Hollywood Kids (28 page)

He found it hard to believe that a pretty girl like Shelley hardly knew anybody.

It occurred to him that maybe his uncle had been talking to his mother, and they'd arranged to put the girl in the house to spy on him. Nothing they did would surprise him.

Thought for the day. If she was a spy he'd have to kill her.

'How come you're here?' he asked.

'A friend borrowed the place from a girlfriend of hers, and she kind of passed it on to me.'

'You told me you didn't have any friends,' he said accusingly.

'She's just a girl I met at acting class.'

'You go to class?'

Yes.'

He wished he could go to acting class, but it was impossible. Had to keep to himself. People were treacherous, and the less he mixed with them the better.

'I'm moving soon,' Shelley revealed. 'My acting teacher is going to Europe for three months and he's asked me to house-sit.'

Where's that?' he asked, not really interested.

'Way up Laurel Canyon,' she said. 'It's a lovely small house, completely secluded. Perhaps you'll visit me.'

He nodded.

'Let me fetch you a piece of cake,' she said, moving across the room. 'I'm from Utah,' she called over her shoulder. 'Where are you from?'

There seemed no harm in telling her. 'New York.'

'You won't believe this,' she exclaimed, 'but I've never been to New York.'

She was wearing shorts and a skimpy T-shirt, and as she moved back towards him carrying a plate, he noticed her small breasts bouncing up and down beneath the thin material.

He'd not had a woman in a while. That initial fevered rush of whores when he'd first left jail had sated his sexual appetite, but now...

What if he decided he wanted to fuck Shelley? Would she allow him to? Or would she react the same way as the one with the yellow hair and start yelling and screaming and kicking until he'd been forced to put his hands around her soft white throat and squeeze tightly until he'd shut her up.

Shelley handed him a piece of fruit cake on a blue plastic plate. 'Taste that,' she said, licking her fingers. 'It's delicious.' She paused for a moment, then blurted out, 'Can we go to a movie one night?'

He considered her invitation. 'No,' he said.

'Why not?'

I'm on a deadline.'

Is that why you're always locked in your room?'

'Yes.'

'I never hear a typewriter.'

'I write in longhand.'

She looked impressed. 'Oh, you're a real writer, that's so exciting.' A pause, then, 'If you're ever lonely, John, you can knock on my door because I'm always here. We could listen to music.'

He tasted the cake. It was sticky and sweet.

He imagined Shelley without her clothes. Soft skin... Sweet skin... Sticky skin...

He knew he had to leave immediately, it wouldn't do to get aroused in front of her.

He took another bite of cake and walked to the door.

'Are you going?' she asked, sounding disappointed.

'I have to.'

'Don't forget,' she said hopefully. 'Drop by any time.'

'I won't forget.'

He returned to his room, closed and locked the door, stripped off his clothes and resumed his pose in front of the mirror.

Now he could allow himself to be aroused.

He stared at himself so long and so hard that his own reflection came back at him, and he felt exactly as if he were staring into the soul of another being. It was an eerie feeling.

After a while he began stroking and caressing himself until the moment was upon him, and when he climaxed he stifled a cry of pure anger, stuffing his fist against his mouth to stop the sound from escaping.

Later that night he slipped quietly from his room.

It was time to deal with victim number four.

The late Gerda Hemskys boyfriend was a big man with rugged features, crew-cut red hair and a worried expression. He was the manager of a sporting goods store. Kennedy arrived to see him at his place of work. He wasn't happy when she introduced herself and told him she was writing a story.

'I'm trying to put this behind me,' he said, agitatedly glancing around. 'Gerda was a fine woman. We lived together a year and then... this. Now everything's gone crazy. I had to move out of our apartment yesterday. I can't stay there without her.'

Kennedy made an instant evaluation and crossed him off as a suspect. She always trusted her immediate reaction when it came to people, and she sensed this was an ordinary guy caught up in a bad situation. 'Have the police questioned you?' she asked.

'Yes,' he said grimly. 'As if they had a right to. It isn't enough my girlfriend gets murdered, now
I
become a suspect.' He paused for a moment. 'You know what's happening in this country, don't you?'

'What?'

'It's the criminals that get treated right,' he said heatedly. 'The innocent people are the ones that end up with no justice.'

She nodded. 'I'm sure you're right.'

'I
know
I'm right,' he said forcefully.

A sales clerk came up with a request for him to sign off on a cheque. He did so.

Kennedy took out her notebook. 'Can I ask where you and Gerda first met?'

He frowned. 'Are
you
questioning me, too? Do
you
think I'm a suspect?'

'Of course not,' she said, realizing what a strain he must be under. 'I'm writing about several other women who've been murdered in the same way. Two of the women worked in the movie industry, Gerda in a bank. What did she do before that?'

'She was a bookkeeper at an accountant's office.'

'And prior to that?'

'Her mother knows. She can tell you.'

'Do you happen to have her number?'

He wrote the mother's number down on the back of a receipt and handed it to her.

Thanks,' she said. 'I'll leave you alone for now, I can see you're busy.'

He nodded abruptly and walked over to the cash register.

She made her way to the front of the store and stood outside for a moment before crossing the parking lot.

He ran after her and caught her before she reached her car, startling her. 'Sorry,' he said, out of breath. 'But you must understand - this isn't easy for me.'

'I
do
understand,' she said sympathetically.

'Look,' he hesitated, having trouble talking. 'I'm glad you're trying to do something. You have no idea what it's like when somebody close to you is murdered.' He paused before continuing, choking back his emotions. 'If they ever catch the guy who did it, I'd like to personally hang him up by his balls.'

Kennedy nodded understandingly. 'If it was up to me I'd make sure you could.'

She called Gerda's mother from the car. An answering machine picked up, so she left her name and number and requested a return call. Then she set off to meet Rosa for lunch.

The restaurant was crowded and Rosa was excited, her brown eyes sparkling. 'Listen, Kennedy,' she said, 'I'm about to suggest something, and I insist you say yes because it's a
fantastic
idea.'

Oh, God, Rosa never quit. 'If it's a man-' she began.

'No,' Rosa said, interrupting quickly. 'It is
not
a man. It's business, pure business - OK?'

She sighed. 'All right, tell me about it.'

Tapping her long scarlet fingernails on the table, Rosa said, 'The situation with these murdered women is getting out of control, and since the police are not exactly active, my news station has decided to adopt it as our story. We're all very excited. And I came up with a
brilliant
idea.
You're
going to appear on camera and talk about it on the evening news.'

Kennedy almost laughed aloud, Rosa had really lost it this time. '
Me
? On television? You've
got
to be kidding. I don't even watch it, let alone appear on it!'

'I am
not
kidding. You'll do it,' Rosa said, eyes flashing.

'Why would I?'

'I'm telling you, there's a serial killer out there. It's time the police formed a task force, and we can make them. The power of TV is awesome. You'll see.'

'I'm sorry, there's no way I can do it.'

Rosa wasn't listening. 'Don't worry, you'll be great.'

'Says you.'

'My news director's joining us for coffee. If you haven't said yes by then he'll talk you into it. And no, Kennedy, do
not
get turned on - he is
not
available.'

She began to laugh. 'Finally, a man who's
not
available. And this is the one I'm going to want, right?'

Rosa laughed too. 'Yeah, right.'

Kennedy was apprehensive, it was all happening so fast. She should have said no and listened to her gut instinct, but Rosa and her news director had been very persuasive.

She sat down and wrote an editorial, then she went over it with the news director, who was very enthusiastic.

Rosa advised her how to behave in front of the camera. 'It's easy. Sit still and get a fix straight into the camera. When the monitor rolls, you'll see your words come up on the tele-prompter - all you have to do is read 'em. It'll look exactly like you're talking directly to the viewers.'

'Are you certain this is going to help?' she asked tentatively, not sure at all.

'Positive,' Rosa guaranteed.

'Then why don't
you
do it?'

'Because they're used to me. They see me on the news every night. You're a big-time journalist, our viewers will love it.'

'I
am
?'

'Yes, you
am
. Your
Style Wars
cover story on Bobby Rush is pretty controversial.
USA Today
did a piece about it. You're hot right now, and we'll use that factor to boost ratings.'

'I am not responsible for that story.'

Think about it this way, you'll be doing some good. If we can get the Chief of Police to put together a task force, then we'll have done our job. Remember the Hillside Strangler a few years back? This is beginning to be just as bad.'

'OK, OK, I'll do my best.'

They did a mock run-through. What an ordeal! She stumbled and stuttered her way through it, feeling like a complete fool. Later she went into the make-up room where they proceeded to put too much blusher on her, and a deep green eye-shadow she hated. 'I can't stand all this make-up,' she complained.

'TV lighting washes people out, especially blondes,' Rosa explained. 'This way your features will come across.'

Next the hairdresser teased and sprayed her hair. 'Oh, God! I look like a Barbie doll,' she moaned, peering in the mirror.

'No, you do not. You look magnificent, stop having a fit.'

By the time she got back in front of the camera she was nervous.
Really
nervous.

The news team began taking their positions. Rosa and her co-anchor - a black man with crinkly hair and a deeply reassuring voice - sat in the middle of a curved desk, while the other regulars gathered around them.

Kennedy's mouth was so dry she didn't know whether she'd be able to say anything or not. Who
needed
this kind of stress!

Finally the cameras started to roll. She watched Rosa slip easily into her anchor role and felt slightly better. If Rosa could do it, so could she.

By the time the studio manager gave her the signal to start speaking she was like a greyhound at the starting gate - ready to win.

Taking a long deep breath she began to speak.

'So,' Kennedy said, after the show, feeling quite elated. 'I've done my part, now it's your turn - we're going line dancing.'

'Are you certain this is a good idea?' Rosa asked unsurely, as they left the studio.

Kennedy got behind the wheel of her Corvette. 'Whether it is or not, we're doing it.'

'Maybe we should have brought Ferdy with us.'

'I have a feeling he'd stand out,' Kennedy said drily. 'Somehow I don't think these Country and Western dives are exactly crawling with six-foot-four black basketball players.'

Rosa agreed. 'I suppose he isn't exactly unobtrusive.'

They drove to Boots, a Country and Western club on Pico Boulevard, pulled into the large parking lot, and got out of the car. Rosa immediately began worrying about her appearance. 'Is my ass too big for these jeans?' she said anxiously. 'I'm sure people are going to be pointing at me saying, 'There's that anchorwoman with the big fat ass.'

'Oh yes, that's what they come here for - just to spot celebrities with big butts.'

'You'd be surprised. This is Hollywood, babe, celebrity spotting is what it's all about.'

'You've got it wrong - people come to these places to learn to dance. They're into this whole cowboy thing.'

'Bullshit,' Rosa replied succinctly. 'They come here to get picked up.'

'Margarita wasn't the type.'

'Every woman's the type if she's available.'

'I don't think so, take me as your prime example.'

'Oh,
you
. You're hardly normal.'

'Thanks a lot.'

The place was packed. Would-be cowboys abounded, circling the vast round bar that took up the entire centre of the huge space. There were a few booths against the wall, and several standing stations where you could place your drink and survey the action which took place on a large dance floor where groups of people indulged in two-stepping and line dancing. Good old country togetherness.

'Jeez!' Rosa exclaimed. 'Am
I
in the wrong place! This is Americana City. I bet I'm the only Hispanic here. I'll probably get beaten up in the parking lot!'

'Calm down,' Kennedy said. 'We'll have a drink, take a look around, then we're out of here.'

'I don't believe these guys,' Rosa exclaimed, checking out the passing parade of men. 'Look at 'em. Cowboys by night, accountants by day.'