by J. P. Bowie
The doctor nodded. “Yes, it’s more like he fell then rolled over and over. His knees might have taken the brunt of the fall.”
“Like he fell, jumped, or was pushed out of a car?”
“That’s a possibility.”
“I’m going with the fact that the last thing he remembers is being in the house, yet he’s found on the roadside. A car seems the obvious choice to me. Is it possible for him to have realized what was happening and tried to get away even in his drugged state?”
“It’s possible. There can be moments of lucidity shortly after the drug is ingested.”
“Okay, thanks, Doc. I know where to find him if we need any more info from him.” He gave them both a brief nod then headed for the elevator.
“He seems efficient enough,” Alex remarked. “Can I go see Edward now?”
“Yes, go ahead.” Wingate smiled. “I think you’ll be a better tonic for him than anything we can give him. Room six eighteen.”
“Thanks, Doctor.”
Alex hurried down the corridor, scanning the room numbers as he went. He knocked softly on Edward’s door and peeked in. “Are you open for visitors?” he whispered.
“Alex! But how—?” The smile on Edward’s face that expressed just how much he was pleased to see him made Alex’s heart quiver.
“The trip was cut short due to the star’s reluctance to cooperate.” He grinned at Edward then leaned down to kiss his lips gently. His expression clouded when he noticed the bandages on Edward’s arms. “What happened, Edward?”
Edward sighed. “I wish I knew.”
Alex pulled the chair by the bed closer, and held Edward’s hand. “The cop said you went to that party Troy was raving about.”
“Yeah, he coerced me into driving him up there. I should have been mean like Kevin, but I caved when he said he’d drive there himself and I would have to live with the guilt if he got into an accident. It was awful, Alex, what I remember of it. I had a beer, then I was going to call you, but I couldn’t find my cell.”
“You left it at my place, on the counter,” Alex told him. He dug it out of his pocket. “It most likely needs charging. You’ll hear a ton of messages from me. I was worried about you.” He squeezed Edward’s hand. “Damned Troy. He’s gonna hear it from me when I see him.”
“What’s the point? He’ll never change. Alex…” Edward curled his fingers round Alex’s. “Someone put a roofie in my drink. It might have been Troy, although maybe that’s going a bit too far, even for him. He got me a beer. It was so dark in the house, I really couldn’t make out what was going on at first, then I saw a couple having sex with a bunch of people standing around watching and getting off on it. The visual was erotic, but there was something off about it. I’m not a prude, but… Hey, I made out with you on the dance floor remember?”
“I remember.” Alex raised Edward’s hand to his lips and kissed the palm. “When you’re feeling a hundred percent again, we have a dance date.”
Edward smiled. “Soon as I get out of here.” His face clouded as he remembered. “Then Herbie—you remember the tattooed guy from the bar? He got me another beer, but I didn’t drink much of it. It tasted funny. He said it was Garth’s special brew, whatever that meant.”
“Who’s Garth?”
“The bartender. Herbie wanted to meet Troy so we went into another room. It was packed with people dancing. Anyway I left Herbie with Troy, then this other guy, who owned the place, said he was from North Carolina and we should have a drink together. I told him I was leaving but he persisted and finally I just gave in so I could get away. I started to leave, and I’m afraid that’s about all I remember. I just wish I could remember what happened that left me lying on the side of the road.”
“The cop asked Doctor Wingate if it was possible you fell or jumped out of a car. D’you have any recollection of that?”
“Not really. I keep getting flashes of stuff, like when that detective was asking me questions, I thought I had an answer that could maybe help, but then it sort of vanished.” He yawned. “Sorry, I keep wanting to fall asleep, but I don’t want to while you’re here.”
Alex smiled gently. “That’s okay, the doc said you’ll be woozy for a while until the drug leaves your system. You sleep and I’ll come back later. I have a meeting with Scott, but I’ll tell you all about that when you’re more up to listening.” He kissed Edward’s forehead. “Okay, get some shuteye.”
“’Kay. I’m glad you’re back, Alex.”
“So am I.”
* * * *
For the next few hours, Edward dozed off and on, sometimes slipping into a heavy sleep, only to awake with a start, still surprised by his surroundings. Apart from the nurses’ frequent checking and Doctor Wingate’s follow-up visit, he was left pretty much on his own, which gave him time to think. His last lucid memory at the party was accepting the drink from Walter, but he was having snatches of other memories. Sometimes they involved Troy, but unfortunately they were always too fleeting to hang onto, or make anything of.
He knew he had searched for his cell phone, then decided he must have left it in the car—but did he ever reach his car in order to look? He couldn’t remember the walk to where his car was parked, yet he had some kind of residual memory of being in the vehicle, but on the passenger side. Why the hell would he have been sitting there—unless he’d reached over to search for his cell and had fallen onto the seat?
The detective had told him that so far there was no report of his car being found, either abandoned or in an accident. Was it still on the driveway of the party house, or had Troy used it to get home? The doc had said his car keys were missing along with his cell. Well, at least Alex had brought his cell phone back to him. Could Troy have taken his car keys while he lay there unconscious? If so, why hadn’t he driven him back to the apartment? Was Troy that much of a jerk that he’d just leave him behind? Wait, Herbie had said he’d drive Troy home. Anything could have happened between those two. They may have gone to Herbie’s place. Did Troy even know, or care, what had happened?
Maybe if Detective McLennan gets some answers he’ll be able to throw some light on what went down that night.
* * * *
By the time Alex got to work, Lena’s agent, Jeff Harding, was already seated in Scott’s office and looking decidedly grim. Scott waved Alex over to a seat while Jeff glared at him. Alex sighed. He was getting used to Jeff’s dirty looks, but he was not going to take the blame for Lena’s decision to walk out of the movie production in Vancouver.
“Morning,” he said as he sat in front of Scott’s desk.
“Morning, Alex,” Scott replied, while Jeff grunted something indistinguishable. “So, Alex, not a good time in Vancouver, huh?”
“Lena is in a bad frame of mind. She’s feeling very vulnerable right now, and for some reason doesn’t want to be away from LA. She’s still grieving in a way, and—”
Jeff snorted angrily. “Grieving, my ass. She’s a fucking manic depressive, and the drugs she takes only makes it worse. You were supposed to be up there making sure she was fit for work every day, and you let her persuade you to bring her back home. You let her walk out of a mega-million dollar movie production!”
“And just exactly how was I going to stop her, Jeff?” Alex controlled his voice, although he really wanted to give Jeff a piece of his mind. In Alex’s opinion, Jeff had no conception as to what really bothered Lena, nor did he have the compassion to actually care. “Lena was in no mood to listen to reason from me or anyone else. You were with her this morning. How did she seem to you? Calm and reasonable, ready to go back to work?”
Jeff turned his glare on Scott. “You gonna let him talk to me like that?”
“Calm down, Jeff,” Scott said mildly. “We all know dealing with Lena can tax the patience of the strongest man. Blaming Alex for Lena’s decisions isn’t going to solve the problem.”
“Then what is?” Jeff demanded.
“Maybe you can get Will Harriso
n to shoot the scenes he doesn’t need Lena in,” Alex said quietly, “then finish the movie here in LA. Will knows what he’s got in Lena. She’s still an enormous box office draw. He’s not going to want to throw away what he’s already created.”
“Did you see any of the rushes, Alex?” Scott asked.
Alex nodded. “Yeah, and they’re very good. Honestly?” He directed his gaze at Jeff. “I can’t see Will firing her, even though he was threatening to do just that when we left.”
Jeff groaned. “I’ve been fielding his calls all morning.”
“Speak to him,” Alex said. “You’re Lena’s agent. You know how to sell talent, and you won’t have to work too hard on this. I bet he’s already making the decision to wrap what he has and move the production to LA.”
“You think?” Jeff didn’t quite sneer the words but he didn’t look too happy either.
“Worth a try,” Scott said, shrugging slightly. “Anyway, Alex, thanks for getting Lena back home safely. And think of it this way, Jeff, she’s garnered some free publicity for the movie.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
Alex tuned out the rest of the conversation. His thoughts had already turned back to Edward in the hospital and wanting to know who could have done this criminal thing to him. Well, it doesn’t look like I’m going to lose my job, so… “If you don’t mind, gentlemen.” He got to his feet. “I have some work I need to take care of. I’ll check in with Lena later in the day. Okay?”
Jeff grunted. He was good at that, but Scott smiled and said, “Talk at you later, Alex.”
“Later, Scott.” He got up and left the room, then headed for his own office down the hall. He’d no sooner got there when his cell phone chimed. He glanced at the text on the screen, and heaved a sigh. Lena…
Need you to come back. I feel like ending it all. Please come over. Please, Alex.
He texted back. On my way.
He stopped in at Scott’s office where Jeff was just about to leave.
“I have to go over to Lena’s, she threatening again.”
“Shit.” Jeff scowled at him. “I’ll go. You’ll just molly-coddle her. She needs to learn the facts of life—one being that her career will go up in fucking smoke if she doesn’t pull herself together.”
“Don’t be rough with her,” Alex said. “She’s—”
“I know what she is,” Jeff snapped at him. “And telling her everything will be okay won’t help. She needs to quit with the drama and knuckle under like everyone else—if she wants to keep her career going.” He gave Alex an unpleasant look. “Maybe you should stay away from her. You’re too soft—”
“Make up your mind, Jeff.” Alex met the agent’s aggressive stance without backing down. “One minute you’re demanding I go to Vancouver to be with her, and now you want me to stay away. Are you sure you know what’s best for Lena?”
“Don’t talk to me like that.” He glared over at Scott. “Are you allowing this?”
“Alex is right,” Scott said mildly. “Lena relies on him as a friend. She doesn’t need to be intimidated right now.”
“I’m not intimidating her,” Jeff barked, his face flushing with anger. “I’m trying to save her career!”
“How about trying to save Lena?” Alex asked.
“Okay, I’ve had enough of this shit from you.” Jeff stalked out of the office. He paused at the doorway and sneered at them. “As of now, the Scott Malone Agency no longer represents Lena Miles. You got that? You’re fired—and you…” He pointed a finger at Alex’s chest. “You will keep your faggoty nose out of her, and my, business!”
Alex suppressed the angry retort that had sprung to his lips. He stared at the anxious faces of the other employees and knew a nasty back and forth with Jeff Harding wasn’t going to accomplish a thing. He watched him slam through the glass doors and march toward the elevators.
“Good riddance,” Scott muttered.
“Lena won’t let him fire you,” Alex told him. He dropped into the seat Jeff had just vacated. “She’s not going to be happy with Jeff going over to her house instead of me. I’ll let her know he’s on his way.” He punched in a quick text telling her what had happened and that he’d call her later. “I would just love to know who the hell leaked the story of her getting pepper-sprayed in this office. I thought we had a group of pretty loyal people here.”
He raised an eyebrow when he caught Scott squirming uncomfortably in his chair. “C’mon, Scott, you know something about this, don’t you. Who was it?”
“Fuck. This can’t go any further than this office. It was me.”
“What?” Alex stared incredulously at his boss.
“Well, not exactly me.” He sighed and looked away guiltily. “I told Gloria and she told that group she hangs out with—you know, they all like to think they’re the Housewives of Beverly Hills. All they do is sit around and dish all day…”
“Scott, you’re being extremely sexist,” Alex said, trying not to laugh.
“Maybe. Anyway, one of them blabbed to a reporter friend, and that was that. I told Glory she’d almost lost me a client—I didn’t tell her I was ready to disassociate our agency from Lena before the pepper-spraying incident. Had to make her feel really guilty, y’know.”
“Well, I’m just glad it wasn’t one of ours.” Alex shook his head at Scott. “Can I say I’m really surprised at you?”
“Razz me all you like,” Scott said, grimacing. “I fucked up, but my wife never gets any more scoops about what goes on here.”
Alex laughed and stood up. “Well, I better get some work done.”
“Hey, Alex…” Scott gave him a wry smile. “Just so you know, I appreciate all you do here. And don’t worry about Jeff. His opinion means nothing to me. You’re my friend as well as my employee.”
“Thanks, boss.” He grinned at Scott. “I love you too.”
Chapter Eight
Detective Mark McLennan checked the apartment number with the one he’d noted on his iPad then knocked sharply on the door. A few seconds later the door was flung open and a slim, auburn-haired man stared at him, his eyes widening with interest as he took in McLennan’s good looks.
“Mr. Kendall?”
The man shook his head vigorously. “No, he’s not here right now. Haven’t seen him in about two or three days.”
“Since Saturday night, maybe?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Your name, sir?”
“Uh, Kevin Marshall.”
“And your other roommate is Edward Conway?”
“That’s right. What’s going on? You wanna come in?”
McLennan nodded and stepped inside. Kevin closed the door behind him then gestured at the couch, but McLennan shook his head. “I prefer to stand. You can sit down if you like.”
Kevin plunked himself down on the couch and looked up at McLennan expectantly. “So what’s happened to them?”
“Mr. Conway is in the hospital. He was drugged and left on the side of the road up in Hollywood Hills.”
“Jesus.” Kevin stared at McLennan with a shocked expression. “He must have gone with Troy to that party I wouldn’t take him to.”
“Were you not concerned that both your roommates were missing?”
Kevin shrugged. “Well, Ed’s been seeing some new boyfriend so I figured they were spending time together, and Troy? Well, frankly he’s done this before. Not for as long, a day or two, maybe, but he runs around with people I don’t care for.”
“This party, do you know the address of the house it was being held in?”
“No, and I’m really surprised Ed would go with Troy.”
“Mr. Conway says Mr. Kendall more or less coerced him into giving him a ride to the party. As far as he recalls he was about to leave when he passed out. He has no memory of what happened after that. The doctor says he was given a dose of Rohypnol, the date rape drug.” He paused as Kevin gasped. “He was not sexually molested but it’s obvious he’d either been in a fal
l or suffered some injuries in some other manner. Without his remembering what happened, we can’t be sure how he came by the injuries.”
“And Troy?”
“Mr. Kendall is still missing. Are there friends he might be with—or family?”
“He works for Truegate Travel, but they haven’t called asking where he is. His parents live in Texas, and he’s not in touch with them too often. He has a brother somewhere in California, but I’m not sure exactly where. And other friends? I don’t really know who he sees. We go to the movies together sometimes, but apart from me, just those guys who’d have been at the party. I don’t know if you could really call them friends.”
“Are you and Mr. Kendall partners?”
“No, we went to school together back in Odessa, that’s all.”
“Do you have a photograph of Mr. Kendall I could have?”
“Uh, yeah sure.” Kevin got up and walked over to a bookshelf, returning with a group photo of four smiling young men. “That’s Troy on my left. Cute, isn’t he?”
McLennan ignored the sly grin on Kevin’s face. “Do you know a person called…” He glanced at his iPad. “Herbie? Mr. Conway described him as short and covered in tattoos.”
Kevin laughed. “I don’t know him. I’ve seen him at the Rockin’ Bar. He’s kinda hard to miss, but I’m surprised Ed would be hanging out with him. Herbie’s not his type at all.”
“You know his last name?”
“Not a clue.”
McLennan pocketed his iPad along with the photograph. “Well, thank you, Mr. Marshall. If you hear from Mr. Kendall, let him know we need to talk to him right away. He might be able to throw some light on what happened on Saturday night.”
“Is Ed going to be all right?”
McLennan nodded. “Physically yes, but there might be some trauma from the experience.”
“Shit. I should probably go visit him. He’s in St. Patrick’s?”
“Yes. Room six eighteen.”