Pale as Death

by Heather Graham

  “A PI.”

  “Oh.”

  “Trying to help,” Bruce said quietly.

  “I loved Lili. Oh, not... I mean, we weren’t a duo.”

  “Of course not.”

  “My partner, Frank, is with the Hooligans, too. Our company is loosely made up of twelve people.” He was quiet a moment. “Eleven, now.”

  “I’m truly sorry. Please, tell me about Lili. You obviously cared about her.”

  “Oh, Lili...she wanted it so badly, you know? The fame and the fortune. We went to school together at UCLA. She really was very good. She could be funny—obviously, we’re usually working for the laughs with the company. And she could cry on cue. Not that many people can do that well. Not just scrunch up her face—I mean, she could produce real tears. But...”

  “But...?”

  “She wanted it too badly, you know what I mean?”

  “I think. You mean that she was one of those people willing to do anything at all to get where she wanted to be?”

  Trent sighed, shaking his head. Bruce wondered if he, too, could cry on cue. He doubted it. The tears dripping down Trent’s face seemed real.

  “I warned her so many times—this is Hollywood. You have to watch out here. I mean, well you have to watch out anywhere, but...here. We both grew up in LA, too, you know? Hollywood calls in the dreamers. And sometimes, people make the dream without the rest of the world having so much as a clue, you know? I can name you dozens of working actors who have names no one would ever recognize, but they work constantly. They aren’t the stars—they’re just the day players, the ones who make everything around the big names appear to be real, you know?”

  Bruce nodded.

  “Lili... Lili wanted to be the star. Hard to explain to you. I mean, you said you’re a PI, right? You wouldn’t know about actors.”

  “Oh, I know a little about them,” Bruce said.

  Trent barely seemed to hear him. He was drumming his fingertips on the desk. “Lili... I talked to her a lot. We all talked to her a lot. She...she was always excited. She went through three agents—not because she wasn’t good or because they weren’t getting her auditions...but she drove them crazy. They couldn’t deal with all the times she called, you know. And, then, of course, they’d get angry with her if she went off on something that they didn’t think was...legit.”

  “Like porn? Was she doing pornography?”

  “No...and not because she wouldn’t. I mean, if she was going to do nudity, it was going to be for HBO or Showtime—someone really legitimate. She wanted fame so badly she wasn’t going to do anything that might bite her in the ass in the end.”

  “But she was working for the Hollywood Hooligans.”

  Kenneth Trent nodded. “She was. We’re just a fledgling group. I am the CEO and the secretary. My partner works construction during the day to keep this all going. We do a play and we make sure people get paid, but...well, we all wind up with a couple of hundred dollars. We do a lot of improv, yes, but we’ve put together a few really good plays. Well received. Lili even got special notice after our last. It was political. I wrote it. It was good, honestly, even if I do say it myself—but critics said it, too.”

  “When did the show’s run end?”

  “The weekend before last—our final performances.”

  “Have you seen Lili since then? Do you know what she was planning on doing?”

  “Oh, yes, of course, I saw her. We had our wrap party, and then...”

  He hesitated.

  “And then?”

  “I saw her the day she must have died. She was with me last Sunday—just a couple of days ago. She came in all excited. She told me that she was sure she was about to get her really big break—but I shouldn’t worry, she’d always work with me. And when she was famous, she’d make sure everyone knew that I was brilliant.”

  “What was her big break?”

  Kenneth Trent shook his head. “She was meeting someone on Sunday afternoon. Someone who could ‘rock her world.’” Kenneth Trent began to cry softly again. “I guess he did. I guess he rocked her world, all right.”

  4

  Tuesday night

  The day had been extremely difficult and exhausting, yet it had seemed almost normal.

  Of course, there was nothing normal about the murders. The savagery and brutality—and the display, surely intended to arouse the public and taunt the police—were far from normal. Murder was always heinous.

  The very act of taking human life was horrible.

  But seldom had Sophie seen such barbaric horror.

  Still, working with victims—at the scene of a crime or a dump site—or the friends and family of victims, was something she did often enough. And, so, while the day had seemed beyond hard—an autopsy, a new murder scene, and the suffering of the survivors—it had also kept her from thinking about her own situation.

  And the fact that the day had started so bizarrely.

  There had been Gwen—Sophie talked to her and the other friends who had come in, as well as the teachers and her landlord and everyone else who had been brought in or called. She had also received and worked through the reports from the other officers who had been out pounding the pavement to see what they could find.

  She knew that Bruce McFadden had gone out to conduct interviews.

  She chafed that she hadn’t been able to be in two places at once.

  She was finishing a report when Vining tapped on her door. “Long day,” he said. “But time to wrap it up. It’s all come down from the top—FBI is getting in on it, and we’ll have a task force working with us. Meeting and catch-up and assignments first thing in the morning. For now, Sophie, go home. Dawson and Levy have been given all the info we have so far—they’ll be working it overnight.”

  “There’s so much we never got to,” Sophie said. “Kenneth Trent and the Hollywood Hooligans. Lili’s boyfriends.”

  “Sophie, you need to get some rest.”

  “I know. This is just so, so horrible. Two young women. This killer must be stopped. We haven’t begun to scratch the surface. I have the reports. I know that our people have been fact gathering—”

  “Both girls lived alone. Lili Montana had an apartment in Burbank. Brenda Sully had a studio near the school. No roommates. Landlords checked out—airtight alibis. And your friend—Bruce McFadden—was out to see Kenneth Trent. Naturally, while we were working on the new victim, boyfriends—new and old—were questioned by our officers. We’ll double-check their alibis with a fine-tooth comb. I believe that McFadden was also stopping in on Jace Brown. We can question them again, but...well, you know me.”

  “Yes, I know. The best cops accept help. And I’ve never cared if we made a collar, Grant. You know that. I just want this man off the street.” She smiled at him weakly.

  Sophie wasn’t sure why she felt so irritated. She was telling the truth—she agreed that they needed every bit of help on this case. It had nothing to do with jurisdiction. She didn’t have an egotistical need to be the one who brought down the murderer.

  They just needed the murderer brought down. Fast.

  She was glad of FBI involvement, and the resources they brought along.

  But McFadden...

  He wasn’t a cop—nor was he FBI. And while his brother had been instrumental in helping them catch a killer just recently, there was something about Bruce that got under her skin.

  “Ah, wait a minute. That crime scene tech Lee Underwood called,” Vining told Sophie. “He said they gathered a zillion prints at your place. But there was nothing—other than you—that got any hits in the system, and there was no other evidence. Except that one printed page you reported missing. They locked up carefully when they left. Then again, if someone else had your key, that someone can get back in. You did rekey the place when you moved in, right?”


  She wondered if there wasn’t just a bit of skepticism in his voice. “Grant! Yes, I rekeyed when I moved in. I can call my cousin Lisa right now, but I believe she’s traveling. She keeps whatever keys she doesn’t need at any one time in a safe. She’s a travel writer, Grant, but her dad, like mine, was a cop. She is so far from careless or stupid.”

  “Then that leaves one thing,” he said softly.

  “And what’s that?”

  She realized as she spoke that Bruce McFadden was back from wherever he had been—doing their work.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he said.

  “You’re not interrupting. You heard my question to Sophie. What do you say?”

  Bruce turned to Sophie. He was a tall man, good-looking in a rugged way. She doubted he owned a single hair product. Raw soap. Maybe aftershave. “A man’s man,” some might have called him.

  His eyes fell on her.

  “Well, if your cousin wasn’t careless or stupid...”

  “Then I was?” she asked, standing. “Okay, fun and games are over, guys. I am not careless. My purse is in my desk when I’m in the office—oh, yeah, and this is a police station. I like to think that we’re competent enough to keep the perps out when I’m moving about. We do have to have some faith in our fellows, right? Otherwise, my belongings are never—and I do mean never—away from me.”

  “Well, it remains that the locks were not changed today. Lee apologized that he couldn’t stay with the team, but he had to head on over to the new crime scene. We’re trying to keep a cohesive main unit on this—ME, crime scene and other techs, photographer and cops. Hopefully, we won’t miss any little details that way, though, of course, every spare man and woman in the city will be working on this. So Sophie, I don’t think you should stay there tonight.”

  “I’m a cop, Grant.”

  “Yeah, and a smart one, Sophie. You know enough to know that no man or woman alone can fight off a determined perp—oh, and actually get a night of sleep. That would be important right now.”

  “I can stand guard, split up the night,” McFadden offered.

  “Or I can, and will, happily go to a hotel,” Sophie said.

  Vining waved a hand in the air. “Whichever. Sophie, this case is...what it is. The break-in at your place may or may not be related, but the point is you’re valuable. You can’t take risks right now.”

  Bruce McFadden cleared his throat. “Actually, the case is ongoing for the moment. I found Jace Brown at his local bar. I brought him in. I thought we might all like to have a chat with him.”

  “You have Jace Brown here?” Sophie frowned. Maybe she liked him a little better.

  “Yes,” McFadden said. “The front desk officer escorted him into an interview room. Another officer is watching him until we get there.”

  Sophie was on her feet. Vining sighed.

  “So, the day is going to be just a bit longer...let’s get to it!”

  * * *

  Jace Brown was bleary-eyed. He’d evidently been doing a lot of drinking before Bruce McFadden had found him at his watering hole. He was sipping coffee now. And maybe his eyes were as red as they were because he’d been crying, too.

  He was young, late twenties to thirty. His build was thin but wiry. He was a handsome man, as so many were in LA—land of big-screen dreams.

  He tried to rise as the three of them entered the room.

  Then he sank back into his chair.

  “The cops aren’t saying much. And you’re not going to say much. But everyone knows. You know, guys, people have eyes. And the talk. And I know that my Lili was cut up like prime beef...” He burst into tears.

  In most murder cases, it was true that law enforcement looked close to home for suspects at the beginning of an investigation. Husbands, boyfriends. Lovers.

  By the very nature of it, this case was different.

  She didn’t think that the man’s show of wet emotion was crocodile tears.

  “You two didn’t live together,” Sophie said.

  He shook his head. “My fault. No, her fault, too. She was...ambitious. I mean, we didn’t pretend that we weren’t together, but I know she felt that for the time, it seemed important that she appear to be a free agent. You know, she just came off another relationship. Living together is a big step. We were close... I loved her. But we weren’t ready for that step.”

  “When did you last see her?”

  He inhaled. “Sunday morning. We had brunch at a café in Studio City. Then she was heading over to Vine to see Kenneth Trent—and then...”

  He broke off.

  “Then?” Vining prodded gently.

  “She was meeting someone.”

  “But you don’t know who?” Bruce asked.

  He shook his head. “She—she thought she was meeting someone who was going to give her a great offer. Film. She told me it was going to be a screen test. One that could be a major break in her career.”

  “But she didn’t give you a name, or tell you who she was meeting?” Sophie asked.

  Jace Brown shook his head. “No, it was all going to be a big surprise. She said that I wouldn’t know the name...new player in town with money, someone who wanted to make her a star. I reminded her that there were all kinds of promises out there, and some weren’t true. I told her that she really did have a great opportunity with the Hollywood Hooligans—maybe not big money, but they’re gaining more and more respect and critics love them. That’s where opportunity lay. But she told me not to worry...”

  “You didn’t report her missing,” Bruce said quietly.

  “I didn’t know she was missing. We didn’t live together. I figured that maybe things were working out for her. Oh, God.”

  “Where were you after brunch? When your girlfriend was being killed?” Vining asked.

  Jace Brown looked at him. “That’s right, asshole. Killed. My girlfriend was killed—and now another girl has been killed. Where the hell were you? I played football with friends for the afternoon. Give me a piece of paper. I’ll give you all their names. I went back to the home of my buddy, Niall, who lives in Malibu. He still lives with his folks, but hey, if my folks had a three-story house in Malibu, I’d still live there, too. His parents and his sister knew I was there—we had some beer. His mom wasn’t about to let me drive. Talk to Kenneth Trent. He saw Lili after I did.”

  “We will talk to him.”

  Bruce leaned forward. “Kenneth Trent saw her after you. He told me the same thing, she was excited about a meeting. She was secretive but enthusiastic. Can you think of anything at all she said about the man she was meeting?”

  Jace swallowed hard. “She said that...he was young. Wait. Not that he was young. That he was new. I think some rich guy who wanted to use his money to break in to the business, you know. Someone with enough to get going as an indie producer. He’d seen her work—he’d told her that he loved her.”

  Bruce looked at Vining and Sophie. The man was telling the truth. Of course, they would check out his alibi, but Bruce felt it was going to prove to be good.

  “You know anyone else that Lili might have talked to?” Bruce asked. “A girlfriend?”

  Jace sighed deeply. He shook his head. “Lili...she wanted this. She—she wouldn’t have shared. She had the contact. And—she wanted to be big.”

  Vining said, “All right, Mr. Brown. We’ll let you get on home. Thank you for coming in. You may hear from us again soon.”

  Jace Brown stood and wavered. Sophie looked as if she would reach for him. Bruce caught his arm. “You all right? I’m going to see to it that you get home. I brought him here—I’ll get him back safe,” he told them.

  “No, I’ll get him home. Sophie—you can stop by your place and get some things. Then check into a hotel. And tomorrow, you’ll see about the locks on your place.”

  Vining didn’t ask for any
one’s agreement.

  “You know,” Sophie said, looking at Vining and not at Bruce. “I really can take care of myself. I’m not afraid—”

  “And according to you, someone was definitely in your house even though the doors were definitely locked. So someone had a key. We’ve been through this. You need to be awake, alert—and rested. Spend the night in a hotel. On the department. Where are you staying?” he asked Bruce.

  Bruce told him.

  “Just check in downtown for the damned night, all right, Sophie?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “See that she does it,” Vining told Bruce.

  “No one needs to see that I do anything. I’ll check in to McFadden’s hotel,” Sophie said.

  Bruce shrugged, looking at Sophie.

  “I’ll get my things,” she said simply.

  “I’m taking the car. You’re with him,” Vining said over his shoulder as he walked away, steering Jace Brown toward the exit.

  Sophie dashed back to her desk and quickly grabbed her simple carryall bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

  “Do you want to stop by your house?” Bruce asked her.

  “No. I’m fine. I keep a few things in my locker,” she said.

  “Just as well. If someone is eyeing you, they won’t have a chance to follow.”

  She glanced at him sideways and spoke emotionlessly. “And if someone wants something in my apartment, we’re giving them an open invitation.”

  “Good point.”

  Sophie walked off ahead of him and had a quick word with the officer at the front desk. When Bruce caught up, she told him, “We’ll have a patrol car go by my place.”

  “Great.”

  She was quiet when they reached his car. He started to walk around and open the door to the passenger’s seat for her, then changed his mind.

  She barely noticed. She wasn’t happy. He was trying to be polite; she really didn’t care if he did or didn’t open the door for her.

  She just didn’t want to talk. Thankfully, he seemed to figure it out.

  They drove in silence.

  * * *

  To Bruce’s surprise, as they headed for his hotel, Sophie finally began to speak quietly, almost as if she was musing aloud. “I believed Jace Brown. I think he was really in love with Lili Montana.”