Scavenger Hunt (29 page)
“You didn’t have to kill her. You could have told her the setup was off. You could have called the station, told them it was a false alarm.”
“Young girl like that . . . she would have just
had
to tell someone.” Sugar’s eyes closed, then flew open, and he struggled to lift his head. “She was only supposed to be with Walsh for an hour or so. That should have been plenty of time. Plenty. He didn’t call 911 for six hours. I was off duty by then. I had to hustle to step into the case.” He shivered, his face paler than the moon. “Six hours. What could she have been doing in there with him for
six
hours? I could never have trusted her after that. She was ruined.”
Jimmy listened to Sugar’s teeth chattering.
Sugar suddenly squinted at Jimmy. “First time I saw you . . . some bruiser was beating you half to death with a basketball. A
basketball.
Darnest thing I ever saw.” He tried to laugh but it came out as a wet cough, a bubble of blood popping on his lips. “Wonder where I’d be now if I hadn’t stopped him. Some folks would just have kept walking.”
“Once a cop, always a cop.”
“That’s right. Once a cop . . .” Sugar’s hand dropped from his neck and flopped into his lap beside the other one, the blood gushing down his jacket. His eyes were fading, but he hung on. “We should go fishing together, you and me. I’ll take you out where they’re really biting. I know . . . I know all the best spots. . . .” He looked at Jimmy and the warm night closed in around them. “I think you killed me, Jimmy.”
Jimmy took his cold hand and squeezed it. “I think I did, Sugar.”
Epilogue
Jimmy peered through the smoked glass of his limousine at the other limos stacked up outside the Hollywood theater, camera crews jostling for position as stars got out, their smiles in place for the fans packed ten deep behind the velvet ropes. Spotlights danced in the sky.
HAMMERLOCK,
proclaimed the theater marquee. “I can’t do this.”
Holt stroked his cheek. “You’re the guest of honor.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Shall I get in line, sir?” The limo driver watched Jimmy and Holt in his rearview mirror, nervous after Jimmy had told him to park across the street. “The studio wanted you delivered curbside five minutes ago.”
“Stay where you are,” said Jimmy.
The crowd screamed and started chanting “Walsh! Walsh! Walsh!” as a gold limousine pulled up. Garrett Walsh stood up inside, his torso emerging from the sun roof, waving to the fans like he was the pope or something. A pair of Wayfarers were perched on his forehead, the return of nighttime cool.
“Gold?”
Holt shook her head. She was more beautiful than usual tonight, dressed in a seafoam-green designer original and her grandmother’s pearls, her hair up high, showing off her long neck.
The crowd cheered louder as Walsh exited the limo, remembering to help Brooke Danziger out almost as an afterthought. Strobe lights flashed from the photographers lining the rope, and Walsh assumed various poses for the paparazzi, giving them what they wanted. Every magazine and newspaper in the world would have a different shot to choose from. He looked around, reveling in the moment. Walsh’s recut
Hammerlock
was having its world premiere tonight, opening wide next week. Critics were already talking about a third Academy Award for his mantel. Walsh urged the crowd on, waving his hands. Oh yeah, the golden boy was back.
It was a good story, Jimmy had to admit—the innocent man triumphant, the artist redeemed. In the four months since Jimmy had killed Sugar Brimley, Michael Danziger had been indicted for conspiracy to commit murder, partially based on a series of phone calls to Sugar from his cell phone. Danziger was currently ensconced in the L.A. County Jail, held on two-million-dollar bail. Based on images pulled from the shattered DVD, it was now known that Sugar had killed Heather Grimm and was a suspect in the “suicides” of April McCoy and Stephanie Keys and the disappearance of Felix the Cat. The issue of SLAP with Jimmy’s Walsh cover piece had sold out three print runs. Even Detective Katz had something to celebrate— she was praised for reopening the “Walsh” drowning investigation, albeit too late to have determined the true circumstances; and she was characterized as “one tough cop,” by the
Orange County Register.
Yeah, everyone was a winner.
“Look, there’s Rollo,” said Jane. “And Nino.”
Rollo and Napitano broke off their interview with
Entertainment
Tonight
and greeted Walsh with hugs. Rollo’s short documentary on the supposed death of Garrett Walsh was slated to precede
Hammerlock
tonight. The Monelli twins flanked Rollo, air-kissing Walsh. Brooke Danziger was a step behind, looking uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Danziger doesn’t look happy,” said Holt.
“She’s smart,” said Jimmy. “She knows what’s coming.”
“Rollo called me this morning,” said Holt. “He told me—”
“Rollo called
you
?”
“He said his documentary had been accepted at Cannes, and he had more meetings set than he knew what to do with. I’m quoting here: ‘I’m not going to have to buy lunch for fucking
months
at this rate, Jane.’ ” Holt laughed. “He’s really rather charming.”
“Rather.”
Holt punched him in the arm. “You sure you don’t want to go to the premiere? You look so nice in your tuxedo.”
Jimmy watched the strobe lights popping across the street. “Just before he was about to kill me, Sugar asked why I did it. He was really bothered. He had a pretty good life, living on his own boat. Nothing flashy, but it was the life he wanted. Then I showed up. He wanted to know why I had made such a big deal about something that was already settled. You know what I told him? I said I just couldn’t stand to see the bad guys heading off into the sunset whistling a happy tune. Look across the street, Jane. Look who
is
heading off into the sunset. Traveling first class too.”
“You brought a killer to justice. You cleared the name of a man who served seven years for a crime he didn’t commit. Don’t complain.”
“Sometimes I think I should have let well enough alone. I didn’t bring back Heather Grimm. I just got Stephanie killed. And Felix the Cat—although that was no loss. Jesus H., listen to me—that’s just what Sugar said. I should have let him go on fishing.”
“You didn’t murder those people. Sugar did.”
Jimmy didn’t answer.
“You did the right thing, and it didn’t turn out the way you wanted,” said Holt, her eyes flashing in the limo’s dim interior. “There’s not a cop in the world who hasn’t felt the same way. We arrest a woman for killing her husband, a husband who was abusing their daughter or their son, and
she
goes away for twenty years. A man burns down his house to collect the insurance money, and we arrest him. Then we find out at trial that he needed the money to pay for his kid’s transplant, an operation his insurance company wouldn’t pay for. The law doesn’t care. The man goes to jail, the insurance company doesn’t pay off, and the kid doesn’t get the transplant. Next case. If you don’t like it, Jimmy, get off your white horse and go back to writing film reviews.”
“Gee, thanks for the pep talk.”
“Are we going in or not?”
Jimmy could see Walsh under the marquee, smiling at the cameras, signing autographs. He kept glancing around though, trying not to let his annoyance show. “Excuse me, driver? How long do we have the use of this thing?”
“The studio hired the vehicle for the whole evening, sir.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here.” Jimmy kissed Jane and hit the privacy button. An opaque screen blocked off the driver’s view of the rear compartment.
“Where to, sir?”
“We’ll let you know,” said Jimmy, as the limo slid away from the curb. “Right, Jane?”
ROBERT FERRIGNO
SCAVENGER HUNT
Robert Ferrigno is the author of six previous novels, including
Flinch
,
Heartbreaker
, and
The Horse Latitudes
. He lives with his family in the Pacific Northwest. View his Web site at
www.robertferrigno.com
.
ALSO BY ROBERT FERRIGNO
The Horse Latitudes
The Cheshire Moon
Dead Man’s Dance
Dead Silent
Heartbreaker
Flinch
FIRST VINTAGE CRIME/BLACK LIZARD EDITION, FEBRUARY 2004
Copyright © 2003 by Robert Ferrigno
Vintage is a registered trademark and Vintage Crime/Black Lizard and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the Pantheon edition as follows:
Ferrigno, Robert.
Scavenger hunt / Robert Ferrigno.
p. cm.
1. Motion picture industry—Fiction. 2. Journalists—Fiction.
3. Hollywood (Los Angeles, Calif.)—Fiction.
PS3556.E7259 S33 2003
813’.54—dc21 2002025840
eISBN: 978-0-307-42762-5
v3.0
