Undead L.A. 1 (13 page)

Why do I have to be stuck with this little kid? What did I ever do to deserve this?

Gary had found himself working hard lately to fight off a sense of self-pity he'd never known before in his life. He suspected that it had to do with the feeling of being powerless combined with the growing realization that he was coming to the end of his career. It made him tired to think about it, but he still let it creep in. It was always at the edge of his field of vision now, lurking just out of sight. All these years and what did he have left to show for it? No matter how many murders he solved there was always a fresh pile of bodies a week later.

That was just how Los Angeles was, how it always had been, how it always would be. People came here from all over the world dreaming of a better life, of making it, of building something that would last. Some stuck it out, but only a few actually hit the big time. Most moved away as a new wave moved in, stars in their eyes. And a shocking number of these naive dreamers would end up pouring their blood onto these dirty streets, before being shipped off to the morgue.

Gary called the contact number he'd located for Leo, and the screenwriter's assistant Miriam answered. She was evasive at first, asking two questions back for every one he posed, until she figured out what kind of cop Gary was.

“
Oh my God…he's dead isn't he?”

“
What makes you say that?”

“
Because you wouldn't be calling asking questions about his family if he wasn't. You’re searching for his next of kin, but you won't find any.”

“
And why is that?”

“
Leo hated his family. He left when he was just a teenager and never went back. He even legally changed his name. I was about as close to him as anyone, and that's all I could ever get out of him. I don't even know where he was born.”

“
We need to come up there and take a look around, if you don't mind. I'd like to ask you a few more questions about Leo.”

“
1969.”

“
What's that?”

“
The gate code. I'll be here waiting for you.”

“
Thank you, Miriam. We won't leave you waiting too long.”

“
Take all the time you need.”

Gary hung up and walked back into the stinky theater to find Sandra sitting with the manager in the lobby, waiting for him. They spent the next fifteen minutes interviewing the small Cuban man in his upstairs office. It was a cramped space that smelled like Thai food. Gary fired off a short list of yes or no questions and the balding man shook his head at each, causing thin flakes of dandruff to fall off his scalp and dust his faded azure Guayabera. It became clear the man knew less about what happened in his theater than Gary had hoped for. As manager, he'd spent most of his shift locked in his office watching reruns of
telenovelas
on Telemundo. Gary took down his info and told him a bilingual officer would contact him for the rest of his statement. When they were done, they made their way back out front to Gary's car.

“
You eat?”

“
I had a protein bar on the drive over,” Wong replied. “I'm not feeling all that hungry after leaving that crime scene. I think it's the smell of that place. All that man-stink. I may not be able to eat for a week.”

“
And here I thought you'd be used to it,” Gary said sarcastically. “Anyway, I'm starving. I was hoping to grab a bite before we headed up the hill. You got a preference?”

“
Some place I can get something half-way healthy would be nice,” Wong said reproachfully. Despite his best efforts to introduce her palette to a whole new level of street food, she'd resisted his culinary advice from day one.

“
That takes out Pinks then,” Gary grumbled. “And Astro Burger.”

“
It's pretty early for either of those anyway.”

“
What about Norms over on La Cienega?”

“
At your age, aren't you worried about your cholesterol?”

“
What are you talking about? I'm in great shape.”

“
I know. I'm shocked. How about we go to Erewhon over on Beverly? They have a juice bar that will blow your mind. We can get you some fresh coconut water or a Reishi Cappuccino.”

“
Pass,” he said. “But now that you mention Beverly I know the perfect place to go. Follow me.”

She reluctantly walked back to get her car off the meter-only street parking. There wasn't an inch of the city that didn't make you pay for the privilege of leaving your car there. If you wanted to visit this sacred stretch of land, you had to shell out some dough, plain and simple.

He drove over to La Cienega while Wong followed in her BMW. Another perk of being a politician’s daughter. Gary passed Norms on purpose, looking longingly at the front windows of the crowded restaurant, and promising himself he'd eat there again soon. He turned left on Beverly and drove past another favorite eatery of his in the city, El Coyote. It was too early for Mexican food and the place wasn't open anyway. He passed Erewhon and parked up a few blocks ahead on the curb across from Swingers. He fed the meter and walked inside without waiting for her. She was on his heels in less than a minute, before he could even get seated. Inside the place was jumping, full of hipsters and Hollywood wannabe's. They took a seat at the counter and a waitress in a tight shirt with her cleavage spilling out handed them two menus.

“
What can I get you to drink?”

“
Two coffees, black,” Gary answered before Wong could.

“
Coming right up,” the waitress replied. She turned and headed to fill the two mugs. She had on a short Catholic schoolgirl skirt that showed off her pretty figure, and ripped fishnet stockings with faded blue, low top Converse shoes. All the waitresses were dressed like her, with way too much makeup and a whole lotta skin showing. Gary waited to see Wong react. It was the whole reason he had brought her to Swingers in the first place – to make her feel uncomfortable. Judging by her sudden silence, it was working like a charm.

The waitress flirted hard with Gary while she took his order, almost treating Sandra like she wasn't there at all. Gary got a kick out of how indignant Wong sounded when she ordered her bowl of oatmeal with fruit after he'd finished ordering a cheeseburger and fries. This place was known for their burgers as much as they were known for their hot waitresses in skimpy outfits.

The food came up quickly. Gary was happy to dig in; glad he didn't have to talk much more with his partner. For whatever reason, she seemed to be sulking over something. He didn't bother to ask why. The truth was he didn't really want to know. He'd never understood women and he didn't plan on figuring them out now. To him they were a subtle mystery not meant to be unraveled or understood. The deeper you went into their world, the less sense it all made. He preferred things to be simple and straightforward. In his experience this was never how it was with women.

They never really say what they mean
, he thought
. And they are always looking for a hidden meaning in what you say to them. Why is that? Maybe it has something to do with the hormones.

Someone put the Red Hot Chili Peppers on the jukebox first, followed by Rob Zombie. It was another one of the things that Gary enjoyed about the eatery – the music made the atmosphere. It reminded him of the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas where Motley Crue and Godsmack played in the elevators twenty-four hours a day.

When the bill came, he took it before she could reach for it. He flipped it over and on the back was the waitress’s phone number along with the name CINDY. Sandra's mouth hung open when she saw it, but she quickly covered up her surprise. He paid and she didn't thank him.

“
Call me anytime you are free, Detective,” Cindy said as he paid.

“
I work long hours,” he said noncommittally.

“
That's okay, I stay up very late.” Sandra turned and walked out of the restaurant quickly, letting the door slam in her wake.

*** *** ***

The house on Mulholland was located on a stretch of winding road that gave them a nice view of the San Fernando Valley. On a clear day you could see the intention behind the city: a visible grid of streets that ran uniformly from one side of the mountains to the other in both directions. There was a gate with a pass code they had to get through. Leo Gold's personal assistant, Miriam Green, had given them the code, but by the time they got up to the place the gate was already wide open. They drove the long stretch of road and parked in front of the main house. There were cameras all over the grounds so it was no surprise to Gary that the minute they got out of his Town Car the gate shut behind them automatically. The house itself was set into the side of a hill, with huge solar panels running down the roof.

Up until last week the house had belonged to Leonard Ethan Goldman, or Leo Gold as he had come to be known by his fans. Leo was a Hollywood screenwriter famous for writing impossibly dumb big budget action movies filled with car cashes, mind blowing stunts, explosions, and tons of CGI. It was ironic that the writer had grown so rich considering how thin the actual plots of the movies were. Gary was fairly certain the guy had scribbled them out in crayon on a napkin as the ideas came to him. They were the kind of forgettable garbage Hollywood thrived on in the end, summer blockbuster sequels with big name stars and high-octane action. Idiots would pile in to consume overpriced popcorn in huge greasy tubs and slurp on buckets of high fructose corn syrup-laced fizzy water in the dark, while an endless array of loud noises and flashing lights melted what little was left of their useless brains.

Miriam looked like she had been crying when she let them in. Her eyes were puffy and red. She had a tissue in her hand that she used to dab at the drips from her reddened nose. She didn't offer to shake their hands as they introduced themselves, but he was glad for that.

She's cute
, Gary thought,
but the last thing I need right now is a handful of snot.

“
I'm Detective Wendell and this is Detective Wong,” he said. “May we come in?”

“
Yes,” she said, dabbing her runny nose one last time. “Follow me.”

Gary was used to it, but he was still glad that Sandra was there with him. Maybe she could lend a woman's touch of sensitivity to the days’ tragic events and help soften the blow.

Miriam led them in past the large windows toward an air-conditioned office in the back. The walls of the hallways heading back were lined with framed movie posters. Gary recognized some of them. They were all about cars and cops gone bad and foiling terrorists’ plots and saving the world. Gary had seen one on cable a few nights back for several minutes, but then switched over to Sports Center after a car jumped over a semi-truck to land on a moving train. He didn't have much patience for that kind of child's fantasy. He preferred reading books to movies most of the time anyway, and then always crime thrillers about serial killers. He'd take a Thomas Harris book any day of the week over whatever summer blockbuster was topping the charts.

There couldn't be more than a thousand words of dialogue in all this guy's movies combined,
thought Gary.
How the hell can this guy call himself a writer?

He stopped and stared at the last poster on the wall. It showed a zombie horde advancing on a half-naked woman who'd fallen down in her attempt to flee the undead. She had cuts on her arms and legs and a look of pure terror on her makeup-smeared face. She held her manicured hand up to ward off the demons hungrily closing in on her. The macabre font in the middle read UNDEAD L.A.

“I was unaware that Leo made horror movies,” Gary mused. “I thought he just did loud movies with explosions and car tricks.”

“
He usually didn't,” Miriam said, sitting behind his desk and inviting them to join her. “He tried making a zombie movie, but it didn't get good reviews. Critics hated it and zombie fans called it
derivative garbage
. The box office sales were pathetic. He blamed it on the director, but the truth is that he just didn't understand the genre. Zombie fans are an intensely devoted group of people who don't appreciate it when Hollywood tries to make a quick buck off of them. He'd always wanted to do horror, but he never got around to it. He kept saying he wanted to do something like Twilight, but with Fairies and Witches. Now he'll never get the chance.”

Thank God for that
, Gary thought to himself.

“
When was the last time you saw Leo?”

“
Yesterday afternoon,” she said. “I worked with him here at the house until about four. He let me off early so I could visit my mom in the hospital. She's been having chest pains and they wanted to keep her overnight. I was there with her until around nine, and then my fiancé and I went to dinner. I came back this morning at 8 a.m. and was waiting for Leo to turn up when you called. In fact, I thought it was he who had arrived. I was excited to tell him I got him reservations tonight for dinner at the Water Grill downtown. He was planning on going to the Emmy's with a group of friends from CBS and he wanted last minute reservations.”