Hollywood and Levine by Andrew Bergman

wasn’t a note.” Carpenter jumped on my words like a lawyer.
    â€œJesus Christ,” I muttered. “Murder doesn’t exclude a faked note, typed up and inserted in the victim’s pocket. But why won’t anyone tell me whether Walter had the kind of enemies who might conceivably do him in?”
    â€œHe didn’t have those kind of enemies,” said Goldmark. “People in the industry loved Walter.”
    â€œAnd Walter loved Walter, too,” mumbled Arthur. “It’s all nuts.”
    â€œI’m with Arthur,” I said. “So far, nothing matches.”
    â€œWalter was very despondent recently,” said Perillo. “Terribly so. Why do you doubt suicide, Mr. LeVine?”
    â€œIt’s my job to doubt things. That’s why Walter hired me. But let me accept suicide. Okay, now why are you all so scared of a note? What do you think Walter wrote on it?”
    The sound got shut off again. Goldmark got up and walked to a corner of the living room; with a twitch of his eyebrows, he gestured for me to join him. As I did, Wohl huddled with Carpenter, Perillo, and Carroll Arthur. Arthur had trouble getting to his feet.
    Goldmark was chewing gum furiously. He winked at me. “You struck a nerve, LeVine,” he said quietly, lighting an Old Gold and squinting as the smoke sailed directly into his eyes.
    â€œWhat goes on? I walk into a wake and it turns into Twenty Questions.”
    â€œThings are happening,” Goldmark said.
    â€œThanks for the tip. Can I see you tomorrow?”
    Goldmark looked over his shoulder, back to where Adrian’s friends were buzzing among themselves.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI’d like to know what happened to Walter.”
    â€œHe died. Let it be, LeVine. Don’t get into a mess.”
    â€œSorry, but I can’t just walk away from this. See me tomorrow and get it over with. It won’t take long.”
    He put on his coat and a tweed cap, and handed me a business card.
    â€œTomorrow at three. If you change your mind, call.”
    Wohl, Perillo, Friedland, and Carpenter joined us.
    â€œWe’ve been discussing what you said, LeVine,” Perillo began. “If Walter could trust you, I guess maybe we can.”
    â€œLeVine,” said Wohl, “we are worried about a note.”
    â€œExcuse me,” Goldmark interrupted, eager to leave. “Night folks. Milt, see you tomorrow. Everybody.” He waved an undirected good-bye and slipped out the door.
    â€œAgents,” snorted Friedland.
    â€œLarry’s a good boy,” Wohl said thoughtfully. “This just scared the shit out of him. Scares the shit out of me, too.”
    Carpenter threw his arm around me, confidential-like.
    â€œThe problem is this, LeVine, straight and simple. We are worried that Walter was the first victim of something, call it a wave of fear, that’s just begun in the last month or so to infect the movie industry. If we seem concerned, maybe a little hysterical, it’s because those of us who were …” he groped for the word, “ associated with Walter feel that his death marks a deepening of this crisis. We sense a chill in the air.”
    â€œDoes this chill have something to do with politics?” I asked. “Walter signed his name to everything but candy wrappers.”
    Wohl’s smile was a history of regrets. “So did we all, LeVine.”
    â€œWhat exactly did Walter tell you when he asked you to come out here?” asked Perillo.
    â€œThat’s confidential, even if he’s dead now. But he basically told me very little. Just that there was some trouble he wanted me to investigate.”
    â€œAnd that was it?” asked Wohl.
    â€œJust about.”
    â€œLet’s not beat around the bush,” Carpenter said with sudden force. “LeVine, we might need you as much as Walter did. That’s why we’re standing around here now, trying to figure out what was