The Big Fix (25 page)

When I’d asked Billy if it would be a problem that Jack hadn’t heard of it, he’d assured me that production companies in Hollywood popped up and down faster than the critter heads in Whac-A-Mole. Jack wouldn’t think anything of a new one approaching him as long as he knew the names behind it. Which we’d see to, of course.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Billy said. He squeezed my hand and pulled me over to the director’s chair.

The name on it was impressively well known. There wasn’t an actor in Hollywood who wouldn’t sell his soul to work with him.

“Are you sure that’s not a stretch? I mean, will Jack buy it?”

“If you’re after a big fish, you have to use a big hook,” he said.

“Have you approached him yet?”

“I have a meeting set up with him this evening.
Very
hush-hush.”

The plan was simple enough, if not easy: offer Jackson Gunn the chance to star in the epic sci-fi movie of the decade. I knew from talk around the snake set that he was hungry for something “big” and “fresh,” especially if he could stretch his acting chops by adding a certain nerdy intelligence to his typical kick-ass type of character.

Billy held out his hands in the classic directorial framing gesture. “Picture it.
Star Wars, Star Trek, Avalon, Raiders of the Lost Ark,
and
Alien
all rolled into one megablockbuster starring Jackson Gunn.”

“God, he’ll eat it up. But did you figure out how to keep his people out of it? If his agent gets wind of it, she’ll be poking her nose around, trying to find out more about the project, won’t she?”

“Yeah, I thought about that. I think the best way to play it is to tell Jack that the financing is wobbly. That I want him to come in to shoot some sample footage, that I need something to take to the money people to show them he’s on board before they’ll commit.”

“And if he hesitates, that’s when we bring in the names? You have all the right auras?”

“Got ’em. When’s everyone coming out?”

“Tomorrow. Did you get hold of a costume? Because I found somebody big enough to wear it.”

“Who?”

“Nils. He wants to repay us for the help we gave him with the neo-Vikings. Apparently, that operation turned out to be a good career move for him.”

“Nils? You’re dragging him over from Sweden?”

“Um, he was already here. He came to the wedding—you know he’s a good friend of Laura’s.”

Billy looked at me closely. “How is old Nils, anyway? Still drooling over you?”

I rolled my eyes. (What? Sometimes it can’t be helped.) Yes, I might have experienced a brief, very minor, attraction to Nils when I’d first met him, but it was over almost as soon as it started, and it had been
before
anything romantic had started with Billy. I can’t stress that last part enough.

“He’s fine. No drooling. From either one of us,” I said.

Billy tugged my hair. “Remember—Limburger.”

*   *   *

Laura flew out early, ahead of Thomas, who had some clients he had to see before he could tear himself away from D.C.

“Must be a pain to be married to somebody with such a strong work ethic,” I teased her, sipping a ten-dollar can of soda from the minifridge.

I’d taken a break from my film-setup duties to meet her at the hotel. Once she was settled, she’d come back to the set with me and help out where she could. We were in her room—the penthouse suite. (Thomas had insisted, claiming they were technically still honeymooning.)

She laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. Besides, the busier he is with his work, the less he can complain about mine.”

I was dying to ask her if she’d heard from Mark, but didn’t dare, for fear I’d blurt out everything that had happened after her wedding. I didn’t want to put a smudge on her memory of the day.

“So, when are
you
going back to work?”

“Harvey has something lined up for me next week. A simple courier job. I should be insulted, but I know he has the best intentions, annoying as those are. After this job, though, he and I will be having a
talk.
Billy can’t keep subbing for me forever.”

“Is Thomas … um, okay with all that?” I asked, tentatively, because her job had once caused a major rift between them.

“Well, sugar, just between you and me, your brother can be kind of a chauvinist. But he’s such an adorable oinker that I’m willing to work with him on that particular character flaw.”

“Good luck with that,” I said, laughing.

She cocked her head. “What about you? Are you and Billy okay? I was sorry he couldn’t make it to the wedding. My fault, I guess, since he was subbing for me yet again.”

“We’re good,” I said, meaning it sincerely.

“Ciel … do you have any idea why Mark left the country so suddenly?” she said, watching me intently. Damn spook instincts.

I swallowed. “Some emergency job, maybe?”

“I don’t think so. He usually keeps me up to speed on anything related to work.”

“Have you talked to him?” I asked.

“Yes. Once. He called after we brought his boat back to the marina.”

“Um, how did he sound?”

I
know.
How could she not find that question odd? But I was worried about him.

“That was the funny thing. He sounded kind of … wistful. Not at all like himself.”

I took a sip of my soda, and tried to sound casual. “Well, his best friend just married his work partner. Maybe he’s feeling kind of left out.”

“Maybe, but I think it’s more than that. Hey, did you tell him about this job? He’ll usually drop anything that’s not of national importance to help you.”

“I didn’t ask him,” I said, looking away from her. “I mean, this is my mess, mine and Billy’s. Why should Mark have to clean it up for us?” When she still looked skeptical, I added, “It’s different with you—you’re family now. You have to help.”

She nodded thoughtfully, but didn’t push it.

I wanted to spill everything. It would be such a relief to talk to a girlfriend about it, someone who might be able to help me sort it all out in my head. Someone to act as confessor. But I couldn’t expect her to keep it from Thomas, and telling Thomas would
not
be a good idea at all. I couldn’t put that on Laura.

*   *   *

Billy, in the guise of the well-known director, had met with Jackson at a hole-in-the-wall dive fifty miles outside Hollywood while Laura and I were talking. When we met him at the impromptu soundstage, he looked supremely satisfied.

“Hook, line, sinker,” he said when he saw us. “Hell, he swallowed the whole pole. Wait … did that sound dirty? I meant it to sound dirty.”

Laura giggled. “You succeeded. And thank you again for doing my job for me. I’m sorry you couldn’t be at the wedding.” She gave him a quick hug.

“Me, too,” he said. “But if one of us had to miss it, I’ll bet Thomas is glad it was me and not you.”

I laughed along with Laura, though I doubted I’d ever find anything about that day particularly funny.

“Okay, what’s next?” I asked. “Everyone else will be here by ten p.m. at the latest, so we can get an early start tomorrow. What can we do now?”

“Laura, I seem to recall you’re a whiz with electronics. I got hold of some cameras I’d like you to double-check for me…” Billy started to lead her to the center of the building.

“And me?” I asked.

He dimpled. “Would you hit me if I asked you make coffee?”

My phone buzzed before I could make a suitable fist. It was Nigel.

“Tell me the cops aren’t there,” I said, visions of being hauled off to jail in Lily’s stead dancing through my head.

“Not quite that bad,” he said. “Her parents are on the way over.”

“What do
they
want? I thought they disowned her.”

“They want to talk to their only remaining child. They’re hopeful this ‘whole sordid affair,’ as her mother so eloquently phrased it, can be put behind them. They seem certain I’ll be able to spin some sort of self-defense plea. I get the idea that they want to bring her back into the Conrad fold.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

*   *   *

I arrived only minutes before the Conrads, running to Lily-Ann’s room, Isis in hand, as they pulled into Nigel’s long, circular driveway. While they made their meandering way up the curved walk, I changed hastily into Lily’s aura and clothing, shrinking my foot enough to get the anklet on, in case either one of them had an eye for detail.

I hadn’t spent much time around Lily-Ann, and didn’t have a dossier to work from, as I did with my clients, so this was going to be tricky. I could only hope that between her being alienated from her family, and the general stress that being arrested for murder could be expected to put on a person, her parents might not notice anything too “off” about me.

I got my breathing under control before I met them in the living room. I decided to forgo the embrace—Lily didn’t strike me as a hypocrite—but I wasn’t sure what she called her parents. Mom and Dad? Mommy and Pops? No way.

I avoided Elizabeth’s eyes because I couldn’t look at her without remembering the video in Angelica’s file. Had she wanted a “taste” of what Angelica had, like Jackson had claimed about Lily? More importantly, had she liked what she’d sampled enough to kill her own daughter? Or had she just been another woman taken in by Jackson’s wiles?

Of course, it was also possible she somehow knew Jackson killed her daughter, and had tried to kill him at the funeral in retaliation. Was that the real reason she’d been absent from the service? Seemed an odd thing for a mother to sleep with her daughter’s husband and then kill said husband, but stranger things have happened. Or maybe she’d been aiming for her own husband. Now that Jackson was free, had she been trying to free herself?

Still too damn many questions.

“Mother. Father,” I finally said, figuring the formality wouldn’t be unusual under the awkward circumstances.

Hope lit Mrs. Conrad’s eyes. “It’s nice to hear you call us that again, darling,” she said.

Mr. Conrad
hmphed.
“Better than ‘Joseph,’ I suppose.”

Oooh. So, that was how it was. I couldn’t imagine calling my own parents by their first names. I guess Lily didn’t put quite the same stock in the filial relationship as I did. I shrugged, and didn’t try to explain, because, really, what could I say?

“What are you doing here?” I asked bluntly, because the little time I
had
spent with Lily had shown me that part of her nature.

They didn’t look shocked, so I supposed they were used to it.

Mrs. Conrad spoke first. “Lily … darling … your father and I want you to know … well, even though you’ve been … estranged … from the family, we don’t believe you … I mean, your own sister…”

“You don’t believe I shot my sister in the back? Huh. Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Joe bristled. “Don’t you speak to your mother that way, young lady. We’re here to help you.”

“Your altruism is commendable,” I said. “Oh, wait. You don’t really do altruism, do you? Not unless there’s something in it for you.”

“If you shut up that smart mouth of yours for a minute, you’ll see there’s something in it for you, too,” Daddy Dearest said.

And here come the true colors,
I thought. I looked at him as coldly as I imagined Lily-Ann would have. Didn’t faze him. Must be used to that, too.

“The way I read it, right now Nigel here has maybe a forty percent shot at getting you acquitted. But those odds could go up—or down—significantly, depending on how your mother and I choose to testify about Angelica.”

What? They were actually using their murdered daughter as a bargaining chip?

“Care to tell me what you mean by that?” I said.

“Yes, I’m curious, too,” Nigel said sardonically. “Do tell me how you can help my case.”

Mr. Conrad jerked his chin downward in a single, satisfied nod. “Angelica, for all that she chose to marry a celebrity, went to great lengths to keep herself out of the public eye”—he looked at me, disapproval written on every line of his face—“as was appropriate for her position in our company.” Apparently, Daddy Dearest really objected to Lily’s tendency to step up on her soapbox in front of any willing camera. “If it were to come to light that she were prone to irrational outbursts, violence even, in her own home, against family members … well, a jury might find that to be a mitigating circumstance for someone who might have been taken off guard and simply defending herself.”

While he was talking, my whodunnit gears were still spinning. What if Joe had gotten wind of Angelica’s impending release of the file? That could certainly be considered entering the public eye in a spectacular way. Joe could have decided to talk to her about it, and the conversation might have flared into violence if it hadn’t gone to his liking.

“Was Angelica prone to such outbursts?” Nigel said. His face and tone were neutral.

“Possibly,” Conrad said, and shrugged. “Or perhaps she was simply a good-hearted woman, a philanthropist in her own right, trying to reach out to the black sheep of the family. The black sheep who ultimately lashed out against her in a fit of wacko animal-rights rage. Context is everything, isn’t it?”

Whoa. This was one seriously fucked-up family. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying—presumably—that if I’m willing to toe the company line, you’ll testify that Angelica basically got what she deserved?”

Lily’s mother fiddled with the pendant at her neck. “It
could
have happened that way. If you say it did, then we’ll back you up in court. Maybe we wouldn’t even have to have a trial. We could all go back to the way it was, and those horrible people would stop following us around with their cameras.”

“But we couldn’t
all
go back to the way it was, could we, Mother? I mean, Angelica is dead”—she had the humanity to wince, which is more than I could say for her husband—“and I’d have to give up everything I believe in.”

“Naturally, some reciprocity would be expected,” Conrad said. “You would be welcomed back into the family. You could even, one day, after you’re mature enough to handle the responsibility, take over where Angelica left off. I brought these as a show of good faith.”