The Murder of Gretta Lavine

One man framed for a murder he didn’t commit. Another knew the truth but refused to come clean.

Gretta Levine was an actress at the pinnacle of her career. Her sudden death. A cold blooded murder, fed the tabloids for months. Her murder raised a lot of questions. Many of them had been left answered. Everyone wanted to know the two most basic questions. Who and why? Who would have done such a thing? What was the motive?

The police were coming up empty at every turn. For weeks nothing stood out and nothing had been uncovered. No strong suspects were under investigation. The clues were few. What they had managed to come up with didn’t amount to much.

The public was getting restless. They wanted answers yesterday. The police had nothing solid to give them. They needed to come up with something in a hurry if they expected to keep their untarnished public image intact.

So they did what many desperate public safety agencies would do. They made something up.

They found themselves a sacrificial lamb. A known felon from off the street. They planted evidence and pinned the murder on him. It was a setup. Not their first. They had experience with this sort of thing and knew it would have the wanted effect.

Once they had a suspect the public outcries calmed down. The felon claimed his innocence throughout the trial. Always claiming he had been framed. In the end his rap sheet and the trumped up evidence was more than enough to convince the jury of his guilt.

One week after the felon went to prison he somehow managed to commit suicide. It was a convenient and timely death guaranteeing the truth would be buried along with the body.

There had been some speculation about the mans death floating around since that day. As far as anyone of authority was concerned it was suicide pure and simple. No other explanation was necessary and none were entertained.

It was all a lie. Only Malcolm Connors, Gretta’s agent, knew the real story and he wasn’t talking. At least not to just anyone.

His shrink knew the story. But he wasn’t talking either.

~~~

“Malcolm, I thought we had everything out in the open, but there seems to be this overriding issue of guilt that I can’t seem to place my finger on. Is there something you’re not telling me?” Malcolm’s analyst shifted in his chair as he patiently waited for a reply.

Malcolm sat quietly until the silence became too uncomfortable. “Yes, yes there is,” He finally replied. “Are you sure we have complete doctor patient confidentiality?”

“Of course we do. Nothing leaves this office. You have my word. Now tell me what it is I don’t already know.”

Malcolm sat up on the couch. “I can’t lay down right now.” He fumbled for a cigarette, lit it, took a deep drag and began.

“Do you recall the sensation about Gretta Levine’s murder? It was in all the papers.”

“Of course. Seems they found their man but he never confessed. Claimed he was innocent. He killed himself in prison no too long after he was convicted. Isn’t that right?”

“Part right. He did die, but he was telling the truth. He wasn’t the murderer. I know who did it and I know why it happened. That’s what has me in knots. I don’t know what to do with this information.”

“Why don’t you take it to the police?”

“I can’t do that. I’m responsible for this persons safety. If he goes to prison he’ll die there.”

“Well than tell me this. Why did this person do it? We’ll start there and see what develops. Is that OK?”

“OK, I’ll tell you that much. Gretta was at the peak of her acting career. I being her agent had nurtured her to this point. She was having a hard time handling the fame. Too many people trying to pull her in too many directions, plus the Paparazzi were relentless. She couldn’t take it. She wanted out.

“I had put too much into this and I wasn’t about to let her just walk away. I tried to talk some sense into her but she kept babbling on about disappearing to some desert town somewhere in Idaho. Said she wanted to find her center, whatever the hell that means. She wanted to work on her art. Did you know she was one hell of a painter?”

“No, Malcolm, I didn’t.”

“Well she was. But there’s no money in that. People were depending on her. I was depending on her. She couldn’t just walk away. She was under contract.”

“So you’re telling me she was killed because she wanted out of the business. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. Those who depended on her still lost out.”

“Her murder wasn’t intentional. It was an accident. The person arrested was framed by the police. What good would it do to take the information to them. They had their man as far as they were concerned. It pacified the public. The cops weren’t about to risk being found out if they suddenly changed their story. Why do you think the guy they arrested fought the charges so hard?”

“I see, so now that we’ve determined the why, maybe you’ll consider telling me who killed her?” questioned the analyst.

Malcolm took his time as he considered his reply. He answered the question in two words.

“I did.”

© Copyright 2024 by Scott A. Gese All Rights Reserved.

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