Not Famous in Hollywood (Not in Hollywood Book 1)

by Leonie Gant

  Chapter Two

  It is amazing how quickly a situation escalates when celebrities are involved. Paramedics arrived soon after the police. Once it was determined that there wasn’t anything they could do for Ryan, they turned their attentions to Eleanor. I’d hoped that being stunned might at least induce, if not respect, maybe a little bit of fear of the law. As usual I was wrong. The second that woman was able to speak again, she did so loudly and without taking a breath.

  Having seen the power of the stun gun I was not willing to say a word, so I just stayed in the background, trying desperately to be unnoticed. The couple of times when I did try to calm her down and suggest she wasn’t doing herself any favors, I was swiftly told in no uncertain terms that my opinion was not wanted, and that unless I could get her out of here, then I was completely useless.

  At that point I figured that I had done the best I could. I smiled apologetically to all the emergency workers in the room. All I could do now was to try and work out how we were going to deal with the fallout when footage of this little tirade ended up on some media show. Because it would. One thing I have learned is that people have an amazing capacity to hold a grudge. I have often been told that I am too nice, that I let people walk all over me. Despite that, I have to admit, seeing Eleanor stunned gave me a nice feeling, as if it was payback for all the insults and abuse that she had dealt to me over the last few months. I was sure that regardless of the professionalism of the people in this building, one of them had a recorder working on their cell phone and it was taking down every vile thing that Eleanor was saying. At some point that recording was going to find its way to the media.

  So let’s count down how bad this was going to be for Eleanor. First, she slept with a man that she knew was engaged. Next, her booty call died while she was in the building. She, and I knew this was how it was going to be written up in the police report, attacked two police officers responding to the scene and they were forced to subdue her by using a stun gun. Finally, she was abusing police, paramedics and the coroner, all hard working, salaried employees of the city. When all this hit the news circuit, every commentator was going to have a field day. I winced as I looked through the window and saw the media trucks pulling up outside of Ryan’s house. This was so not good.

  There were people everywhere bustling around us. The poor young officer who had been first on the scene was standing near me looking sick. He looked young, like he was playing dress up.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, feeling a bit sorry for him.

  He gulped in some air. “I just stunned Eleanor Channing.” He had obviously only now started realizing the enormity of what he had done. There was no denying it. He had, and she went down like a sack of potatoes.

  “I’m going to lose my job.”

  “Maybe not,” I said sympathetically. “I think everyone here is going to say she deserved it.”

  The poor guy nodded gratefully but I could already see him mentally working out what career he might be better suited for.

  “It could have been worse,” I tried to say helpfully. “You could have shot her.” The poor man didn’t look convinced. I smiled at him. “If you want to focus on the positive side, you’ve given me a memory that I will treasure for the rest of my life.”

  He didn’t look as if that helped him at all.

  I watched as the paramedics loaded Eleanor into the ambulance. As she continued to berate them, I could only marvel at the level of self-control it must have taken not to tip over the stretcher and dump their complaining charge on the ground. As the ambulance pulled out there was a mad scramble amongst the media as they tried desperately to get photos of the inside of the vehicle. As it pulled through the throng some of the media vans chased after it, while others tried to make the call as to where the bigger story was.

  I’d tuned out most of the voices around me. I seemed to have been forgotten and I was severely regretting not having a coffee this morning. Not to mention I hadn’t eaten yet. I have a tendency to become a little cranky when I go without food. It’s one of the reasons I don’t diet. I’m not willing to inflict that part of my personality on my fellow man. That’s my reasoning and I’m sticking to it. I was imagining how good the pecan pie that I had at home would taste right about now, when I realized someone was standing in front of me waiting for an answer. I blinked and discovered I hadn’t seen these officers enter the premises. I had been so intent on ignoring everything that was happening around me that I had missed these cops. I should have noticed.

  This is the reason why ordinary women in LA have it so hard. When the cops look like this. The male cop was hot but not in the pretty boy way that I was used to seeing in my industry. He was masculine and looked like he could chew nails and spit out bullets. Tall with dark short hair and green eyes, he looked hard and strong. His partner on the other hand was gorgeous. With her tanned skin and black hair she would have looked perfect on a fashion magazine, but no, this is LA where even the cops look like this. I didn’t have a chance. No wonder my social life was so lackluster, well that and I worked for a tyrant who sucked the joy out of my life. Every. Single. Day. Maybe I should find another job. I was becoming remarkably bitter working for Eleanor.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” I hoped I sounded cooperative. After Eleanor’s continuous tirade I could only imagine the level of patience the police would have with me.

  “Which part?” asked the female cop.

  “Pretty much all of it,” I replied. “I kind of zoned out a bit there.”

  “Really,” the male cop said, and a part of me melted. He had a voice that was deep and just sort of caressed its way over me. “Not really smart considering you’re at a murder scene.”

  And just like that he became a lot less attractive to me. My eyes narrowed.

  “I’m sorry, it has been a trying morning and I was just doing my best to deal with a traumatic experience. How can I help you?” I asked, with just that extra dollop of sickening sweetness, all the while picturing his admittedly gorgeous head as a bowling ball. I could tell that they weren’t sure how to deal with my change in attitude. I have discovered in LA that people are always prepared for abuse. They have a plan for it. Sometimes that plan includes a well-placed put down, sometimes it is to be profane and at other times it is pulling the finger. In those situations being polite can completely throw them. They don’t know how to respond and especially adding it to the blank facial expression where they can’t read any cues, drives people nuts. My job requires that I be this way, and I excel at it. The female cop, obviously reading the cues that I was not impressed with her partner, took the lead.

  “I am Detective Ramos of the LAPD, Homicide and this is Detective Griffin. We just want to know what happened.”

  “Well,” I said, “I arrived here almost an hour ago. Miss Channing had called me to come and pick her up. I found the place locked but managed to get inside. I went upstairs looking for her. I found Miss Channing in the bedroom and Mr Hendricks in the shower. I turned off the shower and checked for signs of life. I then called 911.”

  All this was said very correctly and with no emotion at all.

  Detective Griffin’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “We found signs of a break-in downstairs,” he said.

  “If you’re talking about the doggie door, that was me. A little accident while I was trying to get in.”

  “What did you do, try to fit through it?” Detective Ramos said.

  I could feel myself tense up. Of course Detective Perfect Figure would have got through that door without a problem.

  “Where was Miss Channing when this happened?” Griffin interrupted.

  I stopped myself from swallowing nervously. This was the part that I knew was coming. I knew how the rest of this statement was going to look. I had no loyalty to Eleanor Channing and if she murdered Ryan Hendricks I would be the first to say she should get what was coming to her. The problem was that despite my personal feelings for the woman,
I couldn’t picture her as a murderer. That being said, I wasn’t going to cover for her either. My mother didn't raise an idiot.

  “Miss Channing was sitting on the bed when I arrived,” I said softly. “She seemed to be in shock and didn’t respond to anything I said. I checked to see if she had been hurt as well but I couldn’t see anything.” I spoke calmly and clearly.

  “We will need to take your statement down at the station,” Ramos said briskly. “Once Miss Channing has been checked out, we’ll be talking to her as well.” She indicated that I should follow and I fell into step behind the two of them.

  I had to stop myself from laughing. They had no chance of speaking with Eleanor. By the time she got to the hospital, the fortress of lawyers, managers and entourage would be back in place and these cops wouldn’t get anywhere near her. Unfortunately I didn’t merit the same protection, so I would be left hanging in the wind until somebody worked out that I had some value in protecting Eleanor. Until that crucial moment I was on my own.

  With that demoralizing thought, I pulled my hair out of the ponytail and let it hang forward as we drove through the property gates. Flashes went off around the car. The media had no idea who I was and I preferred to keep it that way. If I could keep my face hidden, maybe I could get through this without my family seeing my photo in a newspaper, with a headline proclaiming that I was a murderer.

  Once at the station I followed Ramos and Griffin, and I swear I did not look at the way Detective Griffin filled out that pair of jeans once.

  Hearing a yell I heard Griffin mutter, “what the hell this time?”

  “The lieutenant wants to see the three of you,” the young uniformed officer said.

  Traipsing back to the lieutenant’s office I was happy to see who was also there. My boss, Monique Petit. Monique, many years ago, was a model. She had come over to America from France, when she was young, to be an actress. But due to not being the right look, had not been able to find the roles that she wanted. Monique is a couple of inches over six feet tall and after all these years is still gorgeous. Her skin is a rich chocolate color and even though she is heading towards fifty she seems much younger. One look at the lieutenant’s adoring face and I knew that he was going to be putty in Monique’s hands. I had seen men on road crews move equipment so she could have a parking space, just for a smile from her. That kind of thing never worked for me.

  Standing next to Monique was her husband, Reggie Goodman. Reggie adores Monique and he is the only person in the world who can manage her. Reggie is like me, completely ordinary. He is shorter than Monique, stocky and had started losing his hair at a young age. People never assume that the two of them are together and when they finally work it out, there is always that look as if they can’t understand why she is with him. I know why. Reggie is one of the most wonderful and supportive men I had ever met in my life. Monique is very much aware of how lucky she is to have him.

  The lieutenant obviously didn’t realize that he was leering at Reggie’s wife. Reggie may not look like he could do damage, but I have seen big tough guys cry once Reggie had got a hold of them. At this moment though, the important thing to me about Reggie is that he is an attorney, and not just any attorney. Reggie is brilliant. I’ve seen him in action and when he is passionate about something he can wipe the floor with anyone else. Usually he would be way out of my price range, but as a favor to Monique I was sure I would be getting the special rate. He also likes the fact that I can cook. When I am stressed I bake and so that I don’t eat everything I make, I share the baked goods around. Reggie loves my chocolate and pecan cookies. I could see some big baking days in my future. Never underestimate the baking barter system. If you can make someone’s favorite treat from when they were a kid, you have a friend for life.

  Detective Griffin cleared his throat. “What can we do for you, Lieutenant?” he asked.

  I looked at the man with newfound respect. Any man who can speak coherently when in the presence of Monique obviously has a level of self-control that approached legendary. I saw a flash of irritation cross Monique’s face. Although she is happily married to Reggie and wouldn’t think of straying, there is still a small part of her that is proud of her effect on men. To find a man that doesn’t immediately fall under her spell pushes that competitive spirit button in her.

  “Oh, uh, this is Miss Eyre’s counsel,” the lieutenant said, waving a hand at Reggie without actually taking his eyes off Monique.

  “I assume that means we are not getting a statement,” Griffin said, looking at me with his eyes narrowed.

  The vindictive part of me that wasn’t interested in making his life any easier was kind of on board with that. I was not looking forward to sitting in an interrogation room for hours while being good cop, bad copped by the beautiful twosome. There are better ways to spend my day. I had already told them what I’d seen.

  I looked at Monique and Reggie. There is a reason I work for Monique. In a world where values and ideals are constantly compromised, she manages to follow the right path. She is devoted to a husband who may not be everyone’s ideal in the way he looks, even though temptation is thrown her way all the time. She makes it clear to all her staff that despite the world they work in, where drugs and sex are freely traded, she expects us to conduct ourselves according to our moral compass. She was also a strong advocate of taking individual responsibility. Even though she was letting me make the choice, I knew she expected me to do the right thing. Regardless of what happened, Ryan Hendricks was dead. Though I didn’t like the guy personally, if someone else was responsible for his death, he deserved justice.

  “I’ll make a statement,” I said, looking Griffin directly in the eyes.

  I could see he was surprised, and maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought I saw a flash of respect go through them.

  “I will be going in with her,” stated Reggie.

  I smiled at him gratefully and mentally promised him a double batch of chocolate and pecan cookies. As the four of us headed to the interrogation room, Monique stopped me and pulled me into a quick hug.

  “Be smart, listen to Reggie, and I’ll see you when you are finished,” she murmured, before striding through the room with every man watching her leave.

  “I need to speak to my client alone before we do this,” said Reggie.

  Detective Ramos pointed him to an empty room and Reggie grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. I noticed the way the two detectives took note of the familiar move. I didn’t care. Reggie was like that with me all the time. He liked to call me the younger sister he never wanted and our relationship reflected that.

  Once in the privacy of the room, Reggie turned to me. “Did you do anything that I should know about?”

  “Of course not, Reggie,” I said indignantly. “I got there after a phone call from Eleanor and found him dead. I have no idea what happened before then. I called 911 and then I called Monique, after checking to see if Ryan was still alive.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t touch the body,” Reggie said.

  “I checked his pulse, that’s it,” I said.

  “Alright then,” said Reggie. “Let’s get this done. When we are in there I want you to think before you speak. Don’t run off at the mouth. Don’t feel intimidated. I will be with you through this entire thing.” He squeezed my hand and I felt tears prick the back of my eyes.

  “For the love of God, don’t cry,” he said hurriedly.

  “I’m not,” I said, sniffing loudly. “You’re just being nice to me, I’ve had four months with Eleanor Channing. I’m just not used to nice. It’s throwing me off my game.”

  “Very well,” Reggie said. “I’ll be a bastard for the rest of the day. Don’t worry, if someone being nice to you is what makes you cry, you should be fine for the rest of this meeting. I don’t think Griffin and Ramos are going to be particularly pleasant with you.”

  “I think you could be right,” I agreed.