The Tell-Tale Con (18 page)

“I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm not the person you're looking for when it comes to chapters in your book.  I'm sure you'll find plenty of other people willing to tell you Van Poe is a piece of human refuse.”

Well.  Much like Greg's rooms and demeanor, that comment was unexpected.  “That's a disappointment.  I was under the impression that he'd ruined your career.  I had it on good authority that he went out of his way to stop you from working again.”

Greg nodded.  “Oh, he did.  But he didn't ruin my career.  I did.  Look, you don't know what that Hollywood life is like.  I was coked out of my head all the time.  I had no quality of life at all.  Let me tell you something, kid.  Van Poe did me a favor.  He didn't have to be such a jerk about it, but getting out of Hollywood was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He sounded sincere.  I couldn't detect the slightest hint of rancor in his tone.  He didn't seem to mind the reduction in his circumstances.  He gestured around him, as if reading my mind. 

“It may not look like much, but I'll tell you something.  I built this place myself.  Every inch of it.  Even the furniture and the cabinets.  I sing every night, which I love.  That's all the work I have to do.  In return I live here for free, I eat at the buffet for free too.  I make a small stipend for books and…”  He glanced at his weed.  “Stuff.  But it's all I need.”

“You've done a very good job,” I admitted.  “This is a nice place.” 

“Thanks.  One thousand square feet.  Used to be an office space for the theater manager.  There was major water damage.  It was a dump at first, but it only took me like a year to make it rock.  It's Zen here.  I am happier than I've ever been, and I only have Van Poe to thank for it.  I never would have found my way here on my own, and that would have been a real shame.” 

I didn't have to feign my disappointment.  It was clear to me that we didn't have our man.  “Is there anyone else you can think of who might be a good source for our book?”

He flashed me a smile that, for a moment, brought back the heartthrob he'd once been.  “I think that would be a pretty long list, sweetheart.  But the top would be Mark Mason, Vicky Bridges and Naomi Olson.  Naomi lives here in Vegas.  Who knows where the others are now.”

The name Mark Mason sounded familiar to me, but the rest were strangers.  Not to Harrison, I guessed, because he stiffened.  “What happened with those three?”  I poised my pen above the notebook.

“Mark Mason used to be Van Poe's head stunt man.  In charge of everything.  He was injured too badly to work anymore, and it was because of Van's insistence that he try a stunt that was very dangerous.  But he said if Mark didn't do it he'd lose his job.  So Mark ended up with a lame settlement and a lame job.” 

Ohh.  I knew who he was talking about now.  The giant mountain of a security guard I'd met on the set.  I risked a glance at Harrison, who did not look pleased.  I was guessing he was fond of Mark.  I was also figuring that if he reacted this way to the idea of Mark being a problem, I'd definitely better keep my suspicions of Ana to myself. 

“Vickie Bridges went nuts during a movie that Van directed.  He pushed her so hard, made her do so many takes, and made her live in such deprived conditions to get into the mind of the character, that she had to be institutionalized.  After that she never worked again.”

“Wow.”  She certainly sounded like a good prospect.  But then he ruined that one too. 

“But she likely won't see you.  I mean, she's a complete shut-in.  I don't think she allows visitors either.  She's been in and out of mental institutions for years.”

“How about the third woman?”

“Naomi Olson.  That was a good old case of Van being a chauvinist.  Naomi got pregnant, right about the same time as I was burning alive.  We were working on the same movie.  Van flipped out.  Said he wouldn't have a pregnant woman in one of his movies.  That it was disgusting, and no one should have to be subjected to watching a pregnant woman on screen.  He threatened to sue to get her thrown off the movie.”

“Jeez.” 

“Well, he got his way anyway, because the movie had to fold in the middle, since he gave me the boot.  Not that I didn't deserve it.”

“It couldn't have hurt her career that badly to be associated with a movie that tanked because of someone else.”

“It might not have if that had been the end of it.  It wasn't so hot to have a baby back then as it is now.  Babies are like purses now.  There was no equality for mothers in Hollywood, and no one gave a crap about it, either.  Except Naomi.  She went on a crusade for equality for mothers in Hollywood.  Got herself branded as a crazy woman, a ranter on a pointless mission.  Difficult to work with.”

“That wasn't exactly Van's fault,” I pointed out.  Not that I thought he wasn't a piece of work anyway.

“Nah, not really.  But he was awful about it.  If not for him she'd have been fine.  No one else talked about pregnancy.  They didn't like it, but they shot from the waist up and complained in private at their men's clubs.  He just thought he could do anything he wanted.  I guess he can, because he's still doing it.”

“It doesn't sound much like he ruined her life though.”

Greg shook his head.  “Definitely not.  He did ruin her movie career, but it was immaterial.  She moved almost immediately to Broadway and was a huge success for nearly ten years.  Until she decided Manhattan was no place to raise a big family after having baby number six or something ludicrous like that.  She just popped up here in Vegas and got a show of her own.  She's definitely doing okay for herself.”

She didn't sound like a very good suspect, but it might be a waste to come all the way here and not see someone else who was a handy source of potential information.  “Do you think she'd mind if I talked to her for a minute for my book?”

“I don't know.  But I can call her and ask.  Follow me to the lobby, and I'll give her a ring.  I don't have a phone of my own.  They create negative vibes.” 

They also created negative bank accounts, which was why I didn't have one.  But whatever worked for him.  Without comment, Harrison let us by and then fell in behind us.  I dropped back and whispered, “Were any of the people he's mentioned on your list?” 

Harrison nodded, but I could feel the displeasure rolling off him in waves.  It wasn't the time to ask him to elaborate, so I shut my trap and followed Greg back into the reflective lobby.  We stood off to the side while Greg leaned over the desk and made a call.  Apparently he was still close enough to Naomi to know her number by heart.  Not that I wouldn't know it if I heard it once, but I
was
a bit of a freak when it came to remembering numerical sequences. 

Greg shook his head and hung up the phone.  “Nah, she isn't into it.  She said she has no more bones to pick with Van, and she doesn't need to crusade anymore because babies are all the rage in Hollywood right now.” 

I was a little disappointed, but honestly not that much.  She didn't fit the profile of a good suspect, anyway.  “Well, thanks for checking.” 

“No problem.  Man, though, I gotta tell you.  You two kick off some major negative vibes.  You gotta chill.  Go home.  Toke up.  Worry about your book tomorrow.”

 

 

Rules of the Scam #23 

Never steal from your friends.  It's way too easy for them to identify you to the police…

 

We thanked Greg for his sage advice and headed back to the car that was parked up the street and around the corner.  I waited until we were safely inside and on our way to the airport before I said, “Well, aside from getting schooled by a pot-head Zen Elvis, I don't think that was much of a success.” 

Harrison pushed some of his dark hair out of his eyes.  “It was a success.  We know we can take Greg off the list.”

“I got that impression too.  He definitely doesn't strike me as a person on the war path.  Or, like, pretty much any path, except that to enlightenment.”

“Yeah.  I'm not feeling Naomi either.  I don't think we should bother forcing our way in to her place.  Anyway, I know Naomi a little.  She wouldn't hurt a kid.  Even Van Poe's kid.”

“Did you know about Mark?”  I asked, quietly, like somehow that would lessen the sting. 

He shrugged, the darkness back.  “I knew he was hurt doing a stunt for Dad.  I didn't know about the whole do it or lose your job part.  But the thing about the industry is that talk can't always be trusted.  We'll have to find out if it's true if we're going to clear him off the list.”

“So how do you recommend we find out if it's true?” 

I was curious what he'd say.  “We'll just have to ask him.  It's the only fair way.”

“You believe he'll tell you the truth?”  This seemed to be an interesting study in the way that Harrison's brain worked.  If Mark was the one trying to kill Harrison, he was unlikely to tell him the truth about his motivations.  But Harrison appeared inclined to believe him, either way.  Which meant that if the evidence pointed at Mark, Harrison was unlikely to be swayed. 

“You're very close to the people on your dad's staff, huh?”

He nodded.  “I've known a lot of them my entire life.  Including Ana and Mark.  Ana lived with us for awhile.  I guess she was my nanny, in a way.  I kind of think she was hoping that Dad would marry her, but he would never go for a normal girl from Arkansas.  Not exotic enough.”

Hmm.  That gave her a good reason for hating Van, because nothing pissed a girl off more than being dumped in favor of Yoko Ono.  Especially after he'd let her move in and play mother to Harrison.  He'd no doubt given her the boot without the slightest hint of sensitivity when Kanako had come along. 

“Wow, that must have been hard when she left.”  I said gently, fishing, but he didn't seem to notice.  Which was the whole point of fishing well.

“Yeah, but I still see her.  I mean, she helps me find info all the time, from third grade papers on Iceland to the totally obscure.  She's the one who found the demon for me when I told her the name Nate used.”

The hair on my arms raised, and I restrained the urge to rub my skin.  This was too much.  I knew better than to assume the obvious, but Ana was looking more and more suspect with every second that passed.  “That's…nice of her.”

“Yeah, well, anyway, Mark was on my list.  But it doesn't make me happy.”

I wanted to find some way to apologize for what he was going through and the ugly truths he had to face.  But, I was no good at that crap, so I didn't say anything at all.

We unloaded at the airport, thanked the driver, and went looking for Harrison's plane and jockey.  We were loading up when his phone rang.  Not the one he used to talk to me, but his real phone.  He glanced at it for a moment and then answered.  “Hey Dad.  No, I took the plane out to Vegas.  I'm on my way home now.” 

I was somewhat stunned that anyone would tell their parents what Harrison had.  He'd skipped school, taken a plane, flown to another state without first contacting an adult.  But I couldn't hear any yelling.  He looked like he was listening to information.  He nodded a couple of times, as though it was instinctive and not a real part of the conversation. 

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.  Yeah, I'm on my way back now.  Okay, see ya.”  Once the phone was off he slid it back into his pocket.  “The police finally released Nate's body.  I guess the funeral will be on Friday afternoon.” 

“That'll be hard,” I said, as though pointing out the obvious would somehow comfort him.

He made a grunting noise that was neither a confirmation nor a denial.  I was such a loser at being a friend.  “You're going with me aren't you?”

“What?”  That was the last question I'd expected. 

“I mean, you're going to go, right?”

“I…I don't know.  Don't you think that would be kind of…weird?  I didn't know Nate.”  The only occasion I'd ever seen him he'd been pretty dead at the time.

“I doubt anyone will notice you're there.  And if you don't go how will you see who's there and how they're acting?”

Oh.  Hmmm.  How would I know?  “Valid point.”

“Just go with me.” 

It wasn't part of my job description.  If he was being bossy, I would have immediately bristled and said no.  But there was an element of pleading about the statement.  He didn't want to go alone, and, in this instance, I was fairly certain going with his family would be the same as going alone in his mind. 

I would have said no. 

To anyone else. 

“Okay.” 

He smiled slightly, a lopsided, heart-tuggingly sad little lift of the right side of his mouth.  We needed to solve this mess and quit hanging out.

The flight home was considerably less eventful in my mind, now that I knew Harrison wasn't some crazy arrogant hot-head who thought he could fly a plane and was going to crash us into the side of a Bob's Big Boy.  In fact, I slept a little bit. 

It was afternoon when we got back, and Harrison was right, we'd missed so much school that there was no point in trying.  So we stopped and had something to eat before going home.  Which was good for me, since I was starving.  We got home approximately the same time we would have from school. 

We said goodbye on the corner, and I left his car on the curb.  He couldn't drive it, but it was always there in the morning anyway, so I supposed that's where he left it all night.  At least at the moment, anyway, so I could hop in the driver's seat without going into the subterranean basement where the richies parked.