Head Shot

by Dan Ames

  Levenson's reputation in Hollywood was storied, a classic example of the Tinsel Town triumvirate: sex, money and power. Although now approaching eighty years old, Marcus Levenson clung to the only aphrodisiac that hadn't lost its allure: power.

  To be summoned to the Shadow's office meant one of two things. You were being fired. Or you were being promoted. And if you were being promoted, it meant someone else was being fired.

  In her four years with GCM, Beta had only met with Marcus Levenson twice. The first time, he had hired her. The second time, he had promoted her. Beta clung to the hope that good things came in threes.

  A secretary ushered her through the thick black doors into Levenson's office. It was similar to Beta's in that it featured plenty of chrome and black leather, but the rather dramatic difference was that it was three times the size and had glorious views through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  "Ah, Beta," said Levenson, "please sit down." He gestured to the chair in front of his desk and she sank into it, noting humorously how much lower she was than GCM's mysterious director. Sitting in a chair higher than your visitor was an old power trick.

  Levenson peered at her through his glasses. She knew he'd had refractive eye surgery and the glasses were non-prescription, worn merely for aesthetics.

  "Please describe yourself for me," he said.

  She had no intention of being toyed with, and it was time to let him know that.

  "Formidable."

  He sat and waited, but Beta failed to continue, keeping her eyes locked onto his.

  Finally, he laughed and relented.

  "Very good, just what I want my newest Executive Vice President to be. Formidable."

  "Thank you," she said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  "As of today, you will immediately terminate relations with talent not bringing in half a million dollars a year or higher, and assume the talent consolidated by the departure of Ms. Voss and Mr. Birdsall."

  Beta showed no emotion.

  This was the business. Molly Voss was her friend, but Beta had no pity. Molly should have a contingency plan and if she didn't it was her own fault. Dick Birdsall was a complete waste of space. Good riddance.

  "Your attendance will be required at the partner's meetings every Monday morning at 9 a.m. Thank you."

  Beta nodded and left. There would be no champagne tonight, no wild party, no call home to the proud parents. It was a business where you were here today and gone tomorrow and she had no illusions.

  First thing was to fire her only client not bringing in the required dollars.

  Mike Sharpe.

  She thought he’d said something about going on vacation. It didn't matter. He would find out the bad news soon enough. She dropped the matter from her mind as bigger, grander plans filtered into her highly focused vision.

  Chapter 40

  Flight 235 from Los Angeles to Milwaukee via Chicago landed at Milwaukee's Mitchell International Airport only fifteen minutes past its scheduled arrival time.

  Mike Sharpe retrieved their luggage at baggage claim and then collected their rental car.

  Mike had rented a Ford Taurus for the trip. It was more expensive than a compact but far more affordable than the top-of-the-line Caddy the salesman had tried to push off on him.

  With its V-8 and roomy interior, the Ford was more than enough car for their jaunt up north, and for their day trips around the U.P., something they were both looking forward to very much.

  "Do you remember where the hell you're going?" Laurie asked Mike, a smile on her face.

  "Absolutely not," he said, pulling onto 94 West and then catching I-43 North, the road that would take them all the way up through Green Bay before they switched to the local highways for the rest of the trip through the U.P.

  "Hey, that's not a bad skyline at all," Laurie said as they reached an overpass and the lights of Milwaukee's buildings in the early dusk twinkled back at them before stopping abruptly at the edge of Lake Michigan.

  They sped up I-43 and the scenery changed from suburban to rural, the large, North Shore homes changing to country farms. For the majority of the drive Lake Michigan ran parallel to the highway.

  "This is so weird," she said. "In LA I'm used to the water being on my left when I'm going North. I feel like we're driving South."

  Mike hadn't heard that one before, but it made sense to him.

  "Are you looking forward to seeing your parents?" she asked.

  "Yeah, I haven't seen them in awhile," Mike answered. "The last time I did, they seemed so much older. The old man still has a spring in his step, but it doesn't quite bounce as high as it used to. And Mom is still as sassy as ever, but now she falls asleep an hour or two before she used to."

  He set the car on cruise control and settled his foot down for a rest.

  "So in a way, I'm really happy to see them, but every time I do I feel sort of sad."

  "Like it's a reminder that you're getting older, too?"

  "Yeah, and that I'm not a kid anymore."

  "It's only natural, Mike."

  He didn't respond. What was there to say? His career was going nowhere. He was going to pop the question but there was a chance she would say no, and he had to face the fact that his parents wouldn't always be there for him. He was facing a crossroads. But he also knew that with Laurie by his side, the rest of his life would be a whole lot better.

  "Are you bummed you're not going to be able to watch the show?" Laurie asked him.

  The Nation’s Most Wanted episode would be airing tonight and Mike had originally hoped to be at Lost Lake Lodge in time to catch it but the flight had been delayed just long enough to make them miss it. It didn't matter. He was recording it at home on the DVR.

  "Not really, I pretty much know how it turns out," he said, laughing.

  They stopped in Sheboygan at the American Club, a five-star hotel that seemed supremely out of place in the blue collar town and had a quick dinner before hitting the road.

  Mike pushed the Taurus as hard as he could being careful to avoid a speeding ticket.

  North of Green Bay, a half hour from Marinette, Wisconsin, Laurie fell asleep. Mike was happy to hear her snoring. He knew she'd had a tough photo shoot the day before and he wanted her rested for the beginning of the vacation. The fresh northern air tended to make you more tired than usual.

  Mike was also grateful for the time to think. He'd always been someone who enjoyed taking long drives, something he hadn't done regularly since college.

  He saw a flash of light to his left and he glanced in that direction. Twin circles of light shone back at him and he briefly lifted his foot to cover the brake. There were deer everywhere in this part of the state and he really didn't want to start the vacation with a three hundred pound buck flying through the windshield.

  The woods were thick on either side of the highway and Mike could feel the silence as the darkness crept closer to the road. The tall trees blocked his view of the stars.

  He always loved this part of the drive when you really started to feel like you were away from civilization and deep in the woods. You could actually hear yourself think. So different from Hollywood.

  He'd often joked to Laurie about moving back to Wisconsin and starting a bait shop or something stupid like that. The cost of living was so much better here as were the schools, the employment opportunities, and of course, lower crime rates.

  Or was he just giving up?

  Was he acting like a quitter? It wasn't in his nature to do things half-assed. And a part of him wanted to go back to Hollywood and kick everyone's ass to show all of his friends both out there and back home that he hadn't been wasting his time.

  But how much longer should he give himself before deciding it was an investment that would never see a return?

  Another year? Two years? Five years?

  Mike abruptly checked his watch and noted with satisfaction that his episode of Nation’s Most Wanted was on television right now. His face was bei
ng beamed across millions of homes in America and he felt a brief surge of pride.

  Before he could ponder that thought anymore, the Taurus' fuel light flickered on briefly and Mike noted that the gauge was closing in on E. He knew that he was just outside of Rodgers Bay and that in another twenty minutes he'd be pulling up the wooded drive of Lost Lake Lodge. Soon after that he'd be sitting with a glass of whiskey in his hand talking to his Dad with a roaring fire next to them.

  But first he'd have to stop for gas.

  He checked in the back seat where Laurie was still fast asleep.

  There was a service station right at the edge of town where he would stop. He would have to make as little noise as possible because he wanted Laurie to wake up at Lost Lake Lodge and not under the self-service pump at a gas station.

  He came upon the outskirts of town and saw the small gas station next to a rundown bar. His stomach was grumbling and he knew his mother would have some food ready for them.

  He steered the Taurus toward the gas station.

  He'd have to make this quick.

  Chapter 41

  Hank Campbell's bar stool sagged under the weight of his enormous body.

  He picked up the empty beer pitcher in front of him and pushed it across the bar to the narrow ledge where empties were put as a sign that their users wished them to be refilled. It was the fourth time Hank had filled his pitcher.

  The bartender picked up the remote control and turned it to Channel 6 for Nation’s Most Wanted. It was a big favorite among the regulars. Hank was especially fond of the show and if anyone wanted to watch something else they had to deal with Hank. Needless to say, Nation’s Most Wanted was never interrupted.

  The bartender refilled Hank's pitcher and placed it in front of the big man.

  Hank filled his glass and idly scanned the bar, which ran down the length of the establishment. The space opened up into a pool room where two tables were in regular use.

  A jukebox and a group of six tables and chairs occupied the rest of the bar.

  Hank briefly looked over the bar's occupants. He knew everyone and figured there wouldn't be any trouble tonight, which disappointed him. His job as bouncer here was unofficial. He really just did it for free beer and the enjoyment of cracking skulls from time to time.

  Not only was it fun and therapeutic, but the bartender usually came down and bailed him out of jail. After all, eyewitnesses always testified that Hank acted in self-defense and if there were any court costs or fines levied against Hank, the bar picked up the tab. Their investment was rewarded many times over as Hank had the ability to end a bar fight with one punch.

  As the cold beer slid down his throat, Hank returned his gaze to the television set where the show would soon start.

  The bartender walked back from the small sink where he was unenthusiastically cleaning glasses and stood near Hank.

  "Did you hear they found a body over by Matawba? I guess there's going to be something on the show about it," he said to Hank.

  Hank shook his head. As usual, he hadn't heard the latest news unless it had to do with deer hunting.

  For the last few years Nation’s Most Wanted had been Hank Campbell's favorite television show, yet it was also a source of frustration for the big man because these scumbags were always in Los Angeles or New York. None of these big time criminals ever came to Rodgers Bay. This was just a little town where everyone knew each other and spent most of their time bitching about the weather.

  But now thanks to the bartender’s comment, the tiny motor that was Hank Campbell's mind spluttered to life.

  He had sudden visions of finding this asshole and kicking the ever-living shit out of him before turning what was left of the body over to the cops. Maybe there'd even be a reward in it. The damn 4x4 could use some new tires, too.

  But just think! He, Hank Campbell, could finally show these big city hoods a thing or two. Those wussies wouldn't stand a chance.

  "Turn it up," he said.

  Chapter 42

  "Honey, it's about to start!"

  Ron Sharpe steadied himself on the ladder. He was determined to fix this damn flue and still not miss the opening credits for tonight's Nation’s Most Wanted.

  His son was going to be on tonight's show, after all.

  He hurriedly collapsed the ladder, raced to the garage and flung it haphazardly on top of the small Sunfish sailboat buried beneath a tarp.

  He locked the door to the garage, then raced to the cabin.

  "How much time do I have?" he asked Rose.

  She glanced at the clock.

  "A minute and a half."

  She took her seat and glanced at the clock. Seven fifty-nine.

  Ron stood and walked over to the fireplace and jabbed at the logs burning slowly. He debated about throwing another one on the fire but the forecast said it would be a cool night and not too cold so he left the fire alone.

  He turned, sat next to Rose, and picked up a cracker along with the drink she had made for him. Their eyes met and they smiled, both excited at the prospect of seeing Mike on television. They knew he was working very hard and was frustrated at his progress but to them, this show was a big deal.

  They were proud of their son.

  Chapter 43

  Nancy Bishop collapsed on the bed next to her lover.

  "Oh, that was great," said Lieutenant Benjamin Soergel.

  "So was it worth getting Trimble to send you up here?" she asked.

  "You reporters ask such stupid questions.”

  She laughed and reached for the remote control which was permanently affixed to the night table. Who the hell stole remote controls? She shook her head. What was the world coming to?

  The TV flickered on with an electric fuzziness as the picture slowly came to life.

  "Our boy's picture is about to be broadcast to millions."

  "It's just work, work, work, isn't it?"

  "We'll screw again right after the show, okay?"

  "You're so romantic, Nancy. Was Mitchell pissed when he saw you at the scene?" he asked.

  "He didn't show it, but I'm sure he was."

  Soergel smiled.

  "He's got a good poker face, I'll give him that."

  "It must piss him off royally, not knowing who's giving me this information."

  "Trimble isn't too happy about it, either."

  "Makes him look just as bad," she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

  "Exactly," he said and they both laughed.

  "Does Mitchell know you're up here?"

  "Not yet. I'll hook up with him tomorrow."

  "I bet he'll be happy about that," she said.

  "Tough shit."

  "Does he need the help?"

  "I'm not up here to help. I'm up here to blame him if he screws up, or steal the glory if he succeeds. We both know that."

  "You're a piece of work, Benjamin Soergel," Nancy said. She glanced back at the television.

  “Show’s on,” she said.

  Chapter 44

  The first thing Ray Mitchell noticed about Rodgers Bay Police Chief Don Lenzen was his afro.

  It reminded him of Arlo Guthrie at Woodstock.

  Lenzen offered his hand which Ray took, then the short man led Mitchell on a quick tour of the Rodgers Bay police station which consisted of a few cubicles, a receptionist's desk, a switchboard, and several holding cells. The short trip completed, they wound up back in Chief Lenzen's office. It smelled like stale beer, and several fish were mounted on the walls.

  "I take it you're a fisherman?" Ray asked.

  "We all are up here, it's the law," Lenzen replied with a laugh.

  Try as he might, Ray just couldn't visualize the man seated before him on a fishing boat or even in the woods.

  "Do you fish?" the chief asked.

  "I try to get out when I can," said Ray, "but now that I've got a daughter, I really have no time.”

  He let the ensuing silence hang for just a bit, and Lenzen took it
up.

  "What can I do for you?"

  Ray sat back in his chair and drank from the Styrofoam cup in his hands.

  "Ferkovich may or may not be headed here. I talked to his sister and she seemed to be unaware of his whereabouts."

  "Seemed?"

  Ray was surprised that Lenzen caught his hedge.

  "Couldn't put my finger on it but I felt like she was keeping something from me."

  Lenzen vigorously shook his head.

  "Probably just the protective instincts of an older sister. No matter if he is a killer, he's still her little brother." Lenzen shook some sugar into his cup of coffee and stirred it with a swizzle stick. "But I know Mary and I can't believe she'd keep anything from us. She's a good egg."

  Ray pretended to consider that before moving on.

  "I've been working with a profiler from the FBI and they've offered assistance but for the most part they've left the investigation up to me as I worked the first murders,” Ray said.

  "That's fine by me, we’re all here to help put this guy away."

  "Tonight, Nation’s Most Wanted will air the Ferkovich story, and we'll wait to see if that springs any leads,” Ray said. “In the meantime, we're doing all we can."

  "I've got all my deputies on alert,” Lenzen responded. “We're ready to move if anything breaks."

  The Rodgers Bay police chief leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

  "Why would he come here, though, if he knows everyone would be watching Mary? It doesn't seem to make sense."

  “Ferkovich is a psychopath and he may not be thinking logically,” Ray said. “He has an urge to kill against which he is completely powerless."

  Ray drank the rest of his coffee in a gulp.