Fade to Blue

by Bill Moody

  “I’ll be out soon.” She slides down deeper in the bath.

  “I’ll be waiting.” I kick off my shoes, stretch out on the bed, and turn on CNN to see if there are any new updates on Jerry Fuller’s murder, but I can’t keep my eyes open. I doze off for a few minutes and when I open my eyes again, Andie is standing at the foot of the bed, a thick, white terry cloth hotel robe wrapped around her body. Her face is flushed from the bath and her skin glows.

  She crawls up on the bed till she’s right over me, and presses her lips on mine. “Miss me?” The robe falls open. I inhale her scent from the bath. She runs her hand down my leg. “Mmm, I can see you did.” She feels me through my jeans. “You know I’ve never made love to a film composer.”

  “Maybe it’s time you did.”

  Later, we lie together, her head on my chest. I catch her up on everything. How the music is going, my statement to the police, the meeting with Ryan and Grant Robbins.

  “And?” She raises up on one elbow and looks at me.

  “I don’t know. There’s something I’m missing, something somebody said but I can’t remember what it is.”

  “You don’t think Ryan did it, do you?”

  “No. He has a solid alibi. He and Melanie were having dinner with Robbins when it happened.”

  She slides off the bed and slips on the robe. She brings us both a bottle of water from the mini-bar. “Take a little nap while I change. I need to pick up a few things. Want to go down the mall?”

  “Sure, take your time.”

  A half hour later, she’s shaking me. “Come on, sleepy. Let’s go for a walk.”

  We leave the hotel and walk over to Third Street to the Santa Monica Mall. The street has long been closed to traffic, but as we pass the Criterion Theater, memories of cruising here on Friday nights when I was in high school fill my mind.

  At the mall, we split up and decide to meet at the food court in an hour. I wander around, my mind still trying for that elusive thought. I beat Andie to the busy food court and grab a coffee, strolling around the adjacent shops. I stop in front of a camera store. A huge display of cameras and video recorders fill the window. Everything from tiny digital cameras to expensive ones with telephoto lenses.

  “Thinking of buying a camera?” I turn as I hear Andie’s voice behind me. She has a large shopping bag in her hand. “How about an expensive Nikon? You have a birthday coming up.”

  “Me? I can barely operate a little point-and-shoot digital. Get everything you need?”

  “Yep, all set. How about a snack? I’m in the mood for a burrito.”

  I find us a table and wait for Andie. She comes back with a burrito, fries, and a coke. “I feel so decadent.” She sits down, takes a big bite of the burrito, and sprinkles salt over the fries. “Mmmm, sex and food. Can’t beat it.”

  When I don’t answer, she looks at me. “Something still bothering you?”

  I gaze across at the camera store. “What did you say when we were over there?”

  Her eyes follow my gaze, then back to her burrito as she slathers it with hot sauce. “I don’t know. Something about an expensive Nikon? Why?”

  I set my coffee cup down. “Camera strap.”

  “What?”

  “Jerry Fuller was strangled with a camera strap.”

  “Yeah, you told me already.”

  “I told Grant Robbins, too.”

  “So?”

  “In his office today, he made some comment.”

  Andie sets her burrito down and looks at me. “What are you getting at? What did he say?”

  “Robbins said, ‘God, a Nikon camera strap. It’s too horrible to think about.’” I look at Andie. “I never told him it was Nikon.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  Andie puts her hand on my arm. “Maybe it was in one of the news stories. You know how fast things get out now.”

  “No, I’m sure it wasn’t. At least not on any report I’ve seen. The first was just that photographer Jerry Fuller was found dead. The police suspect foul play. There were no details, nothing about him being strangled, much less with one of his own camera straps. The brand name would be irrelevant.”

  “But didn’t you say Robbins was having dinner with Ryan and Melanie?”

  “Yeah he did.”

  “There have been other reports. Maybe some enterprising reporter found out and added the name.”

  “I hope that’s true.”

  “Anyway, why would Grant Robbins kill Jerry Fuller?”

  “I don’t know. To protect Ryan maybe. Or himself.” I stand up. “Come on, I want to run this by Coop.”

  “Okay, tell me again.” Coop is sprawled on one of the easy chairs, sipping a sparkling water from the mini-bar, his feet propped up on the edge of the bed.

  I’d called him and got him to come by the hotel. I remind him of Robbins’ comment about the Nikon camera strap.

  “I remember,” he says, “but I wasn’t really paying attention. What do you want me to do?”

  “Check with Farrell, see if the police released that information to the press.”

  He drags his feet off the bed and leans forward, running his hands through his short-cropped hair. “That could be tricky.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a certain amount of leeway with Charlie Farrell because we’re old friends, and I was first on the scene and discovered the body, but he’s a serious cop. He’ll get suspicious if I ask him that. He’ll want to know why I’m asking, and be all over Grant Robbins in a minute. We don’t want to spook him until we know something for sure. If you’re right—we don’t know that you are yet—we don’t want to give him time to cover his tracks.”

  I sigh and look away, glancing over at Andie lying on her side on the bed, her head propped in her hand.

  “Coop’s right. There’s got to be another way. Besides, what motive does Robbins have to kill Jerry Fuller?”

  “Precisely,” Coop says. “If anybody has motive it’s our movie star friend.”

  I shake my head. “No, Ryan can be an arrogant, insensitive, self-centered prick, but he’s not a killer. Maybe Robbins was protecting Ryan. He has a huge investment there.”

  “Maybe,” Coop says, “but protect him from what? Robbins doesn’t strike me as capable either. He’s got too much at stake with Ryan to risk something like this.”

  “What if Fuller knew something more about Darryl McElroy’s death, something that never came out?” Andie asks.

  “Stiles was fully cleared on that,” Coop says.

  Andie sits up and swings her feet on the floor. “There’s something else you’re forgetting. If you point Farrell to Robbins, he’ll know it was you who gave him up.”

  Coop watches me for a moment. “I didn’t want to go there, but what she means is you could put yourself in danger, too.” He and Andie exchange glances. “Look, as of now, if Stiles and Robbins’ alibi holds, neither had opportunity. Show me a motive that makes sense.”

  “So we just forget it? Do nothing.”

  “I didn’t say that. You raise a legitimate point. We need to check all the news stories, TV reports that have come out since Fuller’s murder to see if anybody mentioned that the camera strap was Nikon.”

  I know they’re both making sense, and their combined experience far exceeds mine, but I can’t let go of the thought. I know what I heard Robbins say. It was either a slip of the tongue or he heard it somewhere. Or, he was there.

  “I can do that,” Andie says. “It’s all on the internet by now.”

  Coop nods. “Good. I’ll see what I can do with Charlie Farrell. He’ll at least expect me to ask about the progress of the case. I’ll just have to be careful about what and how I ask. I can’t just say, ‘hey, Charlie, did you tell anybody the camera strap was a Nikon?’”

  “What if he didn’t and I’m right?”

  “I’ll be the first to point Farre
ll at Grant Robbins.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  I finish my call and toss the phone on the bed.

  “Who was that?” Andie calls over the sound of the hairdryer.

  I walk to the bathroom. “Ryan. He wants us to have lunch with him and Melanie in Malibu?” I stand in the doorway, watching her in the mirror.

  She turns off the dryer and frowns. She’s just out of the shower, running her fingers through her hair. “I’m not sure I want to do that.”

  “C’mon, it’ll be a chance for you and Melanie to catch up, and what could be better than a meal cooked by Emillio?”

  She stops drying her hair and looks at me. “Lunch by Emillio without Ryan.” She turns away from the mirror. “Why are you so anxious?”

  Good question, but I’d been thinking about it. Spending a little time with Ryan away from film sets, directors, lawyers, maybe I could get him to talk. It was worth a try. “Just a feeling that he wants to tell me something with nobody around.”

  Andie sighs. “Okay, but just lunch. No being talked into staying the rest of the weekend.”

  “Absolutely not. Couple of hours and we’re out of there. They’re shooting some night scenes later anyway.”

  Andie smiles and kisses my cheek. “I hope you appreciate all the things I do for you.”

  “Should I make a list?”

  ***

  Emillio answers the door and breaks into a big grin when he sees Andie. “My favorite FBI agent.” He hugs her. “So good to see you again.”

  “You too, Emillio. What’s cooking today?” She sniffs the air. “I smell something good.”

  “Something very special. Come in, come in.”

  He leads us to the dining room where Ryan and Melanie are waiting. Ryan immediately stands and puts his hands up. “Honest, Special Agent Lawrence, I didn’t do it.” He laughs and gives Andie a peck on the cheek.

  Andie rolls her eyes and turns to Melanie. She seems genuinely pleased to see Andie. The two women hug and greet each other warmly, and we all sit down. “I’m so glad you could come,” Melanie says. “It’s been so long.”

  We talk about the movie’s progress and everybody pointedly avoids any talk about Jerry Fuller. Emillio appears with a bottle of chilled white wine, then returns after a quick trip to the kitchen with four bowls, the steam still rising from them.

  “Lobster bisque,” he says, placing a bowl in front of each of us with an exaggerated flourish.

  “Oh, my God,” Andie says. She leans over to inhale the aroma. “Emillio, you are a wonder.”

  We get through the bisque, which is followed by marinated chicken fillets, wild rice, and asparagus, lightly coated in olive oil. If that isn’t enough, coffee comes with crème brulee. Ryan is strangely quiet when we all ooh and ahh over the meal. I catch him watching me a few times and know there’s something else on his mind.

  Melanie and Andie are deep in conversation when I get up. “I’m going out for a smoke. Want to leave the girls to it?”

  Ryan nods eagerly. We go out and down the steps to the beach. There’s a light wind and the sky is overcast. The ocean is flat, a dull gray out to the horizon.

  “No surfing today,” Ryan says as we walk up the beach toward an outcropping of rocks that extend out to the water’s edge. We sit on one of the biggest rocks and watch the waves gently lap against the shore.

  I light a cigarette and wait for Ryan. He stares out at the ocean, then finally turns to me.

  “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  “I thought there was something on your mind. Go ahead.”

  “It’s about Jerry Fuller. I didn’t want to bring it up around Melanie and Andie.” His head drops a little, his eyes on the sand. “You’re not going to like this.”

  “Try me. What about Jerry Fuller?”

  “I haven’t told you everything. I haven’t told anybody everything, even my mother. It’s about McElroy too.”

  “What about McElroy?”

  Ryan looks at me. “Give me a break, man. This is hard to say.”

  I just nod, watching his obvious discomfort. A famous, multimillionaire movie star who has everything. A face known throughout the world now contorted in obvious conflict with himself.

  “I totally panicked that night. It was like I told the police, what I told my mother—almost.”

  “What do you mean, almost?”

  “I know it was stupid, but when McElroy chased me on that damn motorcycle, I was really scared. It was dark and he had on a helmet. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was laughing.”

  He sighs and looks up at the darkening sky. “As we came around a curve, he pulled in front of me, trying to cut me off. I thought he was going to run me off the road, but he lost control of the bike and bam, just like that he was gone.” He pounds his fist into the palm of his hand. “Over the embankment. I stopped and went back and looked over the side. It was too dark to really see anything.”

  “That’s pretty much what you told your mother.”

  “Yeah it is, but I left out something.”

  “What? This isn’t new.”

  “I told you I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. Call the police, report an accident. I wasn’t thinking about anything except how it would look after the scene with him at the Anchor.” He turns to look at me now. “I pulled my car off the road and called Jerry Fuller.”

  “Why?”

  “I needed help, someone I could trust. I’ve known—knew—Jerry a long time. Luckily, I caught him at home and he came right out. He was there in twenty minutes. He got in my car and I told him what had happened. He listened then got out of the car and looked over the embankment where McElroy went over. I sat in my car, terrified somebody would come along, wondering what I would do if the Highway Patrol came by.”

  I watch him, seeing him almost relive that night, and knew what was coming.

  “Jerry got back in my car and told me to go home. He said he’d call 911 and report the accident, and stay around until the police got there. It was an accident,” Ryan emphasizes. “Jerry said he would take care of everything.”

  “Did he?”

  “What?”

  “Stay around until police arrived.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. He wasn’t worried. Nobody could connect him with me. He was just a good citizen reporting an accident.”

  I feel a surge of anger. “Like you should have done.”

  Ryan nods. “Yeah, yeah, like I should have done. I promised him anything he wanted and all he said was, ‘don’t worry, we’ll work it out.’ I got out of there fast and went to my folks and, well, you know the rest.”

  “Let me guess. Fuller wanted more than you wanted to give.” I wonder then if Fuller welcomed the opportunity to have Ryan in his debt.

  Ryan nods. “He wanted money, which I was happy to give him, but he wanted more, an exclusive interview, photos, the whole nine yards. I realized then, it would never be over.”

  Ryan gets up and paces around a bit then stands, his foot on the rock, and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I couldn’t do that. Too many people would wonder why I was giving Jerry Fuller, an unknown, total access,. Especially Grant, who handles all the requests for interviews. He didn’t know I knew Jerry from way back.”

  “So what happened?”

  “When I refused, offered him more money, he just laughed and said it was going to take more than that and someday I would pay. I just blew him off. I didn’t hear anymore from him until we started the movie. When the e-mails and phone calls started, I knew it was Jerry, and I panicked again.”

  “And then, Jerry Fuller is conveniently found dead.”

  His head snaps around. “Jesus, man, I didn’t have anything to do with that. I could never kill anyone. You think I could strangle someone with a camera strap?”

  “What kind of camera strap?”

  Ryan looks at me, incredulous. “What kind of str
ap? How the fuck would I know? What kind of question is that? What difference does it make?”

  Inwardly, I breathe a sigh of relief. “None I guess. Anything else?”

  “Christ, isn’t that enough?”

  I let him settle down a bit. “You know if this ever comes out you’ll be a prime suspect.”

  “You think I don’t worry about that every day?” He sits down again and puts his head in his hands. He looks drained.

  We all make choices. Sometimes those choices change our lives. Ryan made his that night on Malibu Canyon, as did Darryl McElroy by chasing after Ryan. And it cost him his life. If Ryan’s choice had been to face the consequences instead of calling an old acquaintance, he might have seen his name in the tabloids for a couple of weeks, and Jerry Fuller might still be alive.

  “Ryan, why tell me about this? What is it you want me to do?”

  “Just one thing. If this ever comes up, just tell the police exactly what I told you.”

  “You know I can’t withhold anything if I’m questioned.”

  “I know that. I wouldn’t ask you to.”

  We sit for a few more minutes. I run over everything Ryan told me. What he had done was not right, but I didn’t believe he’d killed Jerry Fuller. “Come on, let’s go back up to the house.”

  Andie and Melanie are still talking, but they stop and look up when we come into the house.

  “We thought you got lost,” Melanie says. I can see she’s trying to gauge Ryan’s mood.

  Andie signals me with her eyes. I glance at my watch. “We need to get going,” I say. “Andie has to check in with her office, and I’ve got some more music to get to.”

  We say our goodbyes to Emillio, and Ryan and Melanie walk us out to the car.

  Ryan gives me one final look and touches my shoulder. “Thanks, man. I mean it.” He turns and goes back in the house. I wonder if he’s going to tell Melanie or if he already has.

  We get in the car and Melanie waves her goodbye. “Not so long till next time.”

  We get back on the Coast Highway and head back to Santa Monica. “You first,” Andie says.

  I briefly sketch over what Ryan told me. “Not good, not good at all. Do you believe him?”

  “Yeah I do. How’d you do?”