by Connie Dial
BRUNO FALDI was a giant of a man as tall as Josie’s son David, but he weighed at least a hundred pounds more. He was balding and had shaved his head which made him even more imposing. Josie imagined discipline wasn’t an issue in his classroom. His office at the Grandview Girls Academy was cluttered with stacks of papers, books and magazines. It had one small window that looked out on a well-tended track and soccer field. The school had a small-town college appeal with two multi-story vine-covered brick buildings nestled in a cluster of mature maple trees.
“I couldn’t do it anymore after she died,” Bruno said in response to Behan’s first question about why he quit the security job with Carlton Buck.
Josie studied the big man and thought he looked more bodyguard than high school teacher. She imagined he must’ve been quite impressive in a police uniform when he was in better shape, but even in his best physical condition he probably wasn’t the kind of guy who could buy his tailored blues off the rack. His neck and hands were huge. He was dressed informally in slacks and a sweater, but his manner was anything but casual. As he talked, he fidgeted with pens, paper clips and anything else he could touch on his desk.
“Was she your first client?” Behan asked, after making small talk for a few minutes. Josie knew he was trying to calm Bruno, who looked as nervous as anyone she’d ever interviewed.
“No, I only guarded her less than a month. I had maybe a dozen celebrity regulars in the half-year I was with Buck, but she was different . . . really vulnerable and scared. It wasn’t a vanity thing with that little girl like it was for most of them.”
“Scared of what?”
“Pretty much everything, but especially her crazy mother and that Goldman character.”
“She thought her own mother would harm her?”
Bruno’s mood changed, grew darker; his eyes narrowed. “Have you met the woman? She’s a psycho . . . threatened to save her little girl by sending her back to God in a plain wooden coffin so he’d forgive her evil ways. That’s nuts.”
“Did Mrs. Dennis try to harm Hillary?” Josie asked, remembering the simple, grief-stricken mother she’d comforted in her office.
“Not when I was there. I never let her get close enough.”
“What about the Goldman kid?” Behan asked.
“Wasn’t any kid. Must’ve been at least in his forties.”
“Cory Goldman?”
“Don’t know his first name . . . oh yeah, I do, Eli, maybe.”
Josie and Behan exchanged a quick glance, and she asked, “Are you talking about Councilman Eli Goldman?”
Bruno looked confused. “He’s a councilman? Sorry, I don’t live in the city anymore . . . guess I don’t pay much attention to local politics.”
Behan described Eli Goldman.
“Yeah, that sounds like the guy, kinda dorky-looking. They had a thing, but when she broke it off he pestered her all the time. The last time he knocked on her door, I answered and told him to get lost or I’d break both his arms . . . never saw him again.”
“Buck told us you never guarded her at home.” Josie said.
“I didn’t. We were leaving to go to one of the clubs. I just picked her up there.”
Bruno swore he didn’t know any of the other officers who worked for Buck because he’d always worked alone. He claimed Hillary was like his daughter, and he believed mentally and emotionally she was closer to fourteen than seventeen. She’d confided in him that she didn’t like the notoriety of being a movie star, enjoyed her independence but felt guilty about the wealth, and believed her mother who’d said someday she would have to pay for her freedom and extravagant lifestyle.
“Why’d she fire you?” Behan asked.
For the first time since the interview began, Bruno seemed reluctant or slow to answer. A knock on the door saved him from responding right away. A young girl, one of his students who looked to be about sixteen years old, said she wanted to talk to him about her midterm grade, and he took a few minutes to arrange another time with her. Bruno’s demeanor changed. He spoke softly and smiled at her, even joked a little.
Josie watched. The chemistry between student and teacher felt all wrong to her. The girl was pretty and flirting with him, but Bruno didn’t react the way an adult should have. He treated her like an equal, smiling at what Josie felt were inappropriate remarks, and the girl acted as if she were his friend rather than a student. Bruno didn’t really do anything wrong, but the interaction made Josie uncomfortable.
When they were alone again, Bruno folded his arms and sat back. “The drugs,” he said. “Told her to stop. She wouldn’t.”
“Tell us more about the drugs. How’d she get them?” Behan asked.
“Off the street, it was dangerous and stupid. Said she had better protection than me and nothing was going to happen to her . . . didn’t like me nagging her all the time so she dumped me. A few days later, she’s dead.”
The big man rubbed his eyes as if he was going to cry, but didn’t. He sat up and took several minutes to compose himself. Josie wasn’t buying it. She thought he was trying hard to look upset, but his body language said he was still very much in control.
“What sort of things did she do when you were with her,” she asked.
Bruno cleared his throat. “Partied, went to a club almost every night. She liked to have a good time.”
“She was a minor,” Josie said.
“Not really,” Bruno said, defensively. “She legally lived on her own. The studio hired a tutor for her, but it was all show. I tried too, but she wasn’t interested in improving her mind. She knew her success depended on her face and body.”
“She was a minor.”
“Of course,” Bruno said, glancing at her and shrugging.
“Did she ever work?” Josie asked, wondering when the young woman found time to make all those terrible movies.
“No, not when I was with her. She checked in with her agent every day, and I’d drive her to Skylar’s office or they’d meet at one of the clubs, but I never saw her on a film set and never saw Skylar offer her any kind of movie work.”
“Were there other men besides Eli?” Behan asked.
“Lots, but the guys I saw the most were some geeky-looking tattooed guy and his friend. Didn’t know either one of them, but I think they both stayed with her at different times. She dumped the geek, but I had a feeling the other guy kept coming around when I wasn’t there.”
Josie tried not to change her expression. Maybe Cory Goldman but not David; David wouldn’t lie to her about something that important.
“Anyone dating her at the time she got killed?”
“I wasn’t with her those last few days,” Bruno said.
“Tell me more about the tattooed geeky guy’s friend,” Behan said, deliberately avoiding Josie’s stare. She froze until Bruno answered, afraid to take a breath, dreading and at the same time knowing who the friend was.
“Not much to tell, skinny little black guy, dressed like a Goodwill poster boy, but Hillary treated him like her best buddy.”
Josie exhaled and felt as if a ton of manure had been shoveled off her back.
Bruno identified Cory Goldman’s picture as the tattooed geek. The description of the black man matched the one Mouse had given them of Little Joe, but they still hadn’t been able to identify the heroin dealer. Fricke and his partner claimed the dealer hadn’t been seen around the Palms for several weeks, so they weren’t able to snatch him.
Although Josie and Behan only talked to him another ten minutes, Bruno was able to give them some interesting tidbits about the month he’d spent with Hillary. He said she was a generous, loving girl who was overwhelmed by the money and attention she got from a number of older men who were infatuated with her. He surmised Hillary’s attachment to them was compensating for the father she never knew.
Hillary considered Misty Skylar a surrogate mother figure, but one night when Hillary asked him to drive Misty home, the agent admitted to Bruno that the young g
irl was strictly a short-term meal ticket whose only real talent was her youthful sex appeal. Misty told him as soon as Hillary got a little older her career would be over since her acting on its own merits wouldn’t be good enough to get even B-movie parts. The agent intended to drop her at the first signs of aging, but until then she’d market Hillary for every dollar she could get.
“That’s cold,” Behan said.
“Not in the movie business. Those young girls are used and abused, but I think Hillary was clever enough to figure out she didn’t have long to make the big bucks, and she was going to live it up and get as much as she could before they kicked her out the door.”
“Can you think of any reason someone would want to kill her?” Behan asked.
Bruno closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head back. “I know she was scared. She wouldn’t tell me why or what frightened her, but it was bad enough to hire me and sleep with her lights on. Now, if you’d asked about Misty that’s a different story. From what I saw and heard about her she was a bitch. Probably everybody that knew her wanted to kill her at some time.”
“Why?” Josie asked.
“She used people. Pushed young girls who couldn’t act or weren’t pretty enough into porno films or worse.”
“Worse?”
“She’d get them on the payroll in those sleazy escort places. Of course, they were always eighteen on paper, and she always got her commission.”
“How do you know so much about her business?” Behan asked.
“I was a cop for twenty years. I know a madam when I see one even if she’s wearing designer clothes and carrying an expensive briefcase. Misty might’ve had some legitimate clients like Hillary, but I guarantee you she was peddling flesh on the side.”
THERE WASN’T much conversation during the ride back to Hollywood station. Josie had tried to tell Behan why she thought Bruno was creepy, but couldn’t really explain her gut feeling.
“A grown-up man doesn’t behave that way with a young girl. If she were my daughter and I saw that, I’d yank her out of the school.”
“What’d he do? I didn’t see anything.”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. He was just too . . . familiar.”
“Sorry, didn’t get that feeling. He seemed accessible is all.”
“That stuff about Goldman puts a whole new complicated twist on things. Keeping that information away from Bright isn’t an option,” she said, studying his face for some reaction.
“When do you have to tell him?” Behan asked.
“Certainly before you talk to Goldman.”
“Too bad.”
“Can you believe he’d let his son take all the heat when he was practically stalking that girl?” Josie asked, still relieved David’s name hadn’t surfaced.
“No, and I’m not buying Bruno didn’t know who Eli Goldman was or that he didn’t know the tattooed geek was Eli Goldman’s kid, or that he just guessed what Misty was up to because he used to be a cop.”
“Why would he lie about knowing the Goldmans?” Josie asked.
“I don’t know, but if he was smart enough to pick up all that stuff on Misty, he should’ve figured out who the Goldmans were.”
“But if what he says is true, Hillary was afraid of the councilman, not his son. Maybe it was the father who threatened her and not Cory. Maybe Mrs. Dennis got it wrong.”
“What’s somebody like Eli Goldman want with a bimbo teenager anyway?” Behan asked in a way that suggested he wasn’t expecting an answer.
“No real mystery there . . . old hippie geezer with too much money trying to feel young again.”
“He’s not that old.”
“Not that smart either.”
“Some of us aren’t all that clever when it comes to figuring out who we should care about.” He sounded angry.
Josie dropped it. She had a feeling they weren’t talking about Eli Goldman any longer, and she was probably the last person with any great insights in the personal relationship game. She told Behan she’d call Bright as soon as they got back to the station, and he could try to set up an interview with the elder Goldman that night or the next morning.
As Josie had anticipated, Chief Bright didn’t take the news of Eli Goldman’s possible involvement in the case very well. His immediate reaction was threatening to give the investigation back to RHD. Then he changed his mind and suggested that perhaps he should interview the councilman himself saying, “It would certainly be more appropriate.”
THE CONFERENCE call lasted twenty minutes, and Josie eventually convinced Bright the Hollywood homicide supervisor was the best person to handle the inquiry. She argued that Bruno’s accusation was unsupported by real evidence at this point, and it shouldn’t be given additional weight by suggesting a deputy chief needed to become involved. She assured Bright that she and Behan were more than willing and able to absorb any repercussions the interview might unleash, and she didn’t think the bureau needed to be exposed to unwarranted criticism. After Josie finished her rationale, she sat back and smirked at Behan. Following a lengthy pause, Bright came back on the line and agreed to allow Hollywood detectives to handle the interview.
“I’m going to get heat from city hall no matter what I do. Maybe it is better you handle this, but I expect, no, I insist you treat that man with respect,” Bright said, sounding as if he were thinking out loud; and then raising his voice added, “I’m holding you personally responsible, Captain Corsino. Do you understand? Are you still listening?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, shaking hands with Behan over the telephone speaker before hanging up.
“Dodged another bureaucratic snafu,” Behan said, with his best W. C. Fields imitation.
“I just reminded him he’d much rather see you and me go down in flames. If Goldman makes a big deal out of this, you know Bright’s gonna deny we ever had this conversation. He’ll swear he had no idea we were going to interview a city councilman.”
“Don’t matter, he knows you and me are still the most dangerous animals in this zoo,” Behan said.
Josie sighed. She didn’t feel dangerous. “Why’s that, Tarzan?”
“We don’t want to promote.”
She agreed there was a sense of power that came with knowing you could do the right thing without worrying how it might influence your career aspirations. It made decisions a lot simpler and cleaner. But she also knew there were always ways to make life miserable for any animal as long as it lived in a zoo.
Behan called Goldman from Josie’s office, and the councilman agreed to meet with them that evening. He didn’t want the interview at city hall and said he’d feel more comfortable at the police station, “where there aren’t as many enemy ears glued to keyholes.” Goldman didn’t ask what the interview was about, and said he was willing to cooperate and answer any questions they might have.
Behan had barely gone back to the detectives’ squad room when Officer Fricke peeked into Josie’s office.
“Got a minute, ma’am,” Fricke said, stepping into the room.
“What’s up?” Josie asked. She felt strange talking with him, knowing the surveillance team was probably skulking somewhere inside the station keeping tabs on everything he did and said. It was an intrusion, but a necessary one. She hoped the scrutiny would prove he wasn’t doing anything wrong, and in fact, was working harder than anyone else in the building. “Where’s Butler?” she asked, realizing Fricke was alone.
“Finishing reports,” he said, sitting near her desk. “Can we talk?” he asked, leaning closer, almost whispering.
“Of course,” she said, hearing the nervous twinge in her voice. “What’s the problem?”
“I know you can’t say nothing, and I’m not asking. I’m just saying me and Frankie we’re pretty sure I.A.’s been following us.” She didn’t say anything and he continued. “I seen these guys everywhere we go . . . even when we ain’t working.” He stopped, and in spite of trying to be serious grinned a little. “I gotta s
ay, ma’am, they’re pretty lame. At first, I thought they might be gangbangers setting us up for a hit, so I get all their plate numbers. When I run them they come back with no registration, and then I see some cars got two white stiffs that are for sure cops. So, I don’t know why they’re following us, but I wanted you to know we didn’t do nothing wrong. They can follow me forever. I’ll take ’em home and have my mom make dinner. They ain’t never gonna see no misconduct or nothing illegal from us. I promise we wouldn’t embarrass you that way.” He stood, turned to leave, then came back. “It don’t matter, but me and Frankie really respect you and wanted you to know,” he said. She wasn’t going to lie to him, but didn’t tell him anything either. He nodded, shrugged and left her office.
Josie closed her eyes and rested her head on her folded hands. She had to admit she wasn’t surprised. Fricke was clever. He hunted on the streets every night, outwitting human prey who had nothing to think about except new ways to commit crimes and stay out of jail. The I.A. sergeant she’d met was way out of his league.
She called the number the sergeant had given her and told him his surveillance had been burned. He couldn’t understand how the policeman had figured out so quickly he was being followed and when he did, why he would tell his captain. Josie knew. Fricke was smarter than him and he trusted her, but she tried to soften the blow.
“Usually, they see some little thing that alerts them,” she said. “Once a subject starts looking it’s pretty much over.”
“But we’ve never had a surveillance blown this fast,” the sergeant whined.
“This one’s toast, so what’re you planning to do now?” she asked.
“I’ll talk to my captain in the morning. I don’t know . . . maybe . . . I should get back to you,” he mumbled and hung up.
She detected suspicion in his voice. It was easier to believe there was a leak, or someone had sabotaged his operation, than to admit he might’ve screwed up or been overmatched. The I.A. sergeant didn’t appear to be a man who reflected much on his shortcomings, so Josie was fairly certain he’d try to blame her or her people for his failure. However, as soon as he interviewed Fricke and discovered how easy it was for him to identify the surveillance team, the man would be forced to face the truth. She’d like to be there when that happened. She supported her officers but resented anyone who thought she’d cut corners or do anything to prevent a thorough investigation of misconduct.