28 Stories: Mystery Thriller Collection

HOLLYWOOD

Aloud thud accompanied by the steering wheel jerking violently to the right snapped Jarrod James out of his blackout. In the twilight he saw something bounce across the hood of his car and hit the windshield before sliding into the gutter. JJ slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop just in time to keep a twisted bicycle from logging under the frame of his prize Bentley convertible.

My God, what have I done, JJ cried as he looked at the lifeless body of a young boy lying on the asphalt. He did not touch the child. Instead he pulled the bike from beneath the front bumper and fled.

In minutes he reached the safety of his home atop the Hollywood hills. Unable to reconstruct what happened, let alone think about what to do next, JJ poured an ample amount of vodka into a glass and stared through the floor to ceiling windows at the twinkling lights of the sprawling city below. He finished half the drink and picked up the phone.

Ray, it’s me, JJ. Something really bad just went down. I need your help.

What happened?

I think I killed a kid.

You think you killed a kid? Don’t you know for sure?

Well, I was coming back from a meeting and a few drinks with Harriet at Dan Tana’s and was coming up the back way to my place. Then bam, I hit this little guy riding a bike.

And he’s dead?

He looked like he was. Nobody was around, so I took off.

Great, a hit-and-run. You’re right, you did something really bad.

I’m sorry, Ray. It’s the pills the doc gave me to keep me calm. Guess they don’t mix too well with booze.

Looks like you hit the jackpot this time, my boy. Have you talked to anyone else about this fiasco?

I was going to call Harriet. After all, she is my agent. Besides, Harriet was with me this afternoon.

She’s the last person you want to know about this. If she had as many drinks as you, she’ll be useless too. And if not, she could be a key witness against you.

Think I could go to jail?

Let’s put it this way, if you don’t do exactly as I tell you, they’ll be fitting you for one of those orange jumpsuits real soon. Got it?

Oh no.

Oh yeah.

What do you want me to do?

Take a shower. Put on something comfortable. And make a pot of coffee. We may be in for a long night. I’m on my way. Don’t do anything or talk to anyone until I get there.

LAURIE KINGMAN HAD been a single mom since her son, Robert, was six months old. It was difficult in those early years, but with the help of family and friends she persevered and made a comfortable life for herself and her son. That was until twelve year old Robby was killed earlier in the evening by a hit-and-run driver. He was riding his bike in a Beverly Hills neighborhood while she, now a personal trainer, was inside working with a client.

Why? Why? she cried. He was such a good boy – my pride and joy. How could someone hit him and drive away leaving him to die on the street? She sat by his lifeless form in a curtained-off area in the emergency room at Cedars Sinai Hospital in Beverly Hills.

Come, Laurie, her sister, Joan, said. We have to make funeral arrangements for Robby. I have a friend who works for Rose Hills. She can help with everything. In the meantime, until things get sorted out, please come and stay with Jim and me.

I don’t want to interfere with your lives.

You’re family. And a family takes care of family members when tragedy hits. This is not up for discussion. We’ll go over to your apartment and pack after we meet with the lady at Rose Hills. Joan had difficulty finding the proper words, but her thoughts seemed to get through.

OKAY, RAY SEYMOUR said as he barged through the front door thirty minutes later. Time to provide me with each and every detail of the incident that you can remember.

That’s not a very nice way to say ‘hello.’

Look, JJ, I’m not your babysitter, your shrink or your agent. Good ole’ Ray is your attorney. I don’t get paid to make you feel good. I’m the one who gets you off the hook every time you screw up. And this time, I’ll earn every bit of my fee and more.

With you, Ray, it’s always more. I’m sure your services will cost me plenty.

If you ever learn how to stay out of trouble, you’ll save a lot of money.

Yeah, but you’d find a way to bill me for something. JJ enjoyed sparring with his lawyer, but he also believed Ray took advantage of him. He was certain that everyone he employed in someway overcharged, underperformed, or both. JJ chalked this up to the cost of being a star, particularly one of his magnitude.

Did you make coffee like I asked?

I thought a drink would do a better job of calming me down.

Stop thinking. I need to be sure you’re sober when we call the police. You can get drunk later but only if you’re at home. No one can see you drinking in public until we get this thing behind us.

We don’t even know if I had an accident. It’s just that I can’t remember.

Let’s take a look at the car. Which one were you driving?

The Bentley.

Figures. It’s easy to trace since there aren’t many of them around, even here in ‘Tinsel Town.’

Damn, the dent in the hood is bigger than I thought, JJ complained.

There’s blood too, Ray observed. The grill is messed up as well. How fast were you going?

Can’t say. I don’t remember anything except seeing something hit my hood and fall off to the side. That’s when I must have hit the brakes.

Oh boy. So you hit the kid at full-force, saw that he was dead or gravely injured, and then took off. The media is going to have a field day with this. By the time we go to court, the jury pool will be predisposed to throwing the book at you.

It’s up to you to keep me out of court and certainly out of jail. My agent always says we can handle the press, because they love me almost as much as my fans do.

Save the reviews for somebody else, and let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I need to hear your story, sketchy though it may be. Then we’ll have doc Fisher come over and test your blood for alcohol and drugs. If everything’s okay, we’ll call the police.

Why? I can get the car repaired and no one will be the wiser.

Now that’s a really dumb idea. Someone may have seen you. Or the body shop guys may spill the beans. Or people at Dan Tana’s may come forward. Or, as I said earlier, Harriet may point the finger at you.

She wouldn’t do that. I’m her meal ticket.

You never know how people react to questioning. Just accept it, because this thing is not going away.

They walked into the kitchen. Ray poured coffee for both of them, took out his pocket tape recorder as well as his yellow legal pad, and started asking his client questions in rapid-fire.

Satisfied he had all he was going to get by asking the same question in several different ways, Ray was ready to move on to the next steps. First he called the ‘doc,’ as Fisher was known.

He’ll be here soon, the attorney announced.

Next Ray made a call to someone inside the police department. JJ could only pick up bits and pieces of one side of the conversation because the attorney walked out of the kitchen for much of the call. After clicking off his cell phone Ray decided to lay out his strategy for the client while they waited for the physician to arrive.

My source tells me the kid you hit is dead. A neighbor saw the incident from beginning to end, but they did not get the license plate – not even a partial. They could not identify the type of car either. The twilight and the speed in which it all happened are working for you, at least for now.

So my idea about fixing the car isn’t so dumb.

Not so fast. The woman saw your face in the headlights when you bent over to look at the kid. She’s older and could not identify you - thought the person might be someone that lives in the area. Sooner or later, she’ll see your picture on TV or in a tabloid and you won’t be able to hide anymore.

I didn’t see anyone.

What you saw doesn’t matter, but what a witness saw does. That’s why we have to get out in front of this wave before we are caught up by its force.

And just how do we do that?

If doc says your blood work is okay, you call the cops and turn yourself in.

How will that help me?

I’m going to give you the script. So listen up. Learn your lines and stick with the story. Don’t deviate or contradict yourself in any way.

Aren’t you being a bit dramatic?

Yeah, and you better be prepared to deliver the best dramatic performance of your life.

You think it’ll go that far?

That will depend on what we know, what we should know and what we can find out. For instance, we know that you had too much to drink. How many other people know it and who are they? Were they there the entire time? Did they have too much to drink as well? What can they remember? And how do we think they’ll stand up under testimony?

I can tell you how much I had to drink.

How much?

Too much. JJ tried to laugh at his attempt to make a joke, but Ray didn’t let him.

This isn’t funny. You killed a kid and left the scene of a crime. This means a big time jail sentence if witnesses say you were drunk. Harriet saw how much you drank. In fact she probably paid for you to get loaded.

She did, but she’s an agent. That’s part of her job.

And there will be a record of a credit card transaction.

She’ll say she bought other people drinks or come up with some other lie.

What makes you think she’ll do that?

As I said, she’s an agent. There’s no way Harriet wants to lose me as a client.

She will if you’re wearing an orange jumpsuit for the next twenty years.

Okay. You made your point. Tell me want you want me to say to make this whole thing go away.

It’s not going away, but my hope is to get the situation under control in order to have the least possible damage and manage the outcome in the most favorable way. Is that doc’s car I hear outside?

Who else could it be?

You don’t want to know.

JJ, there’s no way you can pass a field sobriety test right now, Doc said.

I was afraid of that, the attorney chimed in. How long before he’ll be ready?"

A couple maybe three hours should do it.

That could be a problem.

I can’t sober him up any faster.

Wait a minute. Ray was ready to offer an instant solution to the time gap. How about if he had a terrible migraine? He could hardly drive because of it. That’s why he hit the kid. Couldn’t see him. JJ was confused after the accident. He manages to drive home. Puts ice on his head and falls into bed. A few hours later he wakes up, calls me, and I call you. We come over, get the scoop on the accident, you treat JJ for the mother of all headaches, and I call the police. Like the good citizens we are.

Possibly. I can give him a shot of a drug normally used for migraines. That way it will show up in the toxicology report. But we can’t cover up the fact that he had been drinking.

Drinking is not against the law. I need something that makes drinking a secondary issue. This poor baby suffers from sever migraines. The attorney makes a dramatic courtroom gesture toward his client. And you’re going to order a bunch of neurological tests to get to the bottom of the problem and find out if he suffers from something even worse than these terrible headaches.

Wait a minute. I don’t get headaches and never had a migraine.

Now you do, Ray replied.

Those tests might hurt. I hate pain.

Prison would be a lot more painful.

The police arrived in the middle of the 11 PM news. Ray Seymour made sure the call was placed before the newscast began. He believed this fact would help when presenting the case to a jury, since this was the first time the story received television coverage. The timing suggests that his client tried to do the right thing as soon as he recovered from the ravages of the migraine.

You passed the field sobriety test and we have your statement about the accident. However, you must come with us Mr. James. You left the scene of the accident. This is technically a hit-and-run with a death occurrence. It’s a very serious matter, the officer said.

Let me call someone to see if we can take him in my car. If he had turned himself in, Mr. James could have walked through the front door of the Hollywood Division without cuffs or a police escort. No reason to give the media a photo op that will surely prejudice the potential jury pool. Ray flipped open his cell and dialed the number.

He turned his back and walked away after greeting the person on the other end of the phone. In a few minutes he returned and handed the phone to the officer. The cop got his instructions and handed the phone back to the attorney.

Okay. We’ll do it the way you requested. Mr. James goes in your car and I follow you. When we get to division go to the back door, I’ll call, and someone will open the door so he can go in unnoticed. Are we ready to go?

Ray nodded while JJ gave an unknowing shrug.

THIS WAS NOT JJ’S FIRST visit to a police station. He was just twenty-nine but had a history of getting into scrapes from the time he became a star sensation in afterschool movies at fifteen. Drunk driving, drug possession, bar fights and a domestic battle with an ex-girlfriend were among the primary offenses. Nothing was as serious as the scrape he was in.

Once inside JJ was treated like anyone else, except the police may have spoken nicer to him than the average person being booked. While he was going through the process Ray was in contact with a friendly judge, JJ’s agent and his publicist in that order.

By the time he was interviewed by detectives, bail had been set and paid. JJ was released and went out the back door to Ray’s waiting car and was whisked back to his Hollywood Hills home to meet with agent Harriet and publicist Adam. The entire ordeal took less than two hours.

WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL me sooner? Harriet complained. After all, I am his agent. Maybe I could have helped with JJ’s problem.

You may be part of the problem rather than the solution, Ray fired back.

Really? I don’t see how you can accuse me of that.

You bought him the drinks, my dear.

That’s part of my job.

And is it part of your job to let your client get drunk in public and let him drive his car on city streets where he could injure himself or someone else?

He and I only had three drinks, and I had no problem driving to Santa Monica.

Maybe you were just lucky.

I went home, freshened up, and met people for dinner at Chinois. I was not drunk and neither was JJ. We only had three drinks each.

Will you swear to that?

Absolutely.

Sorry to be so rough on you, Harriet. Ray affectionately put his arm around her. I had to determine what you truly believed and figured the best way to do it was to push you a bit. The DA’s troops will certainly come on strong when you’re cross-examined. By the way, do you know the name of the bar tender on duty this afternoon?"

Ed, I think that’s his name. Right, JJ?

Yeah, he came on at four just before you got there. But Alfredo was serving up the drinks when I started drinking about one.

What? Ray exclaimed. Why didn’t you say you were drinking all afternoon before having more drinks with Harriet?

Because nobody asked me.

What do we know about this Alfredo guy? Ray asked after tracking through the details about the afternoon for the fifth time."

Who cares? He’s just the lunchtime bar tender. JJ said.

This man could be your devil or your angel, so you better care. If he can pinpoint the number of drinks you had, his testimony could put you behind bars or let you walk away scot-free.

But he wasn’t there when I left, so he can’t really say how many I downed.

JJ, have you considered the fact that the DA as well as jury members can do simple math? All they have to do is take the number of drinks you consumed between one and four this afternoon plus those downed after Harriet arrived and divide them by the number of hours you were at the bar to determine the average number of drinks per hour. Then factor in your weight and they’ll have a good idea as to whether you were drunk or not.

Ha, that’s were they’ll be wrong. Several people bought me drinks, so that won’t appear on my tab, JJ said with a knowing smile.

And who poured the drinks that other people bought?

Oh, yeah. Alfredo, huh? The smile quickly turned into the look of a scared little boy who was about to cry.

Adam Gold, the publicist, arrived in a huff. This was his usual entrance, since he was always overwhelmed with too little time to accomplish all that was on his plate.

That’s enough from you, JJ. Time to talk about managing the news, now that our publicity man is here. Ray waited for Adam to get his pad and pen out before starting. He provided a brief overview and launched immediately into his game plan.

As I see it, we’ve got to make JJ the victim in this case.

That’s going to be damn near impossible based on what you said happened. The publicist shook his head. JJ killed a kid today while under the influence and took off without knowing if the boy was dead or not. How does he become the victim?

Either you’re tired or you weren’t listening to me, Adam. The boy’s gone and that’s too bad. But JJ has been suffering from terrible migraines, so we can’t really blame him. Can we?

That may be how you see it. However, this story will be a tough one to sell to the media. JJ has too much history with drinking and drugging. He’s also had a few incidents with his driving. We’ve gone to the well too often with flimsy excuses. So I expect the press to be doubtful at best and some of them won’t buy any of it. If that’s the case, they’ll be down-right hostel.

Doc can back up this story because it’s true. Remember, this is America. A man is innocent until proven guilty. Develop the story and we’ll all stick to it. Once his adoring fans buy it, we’re home free – at least in the court of public opinion.

I’ll do what I can.

Get on your laptop and bat out the talking points. Then write your basic news release. After we agree on it, call the friendliest reporters you’ve got and plant the story with them. Tell ‘em they’re getting it first. There’s less chance these guys will edit your stuff if they handle it as breaking news. After that, blast the stuff out to all media outlets, and let the chips fall where they may. I think we’ll be fine.

Whatever you say. You’re calling the shots, Ray.

IT WAS FITTING AND touching. Joan tried to comfort her sister as they passed the front gates of the cemetery following the small family service in the chapel and again at the grave site. It was only a week since the accident.

How come Mr. Hollywood is free to go wherever he pleases while my poor Robby is trapped in his grave and I walk around with a broken heart?

His day will come. In the meantime, you have got to get your mind off of Jarrod James and back on taking care of yourself.

I am. I am.

Then why do I hear you pacing the floor every night?

Just not used to the bed in the guest room.

Really? Haven’t heard that complaint before.

I’m not complaining. It’s probably time for me to go home. There are bills to pay and I can’t afford to lose any clients.

"Why don’t you go back to work if you think you’re up to it? But stay with us for a little longer. The grieving process is not over yet.

It never will be when it comes to Robby.

I understand.

Sorry, Joan, but I don’t think you do. Burying a child is not the natural order of the universe. Part of me died with Robby. And that part will never be alive again, not until justice is served.

I was thinking, maybe you ought to visit the doctor and get some sleeping pills. And something to calm you down too.

Don’t need ‘em. I’ll be all right. Thanks anyway.

YOU’RE GETTING LOTS of media coverage, JJ. And the bottom line is not all that bad.

Adam did a good job.

He did a good job of implementation. But if I hadn’t developed the strategy and made him stick with it, you’d be whistling a different tune, his attorney said.

Come on, Ray. Cut the guy some slack.

If I backed off he won’t try as hard as he does to avoid my wrath. All I’m saying is it takes a great attorney to make a publicist good.

Whatever you say. I just don’t want Adam having a heart attack or something over this thing. That’s all.

Don’t worry about it. He knows how the game is played.

Can either of you do something about the mob of reporters and paparazzi camped in front of my house?

Hey, you’re news. Besides, you’ve been through this before.

Never this long. It’s been two weeks.

This is the first time you killed someone.

Sometimes you’re so insensitive, Ray.

I’ll take that as a compliment. It’s part of why you pay me. You can be nice, even caring to the world while I’m the one that takes the arrows of resentment. This arrangement works pretty well for all concerned.

Except for the mother of the boy I hit. JJ could not bring himself to say that he killed the child. That would be an outward admission of guilt and an inward confession of a sin, something that was a carryover from his Catholic upbringing.

Get off the cross, JJ, we need the wood. Ray knew it was a bad joke but he did not want his client slipping into the role of victimhood, even though that was precisely what he wanted the media to report in order to sway public opinion away from the dead boy and have them feel sorry for JJ who was a victim of circumstance. He knew it was a difficult task but believed it was the right approach.

You never answered my question.

What question?

About the media being outside day and night.

Oh, I thought I had. Anyway, it works to your advantage. We can drop information on them when we want as long as it’s something new. Today, for instance, we’re going to have Dr. Fisher tell them that you have been responding favorably to the new drug he has been injecting you with to keep those migraines under control.

I hate those needles twice-a-day. The stuff makes me feel a little weird.

Good. That’s means the shots are working. Ray laughed.

Is this charade doing any good with the DA’s office?

Hard to say. The tide rises and falls everyday down there. There’s not a lot of evidence. The case is pretty straight forward. But they jump on each rumor as if it were true. So far, my sources tell me, there’s nothing for them to hang their hat on.

Have they interviewed everyone from the bar?

All except Alfredo.

He’s the one that knows how much I drank before Harriet got there.

Seems his dear mother, down in Mexico, became quite ill and he left to be with her the day after the accident. No one knows the exact town where mama lives or when her devoted son will return.

How did you pull that off?

The night manager is a friend of mine. He told me Alfredo was single and lived alone in Mar Vista. Someone from an outside firm I use visited the man before anyone even knew he was working the lunch shift. Alfredo didn’t like his hours. He’d rather work nights. So it didn’t take much money to convince him to head south for a few months and not to come back to LA before he spends all his dough. He’ll check in with us when the time comes.

You could go to jail for that.

I’m two-steps removed from any association with Alfredo. It’s a good thing we did this, because he told my guy’s guy that you had at least ten Jack Daniels’s on the rocks that afternoon. So don’t be acting holier than me. His testimony alone could put you in prison.

What else are you holding back from me?

Look, JJ, I don’t want to burden you with the details of how I’m keeping you out of the slammer. If you know more than you should, the DA can whittle it out of you in a deposition or on the stand.

You mean what I don’t know can’t hurt me?

Exactly.

But I don’t want to commit more crimes in order to walk away from the accident charges.

That’s why you must trust me to provide information only on a need-to-know basis.

Guess I’m in too deep to say no.

That’s the smartest thing you said today.

THE CASE IS NOT GETTING any traction, Ms. Kingman, the assistant district attorney said.

You mean in the papers and on TV? Laurie asked knowing that the media was being more than sympathetic to Jarrod James.

That too. But I was referring to the court case.

He admitted to killing my son and leaving the scene. What could not be going well?

No witnesses have come forward to state that James drank too much, and there’s no laboratory proof that he was drunk. Indications are that he has a real migraine condition and that’s what impaired his driving and affected his judgment after the accident.

You mean murder. He was drunk, killed Robby and ran away afterward. If you can’t find anybody to testify against James, maybe I can.

Please, Ms. Kingman, don’t insert yourself in the investigation. It won’t help and could prove to be detrimental.

Detrimental to you or to me?

Certainly not to Mr. James.

I want him to pay for what he did. If you can’t or won’t get the evidence needed to put him away then I have no choice but to act on my own.

Wait until we have a complete review of the facts before jumping into the case. At that time you can decide what to do. The assistant DA hoped this would keep the distraught mother from making things worse but doubted his words would be heeded for long, if at all.

When can we have such a meeting?

Within a week. Ten days tops.

All right. I won’t take any action until we discuss the case in a week or so. But no more delays and no more doubletalk. Laurie did not intend to wait. She would talk with a private detective about doing an investigation the way it ought to be done. Maybe she’d do some snooping around herself.

Thank you Ms. Kingman. You made the right decision.

Yes, I think I did.

THE DETECTIVE AGENCY office did not look anything like the ones Laurie Kingman had seen in the movies. The one she chose was located in an old Hollywood office building. After that the similarities ended. To the casual observer, it could have been the home of a small accounting firm, an insurance sales branch or a dating service. The furnishings included lots of metal file cabinets, a few particleboard desks and several uncomfortable chairs.

How may I help you, Ms. Kingman? Howard Walker, the man whose name was on the door, asked.

Start by calling me Laurie. I’m sick and tired of the police and the district attorney’s people addressing me in such a formal way.

Fine, Laurie. Call me Howard.

Okay, Howard. She went on to explain the accident and the pending case in complete detail and as accurately as possible. Laurie also inserted her opinions into the conversation, which she did with some frequency.

First, I want to go back over what was done by the cops and the DA. This means talking to everyone they spoke with and seeing if we can wake up their memories. Hopefully we get a nugget or two that could prove useful. Another reason to interview them again is to find out if anyone knows someone else we should talk with.

I don’t understand.

We let them know we are not the police or working for the DA. Rather we work for the mother of the dead child. This approach tugs at the heartstrings and could produce unexpected results.

Yes, I see. Laurie wiped away the tears that were beginning to form in the corners of her already red eyes.

What we get from this effort will determine the appropriate next steps in the investigation. I must say the authorities frown on bringing us in. They look at it as trying to discredit their work and throw up roadblocks whenever they can.

They didn’t mince words with me. They said no outside help and for me not to get involved.

We must ask you not to try and help. Only professionals should engage in the investigation. Can you agree to that, Laurie?

Her response was a reluctant nod.

I BELIEVE WE CAN PLEAD this down to a suspended sentence at worst. Or if I’m as good as I think I am, you may get away with probation, Ray said.

What’s the difference, as long as I don’t go to jail. JJ was making a statement rather than asking a question.

I won’t try to explain the legal ramifications to you. But in essence, you’re right. No prison for JJ.

So I’ll be totally free.

Not totally. You can expect some community service.

You mean picking up trash at the freeway ramps while wearing a Cal Trans jumpsuits? That’s not for me.

Playing the humility card may gain sympathy from your fans and the public in general. Harriet thinks it could be a career booster.

Fine let her do it.

"Hasn’t this ordeal affected you in any way?

Sure. My car insurance rates are going to go up.

Ray Seymour was a cold, tough attorney and brutal negotiator. He was a street-wise guy and worked his way through a third-level law school to become a sought after attorney by the bad boys and girls in Hollywood. Ray knew how to deal with the fragile egos of celebrities - many of whom demonstrated sociopathic tendencies. After representing Jarrod James for the better part of a decade, he concluded that JJ was a man with enormous personality and very little character.

Besides paying more for insurance, you can expect a wrongful death law suit.

Let’s get ahead of this by offering the Kingman woman a cash settlement as soon as you get me cleared of the hit-and-run rap.

How much of a cash settlement were you thinking?

As little as possible.

Ray’s cell phone erupted into the Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. He felt the familiar Da-da-da-dah performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra provided important drama to every incoming call while making the attorney appear to have a degree of sophistication. It did not accomplish either goal, but no one dared to tell Ray.

We have a situation, he said to JJ and turned off the phone.

A problem?

Depends on how you look at it. I like to think of it as an opportunity.

Whatever you call it, does it need fixing?

It might require an explanation. We thought there was no one who saw you both come in as well as leave the bar on the day of the accident. That was until now.

Didn’t you talk to everyone on the duty roster for the day?

We covered those on the inside. There’s a parking concession that employs the valets. The bar manager told me there’s a different team for the daytime and another for the evening. Shifts change at four as well.

Then what’s the problem?

On the day in question, one of the evening attendants called in sick. The one who parked your car at one o’clock was also the one who gave it back to you at six.

What’s that prove?

To some it may suggest that you spent the entire afternoon at the bar and were drunk when you left.

Did the parking attendant say I was drunk?

Conveniently, he can’t remember anything except that you picked up the car, which was parked in the premier spot in the front of the lot. But if the other side gets wind of this, it could push the case closer to a trial than a settlement.

Use your imagination, Ray. JJ laughed. Don’t you remember I was talking about redoing my home? So I dropped off the car and walked over to Beverly and Robertson to get some ideas at interior design showrooms.

If so, somebody would have recognized you.

No I was only window shopping.

How long did you do that? Ray played into the sham.

Probably a couple of hours.

That’s good enough for now.

Ya know, maybe I ought to find a role as a celebrity lawyer or a high-end detective. Remind me to mention this to Harriet.

THIS CAN’T BE. YOU’RE telling me that this man, the one who was drunk and drove off after killing my innocent son, is going to get away with murder.

Without concrete evidence, something we hadn’t seen before, I’m afraid we don’t have much of a case, the Assistant DA said. Under the circumstances the most fruitful course for you to pursue will be to seek relief for pain and suffering.

There’s no relief for the pain and suffering this Hollywood playboy has put me through.

I mean relief in a financial way, through the courts.

Money won’t bring back my Robby. And how can I possibly have faith in the courts when I can’t even get the criminal case in front of a judge and jury?

Justice is not always perfect. The system has flaws, but it’s the best in the world.

Except when it let’s you down. I’m done with this. Make whatever deals you have to do to keep your job, but I’m not going to be part of this travesty of justice. Guess I’ll just have to pick up where you left off.

Please, Ms. Kingman, don’t even think about being a vigilante.

Laurie pushed her chair back and put on her coat. She opened the office door and turned to make a final comment. Vigilante. Now that’s sounds like a good idea.

IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS since the Jarrod James case ended, Joan said. Don’t you think it’s time to get the wrongful death suit started?

Thanks for the advice, but I don’t want to go through all that legal mumbo-jumbo again. And, this time, I would have to face Robby’s killer in court. That would bring back too many bad memories.

What are you going to do? There’s money coming to you.

James’s attorney has been in touch. He wants to make an out-of-court offer.

No matter what it is with the right lawyer and the right jury, you’ll do better in court.

We’ll see. What Laurie did not tell her sister was that she kept the detective on retainer and was developing a plan to take care of the narcissistic Jarrod James and his slimy attorney in her time and on her terms.

YES, LAURIE, I HAVE detailed records of the daily activities of the person of interest. Howard Walker did not want to mention the name over the phone, but he and Laurie knew who the person of interest was.

When can I get the information?

Let’s meet away from my office. How about Musso and Frank on Hollywood Boulevard at 11:45, today?

That works for me. The restaurant is just east of Highland, right? I’ll be in workout clothes, okay?

This is Hollywood. Most anything goes. And yes the location is on the north side of the street between Las Palmas and Cherokee. Park in back. They validate.

LAURIE ARRIVED A LITTLE early. She parked the car and came down the back stairs, then walked past the rows of empty tables all the way to the front, and was promptly ushered to a side booth by the older gentleman who had been standing at the podium. After leaving the menu, he gave her the onceover as if to say, Just what are you doing here?

A few minutes later the detective arrived.

Quite a place, he said gesturing to the shabby-chic dining room with a counter off to the far side. You been here before?"

No. I’ve walked past it though. She felt this was a dumb answer to a simple question. Lately, her thinking seemed labored; Laurie made up for this by diving harder into her exercise regimen. This resulted in a more fit body but her mind did not respond in a like manner.

Well, Musso and Frank dates back to 1919. It’s Hollywood’s oldest restaurant. For over ninety years they’ve been serving the perfect martini. Could I interest you in joining me?

No thanks. I’m in training.

For what? The marathon? If so, they have the best macaroni and cheese you ever tasted. Sounds like kid food but theirs has a very sophisticated taste.

Do you handle the promotion for this place in trade for free lunches?

Sorry. I’ve been coming here for years. Obviously I’m a big fan. They have a lengthy menu, and everything’s good. Maybe the shrimp Louie. Mind if I have a cocktail?

Whatever you like.

An aging waiter dressed in old-style garb - black pants, white shirt, black tie and red waistcoat with black lapels – came to the table, pad in hand. The man did not smile nor did he display a positive table-side manner. It was as if the customer should be grateful that he took the time to wait on them. This interaction or lack of it surprised Laurie, since the waiter apparently recognized Howard as a regular patron.

As a native of Des Moines, Iowa who moved to LA with her older sister fifteen years ago, Laurie did not understand the games played in Tinsel Town. Everyone trying to get a leg up on the other person was the rule rather the exception. The never-ending push for power, any advantage, was both boring and tiring to those not interested in clawing their way to the top of the heap.

I’ll have a martini, straight up with two olives. For an entrée, give me the liver and onions and a side of mac and cheese. Howard said. He felt compelled to order the side dish after promoting it so hard.

The grilled salmon, please. And an iced tea.

Here’s the report, the detective said once the waiter retreated.

Laurie studied the material while Howard buttered a piece of warm sour dough bread that was just dropped off at the table. She made notes and was ready to discuss her thoughts by the time the drinks arrived and were positioned in front of each of them on the stark-white tablecloth. He took a sip of the martini while she squeezed the gauze-wrapped lemon in preparation to drink the iced tea.

I don’t see a consistent pattern here, Laurie said going back to the report.

His activities outside the house are random it seems. However, what he does inside displays real continuity. When James is not shooting, his personal trainer goes to the house at 10 AM everyday except Sunday. He has breakfast after an hour workout and eats dinner at 6 PM if he’s there. Otherwise, you’re right. His away-from-home schedule is as hap-hazard as he is.

No drinking around?

Not any more. If he takes a drink it’s behind closed doors.

I figured he’d keep a low profile until after the unlawful death suit is settled, Laurie added.

There’s one event he’ll be attending: The Academy Awards, the detective said. He received an unexpected nomination for that little picture he finished just before the accident. The industry people circled the wagons when he began getting negative press. Guess they thought this kind of thing could happen to them. Their support made him a hero. So, Jarrod James is considered a kind of comeback kid.

That’s good to know. Laurie jotted a note on her pad as lunch arrived.

LAURIE PAID THE CHECK, which the detective allowed her to do without hesitation. She gathered her things and said, On awards night, I want you to follow James and keep me informed of his every move.

Why? What’s your plan? Do you want me to do anything in the meantime; it’s more than a month away?

If I need you before then, I’ll call. But I will be talking to the lawyer you hooked me up with about the wrongful death suit. You’ve been helpful. Thanks. And by the way, the food is good here but a bit pricey.

THAT’S ALL HE OFFERED? Laurie was brought to tears.

Yes, two hundred thousand. I think I can get a little more. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars provided you sign a non-disclosure. You know no interviews with the media, that kind of thing, the attorney said.

So Robby’s life is worth only two maybe two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to Mr. Millionaire Movie Star. And your fee comes off the top.

I told you we could sue and maybe get a settlement in the millions.

And if we lose I don’t even get my out-of-pocket expenses covered. Plus I’ll have to go through the agony of Robby’s death all over again and be pestered and hounded by reporters and photographers wherever I go for months to come. No way.

Does that mean you want to accept the offer?

Do it today before I change my mind. Laurie slammed down the phone.

Minutes later the attorney called back. They’re willing to go to two hundred and twenty-five. What do you say?

Take it. I’ll sign the papers, and this phase of the ordeal comes to a close.

Actually, the entire case comes to a close.   This is the end, the attorney said, pleased with the fast money he made.

We’ll see.

THE MONTH HAD NOT BEEN good to Laurie. She received the cashier’s check for the settlement, paid the attorney and had a new Will prepared in which everything was left to her sister, Joan. During this time, Laurie made several purchases at a spy store, including some sophisticated listening devices designed to pick up cell phone conversations at close range. The money she now had allowed her to stop training others and concentrate on the comings and goings of James and his attorney.

I just spotted our man, Howard Walker said. I knew he would be showing up to prepare himself for Oscar night.

Where are you? Laurie asked.

Looks like he’s going to have lunch at the Daily Grill, upstairs at the Kodak complex.

So he’ll be there for a while?

Especially if he has a couple of drinks.

Good. Keep an eye on him and let me know if he goes on the move. I’ll be there in a half-hour, maybe less.

You’re not going to do anything rash, are you?

Come on Howard. All I want is a chance to talk to him, eyeball to eyeball. Not having a trial deprived me of this. This might provide the closure I need in order to find some semblance of peace.

I understand, just wouldn’t want to see you get in trouble by confronting him. I know it’s tough, but you have to find a way to let go.

That’s what I’m trying to do.

Twenty-five minutes later, Laurie met Howard in the plaza outside the restaurant.

Is our Mr. James still in there? she asked.

No change in the situation.

Then it’s time for me to make my move?

What move?

I’m going inside and have a little talk with him?

As I said, it could cause a problem.

Only if he’s too cowardly to talk to me. Want to come in our wait outside?

Laurie charged into the restaurant, but Howard lagged behind and stood near the front door.

Mr. James, Laurie said as she stopped in front of the table where JJ and two other people were just finishing lunch. I have a few things to say to you and I’d like to hear what you have to say about the death of my son, Robby.

One of the men started to get up as if he was going to try and physically remove the intruder from the premises. JJ put his hand out and stopped him before whispering something to the man.

Go ahead and say what you have to say, but hurry it up I have an important meeting with my agent.

Since you murdered my son, I can see why you want to get out of here as fast as you can. You’re a big star Mr. James, but you’re a very small person when it comes to compassion. Never did you offer an apology for ending my son’s life the way you did. Nor did you offer simple condolences for my personal loss. Why?

It’s quite simple. My attorney said not to speak to you while there was a possibility of a court trial. Now that you accepted the financial settlement, there’s no reason to open up old wounds.

Did you ever stop to think my wounds never closed?

Frankly, no.

How can you call yourself a human being?

I never said I was a human being, I’m an actor. Don’t think I didn’t enjoy our little chat, because I didn’t. Got to run. If you have more questions, contact my attorney. I believe you have his phone number. I must excuse myself.

The star rose and started toward the door. One of his companions stayed behind to make sure Laurie did not follow. As JJ walked past the bar area, a couple of fans came up to him and he signed their menus to their great delight. Laurie stood in her spot, almost frozen.

HE’S NOT GOING TO GET away with it, she told Howard who came to Laurie and led her out of the restaurant. It was at that moment Laurie’s plan of action became clear to her. She would purchase a gun and learn to use it. Then she would see that justice is served for the murder Jarrod James and the heartless Ray Seymour who helped him escaped prosecution.

OKAY. I’M STATIONED in an office building at Hollywood and Highland. I can see the Kodak Theater from the window, Howard Walker said. Good thing I have friends in this part of town. You can’t imagine what people would pay for this bird’s eye view of the red carpet area.

Did James get there yet?

No but my guy up by his house called to say JJ is on his way.

Is he driving his own car?

Yes, and he’s alone.

Which car?

The Bentley convertible.

Good. Tell me when he get’s there.

Do you mind telling me what’s going on?

In due time, Howard. In due time.

Call me when he arrives. She flipped off the cell phone, leaned back in the driver’s seat of her Toyota Camry and popped an anti-depressant into her mouth. Laurie didn’t know whether she needed the pill but took it just in case the dark feeling became darker. She wanted nothing to prevent her from the task she had to do tonight.

Joan. It’s me Laurie.

Where are you? I’ve been leaving messages on your machine for days. On your cell too.

I haven’t been feeling well. So I used the time to think. It all came together and I know what I must do.

That sounds ominous. Are you sure you’re all right?

I just wanted to call and say ‘I love you’ and thanks for everything you’ve done. That goes for all my life and particularly since Robby was killed. I couldn’t have made it this far without you.

You’re not thinking of doing something stupid are you?

Don’t be silly. I know what I’m doing.

Then why won’t you tell me where you are?

I’m in my car driving to a friend’s place to watch the Academy Awards on television.

What friend? Why don’t you come over here instead?

Always the concerned big sister. I’m fine. So just enjoy the show at home and I’ll have a good evening as well. Can you do that?

I guess. But. . .

Don’t worry everything is going to be just fine. I promise. Bye, Sis.

He’s here. Got a model on his arm. She’s drop dead gorgeous.

Howard, I don’t care about her. Please hold your commentary to him. Call me the moment he comes out of there. I’m sure he’s going to a party.

Laurie knew this was the first time Jarrod James had made a social appearance in months. It was also the first time the star was in a position to take a drink, without fear of the consequences, since the settlement took place.

Through her spying device, she had heard James tell his attorney that he was going to celebrate on Oscar night whether I win the award or not. Laurie also learned that Ray Seymour hated Hollywood events and planned to stay home alone that night, although he did promise to watch in case JJ won.

I got word he’s headed to an after-party at Spago in Beverly Hills. Guess our boy is happy to be out and about, Oscar or no Oscar. Nobody really thought he had a chance except for him. What do you want me to do? Howard asked.

Stay with him. The moment he leaves the restaurant, call me.

Laurie turned the car around and headed to Woodrow Wilson Drive, off of Mulholland. She parked down the street from Ray Seymour’s home, went through the gate that was always unlocked and walked to the sliding door in the back. It was open slightly to allow the smoke from the attorney’s ever-present cigar to drift out of the house. She saw the man sitting alone in the entertainment room sipping a drink, cigar in hand.

In an instant she opened the door, moved quickly across the floor and fired four shots from the weapon that was wrapped in a towel to reduce the noise. The arrangement of the bullets was perfect. Ray Seymour was probably dead before his glass hit the floor and shattered, leaving a pool of scotch next to where the pool of blood was gathering.

Laurie immediately retraced her steps and soon was on Laurel Canyon driving in the direction of West Hollywood. At the bottom of the hill, she stopped at a storm drain and disposed of both the gun and the towel. Just after turning onto Sunset, her cell phone rang.

Okay, he came out and the model from earlier is still with him. She looks tipsy.

How about him?

Looks like he had a couple too. They’re all over each other. If the car doesn’t get here soon, they’ll be doing it on the valet stand.

Follow them but not too close. Let me know the route they’re taking.

I’d say he’ll be taking the shortcut up to his place. And he’ll be moving pretty fast. No way JJ wants this bimbo to pass out on him before getting her into the sack.

Laurie drove to a location not far from where Robby’s was killed. All the while, Howard was on the phone. The car door slammed and Laurie walked down the street.

What’s that I hear in the background? Where are you? he asked.

Tell me about James, she demanded while ignoring the detective’s questions.

He’s on his way up the back road to his house. I’m about a block behind him. His driving is rather erratic.

Laurie was at the exact spot of the accident when she saw the lights of the Bentley speeding up the street.

Howard, I’m crossing the street. A car is coming right at me. I’m dead.

The stillness of the night was interrupted by the sound of a horn and the squeal of tires as the car crashed into Laurie’s body. The Bentley convertible skidded to a stop. Howard Walker heard the entire incident through his cell phone.

Howard’s car came upon the scene moments later. He jumped out of the car and ran a few feet to where Laurie Kingman lay on the ground clutching the cell phone in her dead fingers.

What happened? asked an inebriated-sounding male voice from inside the car.

The detective peered through the window and saw the model behind the wheel and Jarrod James sitting in the passenger seat protected by the airbag.

JJ looked at the unconscious model and mumbled, Good thing we switched places at the last traffic light. Otherwise, it could have been me who had the accident. This car has got to go. It’s been nothing but bad luck.

SNAP

Y es dear. Of course , I will. Whatever you say. See you at six sharp. Bill sighed and returned the phone to its cradle. His wife of nine years, Sharon, was never easy on him. But of late, it seemed as if she was doubling her efforts to keep him in line which made him twice as uncomfortable in his already difficult world.

Bill checked the other phone messages that came in while he was at lunch. Mom wanted to know why he had not visited her. Step-daughter Emily reminded him to get her tickets for the concert at Staples Center next weekend. And Vivian, his boss, emphasized the importance of finishing his report today and to be sure it was complete, unlike last time.

The only one in his life of all females that he had not heard from was Baby. But she was the family dog and did not try to reign over him the way the rest of them did. Bill thought about it a little more and realized he was under her control as well.

Originally Baby was to be Emily’s dog. Just before her tenth birthday, the family was out shopping. That is to say, his wife and step-daughter were shopping; Bill was brought along to pay the bills and carry the packages.

On the way to the next store, Emily stopped at a pet shop’s window where an assortment of puppies was on display. One came to her and started licking the glass.

That’s the dog I was dreaming about. Can I have him, Mommy? Please, please, buy him for me.

I don’t think we should be getting a dog from an expensive store like this. If we were ever to get a dog it might just as well be from one of the adoption places.

Mom, he’s mean. He doesn’t want me to be happy. Emily burst into tears and run inside the store with both parents following her. She went to the back of the glass enclosure and picked up the dog she had connected with outside. Emily turned to her parents and said, This is my ‘Baby.’

Having the responsibility of taking care of a pet might be a good idea, Sharon said. She added a rhetorical, Don’t you think?

We’ve seen how she handles responsibility before. I don’t think she’s ready to take care of a dog yet. And I checked out the price list here on the window. Can you believe they want a thousand dollars for that puppy? Bill tried to fight back.

You don’t love me, Emily wailed.

After all, Bill, she is growing up. We have to let Emily fly a little. We can pitch in and help, so Baby will be our family’s dog. It will be the glue that holds us together.

But what about the money? He offered one last bit of resistance.

Is that all you care about, the money? Emily cried.

Honestly, this is a matter of being penny-wise and pound-foolish. The dog will be with us for ten, maybe fifteen years. Divide that into a thousand dollars and how much are you talking about a year? This is an investment in your daughter’s happiness. How can you put a price tag on that? Pay the cashier, Sharon said.

Seven years have past since that incident. Baby was still the family dog but taking care of her was solely Bill’s responsibility and had been almost from the start. He couldn’t win, so he stopped trying.

Bill’s thoughts were interrupted when his boss’s voice screeched through the intercom. I need to see you immediately.

Be there in a minute. Suddenly lunch did not sit as well as it did earlier.

Close the door and sit down, Vivian said as she paced the area behind her desk.

Is there a problem?

He sat down. She leaned over her desk toward him making Bill feel very vulnerable.

Can’t you get anything right? As the supervisor of accounts receivable, I expect you to deliver a complete and accurate analysis of our collections along with a plan of action for delinquent policy holders. I just reviewed your preliminary report and find it lacking. She threw the document down on the desk.

Lacking where?

Everywhere. You need to fix it before the Monday morning manager’s meeting. So I guess you’ll be spending most of your weekend at the office. Better make the time count. She turned and faced the window. The meeting was over.

I won’t be able to meet you for dinner or for the show at the Ahmanson, he told his wife. Bill knew this unpleasant task must be handled before doing anything else.

It’s John and Susan’s anniversary.

"Have to redo a report that’s