The Boy Who Never Grew Up

by David Handler

  “I lit a long piece of string, like a fuse.”

  Matthew sat up. “Hey, I used that in Badger and His Chemistry Set, when he blew up the old Applegate place!”

  She smiled at him. “Of course. Where do you think I got the idea, Matthew?”

  “When you got to my place,” I went on, “you sobbingly revealed that you’d been raped and tortured by none other than Norbert Schlom. Now this was quite some performance. Possibly your best to date. You figured this would remove any lingering doubts I might have about your past association with Toy.”

  “You seemed so skeptical,” she conceded.

  “I generally am. And with good reason, I’m sorry to say. You also figured I’d eventually leak it to the press. What ghost wouldn’t? It was such a lovely yarn. And such a lovely way to escalate the war. You’re very shrewd, Penny. And careful. You also tried to seduce me that evening, figuring that as long as I was besotted by you I wouldn’t suspect you. You came prepared. Candles, champagne, caviar … You were extremely persuasive.”

  “That part wasn’t so hard,” she said softly.

  “Thank you. I’m flattered. But let’s not forget that your primary mission that evening was to burn Homewood to the ground. You wanted the Bedford Falls people to think Schlom was behind it. You wanted them calling each other more dirty names in the paper. It made for one outstanding photo opportunity, too. Page one all the way. Is that about right?”

  She was silent a moment. “Not really.”

  I stared at her. “Then why did you do it?”

  Georgie wriggled in her lap. She shifted him, stroking his blond hair with motherly tenderness. That tenderness is something I still think about at 4 A.M., when I can’t sleep. “I did it to stop Matthew from making his new movie,” she replied. “I don’t want him making it.”

  “Why not?” Matthew demanded.

  “Because she’s not in it,” Mr. Shelley figured. “She’s pissed off about it.”

  Pennyroyal snorted derisively.

  “Why?” I asked.

  Everyone leaned forward, awaiting her reply.

  “Because it sucks,” she said.

  “Because it sucks,” I repeated.

  “Everyone knows it,” she insisted. “The script’s a total piece of shit. A born flop. It’ll cost us millions.”

  Mr. Shelley frowned at her. “ ‘Us’?”

  “This studio is half mine,” she said firmly. “Or it soon will be. I have a right to be involved in the decision-making process.”

  “I admire your idea of creative participation,” I said.

  “Hey, it’s not as if they’d actually pay attention to me, would they?” she demanded hotly. “I hoped Matthew would get the message and back off. But he didn’t, so I had to take more drastic measures.”

  “Johnny,” I suggested.

  She nodded. “He was so weak. A lost little boy. I went to his place directly from Toy and Norbert’s party.”

  “How’d you know where he was staying?” Sarge wondered. “We only just took the place.”

  “From me,” Joey Bam Bam murmured, a sickly expression on his face. “I told her.”

  “You told Cassie,” Pennyroyal explained. “She wanted to interview him. I got the address from her. Not that she had anything to do with it. She’s innocent as an angel.”

  “Thanks loads,” said Cassandra sourly.

  “Don’t be so bitchy,” Penny scolded. “You wouldn’t have wanted to know, would you?”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Cassandra said sarcastically. “My mistake.”

  “It was a really dark, quiet street,” Pennyroyal said. “But his porch light was on. I couldn’t take a chance on a neighbor recognizing me, so I went around back. He let me in. He was real scared until he realized it was me. He put some music on. Popped open a beer. We talked about Abel, and how much he missed him.”

  “Did he realize that you had killed him?” Lamp asked.

  “Johnny wasn’t coherent enough to realize anything,” she replied. “You know what he said to me? He said that I should be in the new Badger movie with him. He said it wasn’t right, my not being in it. He was so sweet. I think that was the last thing he said before I killed him. … I made it look sexual again to distract people. And to make it more lurid and sensational for the papers.” She lowered her eyes. “I hated to do it. I always liked Johnny. But I had to stop this movie. The only other way was to kill Matthew, and I couldn’t—Matthew’s the studio’s biggest asset. This place is worth zero without him. Johnny … Johnny was expendable.”

  “My God!” erupted Mrs. Shelley. “You killed him to stop a movie from being made!? He was your friend and you killed him and you don’t even care!”

  “Don’t look down your nose at me, you little bitch!” Pennyroyal snarled. “What have you ever done in life except grow up in the same house with him?!”

  Mrs. Shelley looked at her brother with great sadness. “I’ve loved him,” she replied. “Which is more than you ever did.”

  It turned quiet now. Everyone in the room was staring at Pennyroyal, taking in the sublime horror of her. Or trying to.

  She colored slightly. “Why are you all looking at me like that?” she demanded.

  Usher cleared his throat. “Forgive us, Miss Brim. We’re making an effort to understand you. I’m afraid it isn’t easy.”

  “And it’s not so hard either, Senator,” I countered. “Penny said it best herself: A woman has to go to extraordinary lengths to be a power in this business. And she has.”

  “That’s right,” she affirmed eagerly. “Hoagy understands. All I’ve ever wanted was my share.”

  “Your share?” roared Schlom. “What share are you talking about, you crazy, twisted broad?!”

  “The share you’d never let me have, Norbert,” she answered. “You and all the other shitheads who run this business. I’m one of the pretty little girls. A disposable commodity. I get hot, I get cold, I get fucked. You’d never, ever let me have any of your precious clout. Well, I wanted some. And I worked for it, damned hard. You think you’re tough? Let’s see you go down on all those fat, smelly old slobs night after night. Let’s see you swallow their come and pretend to like it. Let’s see you marry a socially retarded goon who won’t cut his toenails. Let’s see you bear him a child and pretend to be happy about it every minute of every damned day, three hundred and sixty-five damned days a year. I’m tougher than you, Norbert. I had to be tougher. And I had to be more ruthless, too. If it meant killing, I killed. Whatever I had to do to get my share, I did it. This was my chance. My only chance. That doesn’t make what I did right. Or wrong. Just necessary. That’s what matters. That’s all that matters. Don’t pretend otherwise. And don’t go moral on me either, because if I had to do it all over again, I would. And so would you.”

  There wasn’t much to add after that. I certainly couldn’t think of anything. Except to turn to Lamp and say, “I believe it’s time for your speech, Lieutenant.”

  He nodded grimly. “You may as well come along with me, Miss Brim. You’ll save all of us a lot of trouble. And the taxpayers a lot of their hard-earned—”

  “Wait, you’re not actually planning to arrest me, are you?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

  “I most certainly am,” Lamp assured her.

  “But you have no case against me,” she argued. “No evidence. Nothing.”

  “We’ve all heard you confess, Penny,” Mr. Shelley pointed out.

  “So what?” she said mockingly. “I’ll deny I said any of it. It’s just my word against yours. And wait until you see me go to work on a jury. I’ll cry real tears. They’ll never believe you. You’re wasting your time, Lieutenant. The law can’t touch me. Isn’t that right, Kinsley?”

  Usher hesitated, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I’m not certain that the district attorney would feel he has enough hard evidence at this stage, Lieutenant,” he conceded.

  “Even with this?” I reached under my chair and produced
my tape recorder. It was still recording. I laid it on the conference table and gazed across it at Pennyroyal. “I happen to have this entire meeting on tape. A full confession.”

  She reached down into the folds of little Georgie’s blanket and pulled out a Glock semiautomatic pistol and pointed it directly at me. “And I happen to have this,” she said calmly. Shadow started to reach for his own gun. “Don’t even think about it, Shadow,” she ordered, her beautiful eyes never leaving mine. “Or you, Lieutenant.”

  “My gun is in my car, miss,” he said quietly. “That the weapon you used on Johnny?”

  “It is,” she affirmed. “And it has plenty of slugs left in it, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She continued to point it right at me, her eyes cool and determined. Until, slowly, she turned it on Georgie. Pointed it right at his small, blond head.

  “Not Georgie!” protested Matthew. “Leave him out of this.”

  The baby was asleep there in her lap, blissfully unaware of any danger.

  “I want that tape, Hoagy,” she said. “Give it to me.”

  “Now let’s all stay calm,” said Mr. Shelley, who sounded more than a little rattled.

  “I’m perfectly calm,” she said. And she was. “But I want that tape.”

  “Let her have it, Hoagy,” said Lamp.

  I popped the cassette out of the recorder and pushed it across the conference table to her. She pocketed it in her overalls, the Glock never leaving Georgie’s temple.

  “Thanks,” she said tartly.

  “You’re most welcome.”

  “I’m going to leave now,” she announced. “Don’t anyone try to stop me.”

  “We won’t,” Lamp said.

  “Leave Georgie here,” Matthew begged. “Please, Penny. Leave him.”

  “No way—he’s my only chance.” She got to her feet, cradling him in the crook of her left arm, her right hand still holding the Glock against his temple. Slowly, she backed away from the table toward the door. No one else moved. She didn’t bother with Georgie’s stroller. When she got to the door she stopped. And said “One question, Hoagy.”

  “All right.”

  “When did you know?”

  “Last night, like I said.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “You knew when I phoned you from my bedroom? You knew then?”

  “Of course. That’s how come I was so positive you wouldn’t be the next victim.”

  She thought this over. “God, you’re coldblooded.”

  “If I’m coldblooded, what does that make you?”

  “A player.” She said this proudly, defiantly. Then she vanished out the door with Georgie.

  She ran. Not for her car, but for the charred ruins of Homewood. She couldn’t move too fast, clutching Georgie. I couldn’t move too fast myself, on my gimpy knee. But Sarge, the world-class middle-distance runner, was plenty fast. Fast enough to sprint to her Land Cruiser, grab her Glock from the glove compartment, and tear across the lot after Pennyroyal, stride fluid, knees high. The lady could run. She overtook Pennyroyal before she’d even reached the soundstages. Would have tackled her to the ground, too, if Pennyroyal hadn’t shot her. Put one right in Sarge’s left thigh. Sarge went straight down with a yelp and stayed down, clutching at her leg. Bunny stayed behind with her. The rest of us followed Pretty Penny from a good, safe distance as she made her way into Homewood. Down Elm Street, where the Hayes and Dale houses had stood. There was only charred remains now. Nothing more, except for the pylons. To the town square, where Matthew’s camera crew was busy filming the wreckage. A great image for what’s happening in Badger’s head, he’d called it. I couldn’t imagine why he was bothering to film it. Possibly he was planning to recast the lead. Or bring Johnny back from the dead. As a cyborg. She ran directly for the one set that was still standing there amid the rubble, Homewood’s steepled white congregational church. She didn’t go inside. There was no inside. But there was a bell tower, the tower where Dale and Badger exchanged their very first kiss. A portable metal staircase like they use on airport runways led up to it. The fire inspectors had been using it. Not that it was a real bell tower. Merely a facade with a catwalk running behind it. Johnny and Penny had stood on this to film their love scene. She climbed the metal steps, clutching Georgie.

  “Where’s that crazy broad going?” Norbert Schlom wondered, panting.

  I considered sharing my tree-climbing theory with him, but decided not to bother.

  Matthew didn’t have to tell his crew to turn their cameras on her. They already had. They knew a climax when they saw one.

  She reached the bell tower, still holding the Glock to Georgie’s temple. Only he wasn’t asleep anymore. He was wailing, his arms and legs flailing about. He was not a happy baby. I couldn’t blame him.

  We all gathered down below on the town green, looking up at her. Except for Lamp, who was calling for help. Shadow had his Glock out, but there was no way to shoot her without hitting the baby. Possibly a sharpshooter could pull it off, but even he wouldn’t try it with Penny holding a loaded gun at Georgie’s head.

  “Stay where you are!” she commanded, as the cameras rolled. “All of you!”

  We stayed where we were, all of us. I looked around for Lulu, but I seemed to have lost her. Under a bench somewhere, no doubt. There had, after all, been gunfire.

  “Come on down from there, Penny!” cried Cassandra. “You’re just making things woise for yourself!”

  “I’ll shoot him if you don’t stay back!” Pennyroyal vowed. “I mean it!”

  “Leave him out of it, honey—he’s got nuttin’ to do with it!”

  “Talk to her, Toy,” growled Schlom. “She’s your friend.”

  “Cassie’s right, Penny!” Toy called. “You don’t want Little Georgie to come to any harm, do you?”

  “Why the hell not?” Pennyroyal cried savagely. “I never wanted him! I hate him! Do you have any idea how horrible it was, having him grow inside me?! His baby? What do I care what happens to him?”

  “She doesn’t mean any of that, Matthew,” Mrs. Shelley said, clutching her brother’s arm. “She’s totally out of her head.”

  Matthew shook his head. “She means all of it,” he said hoarsely.

  “She loves that baby,” Mrs. Shelley insisted. “She’d never hurt him.”

  “I wouldn’t test her,” I said. “I really wouldn’t.”

  Trace eased on over to Matthew. “Boss?” he breathed, squinting up at the tower.

  Matthew looked at him uneasily. This was the first they’d spoken. “Yes, Trace?”

  “I could maybe hook a rope to that thar pylon where the courthouse was,” he offered. “Swing on in from the side and kick the gun clean out of her hand. She’d never see me until the last second.”

  It was a movie stunt. Worthy of Captain Blood or Indiana Jones or Duke Jardine, fearless hero of Yeti.

  Matthew considered it as the cameras rolled. “I don’t think so, Trace,” he responded gravely. “It’d be a major gag, but it’s too dangerous.”

  “Fuck it—I don’t care about myself,” Trace insisted. “It’s the little guy I’m thinking about.”

  “So am I, Trace. She might shoot him if you miss her. We can’t take that chance.” He swallowed. His eyes filled with tears. “But thanks. It m-means a lot to me—that you’d do that for me.”

  Trace put a big arm around Matthew’s bony shoulders. “Hell, Boss, you and me been through too much to let that little girl come between us. She used me same as she used you. We’re in the same deep shit together, just like always. Don’t you worry—we’ll get him back.”

  Lamp drove up now in his unmarked sedan and hopped out. “Okay, everyone just relax,” he said briskly. “The experts are on their way.” He looked up at Pennyroyal. “Is there something I can get you, Miss Brim?” he called out, his tone solicitous and respectful. “Anything at all?”

  “You mean like a cold drink?” she asked, sneering down at him.

  “I mean like
transportation,” he offered pleasantly.

  She mulled this over, biting on her lower lip as Georgie squirmed in the crook of her arm. “I want my car.”

  “What the hell for?” Schlom muttered. “She ain’t going nowhere.”

  “Hush,” whispered Shadow. “He’s trying to calm her.”

  “That’s fine,” Lamp said, nodding to her. “I think we can manage that. Where do you want it?”

  “Right here,” she replied. “With a full tank of gas.”

  “Where are the keys?” Lamp asked her.

  “The keys? I have them here in my—” She started to reach for them, froze. “You’re trying to trick me, aren’t you?!” she said nastily.

  “No, I’m not,” Lamp assured her. “I’m honestly not that crafty, Miss Brim. But it’s okay—we’ll come back to that. What else do you want?”

  She stood there thinking it over. I heard sirens now off in the distance. And I then heard something else. I heard …