Chapter 75

LOUELLA PARSONS WAS driving Lionel crazy with her rewrites. For a matronly lady who dressed like she was meeting her friends for a rubber of bridge, Louella intimidated as many people at Essanay as Spoor or Anderson. He didn’t know what was worse: being forced to churn out his own drivel for the studio, or enduring endless revisions on marginally better material written by someone else.

Now he and Parsons stood watching Carrera set up a new scene that Lionel had rewritten at her urging, but Lionel had already decided this would be the last time. When he saw Spoor, he’d pitch his idea for a movie inspired by the Riverview murders. If Spoor turned it down, he’d buy a train ticket and try his luck at the Niles studio.

Then a messenger burst into the scenarists’ room.

“He’s done it again!” he cried, waving a special noontime edition of the Pilot, a broadsheet emblazoned with one-inch headlines. Billy Carrera grabbed the paper as cast and crew crowded around him.

“Jesus,” Lionel muttered as he read over Louella’s shoulder:

Girl Narrowly Escapes Killer’s Hands

Una O’Harran, thirteen years old, recounted how she was snatched from playing a game with other children in a vacant yard near Division Street early this morning. The young girl managed to escape but her adductor fled…

An actor pushed his way past Lionel, blocking his view. But he’d read enough. It would be impossible for anyone to focus on A Truckload of Taters until after lunch.

Someone tapped his shoulder: Louella. “I’ll need you here this afternoon for Bettie’s Bathing Beauty Boast. That Valerie can’t remember her own name. You’re going to have to simplify her lines.”

“What time?”

“Three o’clock. Don’t be late again.”

Lionel wouldn’t be late. He was done taking orders from Louella. He’d get his notebook, talk to Spoor, and take his chances.

He headed down the hall to Glory’s dressing room. Glory sat inside, curling her hair in front of the mirror.

“Did you find it?” he asked.

Glory carefully freed the curling iron from a ringlet. “I didn’t have enough time. But I saw Pin and asked him if he could bring it with him with the…you know.”

“Well, I haven’t seen him here,” snapped Lionel. “Have you?”

“Not yet. I expect he’ll be along soon.”

This is what he got for trusting a kid. “I guess I’ll just go myself, then. Did you hear that guy tried to kill another girl?”

“No! What happened?”

“Somewhere in an Irish slum, the girl got away. You better be careful, Glory—when Pin comes around, maybe you should ask him to stay and protect you.”

He meant it as a joke. But to his surprise, Glory’s cheeks pinked.