Bad Moon Rising

by Billy Kring

  He said, “I still want to hear it, and yours and Hondo’s take on it, too.”

  I nodded. Hondo and I alternated speaking, and Amber added comments in a few places. When I mentioned the words scrawled on the wall, Archie straightened. “Almost like they’re copying a forty-year old crime.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  “But why? It’s not to start a stupid revolution.”

  “I don’t know, Arch. But we’re going to see if we can find out.”

  “I know you will.” He rose, started toward the door, and stopped. He said, “You need to check on any tie-in with the guy murdered in Topanga Canyon. The killers used the victim’s blood to write on the walls there, too.”

  Hondo said, “We will.” Archie nodded and left.

  We departed the office an hour later. Hondo said he would meet me on set tomorrow, and Amber and I drove to my place. As I unlocked the door my phone rang. It was a local number, but no name. I said, “Hello.”

  “Mr. Ronald Baca?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m with the press and hoped we could talk about the case you’re involved in, the Artell murders.”

  “You’d be better off calling the police.”

  “The public deserves to know what you saw in the Artell Mansion, what types of sexual depravity occurred during the killings.”

  I hung up. The phone rang again, so I turned off my phone. Amber’s phone followed, and she did the same thing. We grabbed two beers from the fridge and sat together on the couch.

  “I am so tired,” Amber said.

  “Me, too.”

  She put the cold bottle to her forehead, “I’ve never seen so many dead people before.”

  “I’m sorry I made you come with me. But I didn’t want us to be separated in case the killers happened to still be there.”

  “You wanted to protect me. I know that.” She scooted sideways on the couch, tucking her feet underneath her so she could face me. She looked sad and serious, “I grew up in a home full of gentle people. My parents believed in a peaceful culture, and so did my brothers. And then I meet you and suddenly I’m in a violent world of the worst kind. I’ve been kidnapped and beaten up, and I’ve been to a murder scene right out of a nightmare.”

  I said, “I’m sorry. This is not my normal life.”

  She moved her hand to hold mine and slid her thumb in soft circles on the back of my hand “I understand that. And I’m here with you, but it’s an effort for me not to run away, not because of you, but because of the world you inhabit. It scares me to death. I’ve never felt as vulnerable as I did today. It’s like I stepped into a dangerous jungle, but one that doesn’t look any different from the one I knew a month ago. But it is different, your jungle is different.”

  I felt bad, and not only from the emotional stress of today. I took both her hands. “I care about you very much.”

  Amber said, “I know, and I’m crazy about you, Ronny.” She took a moment to gather her words and gave me an almost sad smile, “But if it gets too bad, I might have to leave. I’m with you now, and I’m gonna try as hard as I can not to run away, but…”

  I said, “Stay with me, as long as you can.”

  She half-smiled, and I smiled to reassure her, but inside I felt like I’d heard a death knell. We rearranged our bodies on the couch so she rested her head on my chest. We fell asleep in seconds.

  I dreamt of losing things, from my wallet, to my dog when I was a kid, to Jordan S. Hammond, the Marine I left above Shok Valley, and lastly to Amber as she departed on a train and couldn’t hear me calling her name.

  We rose early the next morning and both of us had dark circles under our eyes. I said, “You didn’t sleep well, either, huh?”

  “Not so much.” She stayed close as I prepared coffee, lightly touching my back with her fingers as if to reassure both of us we were still together. We didn’t talk a lot, and Amber left for work as soon as we finished.

  I checked my email and rechecked the call sheet to see what time we shot our first scenes. The times hadn’t changed since the last time I looked, so I planned to leave in an hour so I would arrive an hour ahead of schedule, just in case of any last minute changes. I struggled to keep my mind on acting, and my thoughts returned again and again to the murders. I cleaned the kitchen, made the bed, dressed, and climbed into Shamu for the drive to the studio.

  Chapter 8

  The guy at the gate recognized Shamu and grinned as he waved me though, saying, “When you show up, it makes me feel like I’m working at Sea World.”

  “Har har,” I said. Hondo arrived ahead of me and I saw him park near wardrobe. He waited, and we both went inside to dress and get our makeup applied, because today we’re portraying war-weary soldiers who evidently never wiped their faces during their entire tour, because the makeup folks applied lots of grime and stuff on our skin. I said to Hondo, “You sleep okay?”

  “Nope. You?”

  “Nuh-uh, too many things up here.” I tapped my temple with a forefinger.

  We left forty minutes later and walked on set. I spotted G there, and Shells and Mandy, along with several others. G motioned us over and positioned all of us in a huddle. He handed us new script papers and said, “I’ve made your enemies to be the Mafia, but the scene stays almost the same. I feel the change makes the entire story more significant, more vibrant.”

  I tried to calm my breathing as I thumbed through the pages. A young girl named Alice huddled up with us, and she had the same reaction I did. She would portray the twelve-year old in the story.

  G said, “I want to feel this scene in my guts.” He pointed first at Hondo, then Alice, and lastly at me, “Make me feel it,” He slapped his chest, “right here. Make it ache.”

  I looked out of the corner of my eye at Hondo. He glanced at me, then rolled his head on his shoulders as if his neck felt stiff before saying, “Let’s do this.”

  The scene as written looked simple. Hondo and I walk into a section of bombed village–yes, bombed by the mafia– and see the girl sitting on a boulder. Hondo stops, takes out a Snickers candy bar from his pack and gives it to her, and we walk out of frame. Easy peasy.

  G had us shoot the scene twenty-four times, saying things like, “More emotion, Hondo,” or to Alice, “Love the Snickers, Alice, love the sweet, nutty caramel and chocolate goodness like Juliet loved Romeo.”

  I snorted on that one and covered my mouth with a hand. G said, “You wish to say something?”

  I coughed and said, “No, just allergies. I’m good now.”

  We shot one more scene where we return to the village and find the young girl dead. G had her in the same place, but sitting on the ground with her back against the boulder and a small bloodstain on her shirt to indicate a bullet wound. G had her eat a bite of the Snickers, saying, “I want the audience to see your bite marks on it, not someone else’s. The symbolism of that bite being yours is huge in our story, huge.”

  Hondo shook his head in slow motion, and I bumped him with my shoulder, causing him to grin. G saw him, frowned and said, “Something is humorous?”

  Hondo said, “Not at all. Watching you work in your, ah, unique way is entertaining. It made me smile.” I thought, All this and it’s only our first day of shooting. The pay for doing this movie was better than any other acting job we’ve had, ever, but I knew Hondo had little patience with people like G.

  Hondo stepped smell-my-breath close to G, looking down at him, “Don’t be so touchy, G. We’re doing our best for you, but don’t second guess every small thing we say or do when we aren’t in front of the camera.”

  I saw G’s Adams apple bob up and down. He gathered his courage, “I’m paying you–“

  “You are, and well. We appreciate it. You get our efforts, G, not us, you understand the difference?”

  G nodded. Hondo can be intimidating, and that’s what our director felt right now.

  I stepped beside them and patted both men’s shoulders, “I’m glad we had th
is talk, aren’t you? How about we get the next scene rolling?”

  My intervention broke the tension, and we worked the rest of the day on the Snickers-with-a-bite-out-of-it scene. Forty-one takes.

  Hondo let a friend come by the studio and borrow his Mercedes, so he rode with me when we left. The gate guard posed there and pantomimed being Captain Ahab harpooning Shamu as we drove by. I looked in my rearview mirror as we departed and saw him laughing so hard he was bent over with his hands on his knees. “They need to hire better guards,” I said.

  “You actors are so touchy,” Hondo said.

  Amber called a moment later and I answered, “Hey Amber.”

  “Are you going to your office?”

  “I can. Where are you?”

  “With Bodhi at her apartment. We’d like to come over.”

  “Sure. I’ll pick up something to eat. Hondo will be there, too.”

  I stopped at a Ralphs store on the way and Hondo picked up items for sandwiches and soup, then we parked at the office and went inside to wait on the women.

  Amber and Bodhi opened the door without knocking and took seats across from us at the small table where the condiments were placed for sandwich making. Bodhi’s eyes were red and puffy from crying. She said, “I want you three to sit with me at the service tomorrow at Forest Lawn, the Hollywood Hills one.”

  Hondo said, “Sure, whatever you want.”

  Bodhi said, “Things are happening so fast I’m feeling like I can’t keep up. Troy made the arrangements and told me the quicker we do it, the easier it will be to get closure.”

  I sat in silence with my own thoughts about it. Hondo said, “If you want the service done later, tell us and we’ll make it happen. We can talk to Troy.”

  Bodhi said, “No, I…it’s just that Troy has taken over everything and makes all the decisions. He says he’s doing it to protect me and so I don’t have to worry about anything because I need to heal.”

  I said, “He’s stressing you by doing things that way.”

  She nodded, “That’s what I feel is happening.”

  Amber said, “Have you told him?”

  “He says the stress I’m feeling is because we haven’t buried mom and dad. He says I’ll feel better after we do that. He always adds, ‘Trust me’, after he says it.”

  Amber said, “I think he means well.”

  Bodhi nodded, “That’s what Jericho says, too.”

  Hondo said, “He’s there at the house?”

  “He and Troy talk a lot, so, yeah.”

  I said to Hondo, “That seems odd.”

  Hondo said, “I can’t figure him out.”

  I said, “I know. Lately, though, he seems to always be near Troy.”

  “We can check him out a little closer.”

  “I think so, too.”

  We made sandwiches and soup, and ate in silence at the table, each thinking their own thoughts. We all left an hour later, and Amber and I drove to my home.

  I thought about what Archie had said, so I made a call. I talked to the homicide detective, John Sandoval, who worked the Topanga Canyon murder. I told him who I was and why I called, and he said he understood. I asked, “What can you tell me about the words written on the wall in the victim’s blood?”

  Sandoval said, “The killers wrote three words: Rise, Revolution, and, Piggy.”

  “The first two of those showed up at the Artell murder.”

  “I know. There’s a lot more inter-departmental information sharing today than in Charlie Manson’s time.”

  I said, “Is there anything unusual about the murder?”

  “They stabbed, cut, and tortured him for three days before they killed him. They aren’t pros. They’re sloppy but dangerous as hell. In the end, they had to put a plastic bag over his head and suffocate him because all the stabbing didn’t work.”

  “Man…”

  Sandoval said, “I remember one other thing, the blood on the wall, the person who wrote it is left-handed.”

  “How about any forensics?”

  “The house had a fire extinguisher in it and the killers sprayed down everything with it, including the body. We found nothing.”

  “Thanks.”

  He said, “You find something out, let me know.”

  “I will, and thanks.”

  I hung up and made Amber and I a light drink. We took them into the living room to watch something on the television so we didn’t have to think. After several series episodes and one movie, we went to bed. She left her hand touching me until she drifted to sleep. If I changed position so the contact was broken, she moved until she touched me again. I lay awake for a long time, thinking about Amber, about the murders, about Bodhi, and for a long time, about Jericho Moon.

  ~*~

  We drove to the Artell Mansion the next morning. It felt odd to go inside and see no evidence of the violence that occurred a few days earlier.

  Hondo said, “They must have had a hundred people out here to repair everything so fast.” I nodded.

  Bodhi met us at Sylvia’s office, along with Wilson. I liked it that he stayed close.

  He must have read my thoughts because he said, “I’ll watch her twenty-four-seven for a while.”

  “Good,” I said. I added, “Not your fault, amigo.”

  “Yeah,” he said, but his eyes showed he didn’t believe it.

  A white stretch limo came through the gate as Troy came down the stairs. He said, “I called them. We can go together this way.” His eyes looked as bloodshot as a vampire’s, with dark crescents like bruises under each eye. It appeared Troy slept as poorly as the rest of us.

  We all sat in the rear, with Bodhi between Amber and Hondo. Troy, Wilson, and I sat beside each other. As we pulled away from the mansion, Troy said, “Anyone want a drink?” He didn’t wait for answers as he poured a tumbler full of vodka on the rocks for himself and drank it down without lowering the glass. He exhaled slowly, then poured himself a second one.

  I said, “Easy does it, Troy. We still have to get through this.”

  He looked over the glass at me as he drained the second one, then built a third. “I’ll sip on this one. This is way tougher than I thought it would be.”

  I looked at Bodhi and she met my eyes, silently mouthing, ‘Thank you’. I nodded at her and said to Troy, “Yeah.”

  The small service had been Sylvia’s request, with less than fifty people present. I hadn’t expected Jericho to be there but he stood front and center, giving the eulogy. His three female cohorts stood at the edge of the crowd.

  He said the usual things about when and where Sylvia and Derek were born, their accomplishments and awards, when they died, and who the survivors were: Bodhi and Troy. Jericho then played several songs on his guitar, all originals written by him. I have to admit that Jericho is above average. He concluded the service with a moment of prayer, and walked to Bodhi and Troy to give his condolences. The others followed to do the same. It was over in less than an hour. Bodhi had a hard time leaving, and broke down again. Amber held her close and we made our way to the limo and the drive back to the mansion. Troy hit the vodka even before the limo doors closed.

  Troy could barely walk by the time we arrived. I glanced at the vodka bottle when I left the vehicle: empty. Hondo and I helped him upstairs into his room. Troy fell on the huge bed, and began snoring.

  We closed his door and descended the stairs to sit in the office with Bodhi and Amber. She had recovered and doing as good as she could in the situation. She said, “Thank you all so much, for everything.”

  We hung around for another hour before we made our way from the mansion. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw Bodhi standing in the doorway, with Wilson a short distance behind her, keeping close.

  The rest of the week passed routinely, with Hondo and I talking to Captain Hancock about progress on the case and doing some digging on our own. Hondo turned up nothing, again, on Jericho Moon. We talked to Bodhi at least twice a day by phone to check on
her, and we kept in contact with Wilson on anything that might set off his radar.

  We also worked out at the gym, swam in the ocean, played beach volleyball, and studied our lines for our next scenes. In the evenings Amber came to my house, and Hondo came over several times, too. Sometimes Bodhi and Wilson showed up, and we cooked on the grill and talked about things, or watched a movie.

  Amber and I grew closer, and I thought about her often during the day. I’d liked a number of women, and lusted after almost as many. A few of them I thought I loved, but none of them matched this feeling with Amber.

  Hondo and I were scheduled to shoot a scene early in the morning, so I left Amber asleep and picked up Hondo on the way to the studio.

  As we approached the guard gate I saw the familiar guard peek out at us and jerk back in the booth. “What the...?” I said.

  I rolled to a stop in Shamu and six people jumped into view, and the guard hopped to my open window.

  He hopped because he had a fake peg leg like Captain Ahab. Hondo laughed out loud and I looked at the other people. They all had wooden peg legs attached to their knees, with the foot sticking out behind. Half of them had rubber harpoons, and two of them, buxom women in low cut pirate shirts, held a sign saying Show us your White Whale.

  The guard leaned on my side window and said, “Lonny over there found these in the prop department. We thought it was too good to pass up.”

  I started laughing. “Brother, you got me right in the blowhole.”

  He patted my arm and said, “Go on to work, and thanks for being a good sport.” Hondo and I gave the others a thumbs-up when we passed.

  We reached the new sound stage in five minutes, and we dressed and had our makeup applied before anyone else showed up, except a few people doing finishing touches on the set. The two chairs with Baca and Wells stenciled on the back beckoned to us, so we obeyed and sat. We went over the script pages together since we had a good bit of dialogue. Once we had it down, Hondo and I sat back as Mandy, G, and Shells arrived. Shells held a lot of papers, and he looked sick.

  G and Mandy moved to the cameras and conferred with the cinematographer while Shells approached us. He handed each of us a new script, saying, “I’m sorry men.”