Hedy Lamarr's Lost Ecstasy: Charlotte Donovan Mysteries, #3

By Mollie Bryan

Charlotte Donovan finds herself embroiled in a deadly mystery when she's invited to speak about the enigmatic Hedy Lamarr aboard the SS Hollywood. Gifted with a priceless journal once belonging to the iconic star, Charlotte's joy turns to dismay when the journal is stolen from her luxury suite--and the mysterious woman who bestowed it upon her has vanished.

Teaming up with her steadfast friend Kate, Charlotte delves into a labyrinth of danger and deception to uncover the truth behind the theft. As they navigate through the facade of the glamour and glitz of Hollywood's heyday, they realize they not just fighting for the recovery of the journal, but for their very lives--and the legacy of the Hedy Lamarr herself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mollie Bryan
• Release date: Jun 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223098621

Mollie Bryan

Mollie Cox Bryan is the author of the Agatha-award nominated Cumberland Creek Mysteries. This year, she's launching a new series: Cora Crafts Mysteries. The first book is DEATH AMONG THE DOILIES out in August 2016. MEMORY OF LIGHT is her first historical novel. She also penned MRS. ROWE'S LITTLE BOOK OF SOUTHERN PIES and MRS. ROWE'S RESTAURANT COOKBOOK; A LIFETIME OF RECIPES FROM THE SHENANDOAH VALLEY . She also is the author of a Kindle book HONEY, I'M SORRY I KILLED YOUR AQUASAURS (AND OTHER SHORT ESSAYS ON THE PARENTING LIFE.)

Book preview

1

The moment I stepped into the lavish two-story suite, an eerie sensation washed over me. We’d asked to stay in the Hedy Lamarr Suite on the SS Hollywood cruise the moment we’d heard it was haunted, figuring it’d be a kick.  But I wasn’t prepared for the life-size, detailed doll, rendered as an exact duplicate of the movie star.  The doll’s sea-green eyes seemed to follow me as I moved around the room. 

My sneakers squeaked on the marble floor as I turned away from it, the sound echoing through the opulent space. 

Well, that’s embarrassing, Kate, my best friend, muttered beside me.

I spun around, shoes squeaking louder, then poked my rear end out and pointed to it. She laughed, clicking her white cowboy boot’s heels, which she wore with a pink Chanel suit, which summed up her personality. As my sneakers summed up mine. She unwrapped a scarf and threw it over the doll’s face. We don’t need her looking at us like that. 

Right? Rude. 

And creepy. She shivered. Aren’t you glad I’m here? I rescued you from that doll. She looked like she was about ready to lunge at you.

Of course I’m glad you’re here. What would I do without you? 

One of the many benefits of this cruise gig was the opportunity to bring guests. Den, my boyfriend, turned me down when I asked him. He doesn’t care for cruises. At all. It’s my worst nightmare, he said. Legally, it’s like the wild west on those cruise ships and it’s on the ocean. You, ah, know how I feel about that.

Yes, I did. He braved a trip to Cloister Island on the ferry to meet my family. He was sick the whole time he was there. But at least he did it. Despite being a tough-guy New York City cop, Den was terrified of the water. He was in therapy for his fear of water.

Well, this luxury is definitely an upgrade from my last book tour. I tried to shake off the strange vibes from the doll, as I took in in the sweeping staircase, crystal chandelier, and wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sun-dappled ocean. The ship exuded a mysterious vibe, akin to a secret-laden Hollywood film set. It was an old ship that was built for this purpose–to celebrate all things Hollywood. 

The staircase in front of me was a luminous blur of curls and whorls and grand rotations; it pulsed with the reflections and sparkles from the chandelier.

Kate followed, wheeling in her oversized suitcase, as if it didn’t weigh so much it might sink a ship. I’ll say. This place is insane. She ran her fingers on the plush velvet couch, then the ornate gold mirrors, doing a quick check of her fuchsia lipstick, which clashed with her now red hair. So, when’s your big Hedy Lamarr talk happening? 

Tomorrow night. I tried to focus on the excitement of my upcoming lecture, but I hated public appearances, even though I was getting more and more comfortable.

A nagging sensation persisted: could I speak to a crowd of Hedy Lamarr super fans without fumbling? The cruise was full of experts on different aspects of Hollywood history, attracting some of the world’s experts. It also used to carry the stars off on their own exclusive getaways. Many stars had bequeathed valuable items to the ship—film, programs, costumes, books. I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans. Air. I just needed air. What was wrong with me? 

I rushed to the balcony, hoping the sea air worked its magic on my muddled mind. Below me, poolside revelers sipped cocktails and lounge music drifted up around us. The luxurious cruise ship was its own world. Maybe it was just me, but the weight of the cruise history, coupled with its grandeur pressed on me. 

The creators of SS Hollywood designed it to evoke a nostalgic feeling of stepping back in time. But, while that seemed glamorous to most people, those of studied old Hollywood knew better. 

Kate joined me on the balcony, blissfully unaware of my unease. Well, Ms. Famous Hollywood Biographer, want to check out the ship?

I managed a smile. This was not the career I wanted. Not what I had planned when studying journalism. Life had alternate paths for me and Kate. Absolutely, Ms. Fashion Designer to the Stars.

She flung open her arms and shimmied. Kate’s career had skyrocketed after she designed the clothes for a Dolly Parton tour. The next thing she knew, she was designing clothes for Stevie Nicks, then Drew Barrymore and Jennifer Aniston. After years of getting nowhere and suffering from prejudice in the industry. It hadn't been easy for Kate, a transgender woman. Until now. 

Let’s go, she said, pulling me. She towered above me, and I’d always had a hard time keeping up with her because of my short legs. We’d often laughed about what people might say when we walked together, her so lithe and tall, and me short and curvy. Her made-up to the tens, and me with a rare smear of lipstick. 

We wanted to get the lay of our floor at least, and explored the ship’s endless amenities—multiple restaurants, a casino, spa, theater, and glass-domed solarium—along with the different classic Hollywood-themed decks. 

I stopped in my tracks when I saw the library, then pulled her inside with me. I ran my fingers along the leather-bound books, imagining the Hollywood legends who had once been here, maybe touching these same volumes. The SS Hollywood had carried a great deal of stars in its day. Now it sailed as an homage to them.

This is amazing. Kate’s hands went to her hips. Let’s come back when we have time to explore.

I ran my fingers along the leather-bound Shakespeare collection, then pulled out Hamlet, cracked open the cover.

Hello? Kate said. We can’t stay here now. 

She was right, unfortunately. I returned the book and glanced one last time. We left the library, even as it tugged at me.

Can you believe this place is ours for the next two weeks? Kate said, as we passed the gleaming two-lane bowling alley. Bowling was not our thing, but we appreciated the sleek lanes.

I know, it’s surreal, I said. We’ve come a long way since Cloister Island. My mom and grandma were tucked safely on the island, waiting for my call, no doubt. I had wanted to bring my mom with me, but she was having too many health problems to come along. After years of drinking as a lifestyle, her liver was launching a protest. 

Ain’t that the truth? Kate said. Who’da thought the two little urchins on Cloister Island would move to the big city and then, well, experience this? She opened her arms wide. 

Cloister Island sat off the coast of New York, between Long Island and Manhattan. We grew up together as neighbors, our families both having roots there for generations. It was an enclave of Irish immigrants, mostly fishing families. 

A small town sat on the west coast of the island, which is where my grandmother’s antique shop sat among a cluster of diners and grocery stores. My mind’s eye shifted inward, to that street, warmth spread through me.  A memory flashed of Kate—then Karl—and I running down those rickety sidewalks with a few coins in our pocket to enjoy some ice cream. That strawberry ice cream was still my favorite. 

We returned to our suite. I couldn’t resist the pull of the balcony once more, watching the fading pinks and oranges dance across the rippling water, as the sun set. It was the same ocean I grew up watching, but so very different. I took a deep breath of the fresh ocean air, feeling grateful and peaceful, but the unease still lingered in the corners of my mind.

Kate stepped out next to me. Big day tomorrow, ready for it?

I nodded, trying to shake off this weird feeling. Maybe it was just nerves. Or maybe it was the doll. Maybe. I just hope I can do justice to Hedy’s story.

I didn’t believe in writer’s block. But Hedy’s story was not coming easy to me. I had the timeline down. Birth. Marriages. Movies. Divorce. Children. Death. But I was lacking a narrative thread that would make the story sing. Natalie, my agent, was getting anxious. Perhaps this cruise will help, she had said. 

You’re going to be amazing. Kate tugged me. Now come on, let’s get ready for our first fancy dinner on board!

I linked my arm through Kate’s, pushing aside my worries for the moment. 

The room felt like a slice out of Hollywood history. When we flicked on the light, there stood the Hedy Lamarr doll looking straight at us. The scarf had fallen and was caught around her waist. Kate readjusted it over her eyes, and made it look like a blindfold.

I like it. 

As long as we can’t see the eyes, I’m okay with the doll, I said. 

The cruise felt like a world where past and present collided. The ultimate in Hollywood smoke and mirrors. For me, a biographer of Hollywood icons, it should feel welcoming. Instead, I was filled with foreboding. Was it the speech hanging over my head? Was it the previous experience I’ve had with super fans? I had yet to sort that out.

2

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the sea, I climbed the stairs to my room. 

I slipped into my black evening gown and descended the stairs, heels in hand, ready for the night. I squeezed my feet into them when I was on solid floor. 

Kate stood resplendent in a red dress, a black boa elegantly resting on her shoulders. She grinned, her eyes lighting up with the mischief. 'Well, you look like a woman tonight. You’re even wearing heels! I’m proud of you!' She snapped a picture with her phone. I’m sending that to Den."

Bite me. I tugged at the top of my dress. Feels like I'm vacuum-sealed in this thing.

Kate howled a laugh. You look great!

I wasn't skilled at walking in heels. How did women do this every day?

I hobbled and Kate glided down the corridor to the elevator. Kate’s red chiffon flowing and my black dress clinging to me. We passed by old movie posters of Jean Harlow, Greta Garbo, and Mae West. I pressed the button and the elevator showed up at once. This ain’t some cheap hotel. 

As I suspected, the dining room was a spectacle of elegance, filled with passengers dressed to impress. We stopped to admire a huge sparkling chandelier. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one so big, I said. 

That’s what she said, Kate whispered. 

I groaned. I walked right into that.

The air buzzed with excitement as we followed the host to our table, located next to a sweeping window that offered an expansive view of the moonlit ocean.

Feeling like Cinderella at the ball, I momentarily shed my past as an impoverished waif clawing her way up. I walked with my chin up smiling and making eye contact with those around me.  A few years ago, when I was working for Justine, I rarely looked up when I walked, let alone make eye contact. Some of these people had read every one of my books—or Justine’s—and were here to see me. Tonight, I embraced the transformation, but I was still acutely aware that this cruise wasn’t just a getaway but a pivotal step in proving my mettle as a writer, especially with the looming deadline of the Hedy Lamarr biography.

We sat down at a table with fresh roses, fine crystal, all on a crisp white linen cloth. Ya know you’re eating fancy when the tablecloth is white linen, I heard my mom’s voice echo in my mind. 

As we sipped champagne, I scanned the room.

Did you see Kurt Cobain? Kate asked. Her blue eyes sparkled. 

Knowing that he was dead, I surmised she was playing one of our favorite games. When we spotted someone who we thought resembled a celebrity, we just called them by that name. No. Where is he?

Over by the bar. She sat her champagne on the table. 

Ah-ha, I said. He did resemble Kurt.  He caught me glancing at him and smiled. Heat rushed to my face and I turned away. 

You need to be more careful. Kate laughed. 

A gong alerted us to dinner being served. Kate and I tucked into our lobster tail. My doctor gave me the go ahead to eat seafood during the cruise, which delighted me. But don’t overdo it, she said. Or your Lyme will flare and you will be miserable. It’s not the fish. It’s the preservatives.

But this lobster was the freshest I’ve ever eaten. I had a deep appreciation of seafood, having grown up on Cloister Island, with most the islanders making a living from the sea. Kate and I didn’t talk when we were eating. Just a gesture here and there, with a little moaning and groaning. Thank God we had a private table. 

Cecil, the cruise host, took the stage announcing a night of dancing and live music. The moment the orchestra played, I felt a sudden urge to leave, to find a quiet space—somewhere away from Kurt, who kept gazing my way.  Besides, I needed to rest before my big day tomorrow.  Perhaps under the cover of the night, I could explore the library. It was the only place on our quick tour that I desired to inspect more closely. 

I’m heading to the library, I whispered to Kate. 

She nodded. See you in the room. As a person who was managing Lyme disease, my rest was very important. Kate had been there from the beginning of my illness and we’d both learned that it was best for me not to push it. Besides that, as an introvert, I had limited tolerance to large crowds.

I slipped away, just as the band started playing, making my way through dimly lit corridors. The ship’s beauty took on a different tone at night, the shadows creating an air of secrecy that intrigued and unnerved me.  

As I neared the ship’s library, a glimmer of curiosity pulled me inside. It was mostly empty, save for a few passengers lost in the world of vintage novels. I ran my fingers along the leather-bound books, a sense of history and wonder washing over me.

Then, something caught my eye. An older woman standing next to a bookcase, reaching for a book. 

Can I help you? I moved closer to her. 

She cracked a wizened smile. It’s you. You’re Charlotte Donovan. Just the person I wanted to see. Her voice was deep and gravelly.

My heart raced, mix of surprise and disbelief swirled. I’d never get used to people knowing who I am. Yes.

She pulled the book toward her. This is the one. She opened the book carefully. 

I read the faded inscription inside: Property of Hedy Lamarr. My heart skipped a beat as I