Hollywood Kids (57 page)

Bambi had captivated his heart. She might be a hooker, but at least she was top of the line, and he was prepared to forget about her past in exchange for her undying fidelity. When Luca gave his heart - not to mention his house - it was a permanent arrangement until
he
said it was over.

Since Priscilla's death he'd been alone. There'd been a series of women, but none of them had got his juices flowing the way Bambi did. She might be a little young, but he was sure she was the woman for him. And he hadn't even fucked her yet. He had plans to fly his personal physician to LA, have him check her out, make sure she was disease free, and then he'd go for it. Bambi was in for a big treat.

Right now he had to concentrate on finding Zane and eliminating him, only then could he devote all his attention to Bambi.

He knew she'd accept his offer. The truth was he'd give her no choice.

When Luca wanted something there was no question that he'd get it.

Detective Carlyle was not having a good day. He had this goddamn murder case to deal with, and Boyd Keller, the hot-shot asshole heading up the task force, was no help. Headquarters had been formed in his precinct, and Boyd Keller was all over him. Yesterday Boyd had told him to contact the other two witnesses who'd helped put Zane Marion Ricca away, warn them about what was going on, and offer them police protection.

He'd tried. First he'd left a message for Cheryl Landers at her home, and then one for Jordanna Levitt at the production office where she worked. Neither had bothered phoning him back.

Now he was personally going to have to shift butt and track down the little darlings.

It pissed him off. You would think if a detective left an urgent message, people would get back to him in a timely fashion. If anything happened to either of them it was their own goddamn fault.

The only problem was, if anything
did
happen, everybody would blame him.

Since the task force had been formed his life had turned to shit. Boyd Keller had reamed him out in front of a group of his colleagues. 'Two of these murders were in your division,' he'd snapped at him like a fucking drill sergeant. 'How come you didn't figure out they were connected?'

Screw you
, he'd wanted to say.
Who do you think I am - Perry fucking Mason
?

As far as the two girls were concerned, how could he put them in protective custody when he couldn't even get them to return a phone call?

Dammit! There was only one thing to do, and that was visit them both this morning.

He got in his car, put on the radio and treated himself to a sharp jolt of early morning reality. Howard Stern at his best.

Maybe there was time to stop off for a Danish and coffee. The diner on Third had a new waitress working there, and she always winked at him in a most provocative fashion.

What the hell, a man had to have
some
fun.

Jordanna slept in fits and starts waiting for daylight. It wasn't until six in the morning that light began filtering in from a small grill high up on one side of the cellar wall. Only then did she realize that Cheryl was the other person trapped in the cellar with her.

Overcome with relief that she was not alone, she rolled over as close as she could, giving Cheryl an urgent shove with her feet. 'Wake up,' she said quickly. 'It's me, Jordy. C'mon, wake up, get with it. We're in big trouble.'

Cheryl stirred slightly.

'C'mon, c'mon, c'mon,' Jordanna urged.

'Oh, Jesus!' Cheryl groaned, attempting to move. 'I don't feel so good. I think I've been poisoned.'

'Don't panic,' Jordanna said, keeping her voice low. 'We're handcuffed and trapped in a cellar. I think we've been kidnapped.'

'It's worse than that,' Cheryl said weakly, recalling what had happened to her.

'What do you mean?'

'Remember when we gave evidence against that weirdo actor who murdered Ingrid Floris?'

Jordanna felt her stomach drop. She knew she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear.

'Yes.'

'It's him. It's Zane Ricca.'

Oh, Christ, they really were in trouble. 'How do you know?'

'He told me,' Cheryl said, her voice rising. 'This isn't just kidnapping. He intends to do us real harm.'

'No way,' Jordanna said, refusing to believe the worst. 'There's two of us and one of him. We'll get out of this.'

'All right for you to say. But, how?'

'Don't lose it, Cheryl. Above all, we have to stay strong.'

'How can we when we're handcuffed and tied up? He won't give us a chance.'

'How did he get you here?'

'I was on my way home... my car ran out of gas. I got in his car to use the phone. He had a gun, brought me here and forced me to drink something - it must have been drugged. That's the last I remember. How about you?'

'He rammed my Porsche, and like an idiot I got out to see the damage. The next thing I know he'd chloroformed me.'

'He must've planned this whole thing,' Cheryl said.

'We'll be OK,' Jordanna responded, her mind racing. 'Eventually he'll have to let us go to the bathroom and give us food. There'll be an opportunity, and when it comes we'll be ready to take advantage of him. Did you ever go to a self-defence class?'

'No.'

'I did a couple of times. They taught me that in an attack situation the important thing is to stay calm and wait for the windows of opportunity.'

'What's that mean?'

'Search out his weak points. Like in the case of rape a man has to unbuckle his belt - so that's a weak moment. It's then that you strike.'

'Oh, God...' Cheryl groaned. 'I think I'm going to throw up.'

Jordanna kept on going. 'Let's talk about his two most vulnerable areas - his eyes and his balls. We go for either.'

'I've definitely been poisoned,' Cheryl mumbled, once again attempting to sit up, screaming with horror as a cockroach scurried across her leg.

'When you're kidnapped or in a hostage situation,' Jordanna said, 'the essential thing is to become friendly with your captor. Make human contact. We have to get him talking, pretend we're his friends.'

'Friends?' Cheryl exclaimed. 'You can't be serious.'

'Concentrate,' Jordanna said, willing her to do so. 'It's more difficult to harm people if you know them.'

'
You
do it,' Cheryl said, starting to shiver. 'All I want is to get out of here.' Her coat slipped open, revealing her sexy ensemble.

'What the fuck have you got on?' Jordanna demanded.

'Stop staring,' Cheryl said, embarrassed. 'It's my sex outfit.'

Jordanna couldn't believe it, if the situation wasn't so desperate it would be funny. She shook her head. 'Oh, that's really good. That's a fine outfit to get kidnapped in.'

'Thanks. When I put it on I wasn't planning on being kidnapped,' Cheryl retorted, recovering some of her snap.

'Here's what we'll do,' Jordanna said, glancing at her watch. 'It's early, so he might not come down here until seven or eight. We should get some sleep, 'cause we'll need all our strength. When he comes down and removes our handcuffs, we go for him. Remember - eyes and balls. We've got to do this together, Cheryl. It's imperative we back each other up.'

'I feel so bad,' Cheryl moaned. 'I don't know what he gave me, but I feel like pure shit.'

'It's just an allergic reaction.'

'I don't know... I never felt this bad...'

'Hey, hang in there, we'll get out of this,' Jordanna said encouragingly. 'Don't you worry about it.'

She sounded strong and cheerful, but deep in her heart she was terrified.

The Man slept for seven straight hours. He knew it was important to get his rest, his mother had taught him that. She'd taught him a lot of other things, too, most of which he wished to forget.

Now that he had the two girls safely secured in the cellar, he wasn't quite sure what he would do with them. Eventually he was going to kill them, but he enjoyed the idea of playing with them first. Making them suffer as he had suffered over the last seven years.

Ah, yes, bringing them to their knees, and wiping their rich smug faces clean would be a pleasure.

He hadn't quite decided how he was going to do it. Perhaps keeping them trapped and shackled in the cellar was enough. Psychologically they would expect him to do something. And yet, what if he did nothing? Merely kept them chained like wild animals until they died a slow and agonizing death.

The idea appealed to him.

Being in control was a heady feeling.

Grant never surfaced before noon, and when he did get up he usually had a major hangover. On Thursday morning he awoke before ten, and lay in bed willing himself to go back to sleep.

It occurred to him that although he'd left a message for Cheryl to call him, she hadn't done so. Abandoning more sleep he reached for the phone and gave her a buzz.

Her machine picked up. He hated machines, on principle he never left a message.

Sometimes Cheryl could be extremely aggravating. She should have called him back last night since he'd gone to the trouble of leaving her a note. He wanted to alert her that there was a detective on the prowl, because if there
was
some kind of investigation going on, she might be able to deflect it. Cheryl had power, or at least her father did. More power than his father, who was only a mere movie star.

He tried Cheryl again. Surely she wasn't stupid enough to have stayed the night with her client?

No, not even Cheryl would do that. They'd often played dangerous games, but never this crazy.

It occurred to him that he shouldn't have allowed her to go off on an appointment with some John, and she shouldn't have done it. She was just as much to blame as he was.

Now he'd have to start checking up on her.

He climbed out of bed, stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, pushed back his long hair, and decided to drop by her house, just to make sure she was OK.

'Can I come over?' Michael asked.

'Excuse me?' Kennedy said.

'This is Michael. Remember me? I'd like to come over and bring you breakfast.'

'I don't eat breakfast.'

'Make an exception.'

'It's awfully early.'

'You're up, aren't you? I didn't wake you.'

'That's because I'm working on a story.'

'What story?'

'Zane Marion Ricca. The LA Strangler. They're about to put out an arrest warrant.'

'Really?'

'I'm running background on him. There seem to be some interesting tie-ins.'

'Why don't you tell me about it when I get there?'

'Aren't you listening, Michael? I don't eat breakfast.'

'How about calling it an early lunch?'

'You're persistent.'

He hoped he sounded as sincere as he felt. 'I missed seeing you last night, Kennedy. I know I didn't call, but I had to fly to New York - it was about my daughter.'

'Have you found her? Is she all right?'

'Yes, she's fine.'

'That's great news.'

'I need to talk to someone.' He paused, then turned on the charm, only this time it wasn't bullshit, he meant it. 'And the truth is, you're prettier than Quincy.'

She smiled to herself. 'Compliments will get you nowhere, but I wouldn't mind discussing Mr Ricca with you, so you may as well come over.'

'An address would be good.'

'Boy,' she sighed. 'You really want it all, don't you?'

'That's about the way it is.'

Jerry Rush hit the set like the star he was. Darla followed - the perfect Hollywood wife, coiffed and groomed to within an inch of her life. Behind her came his personal hairdresser - a whiz with discreet hairpieces for ageing movie stars - and behind him his personal make-up artist, a pretty girl with amazing tits.

Bobby watched the circus warily, hoping he could get through the experience of working with Jerry unscathed. One thing he knew for sure, it wasn't going to be easy.

Mac liked to rehearse each scene before blocking. When he told Jerry, the old movie star roared with laughter. 'Rehearse? Fucking
rehearse?
That's for the theatre.'

'No, this is the way I work,' Mac said quietly.

'You do, huh?'

'Yes, he does,' Bobby said, hurriedly joining in.

There was a tense moment while they both waited for Jerry's reaction.

Jerry thought about behaving like a prick, but Darla was there, observing his every move. Had to watch it, she could be very scathing and he wasn't in the mood. Besides, Darla was now in charge of his finances. It gave her too much control, but so what? He was getting too old to screw around any more. 'OK, I'll rehearse,' Jerry said magnanimously. 'I know the scenes, my lines, and I haven't had a drink.' He clapped Bobby on the shoulder. 'Relax. This'll all be fine.'

Bobby glanced over at Mac, who nodded reassuringly.

'Good,' Bobby said, 'let's rehearse.'

He wished Jordanna would arrive early, he was getting used to having her around, and right now he could do with her support, because he had a strong suspicion this was going to be a very difficult day.

Once they started, Bobby got lost in his character. So did Jerry.

After a few awkward moments they were in perfect tune - two actors doing a job - two very good actors.

After going through the scene three times, Mac said, 'I'm satisfied. How about you guys?'

Jerry nodded and turned to Bobby. 'You're good - you know that?'

Bobby couldn't believe it. A compliment? From his father? This was a first.

'Uh... thanks,' he mumbled, feeling ten feet high. 'So are you.'

Jerry gave a big shit-eating grin. 'Well,
that
goes without saying.'

Suddenly Bobby realized it wasn't going to be so difficult after all. One thing about Jerry, he was a true professional, he knew exactly what he was doing and he did it extremely well.

Bobby began to relax.

Early in the morning Luca returned to his house, accompanied by Bosco and Reno.