Page 73 of The Happy Month
She swung the door open, and we walked in as she called out, “Wally, you’ve got company.”
The living room was filled with the cheesy kind of furniture you bought in a set after seeing an ad for it on theback page of the newspaper. A leg on the sofa had broken, making it sag in the middle. It looked sad and unhappy. The room was twenty degrees cooler than it was outside but by no means cool. It was also damp.
Wallace Philburn came down a hallway that probably led to several bedrooms. He wore a wife-beater and a pair of shorts that had once been slacks until they got cut off at the knees. On his feet were black socks and brown slippers. He was around seventy and looked every minute of it.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Manners Wally,” Sophia said. “Don’t cuss people out until you know why you’re doing it.”
“As I told you on the phone, Mr. Philburn, I’m investigating the Vera Korenko murder for the family of Patrick Gill. I’m Dom Reilly.”
“Okay, yeah, I remember. I don’t remember inviting you here.”
Ignoring that part, I continued, “This is my partner, Ronnie Chen.”
“Reilly and Chen. Sounds like a goddamn TV show. A pair of mismatched private eyes.” He’d totally missed that I meant partner in another way. I glanced at Ronnie and saw the delight in his eyes. He’d love it if we were a TV show. Then Philburn added, “Not a successful TV show. One that would get canceled mid-season.”
That dampened Ronnie’s enthusiasm. Sophia asked, “You want some water? It’s all we got. I’m not sure we’ve got any ice cubes left.”
Ronnie and I said we were fine.
I said, “I want to ask you some questions about the people you interviewed for your book.”
“Why do they want to dig all this up again?”
I explained Patrick’s condition and what he’d been saying.
“It’s distressed his sister quite a lot.”
“Have you found any proof he did it? That he murdered Vera?” He asked excitedly. “You’ll have to let me interview you. If you’ve found the murderer my publisher might put out a new edition of the book… with a brand-new final chapter.”
Like an old-fashioned cartoon his eyeballs turned to dollar signs. I tried to let him down easy. “I haven’t found the killer yet. But I’m hoping you can help with that.”
“You’re sure Gill didn’t do it?”
“I’m sure.”
“It would make sense. They went to great lengths to make sure I didn’t mention any of the family in the book. Why else would they be so worried?”
“He’s gay. So was Vera. Their engagement was a kind of misdirection.”
He didn’t look surprised. “Yes, well, that wasn’t the story my publisher wanted, so that’s not what I wrote. You see, Gill’s family freaked out for nothing. I couldn’t include him in the book. Not truthfully.”
That seemed off. Patrick’s sister didn’t know he was gay. Did her husband?
“When they threatened to sue you, did it come up that he was gay?”
“No, of course not. People didn’t talk about that then.”
“Why didn’t your publisher want you to tell the truth?” Ronnie asked. “Wouldn’t that be the point of the book? The truth? If she was killed for being a lesbian?”
“The point of any book is to sell books. There had been a very popular book about the Black Dahlia a few years prior. That’s what they wanted. The same story. Beautifulyoung girl comes to Hollywood to become a star and her dreams end in tragedy. It doesn’t work if she’s a lesbian and got what she deserved.”
Knowing Ronnie, I placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him quiet. Philburn took it in, but continued, “The audience is women all over the country who thought about a life in Hollywood but were too scared to leave home. Stories like Elizabeth Short and Vera Korenko tell these girls they made the right decision. But for the grace of God… you know? They pay money for that.”
“But you did interview people; you did actually investigate Vera’s murder,” I said.
“Of course, I did. Just because I gave my publisher what they wanted doesn’t mean I don’t have integrity.”
