Vie! Wake up!

Suzu Lindstrom gave a hearty shove to her roommate's shoulder, and then another harder one until her friend opened her eyes.

Zue, what's going on? I just fell asleep for Pete’s sake! With a grumble of object irritation, Violet Todd struggled to sit up, not an easy task in the narrow space between their bunks. Her annoyance quickly melted when she saw the terrified look streaked across her friend's face.

So, what's the matter? Jumping out of the berth, she clamped her hands on her partner's shoulders. Normally they both worked hard to achieve the pale alabaster finish on their faces, but now Vie’s friend and partner hardly needed a jump start with the powder puff. Her face was ashen with shock.

Zue's eyes widened. Oh, Vie! I just saw a woman killed! He... he killed her!

Who? Where? When? Her friend's obvious nervousness made Violet drop to a resolute tone. Okay, so what did you see?

Suzu Lindstrom allowed her gaze to return to the window. Across the way. The train next to ours. I saw it as plain as day! A couple...doing...well, after they did what they did, I saw him strangle her!

Vie flicked her eyes to the window; but now, she saw only the indigo well of early evening and one lone lamp post. Suddenly, the jolt of the train caught them both off balance as it began to pull out of the station. To counteract their equilibriums and steady their mindsets, Vie nudged Suzu down on the bunk and then sat beside her.

All right, Zue, let's start from the beginning. You sure you didn't sneak out to the beverage car for a couple of belts? Violet meant it as a gentle rebuff but her friend looked genuinely offended.

Vie! How could you! Of course not! I'm totally sober and I did see a man strangle a woman!

As she spoke, Suzu turned to the window again, this time her eyes glassy, out of focus. Violet stroked her friend's bob of blonde hair, and then tugged her partner into her arms. The kid shook like a miniature earthquake.

It’s okay, Zue, I believe you. I really do believe you saw something. So, now tell me what happened.

Her best friend began her narrative interspersed with little gasps of fear as she recalled the murder in the train car parked next to theirs. When Zue finished, Vie blinked. Incredible! The drama, the so-called murder, the witness—it all sounded just like a plot from an Agatha Christie novel!

If you're sure you saw a murder, Zue, then we need to tell the porter. He can tell the conductor; and when we get to the next station, they can summon the police!

Zue clutched Violet's arm, wild-eyed, But what about us? That means we’ll have to give a statement, and then I'll have to tell what I saw! What if they don't find a body? What if they think I'm making it all up? Frankie already thinks we're a couple of dumb broads, and he'll kick us out of the show for sure!

Oh, you're right. Bowing her head, Vie thought for a moment.

As one of the acts of Frankie Fontaine's Fabulous Follies, they were bound by a contract to go along with the troupe on this road trip, a multiple city tour across the heart of America. The girls billed themselves as Lindstrom and Todd, the Daring Darlings, and they sang and danced up a storm. They needed this paycheck. With a depression going on, hard times necessitated harder measures to stay afloat. They only took this job to keep them from starving. As soon as Frankie Fontaine found out that one half of Lindstrom and Todd would have to be detained by the cops, he'd fire both Daring Darlings for sure.

As if on cue, Frankie Fontaine himself burst into the sleeper compartment, his pock-marked face going from sublime satisfaction to a harsh glare of irritation. Say! What are you two dames doing in my compartment? he growled. You're supposed to be with the others in coach!

From behind him, Miss Ruby Latoure, the fan and bubble dancer of the group, poked her head over his shoulder. As usual, the sable-haired Ruby wore her signature tight gown with a low décolletage, sparkling chandelier earrings, and a fluffy boa around her long neck. Lately, the Fontaine costumers had to let out the seams of Ruby’s gowns as her voluptuous figure teetered on the pudgy side. That task alone remained a big challenge as the fan dancer’s costumes had more slits and spangles than fabric.

The Daring Darlings glanced at each other, aware of what Frankie had in mind with Ruby, and not just with the fans, bubbles and boa. Violet spoke first. Mr. Beckman told us we could have this compartment if we wanted.

Oh, he did, did he? Frankie narrowed his small, dark eyes. He was just pullin' your legs, dolls! Nobody gets a private drawing room 'cept me, understand? I have half a mind to fire that lazy, no-good bum of a manager and you two broads along with 'im!

Standing, Suzu went to retrieve their battered trunk from the top shelf. Yeah, yeah, we get it. This is your drawing room, so draw away. She threw a quick wink at her partner. If there was any drawing going on, it would be a chalk outline of Frankie after Ruby finished with him.

Okay then, scram! Hiking his thumb over his shoulder, the head of the follies inadvertently poked Miss Ruby right in the eye.

Ouch! she squeaked and pulled back.

Oh, sorry, doll! Fontaine tried an apologetic look, but on him, it came out more of a lopsided, lewd grin. With another growl, he turned back to the Daring Darlings. Out, out! I don't want to see both yuse again until morning? Got it?

After struggling into her flannel robe, Violet took one end of their trunk and started forward. When she came inches away from her craggy-faced boss, she gave him a pointed look, her words just as barbed. Yeah, we get it all right, Mr. Fontaine.

As they struggled down the narrow hall with their trunk between them, Zue paused and turned back to her partner. Do you want an upper or lower?

The thought of sleeping in the narrow coach berths with everyone else seemed about as appealing as Frankie Fontaine's idea of a good time; but at least they hadn't been regulated to the luggage car...yet. Vie sighed. I suppose we could flip.

You gotta coin?

No, do you?

Zue smiled. Nope. I guess I don't mind taking an upper if you help push me up.

Maybe we'll both have uppers. Depends on what's left.

Suzu started forward again. Hey, Vie, do you ever wonder why we left St. Joe to begin with?

Sure. We left because we wanted to go into show business. We're supposed to be making our way to Hollywood. So far, we're going to Maryland, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Tennessee, Kentucky, South Carolina, Georgia, and then on to Florida―and that's about as far away from Hollywood as you can get.

Don't give up, Vie! Turning to her partner, the former department store sales clerk tried an optimistic smile. We'll still do it. I know we will, and I won't let a little thing like witnessing a murder keep us from fulfilling our dreams!

With a groan, Violet tried to ease up the pressure of the trunk with the switch of her hands. Both their lives remained inside the case, the somewhat sparse accumulation of their hopes and dreams in between costumes and tap shoes. Right now, Zue, if you don't get a move on, I'll murder you! We still gotta long way to go, and not just down this hall!



Suzu Lindstrom and Violet Kasselhoff had been best friends since grade school when fate alphabetically placed the shy brunette one desk ahead of the more vivacious blonde. Almost inseparable, they lived just a few houses apart in St. Joseph, Missouri. They dressed in identical outfits more times than not, especially their favored cloche hats; and because they spent so much time together, their respective homes became a blur as to who lived where. In fact, Mrs. Kasselhoff once pulled the wrong-hatted girl into the house for supper. And it was just after dessert that both Kasselhoffs—not always quick on the uptake—discovered they actually had Suzu instead of Violet.

The only dissimilarity between the friends remained a physical one. A natural wavy blonde, Suzu exhibited the hearty Swedish genes of her ancestors, while Violet leaned toward the German side of her family with darker features. Both girls possessed little pert noses and wide, ambitious eyes—Zue's an ocean blue and Vie's a deep-set hazel. Both took piano lessons, both took tap dancing lessons, both sang in the church choir and then the high school glee club―and both nurtured dreams of going to Hollywood to become a star just like Ginger Rogers.

The minute they graduated from John J. Pershing High School, the girls culled their babysitting earnings and bought tickets to sunny California. Unfortunately, the girls boarded the wrong bus and found themselves in New York City instead. Never daunted by circumstances or fate, they immediately set out to get jobs and rejuvenate their savings. Violet trained as a switchboard operator for the Shubert Company while Zue found employment at the May Fortune Department Store as a salesgirl in the lingerie department. They shared a cold-water flat near the Bowery that sweltered in the summer and offered frozen water pipes in winter. But the girls kept too busy to mind. By day, they worked hard; by night, they auditioned even harder for whatever part they could get in revues and burlesque shows. Regardless of the hardships, they were young, physically fit, enthusiastic, and very determined to succeed.

Occasionally they went to the Savoy Ballroom to dance the Lindy Hop or the Jitterbug with various partners. But most Saturday nights found the girls at the Cotton Club where anyone could perform and vie for a prestigious spot with the club's regular revue dancers, the Cotton Club Parade. Yet the toe-tapping duo never seemed to make it past the semi-finals of the dance contests. More than once Zue told her partner that the contest had to be fixed in favor of the other regular dancers, but Vie figured it had to do with their lack of professional experience. To gain such, they had to work, but to get the work they had to have a few shows under their taps.

They began by working in the chorus of a dance revue called Any Girl Can-Can! As the title indicated, the dancers performed the famous Parisian can-can along with other dance numbers. The show had been slated to run for two weeks at the Shubert Theater in Greenwich Village, but it closed after only three performances. The producer cited poor ticket sales as the reason. Thus, Vie and Zue were out of a job...yet again

But, finally, their big break came in the somewhat-risqué musical, Naughty Weather, at the Hollywood Cabaret on 43rd Street. They belonged to a chorus line of dancing raindrops in two-piece glittery costumes, an ensemble which exposed more skin than drops. Mostly, they mimicked the steps of the Suzie Q and the Big Apple, the latest dance crazes to hit all the nightclubs, but hardly considered risqué. Yet, the second night of the show, the vice squad raided the cabaret and shut down the production for lewd, public exposure. Fortunately, Vaudeville entrepreneur, Frankie Fontaine, caught the show and then caught up with the girls. If the partners and roommates wanted to come up with a quick act, they could sign on with his traveling revue, Fontaine's Follies.

You got decent cabooses, Frankie informed the duo as his beady eyes sought to examine the partners beneath their fluffy clouds, plus nice-sized bazooms. Pardon my French, but I need one more act that'll pack 'em in.

He offered eight bucks a week per girl, and even hinted at the opportunity to take his follies all the way to California. Violet pulled her partner aside before making a commitment. Her argument ran along the lines of having to forfeit both their steady jobs and apartment; but Zue easily fought back with a whole sixty-four dollars a month with their combined salaries, plus room and board. And as she pointed out to her very best friend, they would be moving forward and onward to Hollywood, where they would, hopefully, realize their twin dreams of stardom.

In the end, Zue won out; and so, the girls quickly pulled together a routine. After all, they were both pros at practicing their singing and dancing. And while Zue kept her family surname, Vie decided to become Violet Todd, an easier and more sophisticated sobriquet. Thus, Lindstrom and Todd, the Daring Darlings, were born.

Now the girls took sixth billing out of twelve acts. They followed the Amazing Palominos, the five-member family of acrobats, and prefaced the magic show with the Great Lampini and his assistant, the Lovely Anastasia.

Other performers with the troupe included Lester Townsend and his animal act of six prancing Pekinese and his prized chimpanzee, Clarabelle; Lil’ Sweetie Pie, baton twirler and juggler; Riff ‘n Raff, the husband-wife comedy act of Toby Rifkin and Bernice Rafferty; Ted and Ned Lonigan, the Uptown Boys and their variety revue; the Faraday Family Singers and Vaudeville Players; the Clowning Cletus troupe; Monty Carlisle, comedian and impressionist; and twin contortionists, Ying and Yang. Of course, Ruby Latoure—the incomparable fan and bubble dancer—opened and closed the show while Frankie Fontaine performed emcee duties.

The revue allotted each act ten minutes of stage time, which meant the entire follies ran about two hours with a ten-minute intermission. For a quarter, the audience received their money's worth, and usually packed the show's scheduled venues. So far, the girls had played a two-night gig in Hartford, Connecticut, and a three-night stretch in Atlanta City. Now, they were on their way to Columbus, Ohio, with stops in Cincinnati and Lexington, Kentucky. Their schedule also included Louisville and Bowling Green, Kentucky; Knoxville and Chattanooga, Tennessee; Columbia, South Carolina; Augusta, Georgia; and then several cities in Florida.

Artie Beckman, their short, skinny manager, had commandeered two whole train cars to accommodate the traveling troupe. Of course, he, Frankie, and Ruby had first dibs on compartments while the rest of the acts made do with the coach berths. Not too long ago, Artie had the audacity to pester Zue for a date; and when she turned him down, he seemed to have it in for the Daring Darlings. For one, he had pulled a fast one by telling the duo they actually rated a compartment on this trip. So, Suzu and Violet had to learn fast.

You must live life completely, Zue’s mother, Mrs. Lindstrom, had wisely informed the girls during their formative years, in order to be happy. So get out and make the world yours; always live, laugh and love, and do so happily and completely. The girls had taken her words to heart. So, far they had gotten out of St. Joe, but the goal of making the world theirs remained a work in progress. As for love—well, that remained an elusive ideal as well...at least for now. And they would laugh only when they could do so all the way to the bank with fat paychecks to deposit.

Chapter 2

From his Pittsburgh hotel suite, he called several booking agencies to inquire about the schedule for the touring Fontaine's Follies. Finally, on his sixth try, he found a secretary who was familiar with Frankie Fontaine's bookings.

Cincinnati, you say? Well, thank you very much. As he hung up the telephone, he jotted down the city, and then inked a couple of lazy circles around it. Now he knew the blonde’s name and where she would be performing next. Luckily, he was not known in Cincinnati or in any of the other cities on the follies' tour list.

Still, he decided to lay low for now, especially after the headlines screamed the news: Starlet Murdered! Body Found Alongside Rural Road! Hollywood Newcomer Carlotta Negri Strangled!

Even the radio stations heralded the news: This just in from Tinseltown! the announcer proclaimed, Admiral Studios head, Gordon Drescher, in a statement today expressed his heartfelt sorrow over the death of his once-rising star, Carlotta Negri. Miss Negri had just completed the picture Tropic Zone, and was signed to co-star with Clark Gable in the upcoming romance, Blue Moon Over Havana. Miss Negri's body was discovered Thursday morning along a rural road just outside of Houghton, Pennsylvania. According to several sources, Miss Negri had taken a brief vacation to Atlantic City before resuming her highly-touted acting career. A passenger on the Century Limited, Miss Negri was last seen before a scheduled stop in Youngstown, Ohio. An autopsy is pending as foul play is indicated."

Foul play. Why, Carlotta had given the performance of a lifetime! In fact, he had made her all the more famous! Too bad she couldn't reap the kudos and adulation of her grieving fans. And too bad he couldn’t take a