Body on the Backlot

by Eva Monteleagre

  He sat down. Gus and I did the same. He took a bite of his croissant and a sip of his coffee while we waited for him to answer the question. His eyes continued to take me in as he dramatically swallowed and cleared his throat.

  “Well, now. I understood that Mason was in prison for being with a girl that was underage. So, I guess the answer is yes.”

  Gus took over. “There’s ten young women missing, Johan. Three of them are from the same acting class that you referred Mason Jones to.”

  “Ten missing young women? That’s a lot.” Gus nodded. “Who’s missing from the acting class?”

  I gave him the flyers of the three girls from the class.

  “This is tragic, tragic. I can’t believe it. I know these girls. They’re like sisters. How can I help?”

  “Here’s the rest of the missing,” I said. “Recognize any of these?”

  He studied the flyers carefully.

  “No. No, I only know the ones from class. Vernice, Katrice, and Anne. This is soooo tragic.”

  “How ‘bout her?”

  I gave him the picture of Autumn Riley.

  “Oh yes, Autumn. She’s missing, too? Oh, wait a minute. I heard something about her on the news. They thought she was dead, right? But then she wasn’t or something like that?”

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “And you think Mason Jones has done harm to these girls?”

  “We’re looking at everybody at this point.”

  “Not me, I hope. Well, first off, I haven’t been around. I haven’t even seen Mason because I’ve been here and I don’t get to go out and party or anything. I can’t even go to the grocery store. They’re afraid I might down some cough medicine or drink rubbing alcohol. They’re pretty strict about that. I know it looks cool here and all, but it’s essentially a prison. They call it rehab, but believe me, it’s a confinement situation. One false move and you’re busted bad.”

  “Okay,” I said. “It would seem you have a solid alibi. So, you referred Mason to this acting class because…”

  “Oh, he’s a real talent, the guy has got something, I’m telling you. But uh, let’s see, in my opinion, whatever that’s worth, Mason is a strong guy and all but…you think he did something to Autumn Riley? That cunt was a demon from hell. Okay? Let’s not mince words here. I don’t mean to offend you, Joan.”

  I didn’t like the way he said my name.

  “Not much could offend me at this point, Johan,” I lied. “I’m just saying…if Mason was a predator like you’re telling me? I don’t think he would pick Autumn Riley out of the bunch to pick on. No way, Jose.”

  “And the other three?”

  “The other girls are all brilliant, talented young women, as I’m sure you know. They come from good families, you know, they have maids, nannies and limos with chauffeurs and all that. Nobody is seriously doing drugs in that crowd. All those kinds of kids are already in here with me. The girls in acting class for the most part are all ambitious. They wear the latest designer clothes, are obsessed with diets and that whole scene, but they aren’t the kind of kids that do heavy drugs or anything. Oh, I feel awful. I do hope I’m not talking about the dead or anything like that.”

  “I think I understand what you’re saying,” I said.

  “Vernice, Anne, and Katrice don’t hang with a bad crowd, right?”

  “Right. It’s not like that time, Gus, when you came and asked me about that one who ended up in the sewage system. Her, I could tell you something about because she went a lot of places nice girls don’t go. I’m not saying that because these young girls come from good families it could never happen. I come from a good family, look at everything that’s happened to me. What I mean is—the girls that you’re asking me about? They’re not the type. They aren’t trampy enough, you see what I’m saying? And plenty are sluts, I’m here to tell you. But these particular girls? They probably date Phi Theta Kappa guys that their parents approve of, their high school sweetheart. Maybe their professor or an artist, that sort of thing. Really, though, I don’t have the least clue about them except what I know from acting class.”

  Johan truly loved the sound of his own voice.

  “Was Autumn Riley the type?” I asked. Johan looked at me and considered it.

  “You mean was she a slut? Well, now, that’s an interesting question. Autumn. Hmmmm. I think Autumn could be just about anything if it served her purposes.”

  “Do you think Autumn is capable of causing anyone harm?”

  Gus looked at me, then to Johan for the answer.

  “Capable? She could kill you with just her eyes. I’m absolutely convinced that Autumn Riley could murder a person with her bare hands.”

  •••

  THE DINER WHERE TIA worked was completely different at lunch hour compared to when Gus and I normally met there for breakfast. When we entered the barn-red diner, the place was buzzing with business chatter. Lawyers and upwardly mobile young professionals were everywhere; plus there was a sprinkling of creative types, writers, and musicians. You could tell by their clothing, snatches of conversation, the scripts and demo tapes on the tables. This was an ideal place for a power lunch that wouldn’t break your piggy bank. People were hawking their wares, making connections, and schmoozing in mad desperation. I guess that was part of the attraction for the Autumn Riley clique of models and aspiring actresses. The red décor had to have been designed to create the high-energy feel of the place.

  I had to admit, my thought processes were not crystal clear. My head was still foggy. My body ached and I yearned for sleep. We went toward Tia’s section and we slid into the red leather booth. My latest close encounter with death made me no less sensitive to the loud clatter created by the busboys. The banging of dishes seemed to clang inside of my sensitive head.

  When Tia approached our table, there was an urgency and intensity about her. Gus got a BLT and black water and her hand shook as she took the order. I wasn’t hungry. I was tormented mightily from Mary Tyler’s extraction of my wisdom tooth. I felt sick to my stomach and I considered that I might be suffering from an infection caused by her handiwork. Instead of food, I ordered two of the diner’s mugs that they sell as souvenirs and a black coffee. Tia finished taking our order with a hard strike of the pencil on her pad. Then she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a folded page from a magazine.

  “Here!” she said tossing it on the table.

  I unfolded the tattered page and saw a short music review with a photo of a singer named Zombita, her manager, and her agent. I looked back up at Tia. “What is it?” asked Gus.

  “It’s Autumn and The Barb with Caroline Johnson, her agent,” said Tia.

  I looked closer and read the caption more carefully.

  Zombita and her manager, The Barb, with talent agent Caroline Johnson.

  The photo spotlighted a young woman who looked amazingly like a cadaver. With a stretch of imagination, I could recognize Autumn Riley. Her beautiful red hair was matted and looked like she was going for a dreadlock style, if you could call it a style. She had on white face makeup and large black circles painted around her eyes. On one side, stood the Barb, in black T-shirt and jeans, his hair slicked down flat. He held her bare thin arm. On the other side, the agent, Caroline Johnson, stood wearing a big smile across her face. I read the blurb promoting the show:

  An Operetta of death and destruction. ZOMBITA, the hottest new show at the AntiClub, was featured last night. Zombita’s lyrics are fierce and her sound is outta this world! Zombita’s manager, The Barb, has plans to showcase her talent at all the Los Angeles hotspots while top talent agent, Caroline Johnson, seeks movie deals and other venues. Caroline informed us that a CD is in the making, plus a music video will be released later this week. Pronounced dead two weeks ago by Los Angeles coroner’s office, and the object of an intense homicide investigation by LAPD’s most elite Homicide Special Section detectives, Zombita has somehow returned from the dead to kick ass.

&
nbsp; The mention of LAPD burned me. I felt like I had a hot poker through my skull. We were being used as a tool in a publicity maneuver. It was while I was trying to recover from my shame that I noticed it—a worn Raggedy Ann doll clutched in Zombita’s free hand. I said nothing, tried to pull it all together. I passed the magazine page to Gus. He looked at it carefully. For a moment, he allowed an uncertainty to pass over his face, and then it was gone.

  “That’s weird,” was all I could say.

  “Where’d you get this?” Gus asked Tia.

  “I read it in BAM Magazine, about an hour ago. I was gonna call you on my lunch break but here you are. The mag just arrived this morning.”

  A middle-aged lady waved madly, trying to get Tia’s attention.

  “Hey, can I get some mustard over here?” she cried. Tia ignored the woman.

  “I do remember something you might be interested in. Autumn was bragging one day about how she and some dude went down to Mexico and got this date rape drug.”

  “You mean Rohypnol?” I asked.

  “Right. She was so excited—like a kid with the latest Playstation®. I was thinking it was bizarre, you know, a chick with some roofies. I mean, what was she going to do with them? So, I asked her, maybe I was a little outraged, and she just gave me this creepy smile.”

  “Waitress! Mustard, over here, please.”

  “Excuse me.” Tia left to fetch mustard.

  “Autumn gleeful about a date rape drug?” I asked.

  “She bragged about it? Must be something bad wrong with that girl. Looks like Caroline Johnson got a second chance,” said Gus.

  “Not only that, but they’re turning the homicide investigation into a publicity stunt.” I was beside myself.

  “Stars and their spin machines always do that. There’s no such thing as bad publicity in that business.”

  “Jeez.”

  “Is that your Raggedy Ann doll she’s got?” Gus asked. I had shown the doll to Gus ages ago and I wasn’t surprised that he’d remembered it. The guy remembered everything. His mind was like one of his super gadgets.

  “Sure looks like it,” I said.

  “You mentioned it last night. Dolls seem to be important to this strange clan,” he said. “So, Hector stole Pancho and your Raggedy Ann doll.”

  “That seems to be the only explanation. Then he ran right over to the performance and gave Autumn the doll in time for the photo op. He could have picked up pink hair on the way back.”

  “Pink hair?”

  “The twelve-year-old he delivered to the Tylers that disappeared as soon as I got her out of the cuffs.”

  “How could Hector do all those things so fast?” asked Gus.

  “It doesn’t take long to pick up a runaway. Not when you have a giant cozy SUV and can convince her she’ll be connected to people in the movie and music industry.”

  “After he dropped off the girl, he must have gone back to your place to get the dog. So then, among others Hector is fetch and carry for…The Barb? What do you think he’s going to do with the dog?” asked Gus.

  “We never figured out what the dog was doing at Autumn’s bungalow in the first place. It’s got to have something to do with Tommy since he stole Pancho from my place.”

  “It’s the hide-and-seek game, he wants us to connect the missing kid Tommy with Autumn and the Raggedy Ann Doll, it’s gotta be something like that,” said Gus.

  “So…he’s giving me a clue. Right, hide-and-seek. I challenged him on that.”

  Gus chewed on it. I could see the idea working on him.

  “I’d say he’s winning at this point,” said Gus.

  “Did you guys run Hector’s plates?”

  “Of course. It was an Echo Park address. I sent some guys over there and a Mexican family had recently moved in. Never heard of Hector.”

  Kunda entered the restaurant dressed in black silk; her hair was tightly curled and bounced around her head like something out of a Pre-Raphaelite painting. Her eyes searched over the crowd. When she spotted us, she came over directly. “What do you want to bet the music is loud and that Zombita does a lot of screaming?” I asked Gus.

  “Yeah, Kunda could have read the same article herself this morning.”

  Kunda arrived at our table, black silk floating behind her, and slid in next to Gus. I recognized her perfume of rose oil.

  Tia quickly dropped off a BLT and two coffees. She raced away then came back with my coffee mugs tightly wrapped in brown paper, placed them inside yet another brown paper bag and handed them to me.

  “You just can’t get enough of this place, can you?” said Tia.

  “Yeah, well, don’t rub it in. Want something?” I asked Kunda. “My treat.”

  I sipped the hot coffee, careful to avoid the wound where my wisdom tooth used to be, and hot liquid slid down my throat like oil through a hot engine.

  “Thank you, no. I’m not hungry. I have no appetite whatsoever.”

  “How ‘bout some coffee?” prompted Gus.

  “No, really. Nothing.”

  Tia spun away to her duties in the busy diner.

  “So, uh, Kunda. It looks like you have a hundred-percent accuracy rate,” I said.

  Gus handed her the magazine clipping. Kunda looked at it and started taking deep breaths.

  “So, that’s it. That’s why I had that vision. She certainly looks dead.” She looked more closely at the photo. “She has a doll.” Gus frowned at me before taking a big chomp out of his BLT. Kunda pointed to the doll with her long, manicured, and ornately ringed finger.

  “I noticed,” I said.

  “And that’s not all,” said Kunda. She grew very somber, the oracle about to deliver bad news to the king.

  “What else?” I asked.

  “There’s more girls.”

  Gus stopped for a moment mid-chew.

  “You saw them in a vision, too?” I asked.

  Kunda clutched a black stone at the end of a necklace and put her head down. When she came back up, there was a timbre in her voice full of dread and loathing.

  “It’s dark and wet. The wind howls. They’re hungry, oh, so hungry. All they know is sleep. Only sleep,” she paused.

  “That’s what I saw. It’s real. Please believe me.”

  “That’s not much to go on,” I said.

  Gus came in full force, “Look, Kunda. If you know something we want to hear it. Telling us your visions don’t cut it. Whatever you know, come clean.”

  “I told you that I would help you and I will. I didn’t know the extent that, uh, I didn’t know… Listen, I’m telling you everything I’ve got!”

  “The thing is, we appreciate your help, but we have to make a case. We need more than your visions to explain to our captain why we think there are, what did you say, more girls?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, more girls being drugged? Held captive? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  She nodded.

  “And all we can tell the DA is, well, the wind howls. How can you expect us to work a case with such vague information?”

  “If I knew more, I would give it to you, I swear! You think I want to carry this kind of karma on my head? The moment I get anything, I’ll call you.”

  “But where are you getting this?” I asked.

  “It just comes in. To tell you the truth, I wish it wouldn’t sometimes.”

  Gus finished his BLT without comment. When Tia came back, we got the check and since Kunda didn’t want anything we split. Outside the diner, Kunda clutched my arm. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” she said. “I’ve never faced such evil.”

  Gus scowled.

  “Thanks for your help,” I said.

  When she walked away, the wind blew up her black silk skirt. She had on black tights underneath and she didn’t struggle with the wind, she just let her skirt blow. She looked like a big black flag flapping as she walked down Beverly Boulevard like Hell’s own messenger.

  “What do
you think, Gus?”

  “I think you’d have to be able to read her mind to know what’s going on in there.”

  “She knows something,” I said.

  “What does she know? How? Does she really know it? Is it her intuition? Or is Autumn Riley calling her up for psychic advice? You see the problem here?”

  “But she knows about the missing girls. Somethin’ ain’t right.”

  The bristles on my back were up.

  “It would appear that Zombita is enjoying her new singing career.”

  “Yeah, not to mention, at our expense.”

  “About Tia,” said Gus.

  “I know, forget the bait idea,” I said. “You got a phone number for Mrs. Riley on you?”

  Gus gave me the number. I dialed it on my cell.

  “Mrs. Riley, this is Detective Lambert.”

  “Hello.”

  “Have you had contact with your daughter recently?”

  “Yes. I have.”

  “Did you call her or did she call you?”

  “Why do you ask, Detective?”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “I repeat; why do you ask?”

  “Do you believe she’s acting on her own behalf? I mean, of her own accord?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re asking. Can you give me some indication of what’s going on? Has something happened recently that I should know about?”

  I gave Gus a look expressing my frustration with the conversation.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, something unfortunate has occurred. Autumn’s friend, Dani, was found murdered.”

  “Murdered? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And you think Autumn had something to do with it?”

  “No, ma’am. I wasn’t thinking that exactly. There is a concern since the two were friends, and they moved in some of the same circles.”

  “I see,” said Mrs. Riley.

  She wasn’t giving me any play and that really struck me as strange. Where were those concerned parents that organized to solve the mystery of their daughter’s death? This was an iron door of unwillingness. How odd that she thought I suspected Autumn in regard to Dani’s murder. Did Mrs. Riley have the same opinion of her daughter as the soap star, Johan Beaks?