They looked through the rest of the magazines. In each one, Manhattan Is My Beat was reviewed and, in each, Robert Kelly was mentioned at least several times. Most gave him kind reviews and forecast a long career for him.
Rune, too, laughed. She closed the suitcase and leaned against the car. "So that's what he meant by his whole life. He told me the movie was the high point of his life. He must never have gotten any other parts."
Stuffed in one of the magazines was a copy of a letter written to Mr. Kelly from the Screen Actors Guild. It was dated five years before.
She read it out loud. "'Dear Mr. Kelly: Thank you for your letter of last month. As a contract player, you would indeed be entitled to residual payments for your performance in the film Manhattan Is My Beat. However, we understand from the studio, which is the current owner of the copyright to the film, that there are no plans for its release on videotape at this time. If and when the film is released, you will be entitled to your residuals as per the contract.'"
Rune put the letter back. "When he told me he was going to be rich--when his ship came in--that's what he meant. It had nothing to do with the bank robbery money."
"Poor guy," Richard said. "He'd probably be getting a check for a couple hundred bucks." He looked up and pointed behind her. "Look."
The sign on the dormitory read ST. XAVIER'S HOME FOR ACTORS AND ACTRESSES. "That's what he was doing here. It had nothing to do with the money. Kelly just needed a place to stay."
Richard pitched the suitcase into the backseat. "What do you want to do with them?"
She shrugged. "I'll give them to Amanda. I think they'd mean something to her. I'll make a copy of the best review for me. Put it up on my wall."
They climbed into the car. Richard said, "It would have corrupted you, you know."
"What?"
"The money. Just like the cop in Manhattan Is My Beat. You know the expression, 'Power tends to corrupt, absolute power corrupts absolutely'?"
Of course I've never heard of it, she thought. But told him, "Oh, sure. Wasn't that another one of Stallone's?"
He looked at her blankly for a moment then said, "Well, translated to capitalistic terms, the same truth holds. The absoluteness of that much money would have affected your core values."
Mr. Weird was back--though this time in Gap camouflage.
Rune thought about it for a minute. "No way. Aladdin didn't get corrupted."
"The guy with the lamp? You trying to make a rational argument by citing a fairy tale?"
She said, "Yeah, I am."
"Well, what about Aladdin?"
"He wished for wealth and a beautiful princess to be his bride, and the genie gave him all that. But people don't know the end of the story. Eventually he became the sultan's heir and finally got to be sultan himself."
"And it was Watergate. He got turned into a camel."
"Nope. He was a popular and fair leader. Oh, and radically rich."
"So fairy tales may not always have happy endings," he said like a professor, "but sometimes they do."
"Just like life."
Richard seemed to be trying to think about arguing but couldn't come up with anything. He shrugged. "Just like life," he conceded.
As they drove through the streets of Brooklyn, Rune slouched in the seat, put her feet on the dash. "So that's why he rented the film so often. It was his big moment of glory."
"That's pretty bizarre," Richard said.
"I don't think so," she told him. "A lot of peop
le don't even have a big moment. And if they do, it probably doesn't get put out on video. I'll tell you--if I got a part in a movie, I'd dupe a freeze-frame of me and put it up on my wall."
He punched her playfully on the arm.