G'Day USA (23 page)

‘
What do you mean?’

‘
It’s coming back empty. No activity.’

‘
Since when?’

‘
Since the last triangulation a couple of hours ago.’

‘
So she’s got her phone turned off. She’ll turn it on again. Tell them to keep watching for her number.’

Stanfield nodded and placed the call, following Perkins out of the house to the large parking area.

Perkins stood on the front step, shook Marty’s hand and nodded at his wife. ‘Thanks for your time. Apologies again for disturbing you so late. Call me if she contacts you.’ He handed Marty a card.

He handed it back. ‘You already gave me one of these. Thanks. The gates open automatically when you approach them.’ He closed the door and turned to his wife. ‘Say nothing, okay?’ He watched on the security monitor as the car left the gate and it closed behind them.

‘
Marty, you watch what you’re doing.’

‘
Those assholes can’t tell me what to do.’

‘
Marty.’

‘
Oh, relax. I’m not going to get caught. I can be as subversive as the best of them. I’ll pick up a pre-pay and we’re clear.’

‘
They’re watching Ellie’s number.’

He held up his phone. ‘She’s got a new number. Brand new, I think. They’ll be looking somewhere else.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t like it.’

‘
So have nothing to do with it. Leave it to me. You go about your daily “whatevers” and leave. It. To. Me.’

She shook her head and turned on her heel. ‘I am NOT visiting you in jail.’

C
harlie looked at the request. It was the third one in fifteen minutes for Ellie’s phone. He smiled. ‘They have no idea she changed her number.’

Kent slapped him on the back. ‘Don’t let them know, pal.’

‘
Hey, keep it down. You’re not supposed to be in here. Supposed to be a secure area.’

Kent lowered his voice. ‘Sorry. No problem. I still don’t get how you found her new number, though.’

‘
That’s because you’re a mouth breather and can’t hold a coherent thought. Dude, speaking of which, what’s with the hygiene? When’s the last time you had a shower?’

‘
Corporate flunky. Just because
you
have to shower doesn’t mean everyone does. I’m between things, remember? So how’d you find the number?’

Charlie laughed. ‘It’s pretty easy. The cops are asking me to track her phone number. I’ve been logging the numbers she’s been calling and watching them, too. Her number disappeared and her agent - I’m assuming that’s who it is, given the address for the account - called a newly activated phone just seconds after he received a text from the same number.’

‘
Easy for you to say.’

‘
And that, my friend, is what an education will get you.’

‘
So where is she now?’

Charlie looked over at his friend. ‘Where’s your warrant?’ He chuckled. ‘Moved south a bit. No longer on the Gold’s Gym site. Hanging off the Marina del Rey site - the sector facing west.’ He pulled out his phone. ‘I’ve got to let her know we’ve got her number.’

Kent held out his hand. ‘Wait, you think we should?’

‘
Why not?’

‘
I don’t know. Just a feeling.’

Charlie started typing a message. ‘No, she needs to know she’s got friends. She’s in some pretty deep shit right now.’

‘
Okay. Fine. Good point. What are you telling her?’

‘
I have her number and she can call us any time.’

Kent nodded. ‘Fair enough. Let her know I’ve got it too.’ He folded the scrap of paper with her number and put in his wallet. ‘And let her know she can call me any time. I don’t have a full time job like you, you poor schlep.’

Charlie looked at his watch. ‘I’m out of here in a couple of minutes too. Grab a beer?’

Kent shook his head. ‘Things to do, mate. Catch you later.’ He slipped out the door of the office building in Century City and into the night.

C
athy dialed Ellie’s number again, got voicemail again and hung up again. ‘Something’s wrong Bernie. She never keeps her phone off this long.’

‘
Keep your nose out of it. You’re going to have the cops around here, you keep calling her number. They track those kinds of things, you know.’

Cathy slumped back on the sofa. ‘She’s in big trouble.’ She picked up the remote and turned on the TV. The 9:00pm news was just starting. On the screen was a picture of Ellie on the red carpet.

“
Police are asking our viewers to be on the lookout for up and coming actress Ellie Bourke, currently a fugitive wanted for the murder of Bart Sweeney. Regular viewers will recall the sensational trial and recent release of Bart Sweeney and will remember Miss Bourke was instrumental in his arrest. She is rumored to have been his lover while living in the guesthouse on his Valley property.”

‘
Oh fucking hell, they never get it right. Bernie. Bring me a drink.’

“
Police are now saying Miss Bourke is planning on fleeing the country. Our contacts are telling us evidence of her complicity in Sweeney’s murder is overwhelming. A witness has placed her at the scene, and a gun registered in her name was the murder weapon. The police wish to advise the public if they see Miss Bourke they are not to approach her. If you do see her, please call 9-1-1 immediately.”

‘
Doesn’t look too good for your friend.’ Bernie handed Cathy a glass of wine. ‘She’s got herself in some serious shit now.’

She pushed the glass to one side. ‘Try her again.’

He tossed her the phone. ‘You. I know what’s going to happen. Voice mail again.’

He was right. She left a message asking her to call her back.

‘
We need to go to Venice and see if we can find her.’

Bernie pulled on his beer and wiped his chin. ‘No. The cops can’t find her, there’s no way in hell I’m going to wander around freaks-vile looking for her.’

‘
Oh there are days you really piss me off. Where are the keys? I’m going.’

‘
No you’re not.’

‘
To hell I’m not.’ She grabbed the keys from the coffee table and made her way to the door. ‘Don’t wait up. Seriously. You’ll be wasting your time.’

T
he Killer laughed when he heard the news about Ellie leaving the country. He giggled and slapped his steering wheel. ‘Like fuck. Maybe in a box, in pieces, back to Australia.’ He smile dimmed. He was still no closer to finding her. He knew generally where she was, but the specificity - he giggled and tried to say that out loud: ‘specisifity. Fuck.’ - of her location was missing. His contacts had gotten him her number though. He could harass her. And he would.

He pulled on to the PCH and dialed her number on his throw-away phone. It went to voicemail. He started to talk and saw red and blue lights flashing in his rear-view mirror. The police siren let off a whoop. He pulled the phone away from his head. ’Oh, fuck. Fucking cops.’ He hung up and tossed the phone on the passenger’s seat and pulled over.

He rolled down the window as the cop approach.

‘
License and registration, please.’

‘
Right. Hang on a sec.’ He took out his wallet and handed the constable the documents. ‘Officer,’ he leaned out the window and read the name tag, ‘Morris, what have I been pulled over for?’

‘
Talking on your mobile phone while driving and,’ he looked pointedly at the driver, ‘driving without a seatbelt.’ He opened his ticket book. ‘There’s a $50 fine for the first and $142 for the second. There will also be court costs.’ Constable Morris copied the driver information on the ticket pad, noted the infractions and gave the book to the driver to sign. ‘You will be notified of the court date.’

‘
I can’t just pay the fine?’

‘
Afraid not.’

‘
What if I don’t sign?’

‘
You’ll still have to show up in court. Signing is not an admission of guilt. It’s just validating what I wrote on the ticket. Your choice whether you sign or not.’

The Killer grunted. ‘Fine.’ He signed the ticket. ‘You’ve been fantastic. I was wondering how I could keep fueling the rage and you’ve just added the perfect ingredient. Like lemon for chicken or hot sauce on wings. Just. Fucking. Awesome.’ He shoved the ticket book out the window. ‘Have an absolutely fucking wonderful evening.’ The book bounced off the ground.

Constable Morris unclipped the restraining strap on his holster and kicked the book away from in front of the door. ‘Step out of the car, sir.’

‘
Why?’

‘
Because I told you to. You are now going to be required to perform a roadside sobriety test, and, if you fail, you will be arrested for driving under the influence and taken to the station. Get out. Now.’

‘
Oh, sweet fuck. My tax dollars at work.’ He opened the car door, got out and stood facing the officer. ‘Fine. I’m out. What tests would you like me to perform?’

The constable took out his pen and held it about a foot in front of the killer’s nose. ‘I want you to continue to look at the pen while I move it back and forth.’ He moved it to the left about two feet, then back past the center point to the right two feet, and back to the center.

‘
Was it supposed to disappear or something? That’s like the worst fucking magic trick ever.’

Morris ignored him. ‘Stand with your heels together, hands down to your side, and lift your left foot six inches off the ground. Count until I tell you to stop.’

‘
Bullshit. You won’t say “stop” until I tip over. You do it first.’

‘
Are you refusing?’

‘
I am. Don’t think there’s much you can do about it either. Do you smell alcohol on my breath?’ He blew in the officer’s face. ‘No? I’m not drunk, inebriated or under the influence. My sister is waiting for me to help her change a flat and you are unnecessarily holding me up because you don’t like my attitude. Well tough fucking luck. Give me my fucking ticket and let me go on my way.’

Morris clenched his jaw. He couldn’t compel the driver to continue with the field sobriety tests and he had no evidence of inebriation. He tore the ticket off the pad and handed it to him. ‘Make sure your seatbelt is fastened before you pull off the shoulder.’

‘
Get fucked.’ The Killer got back in the car and pulled away, his left hand out the window, middle finger extended.

And a traffic ticket on the passenger seat which would set him back over $200 once the fucking court costs add up.

‘
And it’s her fault.’ He turned right on N. Venice and made toward the ocean. It was only 10:30. The night was young. She couldn’t run while she was sleeping and she was doing it rough, somewhere around here.

C
athy eased up in the accelerator until she passed the police car on the side of the road giving some poor schmuck a sobriety test. She turned right on N. Venice and headed toward the beach. She tried the number again. Again the voicemail. ‘Ellie, it’s Cath. I’m in the neighborhood. Thought you might like to get together for coffee or something.’

She hung up and continued west. The gate at the parking lot on the beach was locked. She pulled in behind a store on the corner of N. Venice and Ocean Walk and parked her car. ‘Okay, honey. Come out, come out, wherever you are.’

She locked the car, kept her keys in her hand, individual keys sticking between the fingers of her fist, and started strolling the boardwalk. It wasn’t dead yet. There was still night traffic, kinda rowdy and definitely loud.

She brushed off a couple of propositions. She wasn’t dressed for that role, and she wasn’t in the mood for bullshit. They backed off pretty quick.

She had passed the skate park when someone grabbed her arm and spun her around. ‘Ellie?’

She looked at the man in front of her. ‘No. Ellie who? Who did you think I am? Who are you?’

‘
Sorry. Thought you were someone else.’

‘
I
am
someone else. And I don’t look anything like Ellie. Were you looking for Ellie Bourke?’

‘
Who are you?’

‘
I asked first.’

Kent held out his hand. ‘I’m Kent Williams. I’m an old friend of Ellie. You know her too?’

Cathy looked around. The population on the beach was thinning. There were no police to be seen. ‘Good friend for the last few years. So you know what’s going on with her?’

Kent shook his head. ‘She’s got herself into some pile of shit, that’s for damn sure.’

‘
She didn’t kill him.’

‘
There are witnesses who say different.’

‘
Wait, are you the friend who has contacts in the police department? You’ve been a big help. Thanks.’

Kent nodded. ‘Why are you looking down here? This would seem to be the last place she’d be.’

‘
I’ve got a gut feeling. But she’s going to the wind soon.’

‘
She told me she was planning on leaving the country. Not a wise move.’