Random Revenge

by William Michaels

First, Stanlish. While his line was ringing a call came in, Gigi. Melanie let it go to voicemail. Stanlish picked up. A good sign, he wasn’t avoiding her.

  “How’s my favorite other woman?”

  Melanie wondered if that was a hint. “Bored.”

  Stanlish got the message. “I’m working it. I still think you should do the commercials. It’s all about perceived demand. If the world thinks you aren’t busy, they won’t think anyone wants you, and they won’t want you.”

  “I’m tired of commercials.”

  “Got to pay your dues.”

  “You sound like my last agent. Don’t go there.”

  “Sorry. I have stuff I could send your way, but they are worse than the commercials, so I’ve be screening them out.”

  “Like what? No, don’t tell me.” If they were worse than ads for local car dealers and a furniture store, Melanie didn’t want to know. Her phone beeped again, another call from Gigi. Her voicemail icon was also lit.

  Stanlish said, “Look, I didn’t want to say anything yet, but I put in a few calls to those vacation island clubs, see if I can get you in one of their ads. Not just a commercial, a whole package. You’d get a trip out of it too.”

  “You mean a Club Med?”

  “Similar. Places with lots of action.”

  “Wait, wait, you want me to be some sleaze? Men picturing me as the woman who they could pick up there?”

  Stanlish’s hesitation implied she’d hit the answer, but he said, “A beautiful woman at a resort. And you have to admit, it fits your image.”

  “Fuck you, Marv.”

  “Melanie, you made the bed. You don’t have to sleep in it forever, but you might want to go with it. You think people were going to have sympathy for you? I can get you work along those lines.”

  “I’m an actress.”

  “And probably a good one. Now let’s get you some roles. You know how many famous actresses started as extras?”

  Another call from Gigi. “Marv, I got to go. Get me something good. Fast.” Melanie switched to the waiting call. “Gigi?”

  “Mel, that cop was here, at my office, he’s asking all sorts of questions about men at my apartment, he got shot—”

  “Wait, what? Who got shot? Slow down.”

  “Detective Winter. He thinks I know something about it, and unless I tell him he’s going to come back here and arrest me!”

  “You aren’t making sense. Get hold of yourself. Are you at work? I’ll come over there.”

  “No! I can’t—Mel, I’m scared.”

  Melanie waited until Gigi’s sobs subsided. “Tell me everything.”

  She listened as Gigi told her about Winter’s visit, prodding her along whenever Gigi broke down. “He asked about Jason? Why?”

  “He thinks I was sleeping with him!”

  “What did you say?”

  “That you were! Or had been.”

  That wasn’t so bad, thought Melanie. “Okay, okay. But he already knew that. Why was he talking to you instead of me?”

  “Because he thinks that you got—assaulted—at my apartment, and you’re making up the story about Jason—I swear I didn’t tell him that, he said it—and that it wasn’t Jason who assaulted you, it was some guy named Gus, and he’s the one who shot Winter.”

  “Wait, Gus shot Winter?”

  “You know him? He’s been in prison!”

  “Jesus, Gigi, the cops are just trying to scare you, don’t believe anything they say.” What the fuck did Gus have to do with all of this? She hadn’t seen Gus since . . . “Gigi, listen to me. This has got nothing to do with you.”

  “I can’t keep lying to them. I just can’t.”

  Melanie recognized that tone, Gigi’s mind set. “Let’s talk about that later. I think I know what’s going on here. That cop Winter got shot, he’s trying to blame it on Gus.”

  “But why are they asking me? I don’t know Gus,” Gigi wailed.

  “Gigi, I was staying over at your place, you had AC.”

  “You had a felon in my apartment!”

  “He’s just a guy. I didn’t know he’d been in prison. That might be bullshit the cops are making up. Someone probably saw Gus around the Lakeview, and Winter knew you lived there, so he’s asking you. That’s all this is.”

  “But why? That would mean Gus did shoot him!”

  “Who knows? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. Trust me, I’ll handle it, like I always have. But this is very important. What exactly did you tell the cops about—that night?”

  “I—I told them you weren’t assaulted here,” whispered Gigi. “Because I was here that night.”

  “Good, good, that will work. I’m proud of you.”

  “I don’t want you to be proud of me for lying.”

  “You weren’t lying, you told the truth. You didn’t know Gus, you weren’t sleeping with Jason, you were at your apartment that night. All of that is the truth, right?”

  A long silence. “I guess so.”

  “This must all be Jason’s doing. He’s got some pull now that he’s made it big. He’s trying to get me to back off on my story, even though I never charged him with anything. I’ll take care of Jason.”

  “You don’t think it was Jason who—who—”

  “Get that out of your head. It wasn’t him, I’m sure.”

  Another long silence. “Mel, I think I should just tell the rest of the truth.”

  Melanie forced herself to keep her voice calm. “No, no, don’t do that. Don’t you see? Then they’ll be really suspicious of why you waited so long. Not only will everyone find out, but they’ll hear about Gus, he isn’t the kind of guy you’d want people thinking you were with.”

  “Did he—is he the one who—broke in—did he—”

  The guy who did it is dead. Those were the words that would have made Gigi sleep better at night, at least about her assailant. But Melanie couldn’t trust even Gigi with that knowledge. “Gigi, I swear, if Gus did anything, he’ll get what’s coming to him. But he didn’t, believe me. The cops are after him for some other reason. Just go back to work.”

  “What if the cops come back?”

  “They’ll come to me before they come to you.” Melanie knew Gigi was going to have a hard time handling this. “You have to trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” Melanie looked around at her crappy apartment, the empty wine bottle, her mismatched furniture. She couldn’t remember the last time Gigi had visited. And why would she? “I know—I know I’m not the sister you might have wanted. I’m doing my best, I am.”

  “I didn’t mean—don’t ever say that. I love you, Mel, I do, and I’ll never forget how you’ve protected me. I think of it more than you know. But I just can’t live like this.”

  “Just hold it together there, please,” said Melanie. “Please.” She didn’t hang up until she finally talked Gigi down from the edge.

  After the call Melanie rifled through her drawers looking for some weed, found a bag, but halfway through rolling a joint decided she needed a clear head.

  She’d been right to worry about that cop Winter. All that nice guy stuff, putting in her air conditioner, he was just pumping her for information. He knew she was hiding something, not just about Jason, but about Lenny. How he knew, Melanie couldn’t figure out. Sure, people must have seen her and Lenny together, but so what? He came into the restaurant, she’d seen him at the club, at the Hilton. She talked to a hundred other guys at those places.

  Gus was a smokescreen, thrown up by Winter to get Gigi nervous. Gus had been a fun fling, Melanie didn’t really know shit about him. Maybe he was a felon. If Winter really did think Gus assaulted her, that was fine.

  And if not, maybe she could come up with another candidate to keep Winter away from Gigi. If Jason was putting pressure on the cops to prove his innocence, she could point them at someone else. Jason had to know that his reputation was taking a hit whether people believed the assault story or not. She could go to him and prom
ise to make it all go away, if he helped get her a role. She’d probably squeezed as much as she could out of the Jason story anyway.

  Winter had never been to the set of a filming. It looked kind of interesting, big trucks, bundles of wires snaking across the street, a flurry of activity. Ryder, who sounded like an expert, explained what was going on.

  “They’re getting set up for a night shot, even though it’s daytime. If they shoot at night it’s too dark, so they use these filters on the lenses, and make adjustments in editing.” Ryder pointed to a camera on a gurney. “That camera is remote controlled. They can get what they call establishing shots, tell you where the action is taking place.”

  The action was taking place at an old railroad car siding. Two rusty boxcars sat on a track, looking like they’d been there forever. Winter knew they had been, he’d played in them as a kid. “How do you know all this shit?”

  “I like movies. Who knows, maybe I’ll write that screenplay.”

  “Let’s find Ayers.”

  “There’ll be a cast trailer.”

  Winter had called Ryder after his interview with Gigi. Ryder hadn’t got very far on the drug angle yet, so they’d met at the Shock and Awe location shoot. Ryder wasn’t overly impressed by the Gigi Doyle interview information, but wanted to see the set and talk to Ayers. Winter wasn’t sure which one held more interest for Ryder.

  They threaded their way through a small group of onlookers, mostly teenagers, the trucks, and a host of equipment. A bright light popped on, then off. Three trailers were lined up on a side street, just past a crumbling platform.

  A security guard sat in a director’s chair, as stiff as his polyester uniform. He looked about eighteen, and jumped up as Winter and Ryder approached. “This area is off limits.”

  “Not for us, junior,” said Ryder, flashing his badge. “Where is Jason Ayers?”

  The rent a cop looked enviously at the badge, but still tried to keep it together. “Mr. Ayers is—.” His eyes flicked to the first trailer.

  “Thanks,” said Winter. He knocked, the aluminum rattling hollow.

  Ayers opened the door. “Now what?”

  “Just a few questions,” said Winter, glancing pointedly at the security guard.

  “Come on in,” said Ayers. “But I don’t have much time, I’ve got to finish makeup.”

  The trailer was plush. Two swiveling lounge chairs, a sofa, a table filled with bottled water, fruit trays, small sandwiches. A big television on the wall.

  Winter didn’t waste any time. “You lied to us about Melanie Upton. You said nothing was going on, but we have witnesses who say you were together right around the time she was assaulted. We’re working on the timeline now. If the dates match up . . . ” Winter let it hang. He only had the one witness, the office manager at the Lakeview, and she wasn’t sure of the date, but Ayers wouldn’t know that.

  “This again? I told you where I was. You,” he pointed to Ryder, “talked to Suzanne.”

  “Were you with Melanie or not?”

  “Just at that party, you know that. It’s on video. I ran into her at a club once, but I was with my producer and Michael Stevens. I barely spoke to her, she was flirting with Stevens.”

  Winter crowded Ayers in the small space. “So you weren’t at her place? We’re checking security videos now. If you were there, better we find out about it from you.”

  Ayers’s eyes flew back and forth between Winter and Ryder. “It’s not what you think. I went to Melanie’s apartment, I wanted to talk some sense into her after she pulled that stunt at the press conference. She’s playing with fire, she has no idea how studios work. She thinks she does, but she hasn’t a clue. This business is cutthroat, but everyone, and I mean everyone, knows everyone else. It’s a club. They’ll cut each other’s hearts out for a half a percentage on a deal, but they’ll also circle the wagons when they need to. Melanie is going to be on their shit list if she isn’t already.”

  “Why should you care if you aren’t involved?”

  “Because she’s pulling me down into her crap.”

  Ryder was about to say something, but Winter cut him off. “You told Melanie this at her place?”

  “On the phone. I went to her apartment, but I wasn’t sure what unit she was in, so I called. She said she was someplace else. I was just standing in the parking lot.”

  “You had a thing with her and didn’t know where she lived?” asked Ryder.

  “She moved. She had a dump over on Third, she told me she’s living at this place called the Lakeview.”

  “Maybe you went back there,” said Ryder. “At night? Looking for a little action? She wasn’t interested, you pushed it?”

  “That’s bullshit. That’s the only time I was there. If you have security video, check it out. I was driving my Range Rover, black. And I’m telling you, Melanie is making all this up.”

  “We’re going to talk to Suzanne Mance again,” said Ryder.

  “Shit. Do what you have to do. But keep it quiet, okay? I’m ending that. I don’t want any trouble with Stevens. I see what’s happening to Melanie. She’s totally screwed herself big time.”

  Back outside, away from the trailer, Winter asked, “What do you think?”

  “You believe he really thinks Melanie lives at the Lakeview?”

  “It would explain why he was there. But he certainly knew about her place on Third. He could have assaulted her in either apartment.”

  Ryder said, “Not if he was with Suzanne Mance.”

  “Did you ask Logan to approve a trip to California?”

  “I didn’t get a chance to. You think he’ll go for it?”

  Winter watched Ayers come out of the trailer, glance in their direction, and then head for the set. “Your chances just got better.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Ryder didn’t get the opportunity to ask for his trip to California. Back at the station, he had called Mance to make sure where she was before asking Logan for the approval. Winter listened from the swivel chair next to Ryder’s desk.

  “Are you sure that was the date you were with Mr. Ayers?” said Ryder, holding his phone away from his ear. Mance was so worked up there was no need for a speakerphone.

  “I’m sure! Jason told me all about this Upton woman. She’s evil! She’s jealous of me and Jason.”

  “We are going to need a statement,” said Ryder. “I could be in Los Angeles by—”

  “I’ll do better than that. I’m coming there. We’ll get all this sorted out for my poor Jason. I’ll take you to the little inn we were at, they’ll recognize me, of course.”

  Ryder tried one more time. “I’m sure you are very busy, Miss Mance—”

  “Nothing is more important than this. Jason has to get this behind him, his career is just taking off. I’m going to help him. I’ve been talking to him about going public about our relationship. He hasn’t wanted to, that fairy tale about Ashley Hanna. Everyone knows Ashley Hanna is still a virgin.”

  “You’d do that? Go public with Jason?”

  “Yes, it’s time. We love each other.”

  “What about Michael Stevens?”

  “I’m going to tell him as soon as he gets back, he’s in London. He’ll understand. He will. It’s been fun with him, but as soon as he hears I’m in love he won’t have a problem, you’ll see.”

  “She sounded pretty convincing,” said Ryder. “You catch all that?”

  “Who knows with these people? She’s another actress.”

  “Yeah, but you think she’d offer to fly out here and go public if it wasn’t true she was with Ayers that night?”

  Winter said, “She might not be so willing once she finds out that Ayers is going to dump her.”

  “Maybe she already knows, and all this is to get Ayers to want her. Offering up to lie for him, get him off the hook for the Upton assault.”

  Winter got up. “Could be. We know one thing for sure. Somebody’s lying. Or all of them are. I’m going to work it from Upto
n’s angle, pin down where she was that night. If she was at the Lakeview, then the assault happened there.”

  “And it could have been Ayers or Woodson.”

  “Or Gruse. I’m going back to the Lakeview to see if anyone saw him around.”

  “You didn’t ask that when you were there?”

  “Wondering about that myself,” said Winter.

  Before leaving the station, Winter got the DA on the phone. Unfortunately, the DA he’d worked with for years, Jackson, had retired, and this new guy, Villeson, was by the book, which meant skeptical.

  “Let me get this straight,” said Villeson. “You want a subpoena for the phone records of a woman who is a victim in a sexual assault?”

  Winter sensed he wasn’t going to get anywhere, but he pleaded his case. “Her story is all over the place. I think she might be covering for the guy who shot me. I have a witness who puts them together.”

  “Then it’s his cell phone records you want, not hers. I can work with you on that, provided of course you have a proper witness statement. That meeting between the alleged shooter and the sexual assault victim took place when?”

  Winter wondered if he had dialed the wrong number and got the public defender’s office. “Nothing alleged about the shooter, I can show you the gash in my leg. I’m not sure about the date of their meeting.” That was true enough.

  “If her phone number shows up on the shooter’s call log, then you might have the beginnings of probable cause,” said Villeson. “Provided, of course, that the call took place near the time of the shooting.”

  Winter gave up, Villeson wasn’t buying it. “Thanks for your time.” He hung up. “Asshole.” He should have had Ryder call, two peas in a pod.

  In the car Winter realized he wouldn’t make it to the Lakeview in time to catch the groundskeepers, it was well after five. Maybe the business office would still be open. He called, but it dropped him into voicemail.

  If Upton had been assaulted at Lakeview, Winter already had two possible suspects: Jason Ayers and Gus Woodson. If Lenny Gruse had been seen there, that would make three. Maybe more, who knows how many men Upton had entertained at her sister’s. And if the assault had taken place at Upton’s own apartment—Winter hated to even think of how many more suspects that would mean.