"Oh, my god, Jack, I hadn't thought of that. But it's exactly what Truman Capote did to get his story for In Cold Blood. He duped the murderers into trusting him, so he could get the inside story of their crime from their point of view."

I blew out air and gnawed my thumbnail, pretending to admire the one- sheet for Out of the Past while considering Jack's theory. "Dr. Lilly could have duped Armstrong into giving her interviews, pumping him up with tales of glory. But her ultimate goal might simply have been to publish another sensational biography about a scandalized actor."

And if Pierce got wind of that new book of Lilly's, Murdered in Plain Sight, he might have figured that out. And he might not have been too happy.

"So Pierce could be the one who killed Dr. Lilly, or had her killed, and her tapes stolen… "

It's a possibility. And although I'm no fan of Queen Hedda the Diva, I have to tell you, Pierce has the strongest motive for offing her next. Hedda was the one who put the nail in his coffin by testifying against him, right?

Suddenly Seymour cried out. "Hey, in here! Come quick. You've got to see this!"

Brainert, Maggie, and I immediately dashed off in the direction of Seymour 's call. We raced down a hallway filled with more film memorabilia and found him in the house's large dining room. The space was dominated by a huge tropical fish tank.

"Check it out," Seymour said, pointing above the tank.

I followed his gaze, hoping for some sort of clue about Pierce from the Fisherman Detective series, but the framed one-sheet on the wall featured another actor, from an entirely different decade. Three action-packed images were punctuated by a blurb that read "Look up! Look down! Look out! Here comes the biggest Bond of them all!"

"This is an original Robert McGinnis poster for Thunderball!" Seymour exclaimed. "There's Sean Connery with the famous jet pack on top; beneath that he's battling thugs under-water. At the bottom, he's surrounded by the signature Robert McGinnis babes."

"Who's Robert McGinnis?" Brainert asked.

"Who's Robert McGinnis?" cried Seymour in outrage. "Only one of the greatest illustrators of the 1960s. Not only did he paint a slew of James Bond posters, McGinnis also did the poster art for Barbarella and practically all the paperback covers for the Mike Shayne mysteries."

"Mike who?" Brainert asked.

"Mike Shayne," I replied. All eyes turned toward me. I shrugged. "Shayne was the star of those old hard-boiled detective novels written by Brett Halliday. Aunt Sadie knows the rare book market, and she always said it was the cover art that made them collectable."

"And look at this!" Seymour exclaimed, pointing to a narrow sideboard.

In my experience, dining room sideboards were used to display soup tureens and crystal vases. But this narrow cabinet of polished mahogany was completely dedicated to displaying what looked like a strange-looking long-barreled weapon.

"What is that?" I asked, not quite trusting my eyes.

"It's an original speargun prop from the Thunderball movie!"

Seymour 's eyes were bugging. He carefully lifted it off the metal display stand. "Wow, it's heavy, too. Must be at least seven pounds."

He aimed it at the fish tank.

"Man, think of it: one of Largo 's men actually pointed this spear gun at James Bond in the big underwater battle, just like this!"

"And who is Largo?" Brainert sniffed.

"Emilio Largo was Bond's arch-villain in Thunderball! Sheesh! Don't you know anything, Brainert?!"

"I know other things, Seymour. Important things."

"Right, like how many biblical references Melville packed into Moby Dick? Five hundred and twenty-four was my last count. Or what year Franz Kafka first published a novella about a traveling salesman who turns into a giant cockroach? Nineteen-fifteen."

"What are you driving at, mailman?"

"Trivia by any other name is still trivia."

Brainert threw up his hands. "So that's why you called us back here? To impugn higher education while you play with a movie prop?"

"I wanted you to see the Thunderball poster! It's got legendary art on it. I thought even an egghead like you could appreciate it. Apparently not."

Brainert exhaled in exasperation. "I don't even know why Wendell has a James Bond poster and speargun prop, and in his dining room of all places." His nose wrinkled. "It's in bad taste!"

Brainert and Seymour were still arguing as we walked out of the dining room and back into the hallway. While we strolled toward the living room, I took a closer look at the memorabilia that we'd raced past on our way to Seymour.

There were more posters as well as props and pieces of costuming either framed or in glass cases. I noticed a one-sheet and lobby cards hanging near an arched alcove and stopped dead. A familiar face was staring back. The actress in the picture was very young and no raving beauty-more like the girl next door with caramel-colored curls and a dimple in her chin.

"My god," I cried aloud. "That's-"

It's her, doll! District Attorney Nathan Burwell's paramour. The chippy from the Hotel Chester!

"Ah," Maggie said, obviously responding to my outburst. "You're admiring the restored one-sheet for Man Trap"

"Oh, uh… y-yes," I stammered.

"It's really something," Maggie continued. "There's only one more like it in the whole world. That one resides at San Fernando University 's film history archive…"

As Maggie talked, I pretended to examine the Man Trap one-sheet, but I was really checking out the scene on one of the eight surrounding lobby cards. The face on the scantily clad girl standing next to Sybil Sand was unmistakable. It was the same girl I'd seen in my dream of Jack's past, the girl at the Porter-house with Nathan Burwell.

"Who's this actress?" I asked aloud.

Seymour stepped closer. "I think she's in the nightclub scenes in that movie. Yeah, a cigarette girl with a few lines. She speaks to Hedda Geist, and then another actor makes a comment about how the girl's way too young to be working in a place like that. Never saw the actress before or since. Just some extra, I guess."

"Hey, look at this," Brainert said, pointing to a yellowing booklet resting inside a glass case. "This is an original souvenir program for Man Trap."

"It's unusual to have one for a film like this," Maggie said. "But the studio wanted to promote Hedda-"

The doorbell buzzed, interrupting her. Maggie excused herself and headed for the foyer.

"Quick," I hissed when the woman was out of earshot. "Open the case and let me see that booklet."

Brainert's eyes widened in horror. "What!"

"Open that case," I insisted. "Even if you have to break it open."

Seymour reached out a hand and lifted the lid. "Relax, it's unlocked."

I gently removed the crumbling press book from its display case and carefully turned the brittle pages. The complete cast list was on the third page.

"Cigarette Girl played by Wilma Brody," I read aloud.

Seymour blinked. "So what?"

"I concur," Brainert said. "Who is this Wilma Brody and why should we care?"

Before I could make up an explanation, we were interrupted by a woman's voice, shrill with anger. Maggie's reply came in a reasonable but icy tone.

"Oh God," Brainert said, cringing. "It's Virginia… the former Mrs. Wendell Pepper."

I placed the press book back into its case and closed the lid. In the living room, the voices became louder.

"I think we'd better do something," Brainert said. "It's turning into an argument."

Seymour backed away, palms high, head shaking. "Count me out. Ex-wives scare the crap out of me."

"All right," Brainert said. Squaring his shoulders, he led the way to the living room. I followed, Seymour brought up the rear.

"I'm looking for Wendell," cried the shrill voice from the living room. "Not his latest mistress!"