Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 34, No. 5, April 1974

“Ah, yes,” Beaumont said. “And I do want to cooperate, sir. I most assuredly do.”

“We understand you made that film ten years ago, just before you went to prison,” Stan said. “Why?”

“For my own amusement. I simply installed a two-way mirror over the, fireplace in one of the bedrooms, and then set up a 16 mm movie camera in the adjoining room. Then, whenever some of my guests would wander into the bedroom, and nature took its course, I would record the proceedings.”

“Without their knowledge, of course?”

“Of course.”

“How many people were in the film altogether?” Stan asked him.

Beaumont’s forehead furrowed. “Six, I believe,” he said. “Yes, six. Three men and three women.”

“You make it all in one night?”

“Yes. And now I recall that there was someone else in it. Another girl. And a very beautiful young girl, too. I don’t know why I didn’t recall her at once.” He paused reflectively. “She did a very provocative little dance for me. Yes, very provocative. She was about fifteen, I would say, and hair as yellow as butter.”

I got out my notebook. “We’d better get some names down,” I said. “Let’s start with your dancing girl.”

“She never told me her name, sir. Not her real name, anyway. When I asked her what it was, she said to just call her Honey. It was the first time I’d ever seen her — and, as it happened, the last.” He paused. “She provided me with one of the most incredible experiences of my life.”

“What happened?” Stan asked.

“It was after she’d done her little dance,” Beaumont said. “I was... ah... understandably aroused. But when I tried to approach her, she kept backing away and laughing at me. Finally, when I’d cornered her, she broke off laughing long enough to announce that she was a virgin.”

“She was what?” Stan said.

“Exactly,” Beaumont said. “At first I thought she was merely trying to add a little spice to the moment, and I joined in the laughter.” He shook his head slowly. “But the remarkable thing about it, gentlemen, was that she was a virgin. When I scoffed at the very possibility, she invited me to verify the fact for myself.”

“And?” Stan said.

“I did,” Beaumont said. “And she was.”

“I’ll be damned,” Stan said.

“I was speechless,” Beaumont said. “She kept laughing at me all the time she was putting her clothes back on. She left as soon as she was dressed, and she was still laughing as she went out the door.”

“How’d she happen to show up at your place to begin with?” Stan asked.

Beaumont looked at Kim with infinite patience. “My dear boy, that was ten long years ago. Surely you can’t expect me to recall a detail like that?”

“And the other people in the film?” Stan said.

“All of them were regulars, one might say.”

“Let’s get the names down,” I said. “Start with the men.”

“Ghosts,” Beaumont said. “That’s what they seem like to me now. Ghosts.”

I waited.

“Well,” Beaumont said, “there was Eddie Willard. Then there was—”

“Hold on,” I said. “We’re going to talk to every one of these people, Beaumont, and we’re going to need more than just their names to find them. As you said, all this was ten long years ago.”

“I understand,” Beaumont said. “And I want to help, believe me. But I knew almost nothing about their personal lives, even then?”

“Do the best you can,” I said. “Besides his name, what can you tell us about this Eddie Willard?”

“He was a student somewhere. I think Columbia.”

I nodded. “We can check the records there.”

“And then there was Bill Marcy. His father was head of the Marcy Electronics Company.” He paused. “And Dave Anders? Dave was studying to be an accountant.”

“Can’t you recall anything else about him?”

“I wish I could,” Beaumont said.

“All right, then. How about the women?”

“The one I recall most vividly is Leda Ellis. She was a lively one, Leda was. She used to tell the most hilarious jokes about her husband, Webster. What made them all the more droll was that she usually told them in the altogether. Her husband was the Webster part of Webster, Macklin & Hughes, the law firm.” He paused. “And then there was Marian Coe. She worked for the telephone company. And Genita Garren. She taught some kind of arts and crafts course, over in the Village somewhere.”

“Very good,” Stan said flatly.

Beaumont sat staring at the floor, his face set in the half-smiling, reflective expression old men get when they think about the long ago.

“It’s so strange about the past,” he said softly. “None of it realty ever dies, does it?”

“At least not in the detective business,” Stan said.

I got to my feet. “Ready, Stan?”

Beaumont sighed to himself, his eyes bleak. “Where are the snows of yesteryear?” he said, his voice suddenly tired and weak. “I wonder, gentlemen — what ever could have happened to them?”

“What the hell?” Stan said. “You feel okay, Mr. Beaumont?”

“I feel old, son,” Beaumont said. “I feel like the oldest man on the face of the earth.”

VI