Authors: Don Bruns
Reel Stuff (25 page)
It was fascinating. A collection of racing boats was valued at three million dollars, and an art collection was listed at two million. The guy even owned part of a brothel in Nevada. Who owns a whorehouse? It was crazy.
There could easily have been seventy-five million dollars on the books. This fortune was huge. And the widow Londell was the sole beneficiary. It said so on the spreadsheet. Supposedly this was all hersâunless she was unfaithful. I needed a copy of that prenup agreement. I needed to see exactly what the terms of unfaithful were.
How did someone amass this kind of portfolio? The guy was what, thirty-five years old? I was pretty sure that in ten years I wasn't going to be close to this kind of money. But Em, sleeping ten feet from me, she'd already landed a role on a new television show and if her career took off, who knew?
I hadn't looked for the prenup when I was searching Juliana's files. Damn, it was too late to go back now. What did the document demand? That she be caught in bed with somebody? That she'd shared incriminating text messages? Maybe there were inappropriate photos that were shared? Who was going to prove she was sleeping with someone when Jason was away? Or would
Jason's friends spy on her? I had no idea how something like this worked.
As I watched her, Em rolled over and opened one eye.
“I got some good stuff,” I said.
“So did I,” I thought she mumbled.
“What did you say?”
“So. Did. I.”
I couldn't help but smile.
“Yeah. I know. You told me in the car.”
Slowly opening the other eye, she showed me a sleepy grin.
“You don't think that I'm working on the case, do you? You don't trust me, Skip. You aren't sure I'm helping you.” Her words ran together.
“Em, you're doing what you have to do. I get it.”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes and was quiet.
“Em, you still awake?”
“Mmm. Mmm.”
“Londell has at least seventy, seventy-five million dollars in his estate. I've got a list right here. It's amazing how much this guy made in his short lifetime.”
“Mmm.”
“Did you hear me? Maybe seventy-five million.”
“Mmm. Mmm.”
“So, let's say you do become an actress. Let's say you do hit your stride in the next two years. It's a long shot, but there's some serious money to be made.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And Juliana stands to inherit all of Jason's money. Plus a ten-million-dollar life insurance policy. Think about that, Em. That power-hungry agent of yours is set for life. For her life and maybe one hundred other lives.”
Her eyes were open again, and she nodded.
“She won't need you, or anyone. Ever again.”
“I'll be a big star. I won't need her.”
“Yeah. But she only gets the money if she passes the prenup conditions,” I said. “Prenup.”
“I'm a little woozy, okay? Too many martunees.” She giggled.
“Yeah, well, go to sleep, and we'll talk in the morning.”
“Skip?”
“Yeah.”
“I was working the case.”
“Sure, Em.”
“I met a guy tonight.”
“You apparently met a lot of guys tonight.”
“No, no. I did, but this guy, we started talking. Well, I told him about the comedy and all andâ”
“And, what?”
“He asked who my agent was.”
“Wanted to offer you another role?”
She was quiet.
“Sweetheart, you haven't started on your first one yet.”
“Turns out he knows Juliana,” she said.
“A lot of people do.”
“He worked for her husband.”
“Gardener? Chauffeur? Chef? With Jason Londell's money the guy could afford a nice staff.”
“Investigator.”
“Yeah?” I was intrigued.
“It was his job to keep tabs on Juliana.”
“What?”
“He was following my agent. It was his job,” she paused and hiccupped, “his job to follow her. Pretty interesting, right?”
“He told you this?”
“Jason hired this guy to see if Juliana was fooling around on him.”
“You met this guy, and he shared that kind of information?”
Some perv with a camera peeping into Juliana's bedroom window. And I suddenly realized it was exactly like James and me. Peering into people's private lives.
“He doesn't like her a whole lot.”
“Em, what did he say?”
“He's pretty sure she was unfaithful from the beginning.”
I hadn't dreamed sending Em to the Chateau would end up like this.
“Wow. You actually met this guy, and he offered up this information?”
“It's a small town. He said so himself. Incestuous,” she mangled the word and laughed, “is how he put it. It just happened, Skip. I was telling him about my audition and it all came out.”
“Wow.” I repeated myself. “Wow.” It was a pretty amazing story. “Does he know what the prenup says?”
“Oh, he knows,” she said. “Jason shared everything with him. I'll call Gene tomorrow and have him make us a copy.”
“Gene?”
“Gene something.”
“He'd do that? Really?” Oh, my God. A copy. That alone was worth the price of admission.
“His card is in my purse. Two things going for me, Skip.” She was slurring her words.
“What are those two things?” I couldn't believe our luck.
“He really doesn't like Juliana. Said she was a witch from hell and even gave hell a bad name.” She giggled again.
I had to remember that. A witch who gave hell a bad name.
“And what's the second thing going for you?”
“He really liked me.”
“Yeah?”
“Asked me out tomorrow night.”
With that she rolled over, and in a minute, she was lightly snoring.
“So now we have more interviews, more time on the clock, and I suppose we can bill Ashley more money,” I said. Emily just sat on the motel bed looking glum. “I think we have to talk to Betsy Timmermeister and Gene somebody.” Everything was getting more complicated. James would love it.
“Milner. Gene Milner. Says so on the card,” she croaked, pointing to the card in front of her. “I kept it in case.” She rocked back and forth, holding her pretty head in her hands.
“Gene Milner, P.I. Are you attracted to P.I.s?”
“Skip.”
It was nine a.m. and my girlfriend was obviously hungover. Big-time.
“Okay. This guy,” I referred to the card again, “Gene Milner, the guy who asked you out tonight, he was working for Jason Londell?”
“Said so.”
Perched on the edge of the bed in a beige bra and panties, she sipped her cup of bitter coffee, courtesy of the cheap coffeemaker and cheaper coffee pack provided by the really cheap motel.
“So, we really do need to talk to this Milner. And, find a way to get that prenup so we can study it.”
“He'll give it to me. All I've got to do is call him. If he thinks I've got something on Juliana, he'll be all over it.”
And all over you
, I thought.
“You did tell him you weren't available for that date, right?”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust.
“Besides getting the agreement, what am I going to ask him?” She avoided eye contact.
“He was trying to get incriminating evidence on Juliana. See what he got. It sounds like he's willing to share.”
“If I'm willing to share,” she said.
“We don't have much to share. I'm sure that he had access to Londell's portfolio while Jason was alive. We haven't got much else.”
“And what about this Betsy Timmermeister?” She stumbled over the last name. “Do you have to talk to her? I mean, you've got the Londell estate on paper.”
“I don't know. If I can get any inside information about Jason or Juliana, it might help. I'm not sure what to ask her or if she'll give me any answers.”
Her head bowed, she nodded.
“Em, you call Milner and see if we can get the document. I'll make inquiries and see who the Timmermeister lady is.”
“Skip.”
“What? You need more aspirin?”
She affected a weak smile. “Yeah, those too. No, I just feel conflicted.”
Being hungover never left me feeling conflicted.
“Juliana and Kathy seriously want to see me amount to something as an actress. And here I am, trying to sabotageâ”
“Em, I don't know how many ways I can say this.” I was getting frustrated with her myopic view. “I'm like a CD with a bad
scratch and it keeps repeating the same line of a song.” What was it my mother used to say? Something about a broken record. “We're here because there's a good chance the lady, your agent, Juliana Londell, is accessory to a murder. That's the only reason we came to L.A. I'm conflicted too, okay? I know you want to give this gig a shot, but you should have picked a different agent because this one may be going to jail.”
She bit her bottom lip and looked up at me as I pulled on my polo shirt.
“Well, I'll play it out as long as I can. And yes, I'll get the agreement between Jason and his wife. And by the way, I do have an appointment today. I forgot to tell you last night.”
“What's that?”
“We're doing a table read this afternoon for the show.”
“What's a table read?” The two of us were now speaking different languages.
“The actors in a specific episode read their lines with everyone else. It's the first run-through for the show. In this case, the pilot.”
“You know, you're getting ready to actually do this thing, and I don't even know what the show is supposed to be about.”
“What they've told me is, it involves a nerdy scientist who is working on developing cheap energy, and every time he comes up with something really great, it breaks down, burns up, falls apart, or something like that.”
I thought about the concept for a couple of seconds. In some ways it sounded like the story of my life. Should have sold it to Hollywood.
“Doesn't sound funny to me.”
“I know. I'm really anxious to do the table read this afternoon and see where the humor is.”
“You're this guy's sister, right?”
“I am. From Detroit.”
“Why Detroit?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Gotta be from somewhere, Skip.”
“But Detroit?”
She stood up, walked into the bathroom, and splashed cold water on her face.
“Okay, I've got calls to make, you've got calls to make.”
“I'm on it.”
Coming back to the bedroom, she finished her coffee and three aspirin tablets and seemed like she was getting herself back together.
“Em, you still haven't told me the name of this show.”
“
The Edge of the Earth
,” she said.
“Like, you might fall off?”
“Yeah. Just like that.”
I'd looked her up. The lady worked for an accounting firm in downtown L.A. There wasn't much information on the Timmermeister woman, but I called the number from my cell phone and was greeted by a friendly, young voice.
“McClain, Bryan, and Beldon,” she said with a smile.
“Betsy Timmermeister, please.”
“Can I tell her who's calling?”
“I wanted to talk to her about possibly doing my taxes.”
The lady hesitated.
“Mrs. Timmermeister does some payroll taxes,” the lady said, “is that what you're inquiring about?”
“Uh, sure. Payroll.”
“She only works with a handful of selected clients. I don't believe she is taking on new business at the moment. I'm sorry. Now her main job with our firm is working with investment portfolios.”
“So that's more than just accounting.”
“Of course. She's more of an investment counselor. Did you have any other interest in our firm?”