Mysterical-E

He Said, She Says

WAITING FOR CAROLE
by Michelle Pretorius

“Why did you wait?”

Rex tried to keep his hands steady as he removed a Chesterfield from his silver cigaret case with his initials engraved on the front. Carole had given him the case. She always used to do things like that when she thought his attentions were waning. He pinched the cigaret lightly between his lips, searching his suit pockets. The lawyer, Mayer, flicked his lighter and extended the flame to Rex. The familiar smoke taste calmed him. He leaned his elbows on the stiff wooden office chair. Holding the cigaret between his thumb and forefinger, he waved his hand nonchalantly in the air, thin reams of smoke following his movement.

“I panicked. I don't know.”

Mayer sat down behind his heavy mahogany desk, surrounded by tall filing cabinets and gave Rex the once over. Harrison was unimpressive in real life, looking more like a kindly neighbor than a cheating heartthrob. His sandy brown hair was a little too long, his double breasted suit disheveled. His lined face made him look older than he did on the silver screen.

“I know Coroner Brown, Mr. Harrison. He is not going to let you get away with an answer like that.”

Rex sighed. “I didn't want it in the papers, okay? I'm married.”

Mayer pushed his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his thin nose. “Better. A bit callous, but at least it explains your actions.”

Rex didn't like the man. Mayer with his slicked down black hair and ugly suit showed him little reverence. He wasn't used to that.

“Look. I've gone to a psychiatrist, discussing the suicide with him, seeking the reasons for it. The plain fact is that Carole had a death wish.”

“Good. That's good. Be sure to mention the psychiatrist. It shows them that you were affected by Ms. Landis's death. Maybe some guilt over not being there for her.”

“I feel no guilt!”

“That means you're either innocent or a sociopath. Either way, it is of little use to our case.”
Rex looked out the window at downtown Los Angeles. A brand new black Tucker Torpedo was stuck behind a bus on Grand Avenue below.

“Now, we need to smooth some things out. Get your story straight.”

“I already told you what happened. There is nothing to get straight.”

“Let's go through it again. Some things are still a bit hazy.”

“Oh for God's sake.”

“Mr. Harris, this is for your own good. If there are holes in your story, you can be sure the coroner's inquest will find it.”

“Fine.” Rex took another pull from his cigaret, ashes dropping on the floor.

“Take me through it again. What happened that day?”

“Carole was throwing a 4th of July party. She asked me to come over later. Everyone was gone by the time I arrived.”

“A rather odd thing to do.”

“What?”

“Throw an elaborate 4th of July party before your death.”

“She tried it before, you know.”

“What's that?”

“Suicide. Several times in fact. She had a history of depression.”

“Yes. I'm familiar with the case file. This does count in our favor. But according to her family it was never serious. She always made sure that she would be saved.”

“So? She succeeded this time.”

“Perhaps.”

Mayer flipped the sheet on his legal pad, squinting his small brown eyes at the page.

“Look, I met her that night at her place in Pacific Pallisades...”

“1465 Capri Drive?”

“Right. We talked about her career. Scripts of a new play I had and the possibilities of her playing in it. We also discussed her returning to England. I told her I might be able to help. It was a pleasant evening.”

“Come on Mr. Harris.” Mayer raised his voice. People lying to him always agitated him. “Perfectly happy actresses having perfectly pleasant evenings, don't croak themselves.”

“Fine... We argued some. I'll admit it.”

“About?”

“You have to understand that Carole's career was going downhill. I was trying to help her.”

“Yes. But what did you argue about?”

Rex's nostrils flared, his frown deepening the creases between his eyes. Carole screaming, mascara running down her blotchy face, her blond curls disheveled from their lovemaking. Carole lying on the bathroom floor in a fetal position, her hands under her, like she was trying to push herself off the floor one more time. Carole wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, checkered skirt and sandals, her head resting on a jewelery box. The bathroom cabinet open, empty pill bottles in the drawer. Cesar Romero and Willard Parker carrying the coffin into the church, Carole's mother crying, following the body. Rex kept a stone face when they lowered the coffin, Lilly standing beside him at plot 814 in the Everlasting Love section, her accusing eyes hidden by her hat's black netting.

“Mr. Harrison?”

“She wanted me to leave Lilly. I told her no. One divorce was enough. Nearly wiped me out. She was upset. I told her I'd come back the next day when she had calmed down.”

“So you were the last person she saw that night and the first person to discover her body.”

“Yes. No. The maid, Fannie was with me.”

“That is Fannie Mae Bolden? She is scheduled to testify at the inquest.”

“Yes. Carole's heart was still beating when we found her.”

“Two problems with that. The maid claimed that you said that you thought Carole was dead when you walked in that morning.”

“I slept over at the Culvers's house. Nan woke me up and said that she found a suitcase filled with pictures of me and Carole in the driveway. I realized something was wrong.”

“Can you prove this?”

Rex clenched his jaw. “No. I burned the contents.”

“Best not mention it then. It will be frowned upon by the police. Look like you have something to hide.” Mayer interlocked his fingers and rested his hands on the desk. “Second, the coroner said she died at 4am. She was definitely not alive by the time you got to her.”

“It felt like her heart was beating. I thought... You don't think rationally in situations like that you know. I was upset. Maybe I wanted her to be alive, I don't know.”

“Too many loose ends. Inconsistencies. The family is accusing you of murder, Mr. Harrison, so you better start being sure of things.”

“They can't prove anything. We were just friends as far as the world is concerned. We kept things private.”

Mayer lowered his chin, peering at Rex over the rim of his glasses. “You're sure about that?”

“You destroyed the note, didn't you? I instructed you to.”

“Yes. Of course. It was taken care of.”

“So the only note was the one to her mother.”

“And the letter you paid that police officer to destroy.”

“He was a fan. He understood that I had nothing to do with her death.”

Mayer shook his head. He sighed and returned to his notes. “So the question is still, why did you wait before calling the police?”

“I called them, didn't I? I called a doctor too.”

“Because you thought she was still alive.”

“Yes.”

“Then the question still remains, Mr. Harrison. Why did you wait?”

“I answered that.”

“You said you went home, to avoid the papers, but since you called the doctor and the police, everybody already knew you were involved. If you thought she was still alive, why did you wait to call them?”

“Carole died of an overdose of Seconal. Unless the police can prove that I force-fed them to her, I really don't see how anyone can think that I killed her.”

Rex got out of his chair. His legs felt stiff. He stepped over to Mayer's desk and put his cigaret out in the glass ashtray. Mayer made more notes, his veined hand leaving spiderweb markings across the page in front of him.

“Look it's obvious, isn't it?”

Mayer looked up, a frown between his thick eyebrows. “What's that, Mr. Harris?”

“She thought I'd be back. That I'd find her. She did it before. She thought she could manipulate me into staying with her.”

“But it was too late.”

“Exactly.”

Mayer pursed his lips. He nodded. “Well, I think we covered everything.” He got up and walked Rex to his office door, shaking hands with him at the threshold. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Rex walked past the homely receptionist. She smiled at him, touching her mousy brown hair as he passed. There was a hint of recognition in the elevator operator's eyes. Rex was thankful that the man didn't say anything. The last thing he was in the mood for was being a gracious star. The steel door shut in front of him and the elevator started its decent.

Why did he wait? He thought of Carole when they met, joyous, full of fun. Carole making his heart beat faster, spending a carefree afternoon together. Carole breaking up with him. Telling him that she misses him, wanted him back, her body wrapped in white hotel sheets. Carole telling him that she loved him. Why did he wait? Carole threatening. Carole refusing to let go. He sat on the edge of the bathtub staring at her body, sure that he felt something when he put his finger on her wrist. He had calmed Fanny down. Told her that he would take care of things.

The operator pushed the screen aside and Rex walked down the short hallway onto the street. He took the cigarette case out of his pocket. The sun reflected off it's silver surface, momentarily blinding him. It was the only thing of hers that he had saved. Rex opened the silver case, took a Chesterfield out. He dropped the case on the blacktop, pushing it towards the storm drain with his Oxfords. He hesitated for only a moment before giving it the final shove down the hole and signaling the valet for his car.

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Bio

Michelle Pretorius was born in South Africa and has lived in London, New York and the Midwest. She is a graduate student in Fiction Writing at Columbia College Chicago. Her work has been published in Word Riot, Everyday Fiction, HyperText and The Copperfield Review. She has written book reviews for Bookslut and The Columbia Review Lab and her photographs have appeared in Midwestern Gothic.