'... 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.
'Wha
t 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.'
Chapter Thirty-Eight
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.'
'So Zane - if he is the man committing the murders - decided to go for the easy ones.'
'Maybe he's going for them all and hasn't gotten around to Jordanna and Cheryl.'
'Could be,' Rosa agreed.
'We'll have to give all this information to the detectives working the case,' Kennedy said. 'I've already requested an interview.'
She stared intently at the picture of Zane Marion Ricca reproduced in the copies of the newspaper clippings. He had the kind of cold unemotional eyes that gave a person chills. The eyes of a killer.
Reaching into her purse, she took out her notebook and began making more notes.
'What are you doing?' Rosa asked, narrowly avoiding rear-ending a truck.
'Preparing what I'm going to say.'
'Good. The sooner they arrest this guy the better I'll feel.'
'Me, too,' Kennedy murmured.
* * *
Luca sat at a table on the terrace of his penthouse suite, eating scrambled eggs and bacon. Not good for his cholesterol level, but who cared.
A magnificent view of LA was spread out before him, and he had a smile on his face. It was on account of that Bambi broad last night, she'd really gotten his juices bubbling. Different. Not the usual hooker type. Young and feisty - just the way he liked a woman to be. He had a strong urge to see her again, especially if she was wearing a nurse's uniform as he'd requested. Yeah, a nurse's uniform with no panties and a lacy garterbelt. He'd have to get himself prepared for that little treat - the heat was certainly rising.
When Reno and Bosco arrived five minutes later he still had a smile on his face.
'What's up with you?' Bosco asked, picking up a piece of bacon with his fingers and stuffing it in his mouth.
'Bambi,' Luca said. 'The broad was a winner.'
Helping himself to another slice of bacon, Bosco said, 'Yeah? Was she juicy?'
'I'm seein' her again tonight.'
Bosco snickered. 'What is this - true love?'
'She's a good kid.'
'An expensive good kid,' Reno pointed out.
Luca abruptly changed the subject. 'What did you do last night?'
'Had dinner with an old friend,' Reno replied.
'Get a blow job?' Bosco asked crudely.
'Whatever I got, I didn't have to pay for it,' Reno said sharply.
'Let me tell you something about payin' for it,' Luca interrupted, dispensing words of wisdom. 'You pay - you get the best. An' last night I got the best. A good hooker does anythin' you want. Every woman should be like that. An' the important thing is she don't open her mouth unless you tell her to.'
'You should'a seen the one I had last night,' Bosco boasted, rolling his eyes in ecstasy. 'A blonde with big tits and an ass to lose your freakin' mind over.'
Luca pushed his chair away from the table. 'It's time. Let's go take care of that dumb motherfucker while I'm in a good mood.'
Bosco and Reno jumped to attention.
* * *
An extremely embarrassed Tyrone was waiting in the office when Bobby walked in. 'Jesus,' he said, rolling his eyes. 'I don't know what to say. I had too much booze, and I guess I got outta line.'
Bobby shook his head. 'You lost it all right. What was on your mind, for chrissake?'
Tyrone shrugged, 'Y'know, I don't usually drink. I feel like a dumb schmuck.'
'Good,' Bobby said, checking out the mail.
'Can we forget it happened?'
'If you make things better.'
'How can I do that?'
'By putting together Jerry Rush's deal. He's agreed to do it, but we have to finalize everything today. Pay him the money he wants, give him whatever billing he asks for, but whatever you do, keep me out of it. If we can change the schedule I'd like to reshoot as soon as possible.'
'You got it,' Tyrone said, suitably grateful.
Bobby shuffled some papers on his desk. 'What is it with you and Jordanna anyway?' he asked.
'I like her - I didn't realize you did, too. We had a date, she broke it. I was angry.'
'There's nothing between us,' Bobby said, still shuffling papers. 'She was helping me out. I bought her dinner because it was late and we hadn't eaten. That's it - end of story.'
'Hey.' Tyrone threw up his arms. 'I ain't going near her again.'
'Doesn't make any difference to me,' Bobby said casually. Although if he was truthful he'd admit it did make a difference.
After Tyrone left, Bobby picked up the phone and spoke to his contact in Business Affairs. 'How are we doing with Barbara Barr?' he asked.
'Her agent's throwing a shit fit, but it's all taken care of.'
'OK, thanks.' He hung up and called Mac on the set. 'Jerry's doing the movie,' he said, all business. 'Barbara Barr is out, and if you agree, I'd like to go with Jordanna. I think it'll work.'
'Fine,' Mac said. 'I've always thought she could do it.'
Next Bobby called Barbara Barr's agent. The guy considered himself a hot shot and was arrogant under the best circumstances. Now he was angry.
'You can't treat actors this way,' he said in an uptight voice. 'Barbara had the role. What's the matter with you people? How can you fire her before she's done anything?'
Bobby stayed calm. 'We're not firing her, she's getting paid off. Call it creative differences.'
'Creative differences, my ass.'
'You're getting your commission.'
'Commiss
ion doesn't mean shit when I'm dealing with an unhappy client.'
'Don't give me that.'
The agent switched tracks. 'Why are you calling, Bobby?' he asked sarcastically. 'You want to sign another one of my clients so you can fire them the next day?'
'Barbara wrecked my house last night.'
'She did what?'
'Your client broke into my house, cut my clothes to ribbons, and smashed up my house.'
'I don't think so.'
'Oh, yeah, I think so.'
'Why are you telling me?
'I want you to have a talk with her. I'm not pressing charges because I don't care to see this on Hard Copy. But if she ever comes near me again, she'll be asking for plenty of trouble. Be sure to pass on the message.'
* * *
Michael reached Quincy and told him he couldn't meet him.
Quincy was aggravated. 'Why not?'
'It's to do with Bella,' Michael explained. 'Something's coming down.'
'Can I help?'
'No. I'll be in touch.'
A few minutes later Marjory met him in the front hall, dressed smartly in a chic red suit, her long fair hair pulled back in a neat bun. 'I called the bank,' she said. They're opening early for me. They'll have the money in cash.'
'Great,' he said, feeling guilty, but what could he do?
'Which would you prefer?' she asked, clinging on to his arm. To eat home tonight, or shall I make a reservation at a restaurant?'
He didn't know which was worse, sitting at home with Marjory in the gloom of the mausoleum, or going out with her. 'Let's go out,' he said at last.
'Do you have a preference?'
'Hamburger Hamlet's the only place I know.'
'I'll choose somewhere nice,' she said, still clutching his arm. 'Michael, I'm so happy you came to me for help.'
He didn't know what to say. Right now all he was concerned with was finding Bella.
They travelled in separate cars to the bank, met up outside and entered together.
Once inside, Marjory was treated like visiting royalty. The bank officer counted out the money she'd requested in hundred dollar bills, then put it into an envelope. She took the envelope and handed it straight to him. He stuffed it inside his jacket.
Hollywood Kids Page 36