Murder! Hollywood Style

by Carol Branston

  CHAPTER 48

  Up, Up, and Away

  Val counted the days until the sale at Saks. She even joked with Marco saying she was going to save him a lot of money. She had been able to get the arrival and departure times of planes to New York by telling him she would love her mother to come for a visit. He’d gone along with it, even though he had no intention of letting that happen. Her plan was to be at the airport by 3.30 p.m. and would hopefully be on the 4 p.m. nonstop to New York. She would call Karen from the ladies’ room at Saks and then call a cab. She would leave the store from a different exit in case Dominic was waiting for them with the car. The only gamble was not knowing if there would be a seat available on the flight. But she had no other choice.

  The day finally arrived. She had to take half a Quaalude just to calm down. Dominic arrived with Bev to drive them to Bal Harbor. Val looked back at the house as they left the compound. She never wanted to see it again. She thought her heart was going to explode. They lit a joint for the journey and that helped her relax a little.

  Dom dropped them off by 11.30 a.m. They went straight to Saks and found their saleslady. She put them in a dressing room and started bringing in the very expensive bargains. They were laughing and having a wonderful time, when Val said she had nearly peed herself from laughing so hard and had to go to the ladies’ room before she had an accident. This made them laugh even more. She managed to run off alone, leaving Bev laughing and shouting after her, “I hope you make it!” Me too, thought Val as she hurried to make her phone call.

  Karen told her she had reservations for her on both American Airlines flights, the one at four and then the five o’clock, just in case she ran late. Val called a cab and was on her way to the airport by two-thirty. She felt bad for Bev. She knew she would be in big trouble. But what could she do? She had no other way out.

  She had managed to steal a fifty-dollar bill from Marco’s money roll. She knew he would never notice it; she just hoped the taxi ride wasn’t going to cost any more than that. She had no idea what things cost. When she thought about it, she hadn’t handled money for a couple of years. The fare was thirty-five dollars and she told the driver to keep the change.

  Things went off without a hitch. There was a first-class ticket in her name at the American Airlines desk and she went immediately to the gate. First class was just about to board. She didn’t relax until they took off. She looked down at the palm trees and the ocean, vowing never to set foot in Miami again.

  The stewardess asked her if she wanted champagne. Of course she did! She had a lot to celebrate. She swallowed the other half of the lude she had in her purse, sank back in her seat, and closed her eyes. She couldn’t sleep, but it felt unbelievably good to know that for three-and-a-half hours nobody could get to her.

  CHAPTER 49

  It’s A Plan

  Karen met her at the gate and before she knew it they were both in the back of a limo on their way into Manhattan. Val started to tell her how dangerous Marco was and described his connection with drug trafficking and the intricate system he’d worked out with people in the Everglades. She was sure he would follow her and the thought scared her out of her mind. Karen asked about Sharon. Val said she had only seen her the one time, but heard from one of the girls who came to the house that she’d been beaten up for some reason. That was all she knew.

  They went straight to Karen’s place where she gave Val a couple of yellows and told her to get some sleep. Karen thought it best they wait until she was rested before she called her mother. Val had no problem agreeing with that.

  When she was settled, Karen went straight to the phone and called a lawyer friend of hers who knew the DA. She didn’t have to wait long before he called her back. She told him exactly where they could find Marco and where to look for his boats and contraband. He promised she would remain anonymous.

  The next day, the FBI was ready to make their bust. They had been trying to get something on Marco and his cocaine cowboys for some time. When they raided his house, Marco put up a fight and was hit on the head with a club by one of the Feds. He fell to the floor in the foyer and hit the marble so hard he cracked his head and became unconscious; he was dragged out and taken to the hospital, where he went into a coma. He died the following day from his head injuries.

  In New York they were unaware of what had occurred. Val woke up long enough to have some soup, take two more lovely little yellows, and go back to sleep.

  The following day, Karen woke her with a breakfast tray and the newspapers. Val couldn’t believe the headlines! How had it happened so quickly? Karen was only pissed about one thing. She had wanted to find out about Sharon. Now with Marco dead, she didn’t have any leads. For a short time she and Val celebrated with mimosa’s and croissants. Feeling better than she’d felt in ages, Val put down her glass and made a face before she picked up the phone to call her mother. They didn’t want her to see the papers or hear about what had happened from anyone else. Luckily Anne was still asleep when the phone rang and still totally unaware of the bust in Florida. Half-asleep she decided to let her new answering machine pick up; then she heard Val’s voice.

  “Mummy, it’s me. I’m in New York.”

  Anne nearly fell out of bed rushing to pick up the receiver.

  “Valerie, my goodness. What a surprise. Where are you?”

  “I’m at Karen’s. It’s a long story. I, we would love you to come over here as soon as possible.”

  Karen was on the extension and butted in.

  “Hi, Anne. I can’t begin to tell you how important it is for you to come here immediately. Just get dressed, jump in a cab, and we’ll be here waiting for you.”

  Before Anne could say anything, Karen gave her the address and they hung up.

  Val told Karen about all the Percodan and coke she’d been doing with Marco. Karen said her old line, “not to worry,” suggesting they should both take a couple of greenies and a yellow. She told Val she was going to call Dr. Anderson to find out what to use in place of Percs. When she explained the situation to him, as much as he didn’t give a hoot about what happened to Val, he could never refuse Karen anything. He assured her he would come by later and give Val a shot and a ’scrip, sure that was all she needed.

  Anne arrived, and over tea they showed her the newspapers and brought her up-to-date on what had transpired. She couldn’t believe it. Her biggest worry was Val’s name and reputation. Val bit her tongue. She didn’t want to say what reputation and start an argument, so she let Karen answer. What she said shocked both of them. She told them about her movie deal with Sydney Greenspan and how Val had the part in his film if she wanted it. She said the reason she’d sent Sharon to Miami in the first place was to tell Val about the film. It was going to be shot in London.

  “If you’re both agreeable, I think it seems like the perfect solution. Val would have to leave New York immediately, and would therefore not be available for any consequences that could crop up because of her relationship with Marco.”

  Anne loved the whole idea. Truth was, she was happy enough to see Val, but her own life had become, as she put it, “serene and calm,” and she liked it that way. Of course she didn’t say this. She could only imagine the time the columns and trade papers would have with this newest scandal. It would be so much nicer for her to be able to say ‘my daughter is in London shooting a film.’

  “When does this film start shooting?”

  For her, it couldn’t be soon enough.

  “I spoke to Sydney last night. Shooting starts in three weeks. He said he knew someone who was subletting a flat in Bayswater: a good neighborhood, as you probably know—safe, lots of restaurants, etc., and I told him to go ahead and rent it. As far as what the next step should be, I tend to think the sooner Val leaves the better.”

  With that, Anne stood and shook Karen’s hand. “I couldn’t agree with you more. Honestly Karen, I really don’t know how to thank you. I’m sorry I have to leave, I have an important appointmen
t for lunch. I’m thrilled we’ve sorted out this problem so quickly, now I won’t even have to cancel. When will Valerie be coming to pack and pick up her passport?”

  “She’ll come tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Fine then. I’ll be waiting for you both.”

  Anne and Karen hadn’t once included Val in their conversation. They seemed extremely satisfied with what had transpired and that seemed to be the most important outcome. Val had heard it all, but it hadn’t sunk in. Something about London and a film. By the sound of it, it was another decision she didn’t have to make; she was grateful for that. She was included for the walk to the door to say good-bye. Val’s mother even managed a small peck on her cheek.

  “Be a good girl, Valerie. God bless.”

  CHAPTER 50

  On a Roll

  Before she knew what had happened Val arrived in London. She went straight to the flat in Bayswater and found Sydney there. He was nice enough, but she had to let him know immediately that she wasn’t interested in any off-the-set activities.

  When she went for hair and makeup consultations the following day, she met Kenny. Through him she found the in spots, and the rock-and-rollers to hang out with. Hairdressers in every town always seemed to know all that shit. Kenny copped some great hash for her. He preferred coke and dropped a lot of acid, and much to her delight, her favorite druggy-poo Quaaludes, were easy to get.

  She hadn’t realized she was starring in a horror film until they started shooting. The genre had become popular once more. Audiences couldn’t get enough blood and gore. As long as she was being paid well, she honestly didn’t give a shit what the movie was about. She didn’t remember much about making the film except for one hideous scene that took three days to shoot. The director insisted on having live white mice run all over her as she lay at the bottom of an enormous staircase in the ruins of a cold, damp castle doing her death scene. She later referred to the whole experience, as “a funny disaster, with a sadistic fucker of a director, who got his money’s worth!” All she knew was she had to wear the same sheer negligee throughout the entire film and nearly froze to death most of the time.

  She’d quickly found a new beau in London—a drummer for one of the hottest bands around who liked to get high as much as she did. When he didn’t have a gig, they hit every dance palace and private club that made up the London scene, usually ending up with a crowd crashing at her pad. In the morning, or whenever they came to, her fun thing was doing a body count and being introduced to this little dolly, or that gorgeous creature who hadn’t been able to make it out of the bathroom and had ended up sleeping in the tub.

  This lifestyle went on for the nine months of shooting. The nights actually helped her get through the days with “Terry the terrorist,” another of her pet names for the director. She was using so many drugs, “A Foggy Day” wasn’t the name of a song anymore, it was the haze that encompassed her whole world. Surprisingly enough she still looked fabulous, and her picture still made all the trades and fan magazines.

  Her whole entourage was at Mirabelle’s one night, as guests of some Lord or other, when someone came up behind her, tapped her on the shoulder, and whispered, “hello,” in her ear. She turned and came face-to-face with Nicky. She put her arms around his neck and started to kiss him. She felt him stiffen up and try to pull away. She hung onto him, more for support than anything else.

  “Val. You look great. How long have you been here in London? Say hello to Fletcher. God, it’s a small world. Wow, you look great.”

  His stream of dialogue stopped for a moment. The silence was awkward. Val pulled herself together as best she could. She tried to focus on the million words that had just passed through her head. It was too much for her to comprehend. Instead, she turned to the people at her table.

  “Look everyone, it’s Nicky. My Nicky Venuti!”

  She turned back to him.

  “What the fuck are you doing here? You in London. Fancy that.”

  “I’m working on a theater piece. I’m directing now.”

  “Fancy that.”

  That was all she could think of to say. He seemed so sure of himself, not like the Nicky she had fallen in love with a zillion years ago.

  “I just wanted to say hi. This is our bon voyage party.”

  He put his arm around Fletcher.

  “We’re leaving for New York in a couple of days. My play is going to be off Broadway.”

  Val finally found her tongue and it was laced with poison. “We is it? Who’s the we? Or is that the queen’s royal we?”

  Nicky ignored her sarcasm. “Me and Fletcher.”

  Val looked at Fletcher for the first time and started to laugh. “He looks like me!”

  It was true. He was a taller version of her. His hair was long and blond. He had fine features like her and the same enormous, deep blue eyes. They were even wearing similar pantsuits, both looking like they had just come from Carnaby Street.

  “Well, you always had good taste, Mr. Venuti. Tell me, what does Fletcher do? No, don’t tell me. Let me guess. I bet whatever it is he does, he does it very well.”

  Nicky surprised her by laughing and looked adoringly at Fletcher.

  “So far, no complaints.”

  Val looked at the people at her table. They were hanging on to every word, waiting for something to happen…something to make their evening memorable…some new cocktail chat for their next soirée. A couple of them giggled. She hated them all at that instant. Why was she with them and not Nicky? She knew he wanted to leave. No way! She wasn’t going to let him walk away, just like that.

  “Come on. Who’s going to dance with me?”

  No one answered.

  “Come on. We’re supposed to be having fun. I’m having fun.”

  She went over to Fletcher and bowed.

  “Fletcher, would you do me the honor of joining me for what I believe is a dance called the Frug?”

  He looked her in the eye, bowed, took her arm, and escorted her out onto the dance floor. Val caught a glimpse of them both in a full-length mirror that covered a column nearby. How strange a sight it was to see the two of them together. He was nearly a mirror image of her, just taller; that was the only significant difference.

  They both danced extremely well. Each picked up on what the other was about to do. It was one of those absolutely brilliant, once-in-a-lifetime moments when you wished someone had been there with a movie camera to capture it. They were dancing to The Temps’ “Papa Was A Rolling Stone.” It was like watching a matador with a bull. They spoke to each other with every move. They loved, then hated, they attacked and surrendered, they seduced and teased. They understood each other. They didn’t know what they understood, they only knew they did. So many feelings Val had bottled up for so long became a step, or a lunge, or a stretch, or a jump. When the song ended, they walked back to their table amid cheers and bravos. Fletcher stood in front of her, took her hand, kissed it, tossed his long blond hair, and smiled.

  “Ciou, bella.”

  That’s all he said before he disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor.

  She was left there with nothing but an uneasy silence coming from her friends. All eyes were on her. She picked up the bottle of champagne and drained it. The people at her table cheered, and Lord whoever-he-was ordered more champagne immediately.

  Val’s stomach was in knots. Nicky had left with him and hadn’t even said good night. At that moment it felt like the worst, most embarrassing thing he’d ever done to her. She hated him for that! She remembered how she’d stood up for him when her mother called him a hooligan. How dare he! One thing was for sure, she would never forgive him. If only he’d said good night. But he hadn’t.

  She washed down a lude with some fresh bubbly and went back on the dance floor, determined to show the world she was having fun. Her friends quickly joined her, all making a little too much noise, all trying a little too hard.

  It didn’t work.

  CHAPTER 51r />
  Show Me the Business

  Nicky had directed two new plays since arriving in London. Both received critical acclaim. He knew he’d finally found his calling and was being treated like a star once more. He had grown to love London and felt safe there. For the first time in his private life he wasn’t living a lie.

  His newest play became a box-office hit. He hadn’t expected it. In fact, he had anticipated a limited audience, because the subject matter was so controversial. It was visually a hard play to watch: life in a men’s prison portrayed in a very graphic way. For the first time onstage, his play exposed the homosexual rapes that constantly occur in prisons everywhere. He cowrote the play with a young man who had personally lived through that hell.

  Fletcher and Nicky had been together from the moment they’d first met. It surprised them both when their relationship blossomed into something serious. For once, timing in life had worked its magic.

  Fletcher was an actor, and much to Nicky’s delight, he turned out to be a very good actor. He had starred in Nicky’s first play to rave reviews. In the new play, it was his nude rape scene in the prison that caused a sensation. He’d been interviewed all over the tube, on radio talk shows, in newspapers and magazine articles, and he constantly tried to explain his nudity onstage.

  “It’s not for shock value; it’s reality. I know how hard it might be for audiences to watch, but I hope doing this will enlighten the public on this subject and help the men who face these ordeals every day.”

  Fletcher Ingram became a star. It was SRO at the box office. Nicky’s most recent surprise had come from a producer in New York who offered to bring the production to the States as an off-Broadway show. “Just for openers,” he’d insisted. He thought there was a good chance it could end up on Broadway.