Reel Stuff (14 page)
Authors: Don Bruns
“There's no guarantee, James. We're making this up as we go.”
“The story of our lives, Tonto.”
He was right. We were always floating on the edge of lunacy.
“Get busy, amigo.”
“It's only been a day, my friend.”
I told him about Dan Tana's and could hear him sigh.
“It's a landmark, Skip. The food had to be really good, am I right? Don't tell me it wasn't just about perfect.”
“Perfect? It's the place that Dwayne Johnson hit on Em, James.”
“No shit? Dwayne Johnson? The actor? He really hit on her?”
“It's the truth.”
My business partner paused. “The truth? You can't handle the Tooth. And that's the whole Tooth and nothing but the Tooth.”
I cringed remembering the quote. Even he remembered how bad Johnson had been in
The Tooth Fairy
.
“Skip, I was going to call you. Seriously. I'm just doing a final check on this thing andâ”
“What thing?”
“Well, it might be
anything
.” He paused, and I knew he didn't want to tell me the story. “Don't freak out when I explain this to you, okay?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I got a hold of Chad Rich.”
“The grip.”
“The same.”
“And?”
“I was supposed to get info on the other grip, right? His assistant was a guy named Andy Hall.”
“Don't tell me this guy was a phony. Make-believe driver's license, bad makeup job. Don't even.”
“No. Rich had worked with him before.”
“So, you finally got to talk to this Andy Hall?”
“I wish.”
“You're dragging this out, partner.”
“This Hall guy didn't show up for work yesterday. And Rich says he's pretty reliable, so Rich started looking into it. This guy Hall lived by himself, a loner, so there was no one he was accountable to.”
“Give, James.”
“Chad Rich finally drove over to the place this Andy Hall rents. Guy doesn't stay on site.”
“Yeah?”
“He knocks on the door and no one answers.”
James's narrative was sounding like a cheap mystery novel.
“James, give me the details. Please.”
“Bottom line is, he turns the doorknob and the door opens. It's not locked and he just walks in.”
“He walks in and finds what?”
“Andy Hall, front and center.”
“Alive? Or dead?”
“It appears that Andy Hall had committed suicide.”
Suicide. I was tired of hearing the word. Shivering, I held the receiver at arm's length and considered the possibilities.
“Rich found a bottle of pills. Looks like the guy overdosed on prescription medication.”
I was quiet for a moment, thinking of the hopelessness that must be in some people's lives. To want to end it all just seems so foreign to me. Someone apparently loads up on negatives.
Me, I keep looking at the positives.
“Cops are looking into it? Tying it into Londell's murder?”
“Obviously, they don't consult me on a regular basis, but the people on set are conspiracy theorists. They figure it's suicide or someone killed him because he knew too much. He was up there, Skip. One of the few. You were down below, one of the few. He's probably not a person of interest.” Pausing, James said, “Well, any more than you are, but someone fired that twenty-two-caliber
bullet, and there were only four people up there. Am I right?”
He was.
“So two of the four people on that catwalk are dead and one has disappeared, am
I
right?”
“What are the odds?” James asked.
“James,” thoughts were racing through my head, “the two hookers I met by the park, the ones who partied with Londellâ”
“Thanks for clarifying. You meet so many hookers.”
“Trying to make a point here, so kindly shut up. These two remembered Randy Roberts, telling me he was not a participant. I think they were saying the guy couldn't perform. Anyway, he ended up criticizing them for their makeup. Told them he used to be a makeup artist before he became a director and he did not approve of the way they looked.”
“Andy Hall committed suicide, Skip. He was the second grip on the scaffolding. What the hell does this Randy Roberts story have to do with anything?”
“Randy Roberts did makeup. What if he was the guy who dressed up with the big nose and mustache and rented the camera? The guy who stole a company credit card and pretended to be Greg Handler?”
“Interesting take, amigo, but why does the death of Andy Hall remind you of Randy Roberts?”
“James, I'm remembering that Randy Roberts told me a story about visiting an actress in her trailer half an hour before she overdosed and killed herself. I'm starting to connect the dots.”
“Do me a favor and check out an actress named Audrey Love.”
“You're making up names?”
“No. That's the actress who died of an overdose. Roberts was telling me the cops tried to hang it on him. Do you remember that conversation I had on the phone with him?”
“Sort of.”
“On the phone that night, he told me this story about baby-sitting some actors several years ago, and he said he'd been in this Audrey Love's trailer half an hour before someone found her dead of a drug overdose.”
“Come on, man, Randy Roberts did not kill Jason Londell. You know it, I know it. He was on the ground directing the shot.”
“And Londell's wife was twenty-three hundred miles away in California. Why am I here if location means you are innocent?”
“Point well taken. You're right, man. Sorry.”
“Get what you can online, okay? About Randy Roberts the director, and Audrey Love, the actress. And watch your back. There's some strange shit going on, James. Believe me.”
“Amigo, you are the one who witnessed the murder. You saw something that most of us did not. You actually saw someone shoot the actor. You didn't realize it, but you saw it happen. So watch
your
back.”
I knew he was right. And there was something gnawing at me, something I did see and I couldn't remember. Something else that happened in that compressed moment that I knew I'd recall sooner or later. For the sake of the case, for the sake of my safety, I hoped I'd remember it sooner.
After Em threw four fancy designer fashion bags in the backseat, we drove back to Londell and Bavely's, arriving at one thirty, and I parked half a block from the office. Em sipped her Starbucks mocha and I watched the people walking the sidewalk. We wanted to see this Juliana before she saw us. Kind of get a heads-up on what kind of a woman she was.
The two of us settled on 104.3 FM radio, a mix of current hits with some music from several years ago. Mostly, the station carried an advertising where-to-go menu for Los Angeles. Mirando Casino,
less than ninety minutes from wherever you are
. Loma Linda Medical University Center,
treating over ten thousand cancer patients per year
, Excalibur Hotel and Casino with the male revue
Thunder from Down Under
, Dick's Last Resort, and Newport Beach. Commercial after commercial after commercial.
Em rolled her eyes.
“Isn't there a station that actually plays some music now and then?”
The next spot told us to look forward to tomorrow morning
when
Valentine in the Morning
would regale us with his clever patter on the A.M. show.
“I look forward to a little bit of
Moore in the Morning
,” Em said, her hand resting on my thigh.
To be fair, on the present
Kari Steele Show
there was a little music thrown in. Not much, but some.
“So, do you think this Andy Hall really killed himself?”
“I'm the guy who swore that Jason Londell committed suicide. That shows you how much I know.”
“Skip, what if this Hall guy was part of the murder?”
“Or he knew who was behind it?”
“Maybe Chad Rich had a hand in it.”
“No, Em, I get a pretty good feel for Rich. I know what I said about thinking everyone is a suspect, but I think he's as confused as anyone.”
“So either it was an accident, someone decided to take him out, or he killed himself because he was guilty?”
“He was up there. One of three people pulled the trigger because I don't think Jason Londell shot himself.”
I shrugged my shoulders. Too many ifs.
“Is that her?” I watched an attractive brunette walking toward the building led by a long, sleek dog on a leash.
“Too thin.”
“She's what? James said three months? Do women show at that stage?”
She turned to me and frowned.
“How the hell would I know?”
Several more women walked by, no guys. There was a yogurt shop on the corner, a dry cleaner, Laundromat combination in the next block, and a pet store beside our car. Pedestrians continued to pass by, but no one appeared to be Juliana Londell.
“If we everâ”
“Get married?” Em read my mind.
“Yeah. Would there be any preexisting conditions? Unfaithfulness or a prenup that said you couldn't haveâ”
Her eyes popped open. “I couldn't have what?
You
'
ve
got nothing. Let's turn that around, okay? I couldn't have? Give me a break.”
“I just meant thatâ”
“Just drop it.” I'd hit a sore spot. “Maybe there's another way to get into that office that we're not aware of.”
“Maybe there's a rear entrance and a parking lot in the back.” It was an idea.
“Could be, but I think that's her.” Em pointed to a green Jag XKE that pulled in front of the building. A dark-haired girl had gotten out, walked around to the driver's side, and lip-locked the driver, for at least five or six seconds.
“What makes you say that?”
“Loose serape top over jeans. Kind of hides the early baby bump.”
“Ah, you who doesn't know when a woman shows.”
“It's her, Skip. And she appears to be very into the good-looking guy with the green sports car.”
She did.
“So,” I said, having already analyzed the situation, “does that count as unfaithful? The kissing thing?”
“I'm not a legal scholar, Skip, but the husband is dead. The will, stating that she must be faithful to inherit, is probably null and void. But don't take my word for it. Maybe she has to be faithful unto her own death.”
The lady walked into the building, and we waited another fifteen minutes before we ventured forth.
“Emily. Thank you for coming back.” Kathy Bavely was all smiles, again ignoring the fact that I even existed.
“Have a seat and I'll make sure Juliana is ready to see you,” she said.
I noticed she stretched the name Juliana a little too long, an affected negative sound on the widow's name.
“By the way, let me ask you a strange personal question. Do you have a dog?”
I saw the light go on in Em's eyes.
“I do. I love dogs.”
She didn't. And she didn't.
“I had a feeling,” Bavely said, a big grin on her face. “I trust people who love dogs. You know what I mean? I've got a mix. A Yorkie and silky, name of Brilliant Bentley. Don't you just love it?”
“I'm dog crazy,” Em said, gushing with enthusiasm. “I named my miniature schnauzer Skip, after my manager.” She pointed to me and it was the first time I felt like I'd actually mattered in this strange relationship. “He yaps a lot, but usually does exactly what I tell him.” So smug.
Bavely laughed and turned to me. “You're the manager?”
“I am.”
What the hell do you think I am, lady? Window dressing?
Cocking her head, she smiled and asked, “Do you get along with Emily's dog, Mr. Manager?”
“Skip is wonderful with,” Em paused, “Skip.” She laughed, and I thought about my relationship with her dog. The dog that didn't exist, but due to Em's heroic acting skills I believed. I just hoped that Bavely did as well. This was coming along better than I had dreamed because, to be honest, I thought we were way out of our league here. Em was actually pulling it off. What, I wasn't sure.
