Hollywood Secrets

FINAL PART: The saboteur isn’t the only one to be unmasked as the sleuths pay a midnight visit to the film studio…

Lottie followed a corridor to where a second heavy opened an inner door.

For a second, she could see nothing but smoke so thick it burned her eyes.

The barrage of hot jazz and hearty voices was deafening. As Lottie wormed her way through the crowd, she noted the familiar faces of film stars and mobsters.

Brandon, in a vested brown pin-stripe suit and natty claret bowtie, had his back to the bar. Cynthia’s chin and one hand were on his chest as she gazed up at him.

“… and BirthOfAmerica was the finest film ever made,” Cynthia was trilling.

“Really?” Brandon didn’t look overly interested, but was clearly weakening. He was a man, after all. would erase all thought of Cynthia and every other girl he’d met from his mind.

It took Brandon a moment to regain the power of speech.

“W-what brought that on?” he asked. “You asked me for a date, didn’t you?” Lottie tried to resume a semblance of her normally demure composure.

“You said you were washing your hair tonight,” Brandon reminded her.

“Doesn’t it look clean?” She tossed the wavy chestnut locks that he’d previously only seen pinned back severely.

“It looks incredible. But what I mean is, you gave me the brush-off.”

“Well, I’m here now –” she took his hand – “and the night’s still young.”

On the corner, she glanced down the boulevard. Plain clothes detective Lieutenant Hogan was standing outside the restaurant she’d just left.

“This way.” She hustled Brandon across the street. The director looked back as she hurried him down another side street.

“What happened to your date with Hogan?” he asked.

“He invited me to dinner because he probably thought he’d get more information about the studio out of me in an informal situation.” Lottie glanced back to check the detective wasn’t following.

“I, meanwhile, thought it would be a chance to get some beans out of him about the police investigation.”

“Any luck?”

“They’re getting nowhere.”

“Why didn’t you tell me what you were up to?” Brandon pressed.

Lottie thought quickly. “I, um, thought you’d be jealous.”

“Jealous like you were of me and Cynthia?” Brandon teased.

Her cheeks burning, Lottie wondered if she should allow him that satisfaction. After the smacker outside Reily’s, there was no point hiding her feelings.

Surprised by the urgency with which she’d left Hogan in the restaurant, she admitted, “Until I saw you with Cynthia I didn’t know what jealousy was.”

Brandon grinned like it was the best news he’d ever heard.

led seemingly all the way to the stars.

“You’re going to climb up there?” Brandon eyed her evening dress.

“Excuse my immodesty.” Lottie tugged her dress and petticoat up around her waist. Brandon gawped at her teacoloured stockings and white silk drawers.

“Follow me!” said Lottie and shot up the ladder like a monkey.

Three storeys up, she swung her legs over a low wall that bordered the flat roof. She wriggled her slinky dress back into place as Brandon’s face appeared over the wall, his eyes like ping-pong balls. “Enjoying your date?” Lottie teased. “I wish it was a longer ladder. I could have chased that view up twenty floors!” “You’re no gentleman, Mr Ford.”

“But you’re some lady!”

Lottie trotted across the roof to a small building housing a fire escape door.

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“Bad dog!” Savannah scolded her pet. While Jake was distracted, Lottie leapt forward and twisted the gun from his hand. “Face to the wall, hands behind your back!” she barked.

“Rush her, Savannah,” said Jake.

“She can’t cover us both!”

“Then I’m off!” said Savannah and legged it down the corridor. Covering Jake with one hand, Lottie pulled handcuffs from her purse and snapped them on his wrists. “Brandon!” she yelled. “You hear me?” The reply was the whoosh of a fire extinguisher.

“I’m OK,” Brandon shouted up the stairs, “and the fire’s nearly out!”

“Then get up here and guard this brute, while I catch Savannah!”

Two days later in Rex Copperman’s office…

“The heroes of the hour!” Rex Copperman beckoned them towards the leather-topped desk. “Brandon Ford and Lottie Pepper,” the florid-faced film magnate beamed, waving his cigar. “Apologies, I mean Detective Salt…”

“Lottie will do fine,” she assured him as she sat across the desk with Brandon.

“Either way, the two of you have saved the studio. Thanks to the insurance payout for the sabotage, Mr Ford, I’m in a position to reward you with a generous budget for your next feature, and I have the perfect idea: the thrilling true-life story of America’s most daring lady detective!”

“Can we persuade you take a starring role as yourself?” Brandon asked her.

“Oh, I could never act!” Lottie laughed. “Besides, there are still too many crimes to be solved.” She stood up. “Lieutenant Hogan is waiting to brief me on my next assignment right now.”

Brandon stood anxiously.

“I will still see you, though?”

“I certainly hope so, lover.” She stepped boldly into his arms.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Brandon held her. “With your penchant for changing names I’m hoping you might consider changing your last one to Ford.”

“Lottie Ford has a nice ring…”

“She will have,” Brandon promised. “I hope you like dogs,” said Lottie, “because with Savannah behind bars, I seem to have got custody of Pom Pom.” “Well, he did save the day, too.”

“You should always be nice to dogs,” said Lottie. “You never know when you’ll need one to take your side in a fight!”

BY JUDY PUNCH