Times of Trouble

by Victoria Rollison

  I took a deep breath. This couldn’t be impossible. I just had to be smart about it. My next search was ‘Carl Perkins drums’. It revealed a biography of Carl Perkins on the Rolling Stone website. His photo made him look more like a nerdy geek than a rock star, but back in the 50’s his huge glasses might have been fashionable for about five minutes. Scanning the biography, he was described as one of the ‘architects of rock and roll’. I kept reading, and found he had written ‘Blue Suede Shoes’, made famous by Elvis. The biography stated that his first band was with his brothers, and in 1953, a drummer called W.S ‘fluke’ Holland had joined it. So, Carl Perkins’s drummer was W.S Holland. Perkins later became friends with The Beatles. They worked on albums with him, and did some covers of his songs. This had to be the right Perkins. And since the only drummer mentioned in his biography was W.S Holland, this must be something resembling the name of the second person Sophie was blackmailing. But who the hell was W.S Holland?

  Continuing the search, I typed in ‘what is W.S Holland’s first name?’, and connected with a page all about W.S Holland. It was an obscure rock fan’s website, where an entry explained that W.S was his first name. Apparently it was common at the time in West Tennessee for people to give children initials instead of names. No wonder he had a nickname. Fluke. So I was looking for someone called W.S Holland? But I assume this person has a first name and a middle name too. Holland was quite a common last name, but how common were the initials W.S? When I searched W.S Holland, a few more references to Carl Perkins’s band appeared, and some other random entries. Nothing seemed relevant, so I jotted down W.S Holland in Sophie’s notebook, and turned to the next page to see if a third name could be dragged out of her code.

  ‘Toothy seal E.P star I will be golden, 20,000’. There were more words in this code, which made me feel slightly relieved, as it should mean it would lead me to a more specific name. I didn’t even need the computer to work out the first word must have something to do with ‘Walrus’. I remembered a time when we were really young, and mum and dad had taken us to a Chinese Restaurant. I think it was dad’s birthday. Sophie and I were really excited. We hardly ever went out for dinner. Our meals arrived with chopsticks, not forks. We had no idea how to use them, so mum patiently tried to show us. Dad called the waiter back over to see about forks. And in the meantime, Sophie lodged her chopsticks in her top lip, so they hung vertically, wobbling with her laughing mouth. I thought it was hilarious, and called her a toothy seal. She slapped the backs of her hands together, and made whooping noises. Mum was not impressed, and wrenched the chopsticks out of her mouth. Dad tried to suppress a laugh, and explained that she wasn’t a toothy seal, she was a walrus.

  So ‘Toothy seal’ had to mean ‘walrus’. And The Beatles’ song ‘I am the Walrus’ had to have something to do with this code. So again I pulled up the website with The Beatles lyrics, and read through the words. If Walrus was a clue, something else in the code should relate to these lyrics. But there was so much nonsense I started to feel lost again. The code could have too many meanings. ‘I am the eggman…’ Did this have something to do with a real person? ‘See how they run like pigs from a gun’…. ‘Tuesday man you been a naughty boy’. The Beatles had to be on drugs when they wrote this one. ‘Mr. City policeman sitting pretty little policeman in a row’. Could the person be a cop? I looked at the next part of the clue. ‘E.P star I will be golden’. Could the initials E.P be a separate clue on their own? I read through the lyrics again ‘Elementary penguin singing Hare Krishna, Man you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allen Poe’. There was something. Edgar Allen Poe. Initial EAP. Or EP if you took out his middle name. Could Allen be the missing word? In terms of a name, it was the only thing that vaguely made sense from the muddle of lyrics in the song.

  That only left ‘star I will be golden’ to work out. Could this be another lyric from a Beatles song? It didn’t sound familiar. Back to the keyboard. The computer plucked the answer out of the air more quickly than my mind could read the resulting search. Google had found almost an exact match to the phrase, and completed the sentence for me, revealing what had to be the answer to the riddle. A website called ‘hollywoodgoss.com’ had a sentence that began ‘Allen Berkley, young star of ‘I Will Be Golden…’ Allen Berkley, that had to be right.

  I had never heard of the movie, but this wasn’t surprising as the website was an American one, announcing the movie was just released in the States. And I had never heard of Allen Berkley either. But it all made sense. The more I read, the more I was sure this was the third person Sophie blackmailed. The article explained that Allen was a’ fresh young talent’, having earned his acting stripes in several successful West End productions. He came from London, and had recently moved to LA after scoring the lead role in a new film about a gay dancer who ‘overcomes poverty and personal tragedy to become a Broadway star’. It was only too likely that Sophie had preyed on this person as a victim of her scam. I thought of Hugh Grant, and the headlines after he was caught with a prostitute in a car. Would he have paid £20,000 to make that situation go away? Maybe, if his first major film role was in jeopardy.

  The article about Allen Berkley had a promotional photo, and unsurprisingly, he was extremely good looking. It must have been a relief to Sophie when some of her clients weren’t revolting to look at. As much as I tried not to think about it, images of Sophie’s job kept flicking through my mind. I tried to focus on Allen Berkley as a potential murder suspect, rather than a hot movie star. It made sense that Sophie would blackmail him. Maybe she didn’t realise he was a star until later. And then worked out he would be rich, and potentially easy to embarrass. But would he be so angry that he‘d start a campaign of revenge, ordering people be killed to protect his secrets? It didn’t seem likely. But then this was a world I was completely unfamiliar with. Maybe as well as being a gorgeous, talented, hooker-visiting actor, he was also a crazy psycho who hated the idea of people holding something over him.

  But if he started killing people to keep the secret hidden, how could he be sure they hadn’t told someone about what he did before they were killed? Maybe Sophie had made a will with a letter included to be read after her death, revealing her secrets to the world? It was the first time I realised how risky the situation was for the person, maybe Allen, who was trying to cover up what they had done. To kill Danny, then Katie, still left plenty of chance for Sophie to tell anyone and everyone what she knew. Secrets could so easily be passed from one person to another, and once they were out, there was no way to contain them. So what was stopping Sophie using this against Allen now? She feared for her life. Why not leave the information for someone else if she was killed by these people? Maybe she feared for other people’s lives? I suddenly thought of Danny and his family. His parents had been in a suspicious car accident, only a day after he was killed. Was this enough of a warning for Katie and Sophie not to tell anyone else what they knew? Had the killer warned them that other lives were at risk too? Katie had Charlie to worry about, and then after she was killed, Sophie had him to worry about. And maybe she had me too? Maybe these people were after me on the off-chance Sophie had told me what she knew.

  After worrying so much about the killers’ motives, it seemed almost pathetic that it could just be about reducing humiliation for a Hollywood actor. Would someone really kill to stop people finding out they visited a prostitute? Could the risk of a murder charge be worth all the trouble? I had to find out more about Allen Berkley. He’d been a star in the West End. Could Sophie have known him personally, not just professionally? She had auditioned for plays in the West End when she first moved to London. Did she meet Allen doing this? Was he one of the ‘actor crowd’ who hung out at the café she worked at? Did jealousy of his success help her decision to target him with blackmail?

  Chapter 22

  No matter how hard he focused, working on details of suppliers, transport, distribution routes and profit per unit, Vince couldn’t distract himself from the lose
ends he still hadn’t managed to tie up. He needed to maintain his cash flow, but if this problem wasn’t fixed, there would be more than profits to worry about. He had been waiting all day for an update from Jared, and the longer his phone didn’t ring, the more impatient he got to hear what was going on. It would be a weight off his mind to know Molly was off the streets, and ready for her final performance.

  The busy working day had given him some comfort, though. He had been reassured that his narcotics business was booming. And despite all the distractions, and the stuff up by his nephew, other divisions of the business were still turning over a healthy profit. He had been warned many times not to mix family with business, but he had needed someone by his side he could trust to keep things going when he had a break. The boy had started off well, opening up profitable new opportunities. But his mistake couldn’t be ignored, and thankfully he had gone to ground as ordered. He had almost compromised everything with his lack of judgement. So good at living the fancy lifestyle and accepting the bundles and bundles of cash, but not so smart in choosing who he associated with. The boy obviously never fully understood how this empire had grown from nothing, and how many intelligent, well-planned decisions had been made along the way to get it to the point it was at now. He would decide what to do about his nephew when the damage he caused was fixed.

  Thankfully, the huge profit bought him all sorts of security. Everyone who worked for him was their own unit, taking responsibility for such a small part of the business that none of them knew how the whole operation ran. So if the police ever did catch any of them, no matter how much they tried to pry information from them, there would be nothing they could tell that would lead back to him. The few who were in his inner sanctum, and allowed to meet him face to face, didn’t know his real name. The only ones who did were his nephew, who was too far away now to matter, and Jared, who was in too deep to give anything away. Jared’s idea to use recognisable landmarks in the films was genius; there was now a huge premium on the product that made profits soar even higher. And with business booming in London and Sydney, Vince would make more this year than all the previous years. His thoughts were diverted by the sudden ring of his mobile phone.

  ‘Jared, what’s happening,’ he asked, failing to keep the concern from his voice.

  Jared also failed to hide his disappointment. ‘They got away. My men were watching the house but she never went back inside. The man she was with grabbed some things and left. They followed, but lost them in the traffic.’

  ‘I assume they are not your men anymore.’

  Vince couldn’t believe that people hired to watch a house could let someone go inside, pack up their things and leave without managing to follow. What sort of imbeciles was Jared dealing with?

  ‘I can’t afford to lose them yet. I still need them to work on this one. I don’t have that many contacts in Sydney. If I lose these without a result I’ll be stuffed. I don’t have enough man power to mount a search of the entire city.’

  Jared sounded frustrated, but was carefully keeping his tone in check, not wanting to come across as angry or out of control. He obviously knew his boss needed information, not emotion.

  ‘So what do we know about this lad she is with? Grant Morley wasn’t it?’

  Jared let out a loud breath, preparing Vince for something else he wouldn’t want to hear.

  ‘That’s the other thing. We’ve looked into Grant Morley. My contact at immigration told me he isn’t in the country. He’s been gone a couple of weeks. I think he has some house sitters.’

  ‘So we don’t know who Molly is even with?’ He didn’t want to lose his temper at Jared, but he was close to it.

  ‘We’re working on that, boss.’

  So they were back to square one. Molly was on the run again, helped by a mystery male. Someone else who would have to be dealt with before this whole business was complete.

  ‘The offer I made of 100,000 quid hasn't got me anywhere either. If that little tosser knew something, he would have coughed it up by now.’

  ‘It was always a bit of an off chance. He can’t know any more than we do at the moment. Maybe we should go back to plan A, and just get rid of him?’

  Vince didn't respond to this. He still hoped there might be a lead there. They really were back to square one.

  ‘Do you need more staff? I might have some people working on other projects that can be pulled off.’ The last thing Vince wanted was to compromise his profitable business with this side problem, but he also knew this side problem could destroy any chance of future profit.

  ‘Not for now. Jim and Keith aren’t exactly qualified for this, but they’ve got as much to lose as we have now. I know they’ve let you down with the latest sighting. But they did find her in the first place, so we have to hope they find her again.’

  ‘Ok, keep me updated.’

  His blood was boiling by the time he got off the phone. He was sick of bad news heaped upon bad news. He hoped his evening swim would calm him down for the time being, and that some good news would come soon.

  Chapter 23

  I was at the laptop, scanning the references for Allen Berkley, when my phone rang. It was Liam, and in the intervening hours, he’d calmed down, and he’d come up with a new plan to find Sophie. He was at the hospital.

  ‘We know she has run from us, but she still needs to care for Charlie, doesn’t she?’ he asked, hoping to bring me on board with his excitement.

  ‘I guess...’

  ‘She’s going to have to go come here. The nurse who’s supposed to check up on Charlie won’t be able to find them. Sophie won’t risk Charlie’s health, I’m sure of it. She doesn’t even have his pills.’

  ‘If she’s really scared, she will have gone a long way from the Royal North Shore. I don’t see why, if she’s so worried about Charlie, she wouldn’t just go to any hospital.’

  Liam was silent, too frustrated to respond. After a few seconds he retorted: ‘It’s worth a try isn’t it?’

  I felt a lingering uncertainty about how Liam was talking about Sophie, as if his own happiness depended on finding her. But he had a point. It was the only lead we had.

  ‘I guess you may as well check it out, but it’s going to take a lot of effort to sit and watch the hospital all day.’

  ‘I’ve already been here for a couple of hours. I’ll stay until 7:30.’

  ‘Ok, I’m working on some other bits and pieces. I’ll tell you about them later.’

  ‘Like what?’ Liam’s tone was both questioning and accusatory.

  ‘I’ll speak to you later, bye.’ I hung up, tired of trying to justify myself to him.

  He hadn’t wanted me to go to the police, but it had been a fount of information. Not so helpful in finding Sophie, which was the only thing he seemed interested in. But extremely useful in decoding Sophie’s notebook (which he still didn’t know about). I was still convinced Sophie would never be safe until we knew who was after her. How else would we know what we were all up against? These people were serious. They had found where I was staying, and I didn’t even think they knew I existed.

  The more I looked through the references to Allen Berkley, which profiled his stage career and his new movie screen success, the more it seemed unlikely he would be killing people to hide a visit to a prostitute. From the events he had been attending recently, movie premiers and awards nights, there was no way he had been in Sydney or London for any length of time over the last couple of months. He seemed to be spotted at an LA event every couple of days. It was possible he had hired people to do his dirty work for him, but hit men couldn’t be cheap. His career must have made him quite well off, but I wouldn’t have thought he was rich yet, with only one movie to his name, and that only just starting to get noticed.

  It was time to stop wondering and start acting. I was getting used to having a lot on my plate. I wanted to find a way to speak to Allen so I could figure out what was going on. It might be dangerous to speak to him, but what could
he do to me over the phone? If he did have hired hit men in Sydney, searching for Sophie and anyone connected to her, he could tell them I had called, but how would they ever track me down from that?

  One of the sites profiling Berkley’s career mentioned a public relations company, the Lily Cohen Agency, which had become his agent in LA. They were credited with managing his ‘successful launch into Hollywood’. Liam’s laptop had a world clock on it, which automatically told me the time in any city in the world. Selecting Los Angeles, I was relieved to see it was 5:00 pm; they were a day behind us, but not too late to call someone. A quick online search for the Lily Cohen Agency brought up a simple website. It looked as if they were trying to make a small agency appear like a market leader, but didn’t have the budget or the clientele to pull it off. The home page listed a few actors I had never heard of. Allen Berkley wasn’t mentioned, but maybe they hadn’t updated the site for a while. There was a black and white image showing Lily; she looked exactly as I imagined Carla, the Madam, would look. Like a woman who wanted to appear 20 years younger but in a tacky, try-hard, unsophisticated way. I guess Lily’s and Carla’s professions did have some similarities.

  Now I just needed to work out where I could phone her from. I didn’t want my phone traced, yet I needed a number they could call me back on. There was a landline in the apartment, but I couldn’t endanger my uncle in any way. I also didn’t like the idea of going outside. I felt exhausted by venturing to the city in the morning, and I hated to give them another chance to find me. I stared at the laptop, fingers poised over the keyboard, willing myself to come up with something that could give me an answer.

  I had to act fast as the business day was drawing to a close in LA. But my mind was blank, and so was the search field. In frustration, I minimised the internet screen and suddenly something caught my eye on the desktop. Skype. I opened Liam’s account and was relieved to see it automatically logged him in. There was an account balance of $15.80, which I assumed would be enough to make an international phone call. I typed the Lily Cohen phone number in, and I heard the squeaky blips of the call connecting. I had acted so quickly, I’d forgotten to come up with a plan of what I was going to say. Too late now, because someone had just answered the phone.