The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3 (46 page)

"What in the hell?" Smith muttered.

"I've got the same question."

"Look, it's obvious that Callahan is on the
way to the hospital. What those two did to him is a mystery. It's also obvious
that you have a stake in finding out who killed your friend. I have a stake in
getting paid by Bowen, but this little scenario ups the ante quite a bit. Do
you know what a scandal like this is worth in this town? I could sell these
photos to the tabloids and take a five-star vacation in the tropics." He
paused. "Want to get some coffee? Maybe share some thoughts on this?"

She considered it. "Yeah. Maybe so."

"Good. Let me make a phone call and see if I
can find out where they're taking Callahan and how bad off he is. We'll start
there. I know this place probably costs ten bucks a cup, but…"

"My treat," she interjected.

They walked back into the café and ordered coffees.
Smith made a call, inquiring about Callahan. "He's headed to Cedars-Sinai.
No word yet on his condition, but I'll get it. So…"

"So?" Michaela said, still shaken by
what she'd witnessed.

"Your friend who was murdered…"

"Audrey."

He nodded. "You mentioned that Benz
threatened her."

Michaela told him about the races the other day
and what had occurred inside Olivia's dressing room.

"That guy is an ass."

"Do you think the three of them could be
involved in Audrey's murder? Why else would they be meeting? Maybe to talk
business, I suppose."

"There are other possibilities. A hotel room?
One woman, two guys…although typically, it's usually the other way around—two
women."

Michaela brought her hand up to her mouth.
"No. Don't even go there. That's disgusting. The three of
them…together?"

"It's possible. I doubt Benz came here for a
drink. But there is another possibility. Maybe I know the reason Benz paid a
visit to the lovebirds. And if my guess is correct, it might have caused the
old geezer to have a problem with the ticker."

"What's that?

"What if I told you that Steve Benz has been
known to supply Mrs. Bowen with some good old-fashioned cocaine?"

"Oh." Michaela thought about Olivia and
what had fallen from her purse at the coffee shop the night before. This was
twisted. Olivia using drugs, Bridgette using drugs, Callahan trying to get
Olivia to pose for his magazine, Benz possibly the supplier and maybe—just
maybe—Audrey somehow got caught up in the middle of it all, and they'd killed
her. Or one of them might have killed her. But Benz was a real up-and-comer on
the country western scene. What about his career? Why would he jeopardize what
he'd worked so hard at? "How do you know this?"

"It's the nature of the business. When things
get slow, I start snooping and I sell some of my information to the tabloids.
This situation here might have taken on an entirely different angle for me, and
an added bonus. I know a guy at one of these rags who has it in for Benz. Says
he had a one-night stand with his girlfriend after some bigwig Hollywood party.
He's asked me to pass any information about Benz on to him. He knows that I
work for the people who run in fast circles."

"What about Hugh Bowen? Would you exploit him
if you found out that his wife is not only cheating on him, but might be linked
to the murder?"

"If that's the truth, someone will discover
it and put it out there. Besides, if that
is
the situation, he's a
victim here. And so is Audrey. What was her last name?" She hesitated.
"I won't lie to you, I will be checking into this thing. If Callahan,
Benz, and the latest Mrs. Bowen are up to no good, I will exploit it. You want
justice, don't you?"

"What if it's the wrong path?"

He shrugged. "It's a starting point."

"Okay, I'll tell you what I know, but you
need to give me some of your insight. About Benz."

Dennis produced a notepad and repeated Audrey's
name as he wrote it down. "Okay. Steve Benz is a party boy who started out
in this town as a pool boy."

"Pool boy?"

"Yeah, you know, cleaning pools for the rich
and famous. He met Bridgette on the party circuit before she hooked up with
Bowen. They liked to hang together. Then, Bowen and Bridgette hooked up and he
put her in rehab, right after the two of them got married. They tried real hard
to keep that hush-hush, and for the most part Bowen's money did a good job of
it. Money can pretty much buy you anything in this town. But people
do
talk. So, Mrs. Bowen's stint in rehab was one of those unspoken things amongst
the rich and spoiled."

Michaela thought about Bob Pratt, his stint at
Betty Ford, and a possible link between him and Bridgette Bowen, as well as the
fact that Bob was now missing in action. Could it be coincidence, or was it
linked to what had happened to Audrey? Was it possible that Bridgette and Bob
had been in rehab at the same time? "Tell me then, or at least confirm if
I'm on the right track."

"Go on."

Michaela's theory came from the center of her gut.
"Bridgette went through rehab, tried to stay straight. That didn't happen.
She's back at it with Benz as the supplier, because she trusts him and she
knows that with him in the limelight, he'll keep things quiet. She likes rich
and powerful men, thus her rendezvous with Callahan. Benz brings the party
favors for the two of them, and in return uses Callahan and Mrs. Bowen to
become a superstar. Because from what I hear, Benz is looking to do a magazine
spread with Olivia Bowen for
Pleasures
magazine. He thinks that Callahan
can help put him on the map. Maybe he also thinks that Bridgette has some kind
of in with her stepdaughter. Although, that's the furthest thing from the truth
from what I understand."

"What did you say you do?" Dennis asked,
placing his elbows on the table.

"I didn't. Why?"

"Because I think you'd make one hell of an
investigator."

"Not everyone would agree with that,"
she replied, thinking of Jude. "I'm a horse trainer."

"Horse trainer? Really? Nah."

She didn't reply.

"Oh, shit. You're serious. You're really a
fucking horse trainer? Sorry for my trash mouth. I pegged you for a bored, rich
housewife, or maybe a mistress."

"Oh. Thanks, asshole. Pardon me for my trash
mouth; I'm not used to being insulted."

He laughed. "I gotta say, you are a breath of
fresh air. You are in a town knee-deep in bullshit, and here you are going
around just trying to get the truth by telling the truth. You may have to
change your ways to ever really find the truth. Nothing wrong with a bit of whitewash
to get what you need."

"Sorry, lying isn't my style."

"Did I say lie? I said whitewash."

She couldn't help but smile. As offensive as this
Dennis Smith seemed to be, there was something about him she was warming up to.
Maybe the no-nonsense part appealed to her. Whatever it was, she wasn't in that
fear-for-her-life mode around him any longer.

"Where did you hear about Olivia Bowen posing
for Callahan's magazine?" he asked.

"The horse's mouth."

"Is she going to do it?"

Michaela shrugged and decided to go ahead and tell
him about Kathleen Bowen's possessiveness over her daughter, and how she seemed
to be the one behind the girl's career. Michaela decided to hold one piece of
information back from Smith, not certain if it was important and not completely
trusting him yet.

"They are a strange bunch. You see it all in
this town."

"Looks like it. What do you think happened to
Callahan in the room?"

"Possibly a heart attack, or maybe Bowen's
wife and Benz had it in for him and it backfired. But
someone
called the
paramedics. I can't imagine that if either one of them were up to no good where
Callahan was concerned, they would've placed that call. He might have been able
to do it himself, but the timing of Bridgette leaving the room doesn't work for
me. I'm not sure, but trust me, I will find out."

"She seemed different when she left. Kind of
like she'd had the wind knocked out of her. But why leave behind Callahan when
something bad had obviously happened?" Michaela asked.

"That might have been a necessity. You said
that she was jumpy on the phone earlier with Callahan. Maybe after whatever
happened up there, she figured to save her own skin, she'd have to pull herself
together. I'm sure she didn't want to have a chat with the paramedics or the
hotel management. That would certainly get back to her husband."

"Yeah, but what she doesn't know is that it's
already going to get back to her husband."

Dennis held up the camera. "Yep. Listen,
you're a nice lady and I'm sorry for first scaring you in the parking lot, and
then insulting you. My bad. But can I give you some advice?"

"Something tells me that you're going to give
it to me anyway."

He ignored the comment. "This crew you're
keeping tabs on, they've got a lot of cash, and if any one of them has
something to hide and finds out that you're trying to uncover their dirty
laundry, you could get hurt."

"Trust me, I've heard this before."

"Well, then…be careful. Here's my card. I'll
see if I can't get anywhere with what happened to your friend, and not only
because I want to sell a big enough story so I can head out on the next flight
to Tahiti, but because I can tell you really cared about Audrey, and I think
you deserve answers."

She took his card. "Yeah, Sorry about the
asshole thing. I don't usually call people names."

He laughed. "Are you kidding? That's a
compliment. Trust me, I've been called worse. By the way, do you need
directions to Cedars-Sinai?"

"Why would I need that?" She tried to
play dumb.

"Fresh air. That is what you are." He
stood and shook a finger at her. "Just take my advice and watch your back,
horse trainer. Watch your back."

MICHAELA HAD HAD ONE OF THOSE LUCID MOMENTS while
speaking to Smith at Shutters, and because she still had plenty of time before
dinner with Hudson Drake, she figured there was no better time to check her
theory. Marshall Friedman had flown under the radar during this entire thing. But
everyone knew him. Everyone involved had a connection to him. He sent Benz to
make a nasty threat to Audrey at the races. He was using whatever tactic he
could to pressure Olivia into signing with him as her manager. He obviously had
business ties to Callahan. She didn't exactly know how Bridgette Bowen was
connected to him, but she had a sense that Kathleen Bowen was somehow in his
inner circle.

It was the last minutes of the day at the
racetrack that hit her: minutes that at the time had gone by in a blur, and she
hadn't stopped to really consider them. But now she had a hunch that she was
right. Kathleen Bowen had asked her to call the chauffeur. She'd told her to
press five. When Michaela had, she'd gotten a man, but not the driver. When she
looked down at the call that had been made, the initials
MF
had come up.
It had struck her as odd at the time, and she believed it had been just a
mistake on Kathleen's part. It could be someone else with those initials.
Michaela was aware that she was betting against the odds, but it made sense to
her. The name
Marshall Friedman
had popped up in the course of
conversations between her and Kathleen, her and Josh, her and Olivia, and her
and Hugh. Marshall Friedman was lowlife Steve Benz's manager, and they were in
cahoots over signing Olivia to a recording contract with them, and then
some—like baring herself for Frederick Callahan's sleazy magazine. Who was this
Friedman, anyway? How well had he known Audrey? As Michaela thought back to
earlier that day at the races, she also recalled Benz's threat—or what had now,
in retrospect, sounded like a threat. Weren't his exact words something like,
"Audrey's
days are numbered and that Marshall Friedman will have Olivia under contract in
a matter of a week."
? Interesting how things had gone down after that.

She dialed Information and was connected to
Friedman's office. She made up a story that she was with one of the major hotel
chains that she was in town on a quick trip and wanted to speak with Mr.
Friedman about contracting some of his talent for entertainment in their larger
hotels. "I don't have much time, and I promise I won't take much of his. I
need ten minutes. I'd really like to speak to him. This is a major
opportunity." She was told that he was in a meeting for the next half
hour. She asked where the office was located. It was off the I-10 in Century
City.

The secretary hemmed and hawed for a second, then
finally agreed to allow Michaela to meet with him. Okay, she'd taken Smith's
suggestion of whitewashing to heart. And, she'd apparently learned a thing or
two from Joe. What would he say? What was
she
going to say when she came
face-to-face with Friedman? Oh well. She would come up with something. She had
to give it a try. Audrey's murder wouldn't stop haunting her.

By the time she made it to Century City and got
out of the truck, she was perspiring and her nerves were shot. Was she crazy?
It sure felt like it at the moment. What the hell. She'd never have to see this
man again, and if he gave her any answers to satisfy her curiosity, it would be
worth it.

She started toward the building just as two
familiar figures emerged: Kathleen and Olivia. She called out to them, but with
the din of the traffic they didn't hear her. They slid into the back of a limo
before she could reach them, and it pulled away. She felt relieved that Olivia
was okay, relatively speaking. But what were they doing there? They must have
been there to see Friedman. Had Kathleen convinced Olivia to sign an agreement
with him?

Michaela found his office on the eleventh floor.
The receptionist took her name and eyed her. She knew she didn't exactly look
the part of a traveling businesswoman.