CHAPTER NINE Holly Becomes Famous
That evening, there were photos of Holly on the front page of the evening newspaper. The next morning, she was on the front pages of two more newspapers. The stories weren't about our horse ride. BEAUTIFUL GIRL ARRESTED FOR DRUGS CRIME was the main story in one newspaper. The Daily News printed the best picture. Holly was at the entrance to the main city police station, between two big, strong detectives - one male, one female. She was wearing her riding clothes - the jacket and blue jeans - and her hair was a mess. Her eyes were covered by her dark glasses, and there was a cigarette in the corner of her mouth.
Below the picture were these words: Twenty-year-old Holly Golightly, beautiful movie star, is said to play an important part in an international drugs gang. One of her friends is drugs king Salvatore "Sally" Tomato. In this picture, Detectives Patrick Connor and Sheilah Fezzonetti are taking her into the 67th Street police station.
The story continued. There was a photo of a man named Oliver "Father" O'Shaughnessy. He was trying to hide his face with his hat.
New Yorkers were surprised today by the arrest of beautiful Holly Golightly, a twenty-year-old Hollywood star. At the same time, 2 p.m., police caught Oliver O'Shaughnessy, 52, of the Hotel Seabord, West 49th Street. Police have arrested O'Shaughnessy many times since 1934, when he was first sent to prison. Government lawyer Frank L. Donovan says that both Golightly and O'Shaughnessy are important people in an international drugs gang. The boss of the gang is the famous criminal Salvatore "Sally" Tomato. He is spending five years in Sing Sing for buying the services of politicians... Miss Golightly was arrested in her expensive apartment at a good East Side address. For a few months she was a close friend of millionaire Rutherford Trawler. The police say that the beautiful actress was carrying messages between Tomato and O'Shaughnessy... A police officer told us, "She went to Sing Sing every week. Tomato gave her messages and she took them back to O'Shaughnessy. As a result, Tomato was able to continue organizing drugs gangs in Mexico, Cuba, Sicily, Tangier, Tehran, and Dakar." A large number of reporters were waiting at the East 67th Street police station. When O'Shaughnessy, a large red-haired man, arrived, he kicked one cameraman in the stomach. But Miss Golightly, beautiful in jeans and a jacket, did not seem worried.
"Don't ask me what this is about," she told reporters. Then she said in French, "Because I do not know, my darlings!" She continued in English, "Yes, I have visited Sally Tomato. I went to see him every week. Is that wrong? We both believe in God..." There was more, under a new heading: SAYS SHE USES DRUGS. "Do you use drugs?" our reporter asked. Miss Golightly smiled. "Sometimes," she replied. "They're better for you than brandy. Cheaper, too. But I like brandy better. No, Mr. Tomato never talked to me about drugs. It makes me angry when these people attack him. He's a kind old man." There is one big mistake in this report. Holly wasn't arrested in her "expensive apartment." She was arrested in my bathroom. I was lying in a bath full of hot water, still in pain from my horse ride.
Holly, my nurse, was sitting next to the bath. She had a bottle in her hand, of something to lessen the pain. There was a knock at the front door. The door wasn't locked, so Holly called, "Come in." Mrs. Sapphia Spanella came in with two detectives. One of them was a lady with thick yellow hair.
"Here she is, the woman you want!" shouted Mrs. Spanella. She ran into the bathroom and pointed her finger, first at Holly, then at me. "Look. What a prostitute she is!" The male detective seemed uncomfortable, but the other detective was clearly enjoying herself. She put a hand on Holly's shoulder and spoke in a surprisingly childish voice. "Come with me, sister. You're going places." "Take your dirty hands off me, you ugly old lesbian," Holly said, in a calm voice. This made the female detective angry and she hit Holly hard. Holly dropped the bottle she was holding. It broke into small pieces on the floor. I jumped out of the bath and stepped on it. I cut both of my big toes badly. With no clothes on my body and blood on my feet, I followed the action into the hall.
"Don't forget to feed the cat," Holly told me, as the detectives pushed her down the stairs. Of course, I believed that Mrs. Spanella called the police. It wasn't the first time. I didn't think how serious it was until later. That evening Joe Bell arrived. He was carrying the newspapers and he was very unhappy. He walked around the room angrily, while I read the reports. Then he said, "Do you believe it? Is she part of this business?" "Yes," I said. He looked angrily at me. "That's a terrible thing to say. You're her friend!" "Just a minute," I said. "I'm not saying that she knew about the drugs gang. But, she did carry messages -" He said, "You're very calm! She'll get ten years in prison. More." He took the newspaper away from me. "You know her friends. Those rich men. Come down to the bar and we'll phone them. Our girl's going to need expensive lawyers." At his bar he put me next to the telephone with a large brandy. But I didn't know who to call. Jose was in Washington. I didn't know how to reach him there. Rusty Trawler? Not him! Did I know any of her other friends? Maybe she was right. She didn't have any real friends. I put through a call to Crestview 5-6958 in Beverly Hills, O.J. Berman's number. A woman answered the phone. "Mr. Berman is busy," she said. "Sorry, try later." Joe Bell was very angry. "Tell them it's important - a matter of life or death. You must ring Rusty Trawler." First, I spoke to Mr. Trawler's secretary. "Mr. and Mrs. Trawler are eating dinner," he said. "Can I take a message?" Joe Bell shouted into the telephone. "This is urgent, mister. Life and death." Suddenly I was talking to - listening to - Mag Wildwood.
"Are you crazy?" she shouted. "We have nothing to say to that woman. That t-t-terrible woman. She was always bad! Drugs and men - that's all she wanted! She belongs in prison. And my husband agrees totally." I put down the phone. Then I remembered old Doc down in Tulip, Texas. But no - I couldn't call him. Holly wouldn't like me to worry him. I rang California again but the telephone lines were busy. It took a long time to speak to O.J. Berman.
"Are you calling about the kid?" he asked. "I know about her already. I spoke to Iggy Fitelstein. Iggy's the best lawyer in New York. 'Look after her, Iggy,' I said. 'Send me the bill. But keep my name out of it.' I want to help the kid. She helped me in the past. But she's crazy. It's not a problem. The police only want ten thousand dollars, then they'll send her home. Don't worry. Iggy will get her out tonight. She's probably home already."
