Hollywood Kids (46 page)

'Bobby, this is Marjory's personal detective, Michael Scorsini - Brooklyn for short. And, Michael, meet my boss - Bobby Rush.'

'I watched you shooting yesterday,' Michael said. 'It was pretty good stuff.'

'Yeah,' Bobby said ruefully. 'So good I killed my co-star.'

'Huh?'

'Cedric Farrell died of a heart attack,' Jordanna explained. 'Bobby's being facetious.'

Marjory met them at the door, hurrying to Michael's side like a dutiful wife. It was obvious she wanted everybody to think they had an intimate relationship going.

Jordanna observed the play between them, and felt sorry for both of them. Michael, because he was in a difficult position. And Marjory, for being so needy.

Bobby yawned and stretched. 'I'm beat,' he said. 'This has been some evening.'

'Yeah, sort of like "Adventures in Hollywood",' Jordanna joked. 'You should only know what we've been through.'

'You could say that,' Bobby agreed.

'I
am
saying it. By the way, where's our southern fried chicken? I'm still starving.'

'Did I hear southern fried chicken?' Michael said, realizing he hadn't eaten all day. 'My favourite.'

'You never told me that,' Marjory said accusingly, as if she should know everything about him.

'Let's have a picnic,' Jordanna suggested. 'Everyone to the kitchen.'

Michael's beeper sounded. Excusing himself he hurried into the library and returned the call. It was Quincy phoning from his car.

'I'm beat,' Quincy complained. 'I'm sitting outside a hotel watching the tourists come and go.'

'What're you doing at a hotel?'

'Cheryl Landers is here. I checked at the desk, she's visiting some guy. Get this name - Bosco Nanni.'

'Who's he?'

'Dunno. All I want is a night's sleep.'

'Your arm OK?'

'I'll live. Tomorrow morning the Chief of Police and Mayor are holding a press conference. My connection's got word they're about ready to bust this one wide open.'

'That's good news. So we don't have to do anything?'

'Nope. Once they drop this Zane guy's name into the computer, they'll pick him up fast.'

'That's a relief.'

'You're watching Jordanna Levitt?'

'She's here safely, don't worry about her.'

'I'll call you later. We'll meet early in the morning?'

'Sounds good to me.'

He checked his answering machine before going back into the kitchen, and was surprised and pleased to hear Kennedy's voice. His first reaction was to call her back, but then he realized it might be too late. Before he could make up his mind if it was worth taking the risk of waking her, his beeper buzzed again. He called back at once.

'Do you have the money yet?' said the woman with the muffled voice.

'Why would I have the money if you can't tell me anything concrete?'

'There's a package outside your apartment. If you want your daughter to stay healthy, get the cash by tomorrow afternoon.'

The line went dead.

Cheryl was dressed and ready to leave.

'You're some broad,' Luca said admiringly.

She presumed he was paying her a compliment. 'Thanks,' she replied casually.

'Yeah, baby, you really got what it takes.'

Hmm... nice to know she had what it takes to be the perfect hooker.

He handed her a fat envelope filled with cash. 'Don't believe in cheques,' he said. 'An' there's a tip in there for you. Remember, you don't havta share it with the house. Wanna count it?'

Taking the envelope she stuffed it into her purse. 'I trust you,' she said, thinking Grant would be a happy man.

'How about tomorrow?' he suggested. 'Nurse's uniform, one of them fancy black garterbelts, no panties. Same time, same place.'

'... I'm not sure.'

'Why? You booked on another job?'

'Maybe...'

You go back an' tell your madam I'll pay double - when it comes to satisfaction money don't mean nothin' fine.'

'If I'm not available they'll send you another redhead,' she said, all business.

'Baby, you simply ain't gettin' it - I want you. No substitutes.'

'Me?'

'Yeah, you.'

She left the hotel in a daze. The doorman called her a cab, and she returned to her house.

Grant was asleep. She sat down on the end of the couch and shook him awake.

'Hey, how'd it go?' he asked, still half-asleep.

She wondered if he'd had a girl over. There was a half-eaten pizza on the coffee table and two half-filled glasses of wine. Screw him!

'I have a return engagement by popular request,' she said, hoping to make him jealous.

'What?' he said groggily.

'My client wants me back tomorrow.'

He exploded with laughter. 'Are you shitting me?'

'Do you find that funny?' she asked haughtily.

He scratched his stomach. 'What did you do that was so out of the ordinary?'

'That's a trade secret.'

'Aren't you gonna tell me?'

'Tell you what?'

Was it a kick? Did it turn you on? Gimme details, Cheryl.'

'I'm not in the mood to talk about it.'

'You're not, huh?' he said, perplexed.

'No.'

He hauled himself off the couch. 'Then I guess I'll go home.'

'Do that,' she said, walking into her bedroom and slamming the door.

She was dying to talk to somebody, and it certainly wasn't Grant. How dare he send her out on a trick and then entertain in
her
house. She wished she knew where Jordanna was, then she remembered Shep had mentioned Jordanna was staying up at Marjory's, so she called there and waited while one of the security guards put her on hold.

Oh, God, Jordanna would freak when she heard.

Eventually Jordanna picked up.

'Jordy? It's me, Cheryl,' she said eagerly.

'How did you track me down?'

'It wasn't easy. You're always moving.'

'What's up?'

'I can't get into it over the phone. Can you have lunch tomorrow?'

'Hang on a sec, let me find out.' Placing her hand over the receiver Jordanna turned to Bobby, who was munching on a piece of southern fried chicken. 'Is it OK if I take off for lunch tomorrow - just for an hour?' He nodded. She moved her hand. 'OK, Cheryl, where and when?'

'The Ivy, one o'clock.'

'I'll be there.'

'I've got lots to tell you.'

'So've I.'

'OK, tomorrow.'

'See ya.'

'I have to go out,' Michael said, entering the kitchen.

'Where are you going now?' Marjory asked, as if she had a right to know.

'Business,' he said tersely.

'But what if I get another phone call?'

'Look,' Michael said, as patiently as he could. 'This has to do with my daughter. You're not alone here, Marjory. You've got Bobby and Jordanna, plus the place is surrounded by guards and attack dogs.'

'My father is paying you to stay with me,' she said stubbornly.

'He's not paying me to watch you twenty-four hours a day. I'll be back later.'

He took off fast, driving over the hill to his apartment like a speed demon.

True to what the woman had said, there was a package outside his apartment. He tore off the wrapping and opened the box. Inside was Bella's teddy bear - the one he'd bought her when she was two; a schoolbook with her name scrawled on the front in her funny little handwriting; and a blue sweater, her nametag sewn inside the collar. There was also a plain brown envelope. He ripped it open and read the message inside:

Ten a.m. tomorrow.
The pay phone at the gas station on
Sunset and San Vicente.

His heart was pounding. At least she was alive. If they'd harmed his daughter he would fucking
kill
, no doubt about it.

Now he needed money, and where was he going to come up with ten thousand dollars?

There was an answer. Her name was Marjory Sanderson.

Quincy trailed Cheryl's cab back to her house. He watched her go in, then he parked at the bottom of the driveway and settled down for the night.

He had every intention of staying awake, but before he knew it, he closed his eyes and fell into a deep comfortable sleep.

Michael headed back to the mansion. When he arrived, he picked up the intercom and called Marjory. She answered at once. 'You asleep?' he asked.

'No, Michael, I can't sleep.'

'Now that I'm back you can,' he said, turning on the bullshit charm.

'Was it so important that you had to leave?' she asked, her voice verging on a whine.

'It was very important, Marjory. I told you - it concerned my daughter. In fact, there's something urgent I'd like to discuss with you. Can you come downstairs?'

'No. You come up here to my bedroom.'

He would have preferred to meet downstairs on neutral territory, but since he had no choice he ran upstairs and knocked on her door.

'Come in,' she called.

Marjory was lying in the middle of an ornate white canopied bed propped up by several pillows, a thin silk sheet barely covering her breasts. 'Sit on the bed,' she said.

He sat down on the far corner.

'How can I help you, Michael?' she asked sweetly.

'Uh... it's about Bella, my little girl.'

'What a pretty name.'

'She's been missing for quite a while now.'

'Yes, you told me.'

'I've been getting messages from a woman who claims to know where she is. Tonight there was a package outside my apartment with her stuff. Somebody has her, Marjory.'

'That's good news, isn't it?'

They're demanding money. Big money.'

'How much?'

Jesus, this was difficult, but it had to be done. 'Ten thousand dollars.'

Her expression was blank. 'That
is
a lot of money.'

'To me it's a fucking fortune. But if we were honest about this - to you it's nothing.'

She reached up, pushing strands of long fair hair out of her face. 'Are you asking
me
for the money, Michael?' she said evenly.

'I'm requesting a loan.'

'Ten thousand dollars?'

'I've told you what it's for.'

'Shouldn't you go to the police?'

'You don't understand,' he said, feeling the frustration building within him. 'This is my kid we're talking about. My little girl. I can't risk the cops screwin' things up. I've gotta take care of this myself.'

'My father always warned me that if you lend money, you lose friends.'

'Marjory,' he said, fixing her with an intense gaze, 'am I getting through to you or not? I told you, I'll pay you back every red cent.'

'I suppose I could lend it to you if I wanted to,' she mused, thinking out loud.

He realized she was holding out for something, and he had a sinking feeling he knew what it was. She was waiting for some kind of commitment from him.

'It would mean a lot to me,' he said.

'Do
I
mean anything to you?' she asked plaintively. 'Or am I merely a client?'

'Sure you mean something to me.'

'Truthfully?'

'Yes,' he lied.

'If you weren't being paid to be here would we still see each other?'

'Is that what you want?'

She stared at him very steadily. 'Yes, Michael. I'd like us to spend time together.'

He knew he had no choice if he wanted the money. 'OK, Marjory, if it'll make you happy...'

'It will.'

A deal was about to take place.

'I need it early in the morning,' he said.

'What time?'

'Nine thirty the latest.'

'We'll go to the bank together. I'll draw out the cash and give it to you.' A pause, then, 'Can we have dinner tomorrow night?'

'I don't want to make any promises I can't keep. If I get my kid back...'

'If you get her back, you can bring her here,' she said, holding out her arms. The sheet slipped, revealing the tips of her small breasts. 'Aren't you going to kiss me good-night, Michael?'

He went over and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. She locked her arms around his neck, turning his face until his lips met hers, kissing him with a hungry passion he found quite alarming.

After a few moments he managed to extract himself. 'Gotta get some sleep,' he mumbled.

Her eyes were shining. 'Don't worry, Michael. We'll take care of everything together.'

'Good-night, Marjory.'

Her cheeks were flushed, her breasts still exposed as she stared up at him. 'You can stay if you want,' she whispered.

'Not tonight,' he said, making it to the door.

'Another time?'

'If that's what you want.'

'Yes, Michael, it's exactly what I want.'

Kennedy awoke early after a restless night. She took a quick shower and hurriedly dressed, then she headed over to the library, where she diligently scanned all the newspaper reports on the murder that had taken place during the making of
The Contract
. Interesting stuff. Everything began to fall into place. She took copies, made some notes, went home, and by the time Rosa arrived to pick her up she was waiting downstairs in the lobby of her building.

As soon as she got in the car she began filling Rosa in. 'I was right,' she said curtly. 'All four women worked on
The Contract
. And they're being systematically eliminated.'

'By whom?' Rosa asked, zooming in and out of traffic.

'A real weirdo according to everything written about him. Zane Marion Ricca - a New York actor who came out to LA, got a part in
The Contract
, and apparently had a thing for his co-star, whom he ended up strangling. Six women gave evidence against him. He's killed four of them.'

'Who are the other two?'

'Now that's the really interesting part. They're a couple of Hollywood kids. Rich, privileged and protected.'

'What do you mean by Hollywood kids?' Rosa asked.

'Two little rich girls who were only working on the movie because their daddies wanted them to have summer jobs. Jordanna Levitt, whose father, Jordan, produced
The Contract
. And the other girl is Cheryl Landers - her father owns the studio.'