Long, Lean, and Lethal

by Heather Graham

  “I’m so sorry that you lost two friends in such a horrible way. I knew Brenda, not well, but I knew her. Trish I had never met.”

  “They were both good people.”

  “I’m sure,” Jennifer said, then hesitated. “I’m still not sure why you were so anxious to meet with me.”

  “You’re moving in their world, Jennifer.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lila moved forward with a pained expression. “I read in one of the papers that Hugh Tanenbaum was trying to cast you in his movie.”

  “There’s been some talk, that’s all.”

  “Brenda was supposed to take a role as well. And Lila had told me that she was going to try to meet Tanenbaum. She thought appearing in one of his movies would be good for her career.”

  The irony of Lila’s tone was not lost on Jennifer.

  “You’re suggesting that Hugh Tanenbaum—”

  “No, I’m not saying that he’s a psycho killer.”

  “Then—”

  “I’m just saying it’s a strange coincidence. But there are other coincidences you should know about—regarding the people in your world.”

  “Such as … ?”

  Lila didn’t reply. She sat back as the waiter delivered Jennifer’s cappuccino and an appetizer tray for the two of them.

  He left.

  “Brenda was a free spirit, you know.”

  Jennifer frowned, trying to follow the drift of what Lila was implying. Lila sighed. “She slept around.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “She slept with lots of your friends and coworkers. She had quite a thing for a while with Joe Penny—and Andy Larkin. She caused a fight between them once, and thought it was incredibly amusing—and just. If they wanted to use a Hollywood casting couch, she told me once, they should pay a price for it as well.”

  “I knew she slept with a number of people. What about your friend Trish?”

  “We’ll get to Trish,” Lila said, spearing a crab-stuffed mushroom cap with a pirate flag toothpick and moving it onto the small appetizer plate in front of her. “Brenda also slept with your director, Jim Novac, and even Jay Braden—just to finish it all out. She’d wanted a part on the show once, and apparently, Andy Larkin told her there was just no real way to write her in.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “I didn’t think that you did.”

  “But still—”

  “Then … there’s Conar Markham.”

  “I knew that Conar—”

  “Brenda had been really good friends with his wife, Betty Lou. You know, they were both beautiful Hispanic girls making it in Hollywood—a really upward climb, I can tell you.”

  “I was aware of that friendship.”

  Lila nodded, looking at her. “Trish was in a movie he did a few years ago. So he was friends with her as well, did you know that?”

  She felt cold; she didn’t want to give the uneasiness away. Last night he said he’d never seen the girl before.

  “Really?” she said smoothly. “Well, that was a few years ago.”

  It was true, and the poor woman looked so horrible, her own mother might not have recognized her.

  “Yes, so your Mr. Markham knew Trish, just as he knew Brenda. Trish was also interviewed for that space movie being filmed now—the one they tried to get Conar for as the main star.”

  “That’s interesting, but it’s unlikely that they were interviewed together.”

  “Oh, yes,” Lila said, sitting back again, watching Jennifer. “Trish told me that she saw him at a get-together the director had in New York. She liked him, you see. She liked him a lot.”

  “You’re going to tell me that she slept with him?” Jennifer said.

  Lila looked down at the table for a moment, then back at Jennifer. “I don’t know. When Trish came back from New York, she talked about little else other than how kind and generous he had been during her audition. But she didn’t get the part. And apparently, Conar chose not to take a part in the movie either, since he’s here now. And Brenda is dead—and Trish is dead.”

  “If sleeping with people in Hollywood made people murderers, the majority of the town would be doing life,” Jennifer reminded her.

  “Hey, I’m not accusing anybody of anything. I just wanted you to be forewarned and forearmed about some of the things going on around you. When I saw the news about Trish this morning … and saw that you were the one who had found her, and with Conar Markham … well, I wanted a chance to talk to you. Hell, these murders may not have anything to do with one another. I just thought that I should warn you to look out for yourself.”

  Lila was sincere.

  Jennifer nodded. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

  Lila lifted her hand for the check. “I’ve got to get moving. I have a job as a singing waitress.”

  “I’d love to see you some time.”

  “I’d like that. I’m good, honestly. I have a pretty darned good voice. Let me know if you want to come, the place is right in downtown Hollywood. Angelo’s. Give me a call, let me know. I’m listed.”

  The waiter brought the check.

  Jennifer reached for it; Lila snagged it.

  “Really, let me—” Jennifer began.

  “Singing waitresses make good money, believe it or not,” Lila told her. “I brought you down here, please, let me.”

  With little choice, Jennifer thanked her.

  “You’re gracious as well,” Lila told her as they stepped out to the front. Ironically, most of the outside tables were now empty. “Keep care of yourself, huh?”

  “You, too.”

  “Want a lift somewhere?”

  “No, thanks. My car is right up the hill there.”

  Lila nodded and started down the block. She stepped into an old BMW, waving as she did so. Jennifer turned thoughtfully to start walking toward her car.

  It wasn’t far; she could see it right up the hill. But as she started walking, she realized that it was dark now.

  There were plenty of streetlights in front of the restaurant, but it was dark up the hill.

  It was okay. Lady was in the car.

  The sounds of voices on the street faded behind her. She could hear her own footsteps on the sidewalk. The vacant lot loomed like a black void to her right. Just beyond it stood the condemned building. When she had parked and there had still been some daylight around her, the building had just seemed a sad reminder of the ravages of time. But the light was gone. In the darkness, the building appeared evil.

  Goose! she chastised herself. Her imagination was getting out of control. She had insisted that she was going to have a life, be normal. And still, she couldn’t help these fantasies.

  Walk! she told herself. More quickly, please!

  If she listened closely enough, she thought, she would hear the old, crumbling building breathing. It was alive with evil and malice. Any minute now, there would suddenly be an eerie glow from within, and the windows would turn to eyes …

  “Idiot! Lady is in the car; I’m nearly there,” she told herself.

  Nearly.

  “Oh, hell!”

  She stared to run for her car.

  Running was the wrong thing to do. Staring suspiciously at the condemned building, she missed a crack in the sidewalk. Her heel caught and she went tumbling down. Smacking the concrete hard, ripping a stocking and skinning a knee, she swore at herself. “Your mother told you, Conar told you, Lila told you, everyone told you to be careful,” she muttered to herself. “They’ve turned you into a silly paranoid! Get up and act normal,” she admonished herself.

  She started to crawl to her feet, slipping her handbag over her shoulder.

  As she did so, she heard footsteps.

  She turned back. The restaurant and the street below seemed very far away. But she didn’t see anything, or anyone. She turned and started walking briskly.

  Footsteps, running now.

  She spun around.

  Nothing.

/>   She looked toward the car again. A giant shadow seemed to be emerging from the empty yard.

  She reached into her purse. Where the hell were her keys? She should have gotten them out before she left the restaurant. She did have a very loud car alarm, if she could just hit the PANIC button on her little square beeper thingy.

  From her car, Lady suddenly began to bark madly.

  She needed to clean out her purse. Where was the damned pepper spray? Was it still good?

  “Shit!” she swore. She had to go back down to the restaurant …

  She felt prickles at the nape of her neck.

  She turned around and screamed.

  The footsteps had reached her. A shadow now loomed large and real and lethal, right in front of her.

  Chapter 14

  FROM THE MINUTE HE learned that Jennifer had gone on home without him, Conar had been uneasy.

  He was scrubbing his face in his dressing room when Doug arrived to tell him he was giving him a ride; Jennifer was gone.

  “What?” he demanded harshly, straightening, bumping his forehead on the faucets, and swearing as he reached for a towel. It was amazing how things changed. When he had come here, he had been convinced that Abby was overly alarmed, the victim of a prankster.

  And now …

  “Hey, don’t jump down my throat!” Doug protested, handing him the elusive towel and stepping back.

  Conar ignored him and dialed the house. Edgar answered. “Granger House.”

  “Edgar, it’s Conar. Is Jennifer home?”

  “I just returned myself, sir. Let me check.”

  Seconds passed like eons. Edgar came back on the phone. “She went out, sir.”

  “She went out!”

  “Miss Abby says it’s fine, sir. She took Lady with her.”

  “Edgar, where did she go? Please, ask Abby for me. Where did she go?”

  Edgar came back a few minutes later. “Abby had a great day, sir, and forgot to take her medicine, and now, I fear, she’s taken too many pills together. She isn’t very lucid. But Jennifer went to the Flamingo Café to meet with the girls.”

  “The girls? What girls?”

  “Well, her friends from the soap, I imagine,” Edgar said. “Sir, if I had been here, I would have tried to stop her—”

  “Edgar, don’t worry, it’s not your fault. Where is the Flamingo Café?”

  “Not far from the music store and that bookstore she likes so much, do you know the one, Mr. Markham? Near House of Blues.”

  “Thanks, Edgar.”

  He hung up. “Doug, let’s go.”

  He gave tense directions. Doug kept telling him he was certain that Jennifer was fine—she was with her dog, after all.

  Yet they didn’t find Jennifer’s car in front of the café. “Shit, well, she’s near here somewhere,” Conar said.

  “Look!” Doug breathed suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Up that side street. Oh, my God, in front of that building … is that a body?”

  Conar looked where Doug was pointing. A piece of canvas was haphazardly pulled over something larger. Conar started to walk toward the old place.

  Doug caught his arm. “Don’t! Let’s not look, all right?”

  “Doug, damn it.” Conar pulled his arm free, his heart in his throat. He hurried across the over-grown yard to the front of the decaying building. He jerked up the tarp, stepping back. He nearly stepped on Doug.

  “It’s a pile of rotten wood,” he said.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Doug breathed. Then he said, “Thank God, look there, someone’s coming.”

  Conar looked out from the building and down the hill. It was Jennifer, heading up the hill at a run. He saw her fall, and swear.

  “Damn her,” he muttered. He started from the building toward her.

  As he did so, he saw a shape dart out from the empty lot.

  “Look!” Doug warned him.

  “I see.”

  But Jennifer had turned. And the shape had risen. And the shape was a man with something in his hand, ready to strike out.

  “No!” Conar yelled. The sound was a rush of rage and fear in his own ears.

  Jennifer was quick—she ducked into the overgrown grass of the vacant lot to avoid her attacker. Despite the noise Conar had made, the attacker still was unaware that Conar was coming after him. The man turned toward Jennifer, striking out. She rolled. Conar plunged at the man’s legs.

  He brought the man down hard, knocking the wind out of both of them.

  The fellow fought him, struggling, jerking. Conar managed to hit the attacker hard in the jaw. The man tried to strike him with the weapon in his right hand.

  It wasn’t a knife. It was a broken wine bottle.

  Conar got a good grip on the fellow’s arm and slammed his wrist hard against the ground, forcing him to drop the jagged bottle.

  As he stared down at the bearded, stinking bum who had assaulted Jennifer, Conar could hear the sound of sirens coming toward them. His heart was beating a million miles an hour.

  “You hurt my hand.”

  “I should be breaking your neck.”

  “Hey, buddy, give me a break, I wouldn’t have hurt her. I just wanted her handbag!” the guy cried to him. “I’m a Viet vet. I’ve got children. Can’t work … bad lungs.”

  Conar stood up, dragging the fellow up with him, giving him a good look. He wasn’t a psychologist, but this guy didn’t look like the type to plan out a murder.

  In his peripheral vision he saw that Doug had gone for Jennifer and was helping her up.

  “I didn’t intend to hurt her!” the bum cried desperately again. Conar wondered if he looked psychotic himself at the moment, the way the fellow was pleading.

  “You didn’t intend to hurt her, eh? What was the wine bottle for?”

  “I had to have some kind of threat,” the man pleaded. “Please, let me go, I can hear the cops coming, Jesus, buddy, I don’t know how, but they’re almost here. Come on.”

  “Cellular phone,” Doug supplied politely.

  “I can’t let you go,” Conar said.

  “Hey,” the man said suddenly. “I know who you are. You’re a movie star. Hey, buddy, you let me go right now or I’ll say that I was paid to do this as a publicity stunt.”

  “What?” Conar said incredulously.

  “No!” Jennifer said, stepping forward.

  Her face was dirty, and her beautiful hair was threaded through with grass and twigs. “You attacked me with a wine bottle,” she told the man angrily. “You just go ahead and say whatever you want to say. I will press charges because you’re not going to do this to anyone else.”

  Conar stared at Jennifer. She was shaky but defiant.

  “What the hell do you think you were doing?” he heard himself demand. He hadn’t meant to.

  “I had Lady with me,” she protested indignantly.

  “The dog is locked in the car,” he pointed out, his temper growing.

  “I was about to get him with my pepper spray—”

  “You were a bit too slow.”

  “I had dropped it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Buddy, I wouldn’t hurt her,” the bum whined. Conar stared at him again. The sound of sirens was growing louder.

  The first cops to show were two fellows in uniform in a patrol car. Seeing them, the bum tried to run. Conar held him fast. Then he started spewing out his story about it all being a publicity stunt. When the cops didn’t seem to fall for that idea, he started to shout that he wasn’t a killer. “I didn’t go killing no blondes. I didn’t slash anyone, and I didn’t strangle anyone, I swear it. All I wanted was some money.”

  From Jennifer’s car, Lady howled.

  “So you want to bring charges against him?” the cop in uniform asked them, removing his cap and scratching his head.

  “We should drop this whole thing,” Doug advised wearily. “Here, Jennifer,” he said, passing her something.

  “What is that?” Conar
asked sharply.

  “Her key chain with her alarm,” Doug said, flashing Jennifer a sorrowful look.

  “So you dropped that too,” he murmured.

  “Yes, I dropped it. But I … I could have …”

  “You could have what?” Conar demanded.

  She smoothed back a tangled strand of her strawberry hair.

  The cop cleared his throat. “Charges need to be filed …,” he reminded them.

  “We should just drop this,” Doug said.

  “No,” Jennifer insisted. “Doug, we can’t.”

  “Jennifer,” Doug said slowly, “I really don’t think that he is the guy who killed Brenda and the other woman.”

  “I don’t think he is either,” she said, staring at Conar as if to say, See, I might have gotten my purse stolen, nothing worse.

  “Hey, you never know,” the young cop said. “He did attack you, and if he had gotten you with a broken wine bottle …” He gave a shrug. “Take a look at your man. He’s crisscrossed with a few scars himself. This is one tough customer.”

  “We’re definitely bringing charges against him,” Jennifer said.

  “She’s right,” Conar agreed. “Let’s go to the station. I’ll drive your car, Jennifer. And try to calm the dog down.”

  “It’s my dog,” she reminded him indignantly.

  “Fine, I’ll drive, you calm down the dog. Doug can follow in his car.”

  The night became very long. The paperwork seemed endless, so much so that Jennifer insisted her dog be allowed in with them. The man who had attacked Jennifer didn’t look much better in the light. He was taken away to be questioned. He might not be a killer, but the cops weren’t taking any chances.

  After Lady was brought in and the attacker was taken away, Conar, Jennifer, and Doug were seated at the officer’s desk again, giving out the same information one more time. There was a round of questions regarding the attack—and then a round of questions regarding the fact that Jennifer and Conar had just been in the same area the other night, finding the body of a murder victim in a different vacant lot.

  They started with the officers who had come to their rescue, but then a lieutenant came out of his office and began asking questions as well.