Read The Case of the Angry Actress: A Masao Masuto Mystery for Free Online Page A

years ago, a girl called Samantha may or may not have joined this organization. I understand that you can play a speaking roll once without joining, but then must join before the second job. Is that so?”
    â€œYes, and you might as well tell me her name.”
    â€œAnd yours, Miss?”
    â€œArthur.”
    â€œAll right, Miss Arthur. Her name was Samantha.”
    â€œSamantha what?”
    â€œI don’t know. I have one name—Samantha.”
    â€œThen don’t you think you ought to come back with the second name before you throw your weight around a poor, defenseless old lady?” she asked icily.
    â€œI may or may not be able to find the second name. That is not your problem. I want every Samantha who joined the Guild eleven years ago, give or take a few months on either end. The name is not a common one and there can hardly be too many.”
    â€œIndeed!” said Miss Arthur.
    â€œIndeed,” Masuto smiled.
    Whereupon Miss Arthur led him into another office where two girls sat, both of them younger even when their ages were added together, and where she figuratively washed her hands of Masuto.
    â€œWho is she?” Masuto asked them. “I mean, who was she? The name sort of rings a bell.”
    â€œDella Arthur? And you didn’t remember?” asked one.
    â€œHe didn’t remember,” said the other.
    â€œShe hates you. She’ll cut your heart out. We’ll let you out the back way, officer. We’ll protect you.”
    â€œAre you married?”
    â€œI’m married.”
    â€œThen we’ll let her kill you. You know, all the Beverly Hills policemen are very handsome. Is that how they pick you?”
    â€œI want—” Masuto began.
    â€œWe know,” said one of them. “We heard. Enough of this light-hearted girlish talk. Only we don’t file membership by year of admission. We file by name, and you don’t have the family name.”
    â€œBut there must be some annual bookkeeping.”
    â€œOh, yes—yes. If she paid dues, we should have the receipts and the duplicate statements.” The girl was dark haired and bright eyed, and she licked her lips when she looked at Masuto. “Why are they always married? Never mind. Come on, we’ll go in the file room and study 1955 and we’ll find a Samantha. Of course, you know that’s a phony name,” she said to Masuto.
    She had led him into the next room, facing a whole wall of files, when he turned and looked at her curiously.
    â€œWhy do you say that, Miss—?”
    â€œJust call me Jenny.”
    â€œOK, Jenny. Why?”
    â€œWell, isn’t it obvious?”
    â€œNot to my inscrutable Oriental mind. I grew up in a Japanese community, let us say a little apart from your folkways.”
    â€œYou know, Sergeant, you got a nice sense of humor. Cool, if you follow me.” She had opened a file drawer and was riffling through it with practiced fingers as she spoke. “Suppose this Samantha is a kid of twenty or so in 1955. That makes her born in 1935, right?”
    â€œGive or take a few years—yes.”
    â€œMiddle of the depression—who’s going to give a kid a nutty name like Samantha? Today’s another matter, but around then, from what I hear, people weren’t thinking about these stylish names.”
    â€œGood. Go on.”
    â€œI bet you a pretty her last name’s a phony too.”
    â€œHow’s that?”
    â€œYou know—like Glendale or Frazer or Buckingham or Sanford, but no Kaminski or Levy or Jones or Richter—”
    â€œYou’d make an excellent cop,” Masuto said admiringly.
    â€œNah. Half the names here are phonies. It’s part of the profession.”
    â€œDo they also have to register their real names?”
    â€œNo rule about that. Some do. Most don’t. If an actor takes a stage name, it becomes part of him. He usually can’t live with two names.