I guess it had been a while since she’d flashed her girlish dimples on The Fenton Family.
She gestured toward a futon-slash-sofa thing, and Cal and I sat as she shut the door, sliding the chain back into place behind us.
“Uh, coffee?” she asked. Then shot a furtive glance at her kitchen, as if having second thoughts about whether or not she actually had coffee.
“No thanks,” I quickly said.
“Sorry, I work nights,” she said, gesturing to her pajamas. “At the twenty-four-hour deli near the Sunset Studios? It’s handy when last-minute auditions come up.” She took a seat opposite us on an orange La-Z-Boy chair. It creaked as she tucked her long legs up underneath her.
“You still act?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Here and there. Things have been picking up a bit lately. I’ve got a callback for a cable movie next week, and VH1 has offered to put me in some celebrity reality series. My agent says all the child stars are staging comebacks these days.”
“That’s great,” I said. Though I was having a hard time picturing her doing the red-carpet glamourista thing at the moment.
“So, what do you want to know about Jake?” she asked. “He was a good actor, but it’s not like he’s on the walk of fame, you know? He mostly took bit parts.”
“Except for the Pines movie.”
She nodded. “Yeah. He was stoked about that one.”
“How did he land the job?”
“Bastard got lucky.” She let out a sharp laugh. “Came into the deli to see me one day and sits down next to this guy eating a turkey on rye. Turns out, the guy is casting director for Pines’s latest flick. Jake chats him up, and the next thing I know, he’s got the part.”
“How did he and Pines get along?”
She shrugged. “Great. They palled around on the set.”
I felt my internal radar perk up. Jake was a two-bit actor-guys like Pines were way too high up the Hollywood food chain to waste their time on him. So, what was the common bond that prompted Pines to buddy up with the likes of him? An affinity for kiddie porn, perhaps?
“Did Jake talk about Pines?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Sure. Just the normal stuff. How he was a great director. How the film was going to be phenomenal once they were done.”
Hmmm…If they had bonded over something shady, it was clear Jake hadn’t shared it with his wife. “How long had you and Jake been married?”
“About seven years.”
I did a low whistle. Wow. In Hollywood that constituted a silver anniversary. Any marriage that lasted longer than six months was considered a success in this town.
“Can you tell me what happened on the night he…passed,” I said, trying to sound as compassionate as possible.
She licked her lips, pulling her robe tighter around her middle. “I was at a party. A friend’s birthday. Jake had planned on going with me, but he got an audition for the next morning, so he didn’t want to be out late. Instead, he said he was going to go over his lines, then get to sleep early.” She licked her lips again. “I should have stayed with him.”
“I’m sorry, I know this must be hard.”
She nodded. “I’m still not used to him being gone, you know? Like, any second I just expect him to walk in that door. I have to remind myself every day that he won’t.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, at a loss for what else to say. I couldn’t imagine loving someone that much, then having him suddenly taken away like that. I could tell by the look in her eyes that what she’d felt for her husband was something much deeper than I’d ever experienced. Sure, I loved Aunt Sue, but this was a whole different kind of being wrapped up in someone. And, even though it was currently breaking Alexis Mullins’s heart, I couldn’t help feeling just a little jealous that she’d known that kind of connection, albeit briefly.
“Shouldn’t you be writing this down?”
“What?”
Alexis pointed a finger at me. “For your book. Shouldn’t you be writing this down somewhere?”
“Oh. Uh…” I looked to Cal for help.
Unfortunately, he just raised one eyebrow at me, as if daring me to come up with a good lie to get out of this one. What women saw in the strong, silent type, I’ll never know.
“Uh…I’m recording it,” I said, quickly pulling my pocket recorder out and holding it up. I hoped she didn’t notice it was switched off.
Luckily, she didn’t. “Oh. Right.”
“You don’t mind, do you?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “Whatever.”
“The papers said that Jake died from an overdose of sleeping pills. Did he take them regularly?”
“Sometimes. Usually when he had to get up early, like for a shoot or audition. He didn’t want to shortchange himself on sleep, so he’d take the pills, go to bed early, wake up fresh for the camera the next morning.”
“How many pills did Jake usually take?”
“One or two.”
“How many did he take that night?”
“I don’t know for sure. The police said it looked like he’d taken a handful, at least.”
I leaned forward, realizing just how important the answer to this next question was. “Alexis, do you think Jake would have done that? Accidentally taken so many more pills?”
She shrugged. “Look, Jake was no rocket scientist. It’s possible he panicked about the audition and took too many.”
“Who else knew your husband took sleeping pills?”
She toyed with a piece of lint on the armchair. “I don’t know. He didn’t exactly keep it a secret.”
“Would, say, his coworkers have known? People he was filming with?”
“Probably.”
Like Pines. It wasn’t exactly conclusive evidence, but it didn’t disprove my theory either. Which was a start.
“Who else is in the book?”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“The book you’re writing? Which other deceased stars are in it?”
“Oh…uh…” I drew a total blank. Where was Max when I needed him? “I wish I could tell you, but my publisher wants me to keep a lid on it until they’re ready to put out a press release. You understand.”
“Oh.” Alexis nodded, even though it was clear she didn’t.
“Just one more question,” I said, feeling like I was losing my audience here. “Did Jake ever mention anything about the boy who played his son?”
“I guess so. I mean, he said the kid was cute.”
“Really? Did Pines think so, too?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Look, I know he’s been in some trouble with the law lately, but Pines is still the most powerful director in town. It would be career suicide to say anything negative about him.”
I hated to say it, but from the looks of her, it was clear her career had jumped off a tall bridge years ago.
Unfortunately, it was equally clear that if Jake had told his wife about Pines’s little fetish, she wasn’t sharing.
“Thank you, Mrs. Mullins. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to us,” I said, rising.
Cal followed suit, Alexis unwinding herself from her perch to walk us to the door.
“Hey, let me know when the book’s out, ‘kay? I’d like to have a copy.”
“I’ll send you one,” I lied as she shut the door behind us.
“So,” Cal said as we crossed the Ralph’s parking lot, “Jake died just like the papers said. Accidental overdose.”
“Hello? Did you hear the wife? Pines knew he took sleeping pills. He could have easily poisoned Jake.”
“Bender, people make mistakes with this kind of medication all the time. They take a few pills, get drowsy, forget how many they’ve had, and take a few more.”
“A handful? They take a handful more?”
He shrugged, conceding the point. “Okay, so what now?”
I leaned against the Hummer’s door, looking out at the busy shoppers pushing carts full of screaming k
ids and ground chuck.
“Think there’s any way we could get in to see Pines?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t have a prison connection?” Cal teased.
“Very funny. But I’m not exactly sure I’d be on the list of approved visitors.”
“Lucky for you, I happen to have a few friends in law enforcement.” Cal pulled out his phone. “Let me see what I can do.”
Five minutes later he hung up, a look of triumph on his face.
“So?” I asked.
“So, we can see Pines at five.”
I looked down at my watch. Two twenty.
“Let’s go back to the office.” As much as I was dying for that Mullins lead to land me on the front page, I still had a daily column to write. And since Pines wasn’t going anywhere, this seemed like an excellent time to do it.
I climbed into the Hummer as Cal beeped the doors open.
“So…Mary Ann Summers?” Cal asked, roaring the beast to life.
I grinned. “From Gilligan’s Island.”
Cal laughed as he slid his shades on. “I guess that makes me the Professor, huh?” He winked at me.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was more the Skipper type.
As soon as the elevator doors opened at the second floor, I ducked behind a partition, purposefully taking the long way around the office. The way that didn’t lead past Felix’s glass-walled office. While I was sure I was making headway tying Mullins’s death to Pines, I was far from having copy ready yet. And copy was the only language Felix understood.
I plopped back down at my desk (Unseen. Yes!) and listened to my voice messages for any hot tips I could spin into a quick column. Luckily I had four. The first one from my morgue guy telling me that, as Max had said, there was no official ME ruling on Mullins’s death yet. Bummer. But no ruling meant no one had ruled our murder yet, right?
As I listened through the next three messages, I realized they were all about the same story-Blain Hall allegedly fathering Cherry Chase’s baby. Mental forehead smack.
So, I tried to spin what I’d gleaned from my celebrity interrogations for column fodder.
THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY
BAD: JENNIFER WOOD GETS A NEW TITLE THIS WEEK TO ADD TO REIGNING QUEEN OF TWEEN-LITTERBUG. TURNS OUT SHE NOT ONLY PUTS TRASH ON TV, BUT ON THE GROUND, TOO, LEAVING A TRAIL OF LATTE CUPS IN HER WAKE.
GOOD: KATIE BRIGGS WAS SEEN AT A CHARITY EVENT IN THE VALLEY LAST WEEK. HER DATE? HERSELF! TRUST ME, IT’S TRUE LOVE.
I bit my lip, tapping a pencil on the desk, trying to come up with an “Ugly” to round the column out.
UGLY: RUMORS ARE SWIRLING THAT HOLLYWOOD WILL SOON BE SEEING THE LOVE CHILD OF REHAB ROCKER BLAIN HALL AND HIS DIRTY DOGS BASSIST, CHERRY CHASE. ALL I CAN SAY ARE MY CONDOL-ENCES, MISS CHASE-IF BABY LOOKS ANYTHING LIKE DADDY, LET’S HOPE HIS TRUST FUND INCLUDES A PLASTIC SURGERY STIPEND.
“Don’t tell me you’re seriously printing this?” I looked up to find Cal reading over my shoulder.
“What? It’s true. The rumors are swirling.”
“But you started them.”
I waved him off. “Semantics.”
“Aren’t these three on our suspect list?”
“So?”
“So, assuming one of them is your stalker, you really think it’s a good idea to piss them off like this?”
I swiveled in my chair to face him. “Look, this is what I do, Cal. I poke fun at celebrities. And these are the only celebrities I have at the moment.”
“So, maybe you should take a break from printing the column until this whole thing dies down.”
I lifted my chin. “I’m a writer, Cal.”
“I know.”
“A good one.”
“And humble.”
“Look, laugh all you want. I know what I am and what I’m not. I’m not pretty like Cam, I’m not stacked like Allie, I’m not a born leader like Felix. But I am a damned good writer. I can make an entire story out of nothing and word it in such a way that you’re dying to know more when I’m done. That is a skill. And I’m not letting some buttmunch with a voice disguiser take that away from me. I’m stronger than that.”
“You’re wrong,” Cal said.
I opened my mouth to argue, but Cal cut me off before I could get it out.
“You’re very pretty.”
I shut my jaw with a click, my cheeks instantly going hot. I looked down at my shoes, clearing my throat. “Look, why don’t you make yourself useful and go get us a couple of sandwiches, huh?” I asked.
“You’re trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?”
“I have work to do, and I can’t do it when you’re all hovery.” I snuck a look up at him through my bangs. His eyes were laughing at me-I could feel it.
“What kind of sandwich you want?” he asked.
“Salami.”
Cal grinned, the laugh transferring to his lips. “I thought you hated salami.”
“In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m a big fat liar.”
The grin widened. “Yeah, you are. Alright, I’ll be right back.”
I watched him walk away, fanning my cheeks as soon as his back was turned.
Work.
Right. I had lots of work to do.
I hit spell-check, loaded my column into an email for Felix, and had just hit the send button when a new window popped up.
Hey, Bender.
That familiar flip hit my stomach. Man in Black.
Hey.
Missed you last night.
I scrunched my nose up. Right. Last night.
Yeah, sorry about that. Something came up.
There was a pause. Then, No problem. You okay?
I took a deep breath.
Kinda .
Tell me.
I wondered how two simple little words could convey such concern. But they did. I suddenly felt the entire weight of the last few days crushing down on my shoulders and realized I was dying to unburden it on someone. So I did, spilling everything that had happened in the past two days, from that first weird phone message to the break-in last night and my tenuous position here at the Informer ever since Miss Jugs walked in. When I finally finished, I had paragraphs of text filling up my little IM window. I hit send and sat back, watching the cursor blink, waiting for his reaction.
Wow.
No kidding.
You okay?
My first reaction was to say yes. But somehow my fingers typed the word No instead. I’m scared. Which, as I stared at the words on the screen, was true. I know, I know, I’d played macho for Felix, because, frankly the idea of losing all the contacts I’d made in the last three years since I started here scared me even worse. But that didn’t mean that having someone break into my home hadn’t shattered my illusion of safety and security into a million little pieces.
You think maybe you should go to the police? he asked.
I shook my head at the screen. No. I can’t lose my informants. No police.
You sure?
I have Cal.
There was a pause. Then, The bodyguard?
I nodded at the empty room. He’s good.
I thought about the way he’d searched our condo last night, gun drawn. The way he made me ride around in his tank, shadowed me like a puppy everywhere I went. There was no way anyone was going to get the jump on me with Cal around.
I trust him, I typed.
Again with the pause. Then I do, too.
Thanks.
Be careful, Bender.
I will.
We on for tonight?
I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Be good, he typed.
Bye.
And then he signed off.
I stared at the little “offline” icon blinking back at me. I’m not sure how long I sat there feeling inexplicably lonely, but I was roused from my thoughts by a sandwich falling onto my desk.
I looked up to find Cal, a Coke in hand.
“Salami on sourdo
ugh.” He handed me the soda. “And a Coke.”
“Thanks.”
Cal pulled a chair to my desk and straddled it backwards, digging into his own sandwich. Something with lots of veggies on whole wheat. Probably lots healthier than my salami with extra mayo. Probably a lot less tasty, too.
“You finish your column?” Cal asked around a bite.
I nodded. “Yep.”
“Good. Now what?”
“Now,” I said, popping a pickle into my mouth, “we go see Pines.”
Chapter Ten
The Men’s Central Jail in Los Angeles is the largest correctional facility in the world, housing over five thousand inmates at any given time. Located near the courthouse, its main inhabitants are those awaiting or appealing trial. A big, concrete building with a double layer of chain-link fencing surrounding the grounds, it was nothing special to look at.
Cal parked his truck in the visitor’s lot and cut the engine.
I looked up at the gray building. “Look, I really think I should go in alone this time,” I said.
Cal froze, his hand on the door handle. “No way.”
“It’s a prison. Nothing’s going to happen to me in there. I’ll be perfectly safe. Besides, I just think Pines might talk more readily to me.”
“And why is that?”
“Besides the fact that you look like The Rock and Hulk Hogan’s love child?”
He shot me a look.
“Because you suck at this whole lying thing. And if I’m going to get an exclusive, let alone information about Jake Mullins from this guy, I’m gonna need to bend the truth. A lot.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, chewing the inside of his cheek as he contemplated this. His gaze went up to the gray building. Then back to me. Then narrowed even further.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“But be careful.”
I nodded. “Scout’s honor,” I promised, hopping out of the car and making my way inside. I felt Cal’s eyes on my back the entire way up to the door. To be honest, it was kind of reassuring.
If the exterior of the building was uninspired, the interior didn’t offer much more in the way of aesthetics. Dirty beige walls, dirty beige floors, gunmetal gray desk where I had to show my ID and be checked into the visitor’s system. Then a guy who looked like he could just as easily be on the locked-down side of the prison bars instructed me to empty my pockets and turn my purse inside out. After ascertaining that I didn’t have any files baked into cakes with me, and after making me remove my shoelaces (the ultimate weapon), he let me into the visiting room, which consisted of two rows of tiny little cubicles with telephones on each side, between a layer of bulletproof glass.
Scandal Sheet aka Hollywood Scandals Page 10