by Blake Pierce
“I hear she’s a very private person.”
Jessie, despite her frustration, appreciated how quick on his feet Boatwright was. She liked being tested.
“Would you release Tara Tanner from her confidentiality agreement so that she can confirm the misperception of your reputation?” she asked.
“What would you ask her?” he wondered.
“The same thing I’ll ask you: did you sleep with her?”
“That’s none of your business,” he answered, though without the venom she would have expected.
“Did you sleep with Corinne Weatherly?” she asked immediately.
Boatwright’s face suddenly got pink. He stood up.
“I’ve had just about enough of this,” he bellowed in a tone Jessie suspected he used often when police weren’t around. “You come in here making unfounded accusations, casting aspersions on my character. It’s disgraceful!”
She was unmoved by the display.
“We’re just asking questions, Mr. Boatwright,” she said innocently. “And I notice you didn’t answer mine.”
“Either arrest me or get the hell out of my office,” he demanded.
Before Jessie could respond, Detective Alan Trembley took a step forward. There was a forcefulness to his demeanor that she hadn’t seen before. He pulled his handcuffs off his belt and let them dangle from his finger as he spoke.
“Mr. Boatwright,” he said in a cool but steely voice, “you can either sit back down and answer our questions directly and without attitude. Or we will arrest you on suspicion of murder. I’ll cuff you, frog march you out of this office and onto the street outside where Corinne’s fans and multiple TV vans are waiting. You can untangle the complications down at the station with your high-priced attorney. Meanwhile your face will be splashed all over local and national news. The choice is yours.”
Linzie poked her head in the room.
“Everything okay in here?” she asked hesitantly.
“I don’t know,” Trembley said, staring at Boatwright. “Is it?”
The producer’s eyes darted back and forth between Jessie and Trembley, neither of whom blinked.
“It’s fine, Linzie,” he finally said. “Everything’s good here. Sorry to worry you.”
Linzie hurried off. Boatwright sat back down, trying to get comfortable in his chair. Trembley reattached his cuffs to his belt. Jessie looked over at the detective with newfound respect. It had taken a while for him to find his inner badass, but now that it had arrived, she hoped it would stick around.
“Did you sleep with Corinne Weatherly?” she repeated.
Boatwright looked down at his desk as if it might have the answer, then looked back up.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “But it was completely consensual. It happened before I was married. And it had nothing to do with her getting the role in Petals and Petulance.”
“That was just a coincidence?” Jessie poked.
“Our…interaction took place after she already had the part. I won’t deny that my attraction to her may have played a role in her getting it. But the same quality that drew me to her personally is what also made me sure she was the right actress to cast. She just had that star ‘thing.’”
“So why didn’t you ever work together again?” Jessie asked.
Boatwright sighed heavily.
“Corinne became a star but that didn’t do anything to smooth over her insecurities. If anything, it exacerbated them. She became—I don’t want to call it obsessive. But she wanted to continue our relationship. I…this doesn’t reflect very well on me, but I lost interest after the conquest. She was a lot of work and ultimately not worth it. Then I met my future wife. Corinne was jealous. She kept pursuing me.”
He noticed Jessie’s raised eyebrows and shrugged before continuing.
“I know I’m no matinee idol. But for whatever reason she thought we were right for each other. It started to get uncomfortable. So I just cut off contact. The studio wanted to do a Petals sequel but I refused. I was doing just fine without it and I didn’t want any excuse for us to be around each other. I thought that a clean break was the best way to help her move on.”
“How kind of you,” Jessie muttered.
“So you torpedoed her chance at a successful sequel because you didn’t want to be around her?” Trembley asked.
“Pretty much,” Boatwright conceded. “And she definitely resented it, especially once she hit a dry spell after the Marauder movies. I got some nasty voicemails, which I kept in case I needed evidence for a restraining order. It never reached that point. But there were bad feelings for years after. For her, I don’t think they ever really went away. I’d see her at events and we were cordial but there was always an edge. I never turned my back to her. I honestly thought she might stab me with a salad fork if she got the chance. Having said all that, I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“What does that mean?” Jessie asked, noting how convenient it would be for him if they were.
“I hadn’t seen Corinne once since she started shooting on the lot. I even paid a guy in the commissary to let me know when she ate there so I wouldn’t accidentally bump into her. I know my name was on that mirror in her trailer and I can’t explain that. But I think you’re asking the wrong question.”
“What’s the right question?” Trembley wanted to know.
“How did she get that job on the new Marauder in the first place? Her career was in the crapper. She had a poisonous reputation. How did she convince a major studio to invest millions into a reboot of a tired franchise? And who might that have pissed off?”
“We already know about the Bad Boys list, Mr. Boatwright,” Jessie said. “Is that what you’re referring to?”
“I’ve never heard of it,” he said though he barely attempted to sound convincing.
“Are you on it?” she followed up.
“No, I’m not,” he said.
Jessie almost smiled at the brazenness of him denying being on a list that he supposedly didn’t know existed. She pressed on.
“So you think she was murdered because she got the role in this latest movie and that it had nothing to do with what happened when she was cast in your film a decade ago?”
“I don’t know anything definitively. But Corinne was ambitious, willing to do what it took to get back in the limelight. I wasn’t in her world anymore so I wasn’t privy to the lengths she’d go to or the secrets she hid and kept. But I heard rumors that her appetites, for both renewed fame and for…personal gratification were ravenous.”
“You’re saying she slept around for jobs and for pleasure?” Trembley asked with admirable directness. “And that somewhere along the way, that came back to bite her?”
Boatwright was silent for several seconds, seemingly trying to find the exact right words with which to respond.
“I think that if you want the answers to those questions, there’s someone you could easily ask.”
“Who might that be?” Jessie asked.
“Willem Struce.”
“Her husband?” Trembley said, stunned. “How would he know about her secret trysts and blackmail attempts?”
Boatwright smiled patronizingly.
“This is Hollywood, Detective. You should know better.”
Jessie was starting to get that.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
This time, Jessie made Trembley pull over.
They were just starting up into Beachwood Canyon to see Willem Struce again when Jamil called. With the notoriously bad cell connection in the Hollywood Hills, Jessie didn’t want to risk missing anything. So they were parked outside a corner grocery at the base of the hill, listening on speaker as the young researcher bombarded them with updates.
“First things first,” he said, not waiting to hear what information they felt was highest priority. “Tech cracked the thumb drive.”
“That’s awesome,” Trembley exclaimed. “So you have access to the Bad Boys list?”
&n
bsp; “I’m looking at it now,” Jamil said. “Should I send it to you?”
“Sure,” Jessie said. “But please send a copy to Parker in Vice and to Detective Bray at Hollywood Station. She’ll have a better sense of how to move forward with all the names. For now, can you tell us—is Miller Boatwright on it?”
“Hold on,” Jamil said, obviously scrolling as he spoke. “No, I don’t see him. Sorry.”
“Damn,” Trembley said. “I was hoping that if we caught him lying about that, we could disregard everything else he said as just covering his ass.”
“He might still be,” Jessie said. “But at least we know that if he was involved in her death, it likely wasn’t because she was blackmailing him.”
“I’ve got more news,” Jamil said. “I’m not sure if you’re going to like it.”
“As long as it’s accurate, we’ll like it,” Jessie assured him. “We’re looking to find the truth, not just reinforce our own suspicions.”
“In that case, it looks like you’ll have to cross that actor, Teddy DeWitt, off your suspect list. There’s video of the panel discussion he did and he was onstage until well past eleven that night.”
“Damn,” Trembley muttered.
“There’s more,” Jamil said reluctantly.
“Go for it,” Jessie said. “You may as well just rip off the Band-Aid.”
“Okay, then your suspicions about Petra Olivet may need to move to the back burner. Her phone GPS data shows that it never left the hospital on Sunday night.”
Trembley looked crestfallen at the injury to his pet theory.
“Maybe she left it there to cover her tracks,” he suggested. “Maybe she took a cab to the studio.”
“Maybe,” Jamil said unconvincingly. “But I checked with a half dozen taxi companies that operate in that area and none of them has a record of anyone being picked up near the hospital and then dropped off near the studio.”
“What about rideshare?” Trembley offered.
“I guess it’s possible,” Jamil said doubtfully. “We’d need a warrant to check that detailed level of data. But even if she took one to the studio, how would she get a ride back to the hospital without her phone?”
Trembley didn’t answer. Jessie didn’t want to linger on his disappointment or rub it in so she moved on quickly.
“Thanks, Jamil. Anything else?”
“I got the GPS phone data back on Willem Struce from Sunday,” he said.
“Oh, great,” Jessie replied. “We’re going to meet him now.”
“That works out well, because you may have something new to talk about.”
“What’s that?”
“He told you he was home all night on Sunday, right?”
“Yup,” Jessie confirmed.
“Well, his phone suggests something different, as does his car. Both of them show him driving to somewhere near the corner of Santa Monica and Las Palmas boulevards, about fifteen minutes from his house. According to the data, he left his house around ten fifteen and returned at twelve twenty-one a.m.”
“Any idea what’s at that intersection?” Jessie asked.
“It’s kind of an industrial section of Hollywood,” Jamil said. “There are some smaller studio lots nearby. It’s also residential once you get off the main streets. It looks like he may have gone into a nearby apartment building but I can’t be sure. Or he could have just left his phone and gone somewhere else from there. Sovereign Studios is only one point five miles away, that’s a five-minute drive or a thirty-minute walk. And there’s one more thing.”
“You have been busy,” Jessie said admiringly. “What is it?”
“Before all this came out, I was reviewing the security camera footage from Struce’s house on Sunday night and there was a little glitch. I checked with the Tech folks and they say it appears to have been manipulated. So I sent it to the home security company and they agreed, though they couldn’t figure out what the issue was. But clearly something was done to it.”
“How can you be sure?” Trembley asked.
“Because the video never shows anyone leaving the house and the GPS data I mentioned confirms he did. It might be worth mentioning to Mr. Struce.”
“It just might be,” Jessie agreed. “Thanks, Jamil.”
After she hung up, Trembley turned to her.
“Maybe Willem learned some of Corinne’s secrets and didn’t like what he discovered,” he volunteered. “As her husband, he could certainly have accessed the studio lot without getting many questions.”
“Maybe,” Jessie said quietly. “But if it was him, he left a lot of breadcrumbs for folks like us. You’d think a guy who made his living doing meticulous CGI work would cover his tracks better.”
“Maybe he was too angry or drunk or both to worry about that.”
“I guess we’re about to find out,” Jessie said. “Let’s head up there.”
Trembley was just pulling out into the street when she had him return to the curb.
“What now?” he asked.
“It looks like I got a call while we were talking to Jamil. I guess I missed it.”
“Who was it?”
“Tara Tanner,” Jessie said. “She left a voicemail.”
“Well, play it!” Trembley said excitedly, as Jessie did exactly that.
“This is Tara Tanner. You have my number. Please call me back.”
Jessie did so immediately. Tanner picked up on the first ring.
“Ms. Hunt?”
“Yes, this is Jessie Hunt. Thanks for reaching out.”
“Yeah, I’m only doing this because Miller said it was okay. I’m bound by a confidentiality agreement but he was willing to waive specific elements of it so that you could verify some information.”
“I appreciate that,” Jessie said, not commenting on her surprise that Boatwright was making any concessions at all.
“I’m not really happy about it,” Tanner said, clearly nervous. “I know you’re not a reporter so I can’t request this be off the record. But I would ask that you give me as much discretion as you can. If what I tell you doesn’t impact your investigation, I hope you’ll consider not including it in any official reports that might find their way into the public domain.”
“We can’t make any promises,” Jessie said, “but Detective Trembley and I will keep an open mind. What can you tell us?”
“Where should I start?”
“At the beginning,” Jessie said.
“Okay, I knew Miller slightly from a few auditions. I tried out for a few big roles in his films but never got any. I did have small parts in a couple of movies he produced but I never interacted with him. I think I played ‘college coed number four’ in one and ‘barista number two’ in another. He probably never even knew I was involved.”
“Are you sure he didn’t have any influence in you getting those roles?” Trembley asked.
“Yeah, partly because he just wasn’t involved at that level of casting and also because he told me later. When I mentioned the connection, he was genuinely surprised.”
“Later?” Jessie prompted.
“Yes. About a year ago, I was at dinner with my husband. Miller was at the same restaurant with his wife and another couple. We ran into each other near the restrooms. He remembered me from my auditions and we chatted a little, flirted even. He said I should keep pushing for big roles and I gave him my card.”
There was silence on the line and Jessie briefly thought they’d lost the connection.
“Tara?” she said softly.
“I’m sorry,” the woman answered. “This part is just hard for me. He called me the next day. He asked if I wanted to get a drink. I think he knew…he never mentioned it outright but I’m pretty sure he was aware that prior to my marriage, I would sometimes go on ‘dates’ with wealthy industry types. Do you know what I mean?”
“I do,” Jessie said, leaving it at that.
“Well, I think he knew that and maybe thought I would be open to a rendezvous.
I’m ashamed to admit that I was. So we met for a drink at a hotel bar. One drink led to four and then we went back to a room he got.”
Trembley opened his mouth to ask a question but Jessie shook her head. She didn’t want to interrupt Tara in the middle of something so raw. The woman, oblivious to this, continued.
“He never offered me any money or a role or anything like that. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope something might come of it. He’s incredibly powerful, as you know. But completely independent of that, it was fun. He’s got this charisma that is surprisingly sexy. Plus, we stayed at this gorgeous hotel where he wined and dined me. And admittedly, there was something exciting about the illicit nature of it all. I’d been married four years and we’d hit a bit of a lull. We’d also been trying to have a child without success. I’m not excusing it, just explaining it.”
“How long did this go on?” Jessie asked.
“Just a few weeks. The guilt became overwhelming. I was going to call it off and then…” She paused.
“You found out you were pregnant?” Jessie finished the sentence for her.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I didn’t,” Jessie admitted. “But the timing made sense with what we already knew. What happened next?”
“I’d rather not get into all the gory details. But the short version is that I told him and he strongly suggested I get an abortion. I was upset. That’s when I filed in court, excluding his name, and subsequently told him about the filing. I just wanted to protect myself. Pretty quickly, he changed his tune. He said if I settled with him and kept everything confidential, he’d offer me resources throughout the pregnancy.”
“So he didn’t push you to terminate the pregnancy after that?” Jessie wanted to know.
“No. He said his primary concern was that he didn’t want his wife to find out. He asked if I could convince my husband the baby was his. He promised all kinds of financial support as long as I kept his name out of it and agreed to a one-time settlement. I think he was worried I’d blackmail him.”
“So you agreed?” Jessie said.
“Yes. I decided I wanted to move back east. My family’s here. I could still get work. And I just wanted to get away from the whole L.A scene. But I decided I had to tell my husband. We hadn’t been intimate in almost two months so he would have figured it out anyway.”