Hollywood Kids (34 page)

'You always look well, Mac - for an old guy.'

'Very amusing, Jordanna.'

'I'm trying to put a smile on your face. I haven't seen one there lately.'

'I've got a few personal problems.'

'Sharleen?'

'No, not Sharleen,' he said, guardedly. 'My wife and I are very happy.'

'I'm thrilled to hear it.'

'You really
are
a smart ass.'

'I'm
really
fed up with hearing that.'

'Then stop acting like one.'

'You know what the problem is, Mac? I say what's on my mind. I don't hang back. So if that makes me a smart ass - too bad.'

He shook his head and walked away. He was not in the mood for Jordanna's shit, he was too worried about Zane and what he might do next.

He wondered if he should warn Jordanna to be exceptionally careful, because if anything happened to her he'd never forgive himself...

No, nothing would happen to Jordanna. Besides, he was meeting with the private investigator later, everything would be taken care of.

When Jordanna and Cheryl were called to testify at Zane's trial, Jordan Levitt and Ethan Landers had tried to fix it so they didn't have to appear in court. But both girls had been adamant, they'd absolutely insisted on testifying. Foolish decision.

At the time Mac had been in constant touch with Luca Carlotti. 'I can't afford to be connected to Zane in any way,' he'd warned his godfather. 'I must be kept out of this. I gave an actor a job - that's all I know.'

Fortunately Luca had agreed with him. 'Zane has no idea who you are,' he'd said. 'I never even mentioned we knew each other.'

'Good. It's imperative we keep it that way.'

'Personally,' Luca had ruminated, his words quite chilling, 'I'd like to kill the dumb motherfucker. What kinda crazy bastard does a thing like that? In front of witnesses too.'

'He's
your
nephew, not mine.'

Mac had always harboured the thought that Zane should have been sent to the electric chair. Too bad he wasn't.

Now he had to find out if Zane was on the loose. He could have called Luca, but he didn't care to do so. The less he had to do with Luca Carlotti, the better.

A production assistant stopped Jordanna on her way back to the make-up trailer, handing her several new script pages. She took them to Bobby, who flicked through them before asking her to attach them to his script. She sat in the corner doing so, while he activated his portable phone. She pretended not to listen, but of course she did.

He called Barbara, knowing he had to ease out of the situation he'd gotten himself into as quickly and cleanly as possible. He decided the best thing to do was be truthful and tell her their one night of sex was a mistake.

'I'm sorry if you thought I rushed off this morning,' he said, speaking close to the receiver. Pause. 'Yeah, I had a good time, too. Lunch tomorrow?' Another pause. 'Sure. I happen to have the day off.'

Lunch was good. It would give him an opportunity to convince her that getting involved was a bad move for both of them.

As soon as he hung up, Jordanna was by his side. 'Shall I book you a table at Le Dome or Cicada?' she asked, little Miss Efficient.

'Beth will take care of it,' he said shortly.

Hmm... Jordanna thought, that means he doesn't want me to know. That means he's having lunch with Barbara Barr. That means he took Barbara home last night and probably fucked her senseless.

Was he nuts? Barbara Barr had a reputation for being a maniac, any idiot knew that.

For some unknown reason Jordanna was filled with an unfamiliar feeling of dismay.

She couldn't be jealous, could she?

No way. Why would I be jealous of Barbara Barr?

Because you like Bobby.

I do not!

Oh yes you do!

She hurried from the make-up trailer, dashed straight over to Kraft Service and wolfed down three sugar doughnuts and two cans of 7-Up. Then she felt sick.

Satisfied, dear?

Screw you.

He tried not to look impressed, but Michael had never visited a film set before. Oh, sure, he'd seen plenty of movies being shot on the streets of New York, but now he was in Hollywood and this was the real thing. It was kind of exciting.

Unfortunately they were not shooting at a studio - the location was the Ambassador Hotel on Wilshire Boulevard. He drew into the parking lot and left his car alongside a line of trailers. Then he walked towards the building, stopping to ask a guard where the filming was taking place.

'You'll find them inside the grand ballroom,' the guard said, waving his newspaper in the general direction of the hotel.

Strolling through the spacious grounds, Michael marvelled at the old hotel - it was quite something. Way back he'd read it was the hang-out of all the big stars of the thirties and forties - Clark Gable, Joan Crawford, Lana Turner - what a time that must have been!

When he reached the set they were in the middle of shooting a scene. He hovered on the periphery, fascinated by the activity.

Looking around, he recognized Mac Brooks from pictures he'd seen of him with his wife, Sharleen Wynn Brooks, the very sexy movie star. Lucky guy.

As soon as Mac called 'Cut,' Michael started over to him.

His path was blocked by a young black production assistant with dreadlocks and a sharp attitude. 'Can I help you?' she asked officiously.

'I got a meeting with Mac Brooks.'

'Is he expecting you?'

'Yes.'

'Your name?'

'Michael Scorsini, uh... from the Robbins Agency.'

'Wait here, I'll see if I can get his attention.'

She went and conferred with Mac, who glanced over and waved. When she came back she was slightly more friendly. 'He'll be finished with this shot shortly. Grab a seat and hang out - there's a few empty ones over there.'

He sat in a high canvas director's chair and wondered what it must be like to be an actor. All that attention. All that money. All that power.

Not that he'd ever had any ambitions in that direction, although in high school the acting coach had always been after him to join the drama group.

Bobby Rush hit the set movie-star style, surrounded by an entourage. Michael immediately recognized the dark-haired girl he had met at Marjory's. He waited until they started blocking the scene, then got up, made his way over and tapped her on the shoulder. 'Remember me?'

She turned and looked at him with surprise. 'Hey, Brooklyn!' she exclaimed.

'Hey, Bel Air!' he responded.

'What are you doing here?'

'I've got a meeting with Mac Brooks.'

She grinned. 'I see you survived your night at the mausoleum.'

'You feel the same way about that house as I do.'

'I'm only staying there on a temporary basis until I get my own place. Marjory's been a friend for a long time. We were at school together.'

'Really? She seems kinda... neurotic.'

'I wasn't going to be the one to say it, but, uh... yeah, I've always thought she was slightly crazy.'

'What do you make of these letters she's been getting?'

'I don't know - what
do you
think?'

'I haven't formed an opinion.'

'Look, if her father's paying, you may as well stick with the gig. She likes having you around, make the most of it.'

'What's
that
supposed to mean?'

'Hey, c'mon, Brooklyn, get real. You're a good-looking guy, Marjory will inherit everything when big Daddy slides off. You could be on easy street here.'

He did not appreciate her thinking he was only around to take advantage of Marjory. 'I'm working for her,' he said tightly. 'That's
all
I'm doing.'

'Sorry,' she said blithely. 'Forget I said anything.'

'I will.'

They stood in silence for a moment watching the rehearsal.

'OK, Brooklyn,' Jordanna said, genuinely curious. 'Give me the juice. What are you seeing Mac about?'

'Private business.'

'I bet I know. He's discovered Sharleen's having an affair and wants her followed.'

'You've got some imagination.'

'Are you like the private detectives in those cool Raymond Chandler novels? Do you leap out at people brandishing a Polaroid when they're in the bedroom making out?'

'You're behind the times. If I was going to do that I'd have an electronic camera embedded in the ceiling.'

'Ooh, very hi-tech.'

'Quiet please!' the first assistant yelled. 'We're going for a take. Everyone settle down.'

Michael watched them shoot a scene between Bobby and Cedric Farrell, the actor playing his father. They did the scene five times until Mac was satisfied, then he conferred with his cinematographer, walked over to Michael, shook his hand and said, 'Glad you could make it, Michael. Quincy comes highly recommended. Where is he today?'

'A skiing accident.'

'So, you guys are partners?'

'Yeah, we were detectives on the force back in New York, now we're together again.'

'What I have to say today is confidential,' Mac said.
'Very
confidential. I don't want to read about myself in
The Enquirer.'

'We got a reputation to protect. You can trust us.'

'Let's go to my trailer.'

They left the set, walking through the empty hotel all the way outside until they reached Mac's luxurious trailer.

'Take a seat,' Mac said.

Michael sat down on the built-in couch. 'So,' he said, 'Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?'

'I've been in this business a long time,' Mac said, pacing around. 'Made a lot of movies.'

'I know. I've seen most of them. You do great work.'

Mac liked the fact that this detective was smart enough to have seen all his movies - or at least most of them. 'Did you see
The Contract
?'

'Yeah - powerful movie.'

'It was, wasn't it?'

'That ending was really something. Had me on the edge of my seat.'

'Do you remember the story that hit the press while I was making that film?'

'Uh... I don't recall anything.'

'A murder took place. A young actress was strangled by one of the actors working on my film. We tried to keep it low profile, but it made headlines.'

'Now that you mention it...'

'I recast both roles - never used Ingrid or the actor in the movie. There was a trial and he was sent to jail. As far as I was concerned that was the end of it.'

'So?'

'During the trial six women gave evidence against him. All six of them witnessed the murder.'

'I'm listening.'

'In the last couple of months three of those women have been killed.'

'Excuse me?'

'You heard me correctly. Three have been murdered.'

'Is the actor still in jail?'

'That's what I want you to find out. Zane Marion Ricca got fourteen years for manslaughter.'

'Fourteen years ago?'

'No, seven. But I'm almost sure he must be out.'

That's about right. In California his sentence would be automatically halved. Have you told the cops?'

'Why do you think
you're
here? No more headlines. I can't be involved in this. You'll find out if he's been released, and if he has, how we can protect the other three women. Because if he has a list, believe me, they're definitely on it.'

The last thing Kennedy felt like sitting through was an interview with Charlie Dollar. Especially since a new murder had taken place, and she was anxious to investigate further.

Her appearance on TV had garnered quite a reaction. 'We're stirring 'em up,' Rosa assured her. 'I've heard the Chief of Police and the Mayor's office are finally getting into it. We're forcing 'em into action. They'll have to make an announcement soon, or there'll be a public outcry.'

'That's great,' Kennedy said, delighted that something was happening.

'My news director wants you to appear again. He sees this as an ongoing story. In fact, he'd like you to be on once a week until they catch this maniac.'

Kennedy agreed. Anything to help nail the killer. She knew that somewhere up there Phil and her father were watching her. Hopefully they were proud she was working on something worthwhile.

In the meantime she was stuck interviewing another movie star. This time the lucky victim was Charlie Dollar - a man who picked up his own phone. She'd actually gotten to speak to him when arranging the appointment, an unusual occurrence when dealing with a celebrity. He'd given her directions to his house and told her he'd expect her at noon.

When she arrived, she was surprised that he answered the door himself. 'Hey, lady journalist, come on in,' Charlie said, greeting her warmly. Two big dogs sprung to attention. 'Take no notice of the killers,' he said, leading her through to the living room. 'I got 'em trained - they only bite other actors.'

He had the wildest smile she'd ever seen, and glittering stoned eyes. Even though he was slightly balding and a little paunchy, he was definitely attractive in his brightly coloured Hawaiian shirt, pale beige Chinos that had seen better days, and scuffed white sneakers with no socks.

'Sit down,' he said, waving towards the couch.

She checked out her surroundings, deciding she liked his house, it was lived in and comfortable, not designer decorated to the last inch like most Beverly Hills homes. Obviously he'd surrounded himself with things he loved. The old brown leather couch was worn and welcoming; there were interesting paintings on the walls; the dogs wandered around as if they owned the place; and Charlie seemed perfectly at ease.

'Let's start by taking a detour an' going off the record,' he said with an endearing grin.

'Sure,' she agreed.

'Y'see, I got this raging desire to smoke a joint, but not if it offends you. Oh, yeah, an' don't mention it in your story - that's all I ask.'

Didn't he know he was stepping on dangerous territory? His opening line was almost too good
not
to write about.

'Can I trust you, Kennedy?' he asked, fixing her with his crazy seen-it-all eyes.