Maddie Ellis and the Malibu Movie Colony is an old-fashioned mystery serial set during the end of the silent movie era. All of the previous chapters are available online at topanganewtimes.com under the Storyland menu. In Chapter 13, Maddie meets the elusive actress Isabel Flores and learns more about Johnny Roberts, the costars of the troubled film she has been hired to rewrite. Join us as we travel back in time to Hollywood in January 1928.
Isabel Flores, the great siren of the silver screen, was willing to see them. Maddie was driven to her home in Hoffmann’s cherry-red Durant touring car—no Rolls Royce for this modest mogul, although he did employ a chauffeur. Maddie was accompanied by Milo and Hoffmann himself. For a moment, Maddie was worried that Hoffmann’s assistant and secretary were also intended to join the entourage, but it was decided that a smaller delegation was desirable.
The actress had one of the new homes that were springing up all over Los Angeles. It was not far from the Mammoth Pictures Studio. It was a two-story house, set in a prim landscape of neat green lawn and clipped geometric topiary, but pots of old-fashioned pansies on either side of the entryway lent a homey touch.
The door had a knocker shaped like a lion’s head. They knocked, and were answered by a maid in a trim uniform. The maid escorted them into a pleasant living room straight out of a women’s magazine. The furniture was covered in eau de nil floral chintz, the walls and curtains were pale ivory, and the furniture was dainty. Everything was elegant and tasteful, but there were signs that Isabel Flores was an individualist.
The built-in bookcases held delicate china, but they also held books—a motley collection the owner had clearly read and reread. The impeccable parquet floors were scattered not only with soft, pastel rugs, but also with dog and cat toys.
Isabel Flores was beautiful even with her leg in a cast and the bruises from her accident not yet entirely faded. She welcomed them graciously from a chaise lounge on which she reclined. The actress had played queens and concubines, beggar maids and empresses, her dark beauty landing her exotic roles. There was something about her that was queenly, but it wasn’t the arrogance that aristocracy can impart. Instead, it was a sort of graciousness and warmth. No wonder her star shone so bright, Maddie thought.
The actress was attended by a middle-aged man who had been sitting on the chair beside her. He rose as they entered. A ginger cat sat in the actress’ lap, but he only acknowledged the newcomers’ arrival by twitching an ear and briefly opening one green eye. An elderly dog of indeterminate breed and medium size arose from the carpet in front of the chaise lounge to greet them with a pink yawn and a wave of its tail.
“Miss Ellis, I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” the actress said to Maddie, extending an elegant hand and giving the writer a welcoming smile. Even Isabel Flores’ voice was beautiful, although her English was heavily accented.
“Do have a seat. Margo will bring us some tea.” She nodded at the maid and turned back to her guests. “Miss Ellis, Mr Hoffmann, Mr Devlin, may I present the man who has saved my life, this is Doctor Benjamin Gilbert.”
She said it as if she was introducing a prince, but the doctor was unassuming, with a stocky build, graying hair, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, and a face that was more homely than handsome. As he shook hands with everyone, Maddie decided that his appearance was not anticlimactic after all. He projected a sense of calm authority.
“Miss Flores’ injuries are serious,” he said. “But I have rarely had a patient so dedicated to recovery. I hope what you ask is not too physically demanding, for I know she will want to try.”
“I would like to finish this film,” Isabel said. “As long as what I have to do does not conflict with what my doctor tells me I may do,” she smiled at him.
“You will not need to exert yourself physically,” Milo assured her.
“We need you, dear lady, to complete the film,” Mr Hoffmann added. “It’s terribly important.”
Isabel looked at the doctor. The doctor nodded. “I do not want you to compromise Miss Flores’ recovery with unnecessary risks, but as long as no exertion is required it sounds safe enough,” he said.
“Miss Flores, there is one more thing. Will you be able to work with Johnny Roberts?” Maddie asked, bluntly. “I have heard that you were close and that now you are not.”
A frown creased Isabel Flores’ perfect features. “I am a professional actress, Miss Ellis,” she said. “I do not have to like the people I work with. I only have to make sure I do the work to the best of my ability. I will do what needs to be done.”
The maid arrived at that moment with a tea cart. On it was a plate of sugar cookies, an elegant bone china teapot, and five teacups: pink and white with gold trim and a pattern of flowers.
“Miss Ellis, would you please pour for us,” Miss Flores asked.
“How pretty!” Maddie said, admiring the china as she handed the cups around.
Miss Flores smiled. “I love nice things. A certain gentleman of my acquaintance used to make fun of me for that. He was ruthlessly unsentimental and was always teasing me that I would end up a fussy old lady surrounded by dusty knickknacks, but when I was a child we were very poor. My mother, she had one pretty thing, a china teacup. It was pink with flowers. Drinking from it was a special treat for us children.”
“That is why you chose this pattern, isn’t it?” Maddie said. She realized she had seen it before. That fragment of china she found on the beach on her first morning in Malibu was the same shade of pink. Someone had broken a piece of this same china and thrown it into the sea.
“It is,” Isabel said. “Every time I see it I remember Mama, who loved beauty and had so little of it.”
At the sight—or possibly the smell—of the sugar cookies, the cat leaped lightly down from her human’s lap and advanced on Maddie, who was in the process of passing the cookies around.
Miss Flores laughed. “That is Roquefort, and he is horribly greedy, but you can give him a tiny piece if you do not mind sharing. He would like it. He’s the only cat I’ve ever had who loves to eat things like that. Once he snuck onto the dining room table and stole an entire spear of asperge—asparagus. He took it and ran and ate it all up before I could catch him. He is a funny cat. He was starving when I found him, so perhaps that is why he values food that other cats would not eat.”
Maddie obliged. The cat took the crumb of cookie with great politeness and carried it under the coffee table to avoid the dog that was now leaning on Milo’s knee, eyeing him sadly, and emitting wheezes.
“I’ll share, too, but leave some for me,” Milo told the dog, offering a piece of pastry.
“He’s quite an elderly gentleman, isn’t he?” Maddie said.
“He is! Bruno is my good luck charm,” Miss Flores said. “I found him almost the day I arrived in Los Angeles, and that was twelve years ago.”
The doctor had more questions about the filming as they drank their tea. Milo and Hoffman reassured him. Maddie explained how she was reworking the actress’ scenes to ensure her safety and comfort. Gilbert agreed that his patient could return to the set provided he could accompany her.
“I think I would like Miss Ellis present, too,” the actress said. She smiled at Maddie. “You can be my chaperone. And now I must ask you to go, for it is time for my yoga practice. The pranayama—breathing exercises—helps me to control the pain. Gloria Swanson recommended her teacher. She also recommended a diet of grapefruit. The grapefruit I do not like, it is bitter when I want life to be sweet, but the yoga, that has been good, and I am grateful for it. I am even grateful for the pain, because I am alive, and I am grateful for a second chance with this film. Thank you.”
The doctor walked out with them. “She is a remarkable woman,” he said. “I have rarely had a patient so committed to the regime necessary for a full recovery. I know she has been fretting over the film. I am relieved that she will be able to finish filming without undue stress.” He nodded at the filmmakers, and strode back to the house.
“Did you get what you hoped for, Miss Ellis?” Hoffmann asked, once the chauffeur helped them back into the Durant.
“I did,” she said. “Now we just need to track down Roberts and hope that he is sober enough to think straight.”
“He lives at the Hollywood Hotel,” Hoffmann said, looking at his watch. “I took the liberty of calling and requesting that he join us for lunch.”
Maddie had often passed the grand old hotel, with its Spanish colonial revival architecture and fanciful turrets, but she had never been inside of it before. The trees were bigger than she remembered, and a new building—the First National Bank of Hollywood—towered over the turrets, but the hotel looked just the same.
The desk clerk informed them that Mr Roberts would be down in 10 minutes. He joined them in the lounge, handsome and spruce in a gray suit and red tie. He gave them a brilliant smile, but up close he was red-eyed and haggard.
A solicitous waiter brought him a glass with something thick and red in it—the kind of hangover remedy that featured raw eggs, hot sauce, and tomato juice, Maddie guessed. Before Prohibition it would also have had a shot or two of vodka—the hair of the dog that bit one. Roberts gulped it down and led the way into the restaurant. It was an airy room, light and bright with huge ferns hanging in pots from the ceiling, and pink roses on the tables.
The hangover remedy must have been efficacious. Roberts consumed a dozen oysters on the half-shell, a plate of poached eggs and chicken livers with chasseur sauce, a beef steak, and then a caramel pudding. He smoked continuously throughout the meal, and washed everything down with a glass of buttermilk. Maddie watched him eat with horrified fascination.
Roberts chatted charmingly all the while about his yacht, and his plans for it. He was sailing to Catalina—they should join him. He had plans to visit Hawaii, perhaps he would sail around the world. Milo and Hoffmann appeared to have been struck dumb. Perhaps they were expecting Maddie to make the obligatory interrogative noises like a well-behaved female. Instead, she sat in silence waiting to see how long it took Roberts to wind down. It wasn’t until the coffee arrived that he broached the subject of the film.
“It’s on, isn’t it? And Miss Ellis is writing us all a happy ending. When will filming resume, Devlin? Hoffmann? Will the Djinn grant all our wishes? I love making wishes. It’s such a wonderful feeling of power! Miss Ellis, I hope that you will make that Djinn work for his pay!”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Mr Roberts,” Maddie said. “My task is to curb the Djinn’s power, not unleash it.”
“Well, that’s no fun,” the actor said, with mock dismay. “Don’t be cruel, Miss Ellis. Grant me at least three wishes. I know how I would use the first one. I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot. I’m not so bad when you get to know me, and I hope and wish you will take the time to get to know me,” he gave her a dazzling smile and then became serious.
“I am truly sorry to have upset Miss Auclair the other evening. She is a charming child, but too naive for her own good, or she would have known it was all in fun. I meant her no harm. We just got carried away in the moment, and then we were all in the water, and it was all confusion. Miss Desmond couldn’t swim. I didn’t realize Miss Auclair was missing until after we’d fished Miss Desmond out, and had the boat right way up and everyone in it again.”
“No harm? You were drunk, Roberts, and nearly caused the girl to drown,” Milo said, his usually affable face suffused with anger.
Mr Hoffmann, who had not heard the story, looked scandalized.
“Is this true?” Hoffmann demanded.
“Oh, don’t worry, Hoffmann, Devlin and Miss Ellis were there and took good care of her—the perfect chaperones, nothing could be more proper.” Roberts winked at Maddie.
There was the word chaperone again. Apparently film stars need them. A sort of nanny for those who had money but no sense and talent but no wisdom to temper it. Maddie gave Roberts an inscrutable look from behind her round, owlish glasses.
“It’s so hard to know what you are thinking!” Roberts exclaimed. “Take off your glasses, Miss Ellis, and let the world see you. Why should a beautiful woman hide behind horn rims?” The actor reached out a hand as if to snatch the glasses away.
Milo, furious, moved to intercede, but Maddie simply slipped out of the actor’s reach. Roberts, hindered by the dishes on the table and the artful arrangement of roses, gave a shrug and laughed. It was a movie laugh, Maddie thought. Head thrown back and expression gleeful to ensure the audience knew it was all in fun.
“The world might be able to see me, but I would not be able to see it,” she replied. Her calm voice did not betray the surge of anger she felt. “I wear glasses because I need them, Mr Roberts.” She did not add that the horn rims were useful for being taken seriously as an intelligent human being, and not dismissed because she was a woman, beautiful or otherwise.
“I apologize, Miss Ellis,” Roberts said. “That was shockingly rude of me, but I’m afraid I’m impulsive. You aren’t still mad at me, are you? Not when I’ve groveled so beautifully? Forgive me, please, Miss Ellis.” The actor’s voice throbbed with sincerity.
Really, the man was exasperating. Fortunately the waiter arrived before Maddie was obliged to respond, and after that there was the business of gathering up coats and gloves and things.
Roberts, radiating energy and good humor, saw them off from the steps of the hotel, but Hoffmann was clearly worried. The actor’s performance, though masterful, had done little to calm the producer’s fears.
