Murder! Hollywood Style Read online

  First Edition Design Publishing

  Sarasota, Florida

  Murder! Hollywood Style

  Copyright ©2015 Carol Branston

  ISBN 978-1622-878-68-0 PRINT

  ISBN 978-1622-878-69-7 EBOOK

  LCCN 2015935723

  April 2015

  Published and Distributed by

  First Edition Design Publishing, Inc.

  P.O. Box 20217, Sarasota, FL 34276-3217

  www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means ─ electronic, mechanical, photo-copy, recording, or any other ─ except brief quotation in reviews, without the prior permission of the author or publisher.

  Los Angeles Tribune, Nov. 1975

  EXTRA EDITION

  MOVIE STAR STABBED TO DEATH

  Hollywood, California. Film star Nicky Venuti, found stabbed to death outside his apartment house in West Hollywood.

  Only suspect: a boy with long blond hair was described running from the scene wearing a baseball cap, dark denim jacket, and jeans.

  The Funeral-November 1975

  Nicky would have loved it. It could have been a scene from a movie. Even the weather had cooperated: gray and overcast. The damp chill in the air went through to the bone. The cemetery, one of the oldest in Brooklyn, was filled with huge marble headstones and life-size statues of angels and saints. They seemed to be looking down at the people gathered at the graveside. Most of the mourners were family members. It was a traditional Italian funeral—very emotional. The prominent color of the scene was black.

  A few familiar faces from the entertainment world had come to show their respect: one of them, a beautiful blonde girl in her twenties. She hid beneath her wide-brimmed hat, trying to hold back her tears.

  Nicky’s casket was slowly being lowered into the ground.

  *****

  You can call me Joe. I’m the storyteller. Most of you don’t know me and may wonder how I could possibly relate a tale such as this in such detail. Before you dismiss me as just someone on the sidelines, let me assure you, I was present at many of the incidents that occur in this story. When not present, I was told the rest in minute detail.

  You see at that time—, [I’m talking about the late sixties and seventies—I was the numero uno hairdresser in New York City. To be precise, I was Mr. Joseph on Fifth.

  And my dears, let me tell you, from my clients who ran the gamut from Park Avenue ladies to drag queens, I heard it all! The problem is, for some reason I still remember so much of it. So vividly! The places, the clothes, the dialogue. It haunts me as if it were yesterday. I wonder if others are dealt the same burden? No joke, it really is a burden.

  That supposed fun-filled era still jolts the curiosity of so many people, and I’m sure there are hundreds of stories out there worth telling. Trust me, I’ve heard quite a few of them myself. That’s what prompted me to tell mine. I call it my snapshot of the times. I’m hopeful my sharing of this time capsule will somehow liberate me.

  I’ve changed some of the dates and of course the names of most of the characters. After all, a few of us are still around. But believe me, apart from that, the story is pretty accurate. From now on, in this tapestry of the times, I will become a character named “Joe,” and will speak of myself in the third person.

  This is the way Joe remembers it.

  A novel by

  Carol Branston

  Chapter 1

  Seven Years Earlier: Rome 1969

  When Nicky Venuti landed in Rome, he was swamped by fans and reporters. He couldn’t have been happier with the turnout. The PR firm he’d hired in L.A. had earned their money. Nicky knew the power of the press, and apart from that, he liked the attention, he was used to it. He’d lived with it since breaking into the movies and becoming a teenage idol. Now in his midtwenties, he was going through the difficult transition most teenage stars go through: that of being accepted as an adult leading man. His boyhood looks had matured to his advantage. He’d looked after his body and moved with precision. Playing volleyball in all those beach movies had helped. His jet-black hair and his California tan made his famous smile even more dazzling when he waved at his fans and stopped to sign a few autographs.

  His agent, Harry Blue, met him with a limo. Nicky’s smile disappeared for the ride to the hotel.

  “Cut to the chase, Harry. Fill me in.”

  “Okay, for starters, I want to emphasize how big a deal this flick is. I worked my ass off getting you this. It’s gonna be big. OK, I know the money’s not what we wanted, but if this happens like I think it will, next time we’ll be able to write in our own numbers.”

  “I dig, I dig. What about Wilhelm? I hear he’s a crazy mother.”

  “I haven’t seen much of him. His rep is pretty cool. What you see is what you get. Listen Nicky, just do what you do best. It’s worked before; I don’t see why it won’t work now.”

  Harry dropped him off at the busy Hotel Excelsior, conveniently forgetting to tell Nicky he had a room, not a suite, reserved in his name.

  “I’m Nicky Venuti. There must have been a mistake. I was supposed to have a suite.”

  “Sorry, Señor Venuti, there is no mistake, but I have a new message for you. You must go to Señor Zykor’s suite for a meeting right now. The press is there. He is in suite 586. Thank you, Señor Venuti.”

  He looked at his watch and decided to keep Zykor waiting. He had to make an entrance. He felt uptight, a new feeling for him. He checked himself out in the mirror. He knew he looked good; that didn’t help his nerves. He sat on the edge of the bed biting his nails. He looked at his watch again. Five minutes had taken an hour. It was worse sitting there trying to kill time. He took some deep breaths, put on his smile, and, looking as confident as he could, he walked into the director’s suite. Another surprise greeted him. The press corps hardly looked his way. They were completely involved with Wilhelm Zykor’s newest discovery; a young, beautiful British girl.

  Valerie Rhodes was her name. Her background was similar to Nicky’s. She’d been a well-known child star in England, both in film and on the stage. At fifteen, a French director, Francois Canet, had taken an interest in her and she’d spent the last three years in France, where together they’d made a few artsy, low-budget films that were critically acclaimed but not distributed to a large market. During her time with Francois, she had learnt her craft, the French language, and the je ne sais quois that makes French women so special. Now at eighteen, she was in Rome to star in her first major film with a major director.

  Mr. Director, Wilhelm Zykor, was about to make his biggest-budget movie ever. He had the reputation for discovering actors who were well known in Europe, yet still unknown in the States. Usually, without studio money and distribution capabilities behind them, it was difficult for such actors to gain worldwide exposure with any film. Wilhelm had found a fountain of talent that way, ready to work for less money in exchange for the generous opportunity he gave them. When he’d seen Valerie’s last French film she fell right into that category and he thought her perfect to play his young female lead. His past box-office successes using this practice gave him enough clout with the money guys in L.A. to convince them to support his decision to cast an unknown in his latest endeavor. Wilhelm’s thrived on that kind of gamble. It made the adrenaline rush through his veins. It was the kind of pressure that made him feel alive.

  Having Nicky Venuti costar with her was another gamble—one he hadn’t figured on. Nicky hadn’t been his choice, but he’d had to go along with that part of the deal—something to do with where the money came from. As Wilhelm put it, “so
what else is new?” When he saw the two of them together for the first time, he breathed a little easier. They clicked! There was definite chemistry there. He could smell it. Now, all he had to do was get a performance out of them.

  Nicky stood looking at his soon-to-be costar. This unknown girl was about to help make or break his career. He had to admit she definitely had the looks. She was blonde and petite. That was good for him. He’d worried about being cast with someone taller than him. She had curves in the right places without being just a body. She had a flawless, English, peaches-and-cream complexion. He could tell just by looking at her that her face would work on camera from any angle. Her enormous blue eyes looked at him and smiled when she did. Her lips were full and soft. She didn’t wear much makeup. He liked that; mascara and a touch of lipstick were all she needed.

  Valerie stood there in awe. She’d been a fan of Nicky’s since his early teenage beach movies. She couldn’t believe he was in the same room, let alone speaking to her.

  “Valerie. Nice name. Good to meet you.”

  When she spoke, she surprised him. Her voice had a unique quality. It was deeper and more mature than he’d expected, yet it fit her to a T.

  “Hello, Nicky. I’m so happy to meet you.”

  That afternoon in the director’s suite, out of all the people in the room, Valerie seemed to be the only person excited about Nicky being there. He was still holding Valerie’s hand when the press descended once more, bombarding her with questions and ignoring him entirely. He managed to keep his cool, trying to not look as uncomfortable as he felt. In a matter of seconds he’d regained his composure and stood there faking interest in every word Valerie said. He watched Little Miss Nobody, fascinated. She already had the press eating out of her hand. That’s when it hit him: what he needed was right there in front of him. Miss Valerie Rhodes. As simple as that. He wasted no time thinking about it. As far as he was concerned, Miss Rhodes was about to meet the love of her life. He put on his Mr. Nice Guy persona and slid in for the kill.

  “Valerie I’d love to be your personal guide while we’re here in my favorite city. I know Rome welI, and I’m sure you’ll need me to protect you from the good-looking Romano’s who’ll probably want to show you Rome from a different hill every night.”

  Everyone assembled there laughed in agreement, including Valerie.

  “Tonight, let me take you to dinner. We’ll go to Restaurante Tre Scalini. It’s always my first stop on my first night in Rome.

  Everyone hung on to every word he said; they all approved of his suggestion and applauded, then turned to Valerie waiting for her answer.

  “I’d love to.”

  Nicky took her hand and kissed it. It worked! Bulbs flashed madly as the two had their first pictures taken together. The press conference was soon over. The reporters left satisfied; they had their story.

  Nicky wanted a few moments with Wilhelm before they went into production. He saw him seated, going through some papers, and made a beeline for him leaving Valerie standing in the middle of the room, alone.

  A stunning blonde woman, who had hovered in the background watching everyone’s every move, quickly rescued Valerie and took her out to the balcony. She was Anne Rhodes, Valerie’s mother.

  “This is it. All my hard work…”

  “Did you see him, Mummy? He seemed to like me. Me! Can you believe it? I just don’t want this time to end. Look, Mummy—Rome. We’re in Italy, and that’s Nicky Venuti in there!”

  “Now, darling, this is too important a time for you to get starry-eyed. This is the chance I’ve dreamed of for you. You’ll see. I was right! You really are something special.”

  “Really, Mummy, I hate it when you speak like that. It makes me feel like an object.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course you’re not an object. You’re my baby. My life! But darling, everything we’ve dreamed of is going to be possible now. You will go out to dinner tonight with that man, but no late night! We have to be up early, and our schedule is ridiculous. First thing tomorrow there’s wardrobe and hair, then a dialogue coach, and then on top of all that there’s a party tomorrow night.”

  Nicky had aired his likes and dislikes with Mr. Director. Wilhelm sat across from him listening patiently. He even agreed with Nicky about a couple of his minor beefs and promised to do what he could.

  “But that’s it, Nicky. My hands are tied when it comes to hotels and per diem. You know I don’t have anything to do with that crap. I just want to tell you I’m glad you’re aboard for this ride. Let’s make it work. Okay?”

  “You know I won’t let you down. Thanks, Wilhelm.”

  They shook hands, their meeting over. Nicky found Valerie and her mother on the balcony.

  “Be ready at eight-thirty. I don’t like to be kept waiting. And wear something that will look good with my tan suit.”

  Valerie answered sheepishly.

  “Okay, Nicky.”

  Her mother had to turn away to hide her anger.

  Nicky went straight to his room and put a long-distance call through to L.A.

  “Listen. It’s a bad connection, so just listen, goddamn it. I’ve found the thing that’s gonna make us possible. You’re gonna hear a lot about me and a Valerie Rhodes. You’re not gonna like it, but don’t get uptight. Keep saying to yourself, it’s for us! I’m coming out of this a fucking superstar if it kills me. We’ll tell them all to go screw, you’ll see. It’ll be you and me baby. I have to split. Someone’s at the door. Be cool.”

  A bellboy came in with Nicky’s luggage. He was handsome and overly friendly. He spoke English quite well.

  “I see you in the movies. I like very much.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I meet many Americans, very nice.”

  “Good, I’m glad.”

  “Do you know a Señor Peter Angus?”

  “Why?”

  “He stayed last year. He told me you had been a good friend, that’s all.”

  “No. I mean, I don’t remember the last time I saw him. We’re not in touch.”

  Nicky pulled out a wad of bills.

  “I have to get dressed. Here. This is for bringing up my luggage, and this is for forgetting my friends.”

  With that, he gave the bellboy two ten dollar bills.

  “But of course, Señor Venuti. Of course.”

  That evening Nicky and Valerie arrived at Restaurante Tres Scalini, and just as he’d hoped, the maître d’ showed them to the prime table where they could see and be seen by everyone. Nicky ordered for both of them. When the wine was poured, he lifted his glass to make a toast, sounding like Cary Grant when he started, and returning to his native Brooklyn accent when he ended.

  “Restaurants are the best places to get to know one another. Of course, they must have at least four stars. That way the delicacies you put in your mouth can only complement the beauty sitting next to you. The wine brings a blush to a cheek that candlelight activates to an exciting glow. The time one takes to savor each delicious morsel gives one the chance to solve the problems of the universe. And! The bill can only be tolerated, because the studio is picking up the tab.”

  Valerie burst out laughing. They clinked glasses and sipped their wine. The getting-to-know-you small talk became easier as the evening went along.

  “I didn’t know you were so funny. This whole thing is so unreal. I mean, Rome. A movie. You! Honestly. I wouldn’t say this to anyone else, but I’m scared.”

  He took her hand and smiled.

  She continued. “No really Nicky, I’m serious. Am I good enough? I’ve landed the biggie, and I don’t know. All my life since I can remember I’ve been told I’m special, and I’ve always worked toward something like this. Look at me and tell me, can I really do it? Tell me the truth. I know it’s silly. I’ve only known you for a minute. Isn’t that weird?”

  “No, not really. All I can tell you, Miss Valerie Rhodes, is you’ve got it. Being scared is part of it, believe me. Together, we’ll make you make
it happen!”

  He gently took her face in his hands, leaned across the table, and kissed her lightly on the lips.

  “As long as you’re here, I’ll be able to do it.”

  “Looks like I’ll be here. It’s in the contract.”

  She managed to smile.

  “Come on, it’s time I got you home. We’ve got to get ready for tomorrow.”

  “Yes. And all the tomorrows.”

  They left a hushed restaurant full of people looking and whispering.

  Nicky had let the concierge at the hotel know where they were going for dinner. He knew that most of the concierges in the best hotels earned a few extra lira letting the paparazzi know where celebrities would be dancing or dining that night. He’d been right. The two of them were blinded by flashbulbs as they pushed their way through the crowd and jumped in a taxi. Their first night together had fallen easily into place exactly the way Nicky had wanted it to. In fact, it was even better.

  It was amazing how their romance caught fire. The public couldn’t get enough of them. Gossip columnists had a heyday. The paparazzi followed them everywhere doing everything. After that first night they became the newest international item. Magazines and newspapers wrote story after story about Nicky Venuti, the boy star, now man enough to fall in love. Their pictures smiled from magazine racks worldwide.

  Before shooting started on the film, the PR team decided the name Valerie sounded “too young,” so Val Rhodes was born. On the set, work was the second most important thing to Val. She was in love. She didn’t have to act. Their steamy scenes together were so sexy, Wilhelm knew he’d have to make a separate cut for the European market, or end up with an X-rating. He couldn’t have been happier. He’d settled for a smaller salary up front, plus a percentage of the gross. By the looks of things, the financial part of his gamble was going to pay off well—very well indeed.