Silent Truths (58 page)

Laurie knew it was going to be a while before she lived that one down, so she was just rolling with it as Jed said, ‘Now what shall we do, darling girl? Should we eat here, or should we repair to the theatah to watch darling boy’s performance?’

‘He’s had great reviews,’ Gail told them.

‘What’s he in?’ Liam asked.

‘Darling girl will know,’ Jed replied.

Slanting him a look, Laurie said, ‘Actually, it’s a Jane Austen, isn’t it?’

Gail nodded. ‘
Emma
. One of my favourites.’

‘Mine too,’ Murray agreed. ‘Or no, maybe I prefer
Mansfield Park
.’

‘Oh no,’ Laurie protested. ‘Fanny Price is much too feisty and gutsy for that wimp Edmund. Ugh, as heroes go he’s about as dashing as a cod.’

Elliot’s eyes were simmering with amusement as he picked up his drink. She was laughing too, doing, she thought, a very good job of hiding her feelings. But when he looked at her the way he was looking at her now, she was certain he had some too.

He broke the gaze as his mobile rang, and held up a hand to block the chorus of disapproval that he hadn’t turned it off.

‘Elliot Russell,’ he said.

‘Tom Maykin,’ the voice at the other end told him. ‘I’ve just heard from my guy in LA. Beth Ashby’s in the hospital. I don’t think it’s life-threatening, but it sounds pretty serious.’

Aware of Laurie sitting so close, Elliot said, ‘Hang on, I’m going to take this out by the car. The reception’s better there.’ When he got out to Narrow Street he put the phone back to his ear. ‘What happened?’ he asked.

Maykin gave him what details he had. ‘My guy’s calling back once he’s been over to see her,’ he finished, ‘but from what he told me it wasn’t the OD that was the problem, so much as the injuries to her back and legs.’

Elliot frowned. ‘What sort of injuries?’

‘Wait for this. The sort caused by a whip. The goddamned bastards have whipped the information out of her, and right now a couple of surgeons are having to sew up the mess.’

Elliot’s revulsion showed on his face. In his mind’s eye he could see much more than he wanted to, could almost even feel it too, so God knew what it had been like for Beth Ashby actually having to suffer it. Forcing his mind past it, he said, ‘Do you know that for certain? That they got the information?’

‘Yeah, apparently they did. But as of now we still don’t know what it was. Kleinstein wasn’t forthcoming on the detail.’

Elliot frowned. ‘You got this from Kleinstein?’

‘My guy’s right in there, working with him. It’s where we’re getting most of our information.’

‘Can I talk to him?’

‘I’d have to check with him first. He’s in a pretty sensitive position, you’ve got to understand that.’

‘Sure. But I’d appreciate it, if he’s willing.’

‘There goes my other line. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have more.’

Elliot flipped closed his phone and stood staring across the street towards the end of the modern terrace. Though his eyes were on Andrew and Stephen’s house he was thinking of what had been done to Beth Ashby, and that Gatling, in typical absentia fashion, had been in London last night.

‘Are you OK?’ Laurie said, coming up behind him.

Turning to her, he looked down into her lovely, quizzical face. This was going to be hard for her to
hear, and he knew already that she was going to blame herself, for there was a very good chance this had happened as a result of the message tape from Georgie Cottle’s machine.

‘You’re not, are you?’ she said. ‘Something’s happened. Who was on the phone?’

‘Tom Maykin.’

‘And?’

As he told her what had happened he watched her eyes fill with horror, then anguish as, pressing her hands to her head, she said, ‘It was the tape, wasn’t it?’

‘We don’t know that for certain.’

‘But the timing … It had to be the tape. If I hadn’t handed it over …’

‘I’m still not agreeing it was the tape,’ he responded. ‘But even if it was you had no idea this would happen so –’

‘But we did, didn’t we?’ she cried. ‘We both knew that it was likely to be serious for her, and neither one of us tried to warn her.’

‘Laurie, she won’t even speak to Georgie half the time, so just stop this, OK? I know you feel responsible, I do too, but rather than stand around here blaming ourselves, we’ve got to decide what we’re going to do.’

She nodded, and looked away. ‘OK. You’re right,’ she said. ‘I guess one of the first things is finding out what the information was.’

‘Maykin’s chap is the best placed for that right now.’

Her mind was working fast. ‘What’s it telling us, that she’s still alive?’ she asked, starting to pace. ‘What does it mean?’

‘That what she knew wasn’t as damning as they thought? Or …’

Her blue eyes came up to his. ‘Or?’

‘She’s worked out a way of keeping herself alive by arranging for certain evidence, or information, to be revealed should she meet an untimely death?’

Her eyes remained on his as she digested that. ‘If that is the case,’ she said, ‘should we assume Colin knows about it too?’

‘We shouldn’t rule it out. Generally that kind of information is left with a lawyer. I’ll speak to Bruce, find out what, if anything, he’s got locked up in his safe belonging to the Ashbys. Of course, it’s unlikely to be with him, but we need to speak to him anyway, to get him to relay the news about Beth to Colin – and to get you back in there for a visit, if he can.’

‘In the meantime,’ she said, ‘someone’s going to have to tell Georgie Cottle what’s happened.’ Her eyes closed at the dread of it. ‘It’ll have to be me. I’ll have to explain why we think it happened now, and why I handed the tape over.’

‘She’ll understand,’ Elliot assured her.

‘Will she? And what about Beth? Oh my God, I don’t even want to think about what they did.’

Taking out his phone as it rang, he reached for her hand and held it tight.

‘Tom Maykin again,’ the voice at the other end told him. ‘My guy’s just called from outside the hospital. They’re keeping her in for a couple of days, should be sending her home on Wednesday. Apparently the producer’s on his way over from New York, and the writer’s at the hospital now. Kleinstein’s people have taken care of the cops. As
far as we know nothing’s leaked out to the press yet, apart from ourselves.’

‘How is she?’

‘Still out. But the surgery’s over. More than twenty lashes using some heavy-duty son-of-a-bitch. They had her tied up, hands and feet, so she couldn’t escape it.’

Elliot stiffened. This was the kind of detail Laurie didn’t need to hear. ‘Can I speak to your guy?’ he asked.

‘He’s not ready yet. But he’s not ruling it out. Listen, I’ve got to go. It’s a holiday here and we’ve got a big family thing going on. But I need to speak to you again. There’s more on the currency scam, details that might just get us a whole lot closer to where we need to go.’

As Elliot rang off Laurie looked at him, waiting for him to fill her in.

‘The writer’s with her, the producer’s on his way,’ he told her.

‘So she won’t be alone, that’s good. How is she?’

‘Out of surgery. Pulling through.’

Looking up at him, she said, ‘Elliot, I want to go over there. No listen, I have to do something to make her understand that we’re on her side. I could talk to the writer and producer as well, get them to tell me what’s in that damned book at least.’

‘I hear what you’re saying, but don’t let’s rush into anything now,’ he responded. ‘Wait for her to leave the hospital, see what ripples out of this regarding the syndicate, then we’ll decide from there.’

She nodded. Then, becoming too aware of her hand in his, she freed it and, attempting a smile,
said, ‘As always, you’re right.’

His eyes were ironic, ‘I’m glad you think so,’ he commented.

She pulled a face, then looked off down the street.

Neither of them moved, though she knew he was still watching her, and her heart was thudding hard with the longing for him to say or do something that would at least acknowledge that anything was going on between them.

‘We need to talk again,’ he said finally.

Relief almost made her laugh, but she only nodded, and glanced briefly up at him. ‘Not now though,’ she said.

‘No.’

For a moment neither seemed to know what to do. Then a horrible sensation swept through her as he said, ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

Dizzied, and feeling herself recoiling from any more, she started to turn back to the pub.

‘Laurie,’ he said.

‘It’s OK. I can handle it,’ she responded.

‘Listen …’

But she was already gone.

Dashing a hand through his hair he swore under his breath, for he knew very well that he’d just done exactly what he’d tried not to. But which was worse, he asked himself, hurting her or lying to them both?

Though the sun was dazzlingly bright outside, the room where Ava lay was shady and cool, and safe from the world beyond. The blue and cream silk-canopied bed made a plush, feathery haven in the
midst of all the white lacquer chests and cupboards that contained her belongings. Rhinestone chain belts and floaty chiffon scarves were draped over an exquisite hand-painted screen; red kidskin mules, jewelled ankle straps and four-inch black heels were amongst the shoes that were tumbling from the door of a closet that wouldn’t stay shut. A photograph of her and Colin was on the bedside table; another of Georgie and Blake was on top of the large-screen TV at the foot of the bed.

Since bringing her back here, to the house on Mulholland, Theo had hardly left her side. He was taking care of her himself, because he believed that no one was more responsible than he for what had happened. In his heart, he’d known how she and Mitzi were helping to raise the finance, but if they were OK with it, and it was going to get the movie funded, why interfere? Why even own up to knowing, when so much of it went on – don’t discuss it; just let it happen. Or in this case, set it up and let it happen, because that was what he’d done. Even that night, when he’d called to wish them luck, he’d known what he was wishing them luck for, and his advice, not to get carried away, was all the more despicable for its intention to purify his involvement. But God knew how many movies got backing that way, and half the careers in Hollywood would never have been launched if those kinds of favours hadn’t been put out at the start.

So Ava had only been keeping up the age-old tradition of putting out for putting up – she puts out the favours, the guy puts up the cash. Parties went on in Hollywood every night of the week to
accommodate the system, and though Theo had never actually articulated it to himself, he’d pretty much known she’d get into it, because he’d been aware when he brought her out here of how vulnerable she was after what had happened to her husband; just like he’d known how persuasive, and even irresistible, Mitzi’s kind of lifestyle could be to someone who was in such dire need of escape.

Well, it was over now. Mitzi had gone back to her house in Laguna, too uncomfortable to stay and witness the results of her little Svengali trip; and Eric Weston, goddamn him, had vanished off the face of the planet since the bitter encounter they’d had just after Theo had flown in.

‘Honest to God, man,’ Weston had cried, ‘I swear I had no idea the guy was into all that S&M crap. Fuck, he’s got to be some kind of psycho, doing something like that …’

‘Which one was it?’ Theo demanded. ‘Who did that to her?’

‘It had to be Wingate,’ Weston answered. ‘But if you’re thinking of going to the cops, Kleinstein’s already dealt with them. They take care of their own, those bastards.’

Knowing how true that was, Theo moved on to the next. ‘Who gave her the drugs?’ he growled.

‘I got no idea who her supplier was, but Mitzi told me she was high before she got there that night. And there was a shitload of it going round the party. She couldn’t get enough of it. Nor the dudes. But hell, she’s a game chick. You got to know that. Why else would you send her there? You know what Kleinstein’s parties are like?’

‘I’ve never heard of anyone coming out in that state,’ Theo snarled.

‘For Christ’s sake, no one forced her.’

‘Have you seen her wrists and ankles?’ Theo raged. ‘Go take a look, then come back and tell me no one forced her.’

‘Hey, come on, give me a break man,’ Weston groaned. ‘I’m a director who was just trying to help you get your shit together, right? And who knows, we could find ourselves with a whole lot more than five mill after she put out like that.’

At that Theo grabbed him by the throat, hauled him physically out of the house and dumped him across the hood of his car, leaving him to decide how he was going to get in without the keys he’d dropped in the scuffle.

Now, the only one left to tell him what had really happened was Ava herself, and so far she hadn’t spoken a word. She simply lay there, staring up at the ceiling, hardly moving, except while she slept, when she’d writhe a little and mumble and moan, and call her husband’s name in a voice of such anguish it was almost as hard to listen as it was to look at her wounds. But as her self-appointed nurse Theo made himself, regularly, checking to make sure none of the swollen, livid weals across her back and thighs was doing anything but healing. There was still a long way to go, but at the end of next week he was taking her to have the eighteen stitches removed. Three were in the two weals across her breasts, two more were in her lips from where she’d been slapped or punched; the rest were across her shoulders and back. The bruises from the bonds that had held her wrists and ankles
would no doubt clear up the fastest, while what would undoubtedly take the longest was whatever damage had been done to her mind, not only by the physical experience, but by the cocktail of drugs they’d had to pump from her system.

Since coming back from the hospital he’d been sleeping in the room Mitzi had vacated and working in the study overlooking the pool. Occasionally people dropped in, or called on the phone, mainly friends of Mitzi’s whom he redirected, and if anyone but Georgie asked for Ava he told them she’d returned to England, though Georgie actually asked for Beth not Ava. He’d spoken to her a couple of times, keeping her posted on progress, and assuring her that as soon as Beth was up to it he’d have her call. He could hear how concerned she was, but he had no more to offer right now, though he’d have encouraged her to come over had she not confessed that her husband was refusing to allow it. He didn’t get into why; he had too much else going on to spend time on anyone else’s problems right now, like trying to keep this movie alive with no director, no writer, and no goddamn book to back it up. He had to confess that a part of him was almost prepared to try to get Kleinstein on the line to find out if there were any funds forthcoming, because, God knew, the man owed big time after this.