White Bird (A Mayan 2012 Thriller)

by Tom Rich

  “Thank you. Thank you. And you’re looking good, too, Marva”

  “Thank you, baby. As always, I’m feeling Marrrr-valous.”

  “I can feel the energy.”

  “Ener-GEE! But that’s not all. We’re about the love here, Sylvie Averling. Aren’t we about the love, Indianapolis? Yeah? Let’s show her. Let’s show Sylvie.”

  “I feel it. I do feel the love. Thank you. Thank you.”

  “Okay. Lovely. Lovely. Let’s get right to it. Let’s get right down to bidness. Now, we all know you’ve been through some rough times recently, Sylvie. We just want you to know that we’re a community in Indianapolis. We help each other. We help our friends, yes we do. We’re all about the love.”

  “I’ve seen it, Marva. In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve seen how Indianapolis pulls together. It’s great. It really is. This is such a wonderful part of the country.”

  “Hear that, ‘A. M. In The Apolis?’ Isn’t she down to earth? Uh huh. Now, I understand you are working on a book. What can you tell us about that?”

  “Well, yes, as you’ve mentioned, I’ve been through some rough times recently. Some of it has been documented by the press.”

  “Marva Jenkins is not about the rumors. I just want you to know.”

  “Um, yes. Unfortunately…well, the book is not about dispelling rumors. In fact, some of the truth I tell may be more shocking than what’s been reported in the press. But sensationalism is not what it’s about. The book is aimed at young adults and it’s about the dangers of substance abuse and how much is at stake and, hopefully, how to avoid some of the pitfalls I’ve encountered in my own travels.”

  “And this all ties in with the foundation you are starting.”

  “Yes. I—”

  “But you’re not—excuse me, we’ll get back to your foundation in a moment—but you are not right now in Indianapolis as part of a book tour.”

  “Well, no. The book isn’t finished.”

  “And the reason you are here?”

  “Well, we’ve come to Indianapolis to film a movie.”

  “Hear that? Hear that, Apolis A. M-ers?’ Yeah, uh huh. Now, now, now, when you say we?”

  “Um, well, Mr. Kenneth Fabritzi has been kind enough—”

  “Kenneth Fabritzi. Hear that? The famous director. Yes? Yes! It’s Kenneth Fabritzi you teamed up with on Ten ’til Midnight.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “So, what are you two up to now? A sort of Sleepless in Indianapolis kind of thingie?”

  “Nothing like that. The new film is a departure from what I’ve done in the past.”

  “I understand you like calling Mr. Fabritzi ‘Breeze’.”

  “Well, yes. So do others.”

  “What is it about directors and nicknames? My own director insists I call him T Bird. Yeah, there you are. Don’t try and hide. That’s right, baby. Pluto is off the list. What’s the next one out? Neptune? You go ahead and hide on Neptune. I’ll find you. Yeah. Uh huh. See, he knows who’s boss.

  “Sylvie, why don’t you tell us why you picked Indianapolis.”

  “Um, lots of reasons. First of all, there are less distractions here than—”

  “Oh?”

  “No. No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that. Plenty of things to do in Indianapolis. Nothing boring about Indiana. And I’m very appreciative of the hospitality.”

  “And thank you for that. We haven’t forgotten about, well, we still don’t say her name around here, even though it’s been some years since A League of Their Own was filmed near here. But I can see you are nothing at all like her. Not at all spoiled. And I’ll bet the book you’re writing isn’t about your hoo hoo either, is it? Ah ha ha.”

  “No, it’s not about…that.”

  “He’s looking around now. I see you, uh huh. Sylvie, are you familiar with our Mr. Turtle? See, his head pop up and he look all around like this. Then his head go back in the shell. See, he do like this. Then this.”

  “Yeah. That’s, uh, what’s that got to do—”

  “Just a little fun, thass all. Now, what about extras? When do you sign them up?”

  “Uhh, that’s really not my area. Mr. Fabritzi will be working with the Film Board of Indianapolis on finding any extras he may need.”

  “The Film Board of Indianapolis?”

  “Yes. They’re a very big help. They’re arranging many of the technicians it takes to film a movie. Plus much of the equipment. Of course, Breeze will use his own people in some—”

  “Hear that, T Bird? Whyn’t you tell me about this Film Board of Indianapolis? See, now he go in his shell. Yeah, you go on ahead and go to Pluto, I don’t want to find you. Huh? Right, ladies? WOO HOO! Yeah, Oprah used to do movies. Hear that, T Bird? Why not Marva? Sylvie, you ever see Oprah in the movies?”

  “Oprah is a wonderful film actress. I’d like to see more of her on the big screen.”

  “Uh huh. Sounds like you pluggin’ to crawl up into the small screen wit’ Oprah.”

  “No—”

  “Hey, we’re just having fun. But back to your new film. You’re not here to shoot just a few scenes, from what I understand.”

  “That’s correct. The entire project will take place in and around Indianapolis. Perhaps a master shot or two will come from somewhere else. But that’s only if Mr. Fabritzi can’t find what he likes. He knows what he wants and never settles for less.”

  “Uh huh. And what about the rumor that Kurtwood Franz is using the project to build up a production company to film an epic about his life?”

  “What?”

  “Warrrrrs and rumors of wars. But Marva is not about the rumors. Just tell us yes or no. Then, see, it’s no longer a rumor.”

  “Woody wouldn’t—”

  “Ohh, I see. Woody. Nooo, I’m not going to touch that one. What about you, Mr. Turtle? Yeah, see, he thinking about it. You just wait ’til you get home to touch it, Mr. Turtle. Yeah, thass right. Ah ha ha! But seriously, you’ve been with Indianapolis’s favorite son how long now?”

  “Uh, little less than a year. Are we getting back to my foundation?”

  “Just clearing up. We’ll get back. I have it on very good authority—”

  “Rumors. Gossip. What’s the difference? I have something important—”

  “I said no rumors hang with Marva. Now I know you don’t want the war.”

  “What? God. Fuck you, bitch!”

  “Wha? Uh?”

  “Aaaaand we’re out! Cue to commercial.”

  “This is live television, you little trash mouth! T Bird?”

  “The tape delay caught it. The F word did not go out to 26,000 viewers.”

  “Fuck you, too, T Bird! Fuck all you assholes! Fuckfuckfuck FUCK!”

  “Get off my stage you little tramp!”

  “I come here with something serious and you’re flapping on about your hoo hoo! Get me a real interview! Fuck this place! How do I get out of here?”

  “Door’s that way! Now GET OUT!”

  “You people can’t even take care of your own children in this town! Get your fucking hands off me! How the fuck do I get out of here? Where’s my driver? JEFFERY!”

  23: Vertigo

  “You don’t look so out of place out here,” said Detective Jones Pelfry.

  “I’ve hiked plenty scouting locations for Penance,” said Kenneth Fabtitzi. “Both here and in Oregon. My protagonist is tied to the land. It’s her source of healing.”

  “A regular Scarlet O’Hara.”

  “There is some originality attached to the project.”

  “So there’s a basis to your little starlet’s tirade on that morning show. Kurtwood Franz did drag you out here from the West Coast.”

  “I’m surprised you’d watch a show like that, Detective.”

  The two men were standing at the top of the hill that led down to the well where the second boy was found drowned. It was a gray, November afternoon. Pelfry felt drained and edgy on gray days, and
this day was a shade of gray that robbed the soul of warmth as much as it chilled the bones. The trees at their backs harbored a low, floating mist that seemed like the aftermath of a recent struggle.

  “You’re probably thinking what a cliché it is for an abandoned well to be the site of a murder in the Midwest,” said Pelfry.

  “Detective Pelfry, I have a feeling you’re not going to be satisfied until you get what you paid for. Fine, I’ll oblige. It’s the irreverent sarcasm of the privileged insider you’re expecting. Correct?”

  “This Hoosier bumpkin wants nothing less than to be dazzled and amazed by the famous Hollywood director.”

  “Then you might be amazed to hear that only one of the seven films I’ve made was a Hollywood production.”

  “And would it dazzle you to know that I’ve seen four of those films? In addition to Ten ’til Midnight?”

  “That, it would. I’m not aware of any of them being released here. And only two of the six made it to DVD.”

  “Chicago is not so far away.”

  “I’m impressed, Detective. You’re that big a film buff?”

  “That, and I like walking the lakefront.” Pelfry pointed. “The site I told you about is down there. See the well?”

  They started down the hill.

  “And you think I can give you insight as to why the croaking of frogs can’t be heard from a mile away? Frogs active in November, Detective? Why not tell me the real reason you brought me out here. Now knowing what an aficionado you are, I suspect this is where you bring autuers to beat them for selling out to make commercial films.”

  “I want you to know that I have the greatest regard for film directors.”

  “Good God, you’re about to force a screenplay upon me. You’ve hidden it in the bucket inside the well.”

  Pelfry laughed. “The way I see it, the film director is the quintessential modern religious leader. Who today has more influence on how people think? What they believe? And somewhere in there—and I don’t necessarily mean for the bad—morals are being broken down and reformed. There’s quite a responsibility there. Directors who occasionally make the commercial film in order to pursue the important works take that responsibility seriously.”

  “You win. I’ll have one of my development people look at your screenplay. But there’s little chance it will get passed along. I pay those people primarily for the insulation they provide.”

  Pelfry laughed again. “There’s no screenplay, Mr. Fabritzi.”

  “Your flattery is sincere? Then I insist you call me Breeze.”

  “Only if you call me Jones.”

  “Jones it is. But let me be perfectly honest with you, Jones. Despite your awe over my talents, there’s nothing I can tell you about the acoustics of this place that would be of any use.”

  “Truthfully, I’m just following that angle to please my boss. I thought the idea hopeless from the start.”

  They reached the well. Pelfry leaned against it trying to look casual. He looked inside. The darkness—the utter blackness—pulled at him. No longer feeling his feet on the ground, he felt the sensation of falling.

  “Then our business here is over before it begins,” Pelfry heard Breeze say.

  over before it begins over before it begins

  The echo inside the well strongly suggested to Pelfry the business of a life being over before it began. The murdered child reaching out? He’d read about flashbacks. Some remnant from the mushrooms might have kicked in just then. Or was this a signal of an imminent plunge down a more familiar chasm, at the bottom of which lay his own murdered childhood?

  Pelfry pulled himself upright.

  “Jones, you okay? You’re absolutely gray.”

  “Vertigo,” said Pelfry. He tried to shake the dissociative sensation of falling away from his own body.

  “Hmm. Such an uproar over that one. Especially the past few years. It’s my least favorite of Hitch’s. The whole double identity thing is just too flimsy.”

  Breeze couldn’t possibly be onto him, thought Pelfry. He needed a focus to center himself. “Yeah. Talking about filmmaking is why I brought you here.”

  “Oh? Am I now getting a look at Indiana tax dollars hard at work?”

  “Could be. If you hear me out.”

  “Yes, well, here we are. What aspect of filmmaking would you like to discuss?”

  Pelfry said, “Conception of an idea. Following it through to conclusion. Bringing a story to fruition so that it’s acceptable to a large enough body of people so that all the time, effort and money that go into a film aren’t wasted.”

  “I’ve made exactly one profitable film.”

  Pelfry nodded. “You know what works, what doesn’t.”

  “I know the difference between art and something that appeals to the lowest common denominator.”

  “Even better. You know what appeals to two levels of the collective unconscious.” By his middle teens, via his own studies, Pelfry had decided the root of the illness that had murdered his childhood lay in the ever-changing, advertising driven culture that obliterated the self while assuring consumers that identifying with an array of massed produced products was the way to achieve individuality. Once encountering Jung’s theories of archetypes and the collective unconscious, he found comfort that there was something real underlying it all; something ancient he could seek out and cultivate.

  Pelfry’s dissociative feeling lifted. He attributed this new ability to compartmentalize his paranoia to his experience with the mushrooms.

  “And?”

  “What if I gave you all the facts we have on the murders of the two boys. What if you took those facts to your development people and told them to come up with a plot leading to the crime that would appeal to the larger part of the movie going public. Maybe even another plot considered artistic.”

  “You want me to do your job.”

  “Doesn’t have to be a polished work. Just ideas.”

  “Let me tell you something. You saw little Sylvie’s tirade on television? I want you to keep this a secret, what I’m about to tell you, because I don’t know how much about it she believes is true. Fact is, her boyfriend is using her comeback film as a means for building a production company. So not only am I busy working on the film I want to make, I have to keep the money man happy by pretending to care about his project.”

  “What if I gave you a scenario where Franz may have committed murder? Could get him involved enough to keep him off your back for a while.”

  Breeze laughed. “What an imagination. There are some television people I could put you in touch with. As a consultant, I mean. Your comment about the collective unconscious? I know someone who may be interested in doing a series about a cop using Jungian methods for crime solving. That is what I’m hearing, is it not? It could be one hell of an income for you. And you would never have to leave all this.” He sweeping arm encompassed the gray day.

  “I’m going to tell you a secret. One that could get me fired from the force. I’m putting my confidence into your hands only so that you know I’m serious.”

  “I’m certainly interested in what you have to say. And you should know that I harbor enough Hollywood dirt to keep a show like ‘A. M. in the Apolis’ on for decades.”

  “Good. A couple of nights ago I ingested a psychotropic drug and came to this crime scene with the hope of gaining insight not possible by conventional means.”

  “You certainly intrigue me, Jones. Of course you know that no Hoosier would believe this pompous outsider if I spread such a story about one of their own.”

  “Nothing came of it. As far as revealing evidence of a child killer, that is.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Nothing at all transpired to help your investigation?”

  “I had my own Revelations type vision. But nothing to do with the case we’re talking about.”

  “I see. A writer would take that vision and exploit it. If we’re talking about a movie, a series, what have you, the viewing public w
ould demand your answers be found within that vision.”

  “I’m not trying to pass myself off as a psychic,” said Pelfry.

  “No, but if you’re talking about plugging into the collective unconscious, that’s an area where we all have the potential to be somewhat psychic, don’t you think? It’s only a matter of developing certain sensitivities. Your use of the drug sounds like a reasonable enough attempt. And not at first realizing that your vision applies to your case could be a device to build suspense.”

  “I’m thinking that cinema has become the contemporary manifestation of the collective unconscious.”

  “You are granting me those sensitivities? And you see me as an interpreter of the collective unconscious? One who has the ability to fish out criminal archetypes?”

  “Being the biographer of Kurtwood Franz, I imagine he’s told you quite a bit no one else would know.”

  “He’s not exactly an insightful person. Grandiose. Now that describes him. He’s only told me highlights he’s certain the world is dying to see embellished. But he’s very guarded about aspects of his rise from poverty. Jones, surely you’re not proposing a deal. You’re not serious about getting me to work on the boys’ murders if I get you evidence that will involve Franz in a criminal matter.”

  “Any skeletons he may have collected on his rise are probably long buried. What I have is an angle on a recent aspect of his life.”

  “You truly hate this man. May I ask why?”

  “It’s not personal. Well, perhaps that his wealth absolves him of criminal activities makes it somewhat personal. But that’s as deep as it goes. I’m only thinking a grandiose man hiding grandiose crimes can only be brought down with a grandiose plan.”

  “Interesting. Hollywood solving crime rather than being blamed for it.”

  “An unexpected benefit. And you can take however much credit you like. Turn it into a film and don’t worry about paying me a fee.”

  “Did you see my film Massacre on Sepulveda?”

  “Gang wars in L. A.”

  “I went to great lengths so as not to depict the police force as they are popularly drawn in films.”