Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1944)

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What, then, of those two guns on the sand dune? What of my fingerprints on the gun found in Carla’s wagon? What of my lie about having carried ,45’s? We couldn’t shoot the scene over with me carrying .45’s, for in the earlier sequence I had been shown clearly with pearl-handled guns. It wouldn’t matter to James what I carried in the retake, but it would to the script girl. Peggy Whittier never missed a trick. She would point out the oversight and everybody would remember that the gun found in Carla’s wagon had a pearl handle. “All right,” I said. “I made my agreement. I’ll stick to it.” A knock on the door caused me to reflect that somebody was being amazingly polite. I opened it to a messenger. The telegram read: “CAN YOU VERIFY WANDA WAITE ARRESTED IMMORAL CONDUCT IN MALE ACTOR’S ROOM? TELEPHONE REVERSE CHARGES.” It was signed “Smith.” If the situation had been otherwise, I would have grinned. “Smith” was the city editor of a Los Angeles newspaper and his name wasn’t Smith. He happened to be a friend of mine. I put the telegram into my pocket. “Can we visit Wanda in jail?” I asked. “She ain’t in jail,” Wallingford said. “I told that sheriff I would see personally to his losing the next election, so he turned her out and offered me a drink.” “Let’s go see Wanda, then.” WANDA’S face was scrubbed and shiny. “Hello,” she said, like a little girl. “You should ought to be ashamed,” Wally said sorrowfully, “going to George’s trailer in a nightgown.” “But a girl would certainly be safe with George,” she said plaintively. Aside from the veiled insult, she had switched her act completely around. Now she was that fresh young thing known to millions, not the flaming temptress. I handed her the telegram. “Who would report such a thing?” she pleaded. “But after all, it’s true. All except the immoral conduct!” She spread her hands. 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