A Corpse in the Soup (27 page)

Godiva, who didn’t care for his tone, leaned forward. “I guess the next question is, did you really ever intend to make this movie?”

“Nah. One day this Lenny character comes in with this script. I can tell he’s done a lotta research. I knew some of the crap about Wellington, after all I was his producer. But I had no idea what a scumbag he really was. How could I let that movie get made? If I turned it down, Lenny would just keep pitching ’til someone bit. So, I figured out how to kill it.”

He paused for a moment and took a deep drag of the cigar he was holding. “I offer that hack writer what looks like a sweetheart deal but really I’m gonna put it on ice. I give him three grand up front for a two-year option, which is chump change, but he gets a great percentage of gross clause. No skin off my nose, since I got no intention of makin’ the movie and he’s got no other offers. Three grand to keep it off the market for two years is a cheap price to pay.”

“Do you think Lenny had any idea you were planning to shelve it?”

“Maybe. But he was greedy and he’d been turned down by a few already. One thing he was right about: this could be a moneymaker, but it would have ruined me with Wellington for both the
Aerobic Chef
and
Kitchen Crusader
. I wasn’t about to let that happen. The best thing I coulda done was to offer that big carrot...a percent of the gross...and bury the damn thing. Whadda I care? Like I told you, I figure I’ll never have to pay since I wasn’t gonna make the movie. Maybe he had doubts about takin’ the three large, but I knew his greed would win out. The bigger, better dream, ya know. I’m a, whadda ya call it...oh yeah, a student of human nature.” Manny stood up and began to usher them to the door indicating that the meeting was over.

Goldie smiled. “Say, we understand you just cut a deal with Candy Vanderloop. A microwave show for men is a brilliant idea.”

“I gotta hand it to ya. You two gals are a couple of bloodhounds. How did you find out about my deal with her?”

She looked Manny straight in the eye. “Oh, we have our ways.”

Manny chuckled, “Well you ain’t as smart as you think you are if you were tryin’ ta finger me for Wellington’s murder.”

Godiva wagged her finger at him. “Gotta admit, Manny, you threw us a curve. We never figured you were an investor in the
Kitchen Crusader
. Of course, we should have guessed that. You’ve got the reputation of being sly as a fox. And, I have to admit that was a slick move.”

CHAPTER 47

Goldie slipped into the passenger side of the car. “So, what now?”

“Well,” Godiva paused for a moment to adjust the rearview mirror, “I don’t think Manny had anything to do with getting rid of Wellington. After all, it would be like slitting his own throat.”

“True. But he boasted about screwing that wacky writer in the same way you would talk about squashing a cockroach. He’s a pretty cold-blooded, ruthless guy.”

“Yeah. I’m a little worried for Candy and Wes—er, Chris.”

“It seems pretty obvious that Lenny knew he was getting the short end of the stick.”

“Maybe. Hard to say. I think he was dying to see his name on the big screen and the money was just the icing on the cake. He seemed pretty passionate about his work when we talked to him.”

“What do you mean passionate? Try unstable. That giggling made me want to slap my hand over his mouth.”

“Me too, but we absolutely
must
talk to him again.” She glanced at her watch. “If we’re lucky it will take us less than forty-five minutes to get over there.”

“Oh no we don’t, Godiva. We need to go to the police. You talked me out of it when we thought Chris’s butt was on the line. Now I think he’ll come out okay, but on the other hand, I’m not so sure about us. I say it’s time to put this in the hands of the cops and back away. We’ve done our part.”

Godiva zipped into the fast lane. “Look, Goldie, we’re operating on a hunch, a gut feeling. We can’t go to them until we’re sure. Without proof Lieutenant Adams won’t switch gears. She’s just going to keep chasing after Caesar.”

“Listen to me, Sis. Lenny is not a stable person. We got a sense of that when we talked to him yesterday. This movie is his big dream. His pot of gold. For all we know, he even thought of killing Manicotti himself when he realized he’d been cheated.”

“But he’s no fool either,” said Godiva, “Manny is spelled M-O-N-E-Y. Kill him and the money dries up. The way I see it, all he could think of was having the picture made. What target would produce the best results for him?”

“Wellington, of course.” Traffic slowed to a crawl and Goldie’s attention was diverted momentarily to the aftermath of an accident. Pieces of crunched cars blocked two lanes and three or four dazed people were on the shoulder waiting for help to arrive. “L.A. traffic! Give me Juneau any day.” She turned her attention back to Godiva. “Listen, Sis, Lenny isn’t just a wacko. He
is
a dangerous guy.”

“Yeah, he probably found out the
Kitchen Crusader
series was Manny’s baby, too. That would give Manicotti even more reason for sitting on his script.”

“Godiva, I’m talking about something else here. When I said that Lenny’s dangerous, I meant to us! If Uncle Sterling were here right now he would insist that we turn around, go home and call the police.”

“Yeah, and if Mom were here right now,” Godiva retorted, “she would tell us to keep going and finish the job we started. Don’t be so spineless, Goldie, we can handle this, we make a great team.”

“Exercising caution is not the same as spinelessness, Sis, we need to be careful.”

“We’ll be careful, trust me, Goldie.”

“What we
should
do is call Ricky Thompson. We could really use a bodyguard right about now.”

Goldie’s frazzled nerves crackled as traffic speeded up...three lanes of menacing metal on the right, two lanes on the left.

“OK, call him if it will make you feel better.” She handed Goldie her cell phone. “Just press four. He’s programmed on speed dial.”

She pressed the button. “All I’m getting is crackles and pops. I’ll try again in a few minutes.”
I wish I knew what to expect.
Why didn’t I check my chart this morning?

Godiva said out loud, “Knock it off, Goldie. You drive me crazy with that astrology crap.”

“Crap? For your information, Sis, if he’d have paid attention to his horoscope, Lenny might have saved himself a lot of trouble. Wonder what his chart looked like the day he signed with Manicotti.”

“You and Mom with your horoscopes. My guess is he was so flattered when Manicotti optioned his screenplay that he never suspected he was getting screwed.”

“Yeah, the option would have run out and the project would simply die on the vine. Just think, it all could have been avoided if he had any idea what his aspects looked like before he went to see Manicotti.”

“Goldie, shut up about your charts. I agree with you that the guy is a first class wacko. He gives me the creeps with that cackle. I can see him pacing around his little apartment, his dreams are shot to hell and he’s giggling like a hyena...plotting...planning. Figuring out what would put him back in control...”

Goldie couldn’t contain herself and finished Godiva’s sentence. “...then the truth hits him right in the face. Only one thing will get this movie made. A dead Wellington. And good ol’ Biff, the icon of healthiness, probably won’t be dying any time soon. Unless he has a little help.”

“Damn, we’re good.” Godiva got off at the Rosecrans exit and continued toward Lenny’s street. “I just hope we’re good enough to outsmart him, I don’t know about you, but I plan to live to a ripe old age.”

“Okay, so what’s our story? Why are we here?”

“I’m surprised at you, Goldie. Just when I thought you had it all together you ask a dumb question like that. We’re here to tell him the good news, of course. The
Times
Entertainment section reporter agreed to interview him and we wanted to tell him in person.”

“You didn’t tell me that you got him an interview.”

Godiva shot Goldie an exasperated glance. “I didn’t, but I’ll tell him the favor I’m doing for him deserves another in return. We tell him we haven’t been able to find Wesley yet and need some more information.”

“Godiva, you just missed his house.” Goldie rubbernecked and watched it disappear from sight.

“Of course, I did. I’m parking around the corner here so he won’t see our car. Take him by surprise, you know?” Goldie nodded, knowing her sister would never admit to making a mistake.

They walked down the block, past three pastel stucco duplexes similar to Lenny’s and a huge new house where a workman on a ladder was painting trim. As they climbed the three stairs to his porch, Goldie had the momentary urge to flee, but Godiva blocked her way.

Lenny opened the door, a stained coffee mug in his hand, and invited them in although reluctance was written all over his face. Goldie made no move to enter. Godiva gave her a little nudge. Goldie moved forward a bit and stopped again. “I don’t...”

Godiva cut in. “Thanks for asking us in,” and she pushed Goldie through the door. The apartment was messier than the last time.

“Come in, ladies. What’s the occasion? How come you’re here?” He giggled. “Pardon my mess.”

Newspapers were strewn all over the floor and the coffee table was covered with an assortment of clippings about Wellington’s murder and the production of
Bad Apple to Beefcake
. The top of one of Godiva’s
Ask G.O.D.
columns peeked out from beneath a clipping.

She started to say something about it, but Goldie shot her a warning look that said
keep quiet about the column
.

Lenny wore a pair of faded cutoffs and no shirt. His laptop was on the dining room table, surrounded by more clippings about Romano’s victory at the tournament and his arrest and one more partially obscured column. It was obvious that he was in the middle of writing something.

Brushing past him into the living room, Godiva said, “I wanted to tell you in person about the interview I’ve arranged.”

He thanked her and started to herd them back toward the front door. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m pretty busy right now...”

“Wait, Lenny. One good turn deserves another. Now we need something from you.”

“What do you need now, Ms.
G.O.D
.?” He plucked at an ornate crucifix dangling from a chain at his neck, as though doing penance for using the Lord’s name in vain.

“More information on Wesley. That’s what we need, isn’t it Goldie?”

Goldie stared at the heavy gold cross.
I’ve seen that crucifix before, but where?
Godiva brought her out of her trance with a decisive nudge to the ribs. “Yeah, Lenny. We’re really stymied. Do you suppose we could sit down for a minute and pick your brain? Maybe there’s some clue you can give us and you don’t even know it.”

Godiva pretended to take Lenny into her confidence and lowered her voice. “We really need to find him. We’re positive he has something to do with the murder. There’s just no other explanation for what happened.”

Lenny stepped aside and guided them to his littered sofa as though it was a prime booth in a fancy restaurant. “A murderer? Well, you might be right, but he struck me as a wimp. I’d say he’s got about as much balls as I’ve got money, and that ain’t much.”

“You’ll be rolling in dough pretty soon.” Godiva plopped down on the sofa. “That
Beefcake
movie is a cinch to make it big. In fact, it’s probably the best thing that could have happened to you. We just left Manicotti’s office a while ago and he said he’s signed Brett Rockford to play Biff. You’re headed to the big time, Lenny.”

“Bet your sweet ass, and it’s about friggin’ time. I deserve this.” Lenny was gripped by a fit of uncontrollable laughter, his giggles rising to a screech. Then the laughter died a sudden and eerie death and he started pacing like a cat, his strange rhythmic dance drawing him closer and closer to Goldie and Godiva.

Goldie felt faint. Tension was building at the base of her neck and a cold sweat slicked over her. She watched Godiva press Lenny for more. Despite the cool façade Godiva’s hands were shaking.

“You could wind up making as much from the film as Mr. Manicotti does,” said Godiva. “We know he paid next to nothing in option money. He made that crazy percentage deal because he never intended to make the film. So, unless this picture got made it was a really bad deal for you, wasn’t it?”

Lenny stopped pacing and his eyes narrowed. “Yeah. What a stroke of luck for me, huh?”

“Getting the better of Manicotti is quite a coup. You should be proud of yourself.” When Lennie took a few steps toward the kitchen to refill his coffee cup, Goldie slung her arm around Godiva and gave her a frantic let’s-get-out-of-here pinch.

“Proud of myself? Oh, you bet, I’m real proud of myself. I made things happen!” He returned from the kitchen without the mug. The light filtering in through the half-closed blinds reflected off the blade of a large kitchen knife. “Wait a minute...I got it. You came here today because you think I killed him, don’t you? That’s why. Not because you wanted to tell me about the interview. In fact, I don’t think you did jack about setting me up with the
Times
reporter. You just wanted to feel me out.”

He brandished the knife. “Well, I’ve got something else for you to feel.” In three quick strides he was behind Godiva, yanked her off the sofa, and in a fluid motion positioned her in front of him with the sharp edge of the blade a hair’s breadth from her neck.

“You bet I killed that phony asshole. When that knife hit home I felt like I was killing Satan himself.”

The carving knife shook as his rage spewed forth. “My movie will be made now and nothing will stand in the way. It’ll be the hottest thing on the market. That bastard Manicotti will make his last dollar off of Wellington and I’ll be set for life.”

Goldie edged toward the door. Lenny whipped around pulling Godiva with him. “Freeze, bitch, or I’ll cut your sister to ribbons!”

Goldie stopped dead in her tracks.

“Friggin’ Manicotti was going to cast that prick in a children’s show.
Kitchen Crusader
, my ass! Just take a look at Wellington’s own poor kid. Sleeping on the street while that piece of garbage is rolling in the bucks. Some role model for kids, huh?”