Authors: Clive Barker

Coldheart Canyon (57 page)

426

CLIVE BARKER

had been such determination in the way they’d headed out into the darkness; plainly they weren’t going out to enjoy a little swim, then turn round and head back to shore. They were escaping together, in the only direction left for them.

She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach: part horror at what she’d just witnessed, part envy. He had made his choice, finally. And now, he was gone.

She heard the throb of rotor-blades, and she looked up to see a police helicopter coming from the south, following the line of the surf as it approached the place where the lovers had disappeared. Its powerful spotlight illuminated the water with uncanny brightness.

Tammy looked back at the people assembled along the shoreline.

Almost all the guests had vacated the house and were milling around on the sand. She couldn’t see Maxine, but she could name a few famous folks, mainly from the color of their clothes. Glenn Close was in white; Brad Pitt in a powder-blue suit; Madonna was in red. They were briefly illuminated by the flood of the searchlight, then the helicopter veered off seaward, and Tammy followed its progress as it swooped down close to the water. Surely Todd and Katya couldn’t have gone that far out. Even if the current had caught them, they couldn’t have been swept more than a few hundred yards in the short time since they’d entered the water.

But then the current wasn’t the only variable here, was it? There was also their own ambition. They had gone out intending to be lost. And lost they were.

Suddenly, she was crying. Standing outside the wedge of light thrown by the house, and beyond the presence of anyone who could possibly comfort her; dirty and cold and alone, she sobbed like a baby. She made no attempt to stop the flood. “Better out than in,” her mother had always said; and it was true. She could never think straight when she had a bout of tears waiting in the wings. It was wiser to just weep them out, and be done with them.

At last her grief began to subside, and she cleared the tears from her cheeks with her hands. The helicopter was now some distance from the CC[348-676] 9/10/01 2:29 PM Page 427

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shore, and had dropped even closer to the water, hovering over one particular place. She tried to make sense of the waterscape. Had the men in the helicopter located the bodies? She stared at the spotlit water until her eyes started to ache, but she could make no sense of what she was seeing.

Just the spume, being whipped up off the water, so that it looked like snow in the column of white light.

After a few minutes the helicopter moved away from that position, turning off its searchlight for a while as it headed down the beach. When the light was turned on again and the brightness struck the water the search had moved much further out to sea. Still Tammy kept watching, desperately trying to make sense of the sight. But at last it simply became too frustrating, and turning her back on the water, she walked up the side of the house to the street, where many of the same people she’d seen down by the water earlier, enjoying the spectacle along with their champagne, were now waiting to pick up their cars. They were quiet, eyes downcast, as though they felt just a tiny prick of guilt at having treated the death of one of their number as a spectator sport.

Whatever interest Tammy might once have had in these people was gone. The fact that she was practically rubbing shoulders with Brad and Julia and half-a-dozen other luminaries was a matter of complete indifference to her. Her thoughts were still out there in the dark waters of the Pacific.

Finally somebody spoke; some imbecilic remark about how valets were getting slower every day. It was all this air-headed company needed to throw off their show of introspection. Chatter sprang up, and on its heels, laughter. By the time Tammy’s car had arrived the group was in a fine mood, exchanging jokes and telephone numbers; the scene on the beach—the tragedy they’d all just witnessed together—already a thing of the past.

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E L E V E N

Along the beach a hundred and fifty yards from where Tammy was standing all eyes were also directed seaward, and, like Tammy’s eyes, saw nothing but the uncanny, almost beatific, light from the hovering helicopter as it passed back and forth over the surface of the water.

Eppstadt had his lawyer, Jacob Lazlov, on the line while he watched the water. At his side, Maxine.

“I want this sonofabitch Pickett prosecuted to the full extent of the law, Jacob. What do you mean: what did he do? He practically tore off my leg, that’s what he did. In public. Jesus, Jacob, it was an
attack
, a physical attack. And now the bastard’s trying to drown himself.”

“Isn’t this all a little premature?” Maxine remarked dryly. “He’s probably drowned by now.”

“Then I’ll sue his fucking estate. I can sue the estate, can’t I, Jacob?

Speak up, I can’t hear you. The helicopter—”

“You are a piece of work, you know that,” Maxine said.

“I’ll call you back, Jacob.” Eppstadt snapped his phone closed and followed Maxine back across the beach to the house. On the way they encountered the waiter who’d come to Eppstadt’s aid during Todd’s attack.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Joseph Finlay, sir.”

“Well, Joe, I’d like you to do me a favor and stay within ten yards of me till I tell you otherwise. Will you do that? I’ll pay you very well for your services. And if you see anything you don’t like, son—”

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“I’m there, sir.”

“Good. Good. But you can start by getting me a brandy. Be quick.” Joe hurried away. “Didn’t you have any security at this damn party, Maxine?”

“Of course!”

“Well where the fuck was it when I was having my leg torn off ? Jacob’s going to be asking some questions, Maxine, and you’d better have some damn good answers.”

“Todd wasn’t some trespasser—” Maxine said. She had reached the patio, and now turned to face Eppstadt, tears filling her eyes. “I’ve known him ten years. Everyone knows him.”

“Well apparently none of us knew him well enough. He was ready to kill me.”

“He was nowhere near killing you,” Maxine said, weary of Eppstadt’s self-dramatization. She sank down into the chair where she’d been sitting when Todd had arrived, turning it round so she could watch the beach.

“Your brandy, sir.”

Eppstadt took his brandy. Joe pulled a chair up, and Eppstadt sat down in it. “Ten yards,” he said to Joe.

“I’m here.”

Joe stepped back a little distance to give Eppstadt and Maxine a measure of privacy. Eppstadt took out a pack of cigarettes; offered one to Maxine, who took it with trembling fingers. He lit both, and leaned back in his chair.

“Sonofabitch,” he said. “Who’d ever have thought he’d pull a stunt like this?”

“I think it all got too much for him,” Maxine said. “He cracked.”

“No doubt. What was he talking about: some house you put him in?”

“Oh yes, that
house
,” Maxine said. “It all began with that
fucking
house.

Where’s Jerry Brahms?”

“Who?”

Maxine couldn’t see Jerry, but she spotted Sawyer, her assistant, who was inside the house, eating. He came at her summons, mouth stuffed with canapés. She told him to find Jerry, pronto.

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“I think we have to assume the current took them,” Eppstadt said, directing Maxine’s attention at the helicopter, which had steadily moved further and further out from the beach in its search. There were now two Coast Guard boats bobbing around in the water, mounted with searchlights.

“Have people no
taste
?” Maxine said, surveying the condo on the beach. To make matters worse, something of the party atmosphere had returned to the gathering. The waiters were weaving among the guests, refreshing drinks or offering finger food. It was not being refused. People seemed to be of the opinion that the evening’s drama was best viewed as part of the fun.

A waiter brought a platter to Maxine’s side. “Sushi?” he said. She looked at the array of raw fish with almost superstitious disgust.

“Oh God, why not?” Eppstadt said, a little too heartily. “In fact you can leave the platter.”

“How can you
eat
?”

“I’m hungry. And if I were you, I’d keep me happy. Treat me
very
delicately.” He examined the piece of yellow-tail in his fingers. “I suppose at this point I could get all stirred up wondering what the fish was eating before it was caught . . . but why wonder?”

Maxine got up from her chair and walked over to the railing. “I always thought you liked Todd.”

“I thought he was acceptable company up to a point. But then he got full of himself, and he became impossible. Your handiwork, of course.”

“What?”

“Telling him he was the next best thing to sliced bread, when all along he was just another pretty face. And now not even that, thanks to Doctor Burrows.” He picked up a second piece of sushi. “I tell you, if Todd
is
dead, then he’s done the best thing he could do for his reputation. I know how that sounds, but it’s the truth. Now he’s got a crack at being a legend.

If he’d lived, grown old, everyone would have realized he couldn’t act his way out of a damp paper bag. And it would have made us all look like fools. You for representing him, me for spending all that money on him over the years.”

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“Maxine?”

Sawyer was leading a stricken Jerry up onto the patio. At some point in the recent past his rug had become partially unglued and now sat off-center on his head.

“Todd’s gone,” he said.

“We can’t be sure yet, Jerry. Sawyer, get Mister Brahms a scotch and soda. Light on the scotch. Jerry, this is Mister Eppstadt, from Paramount.”

“I’m familiar . . .” Jerry said, his gaze going from Eppstadt as soon as he’d laid eyes on him, and drifting off again toward the water. “It’s useless. I don’t know why they keep searching. They’ve been swept away by now.”

“The house, Jerry.”

“What?”

“In the Canyon,” Eppstadt said. “I’ve been hearing about it from Maxine.”

“Oh. I see. Well . . . there’s not a lot I can tell you. I just used to go there as a child. I was an actor, you see, when I was much younger.”

“And were there other children there?”

“No. Not that I remember, at least. Just a woman called Katya Lupi—who took me under her wing. She’s the one . . .” he pointed out toward the waterline “. . . who took Todd.”

“No, Jerry,” Maxine said. “Whoever that woman was, she was
young
.”

“Katya was young.”

“This girl looked twenty-five.”

“Katya looked twenty-five.” He accepted his scotch and soda from Sawyer. “She wasn’t, of course. She was probably a hundred.”

“Then how the hell can she have looked twenty-five?” Eppstadt demanded.

Jerry had two words by way of reply.

“Coldheart Canyon.”

Eppstadt had no reply to this. He just stared at Brahms, bewildered.

“She looks young,” Jerry said. “But she isn’t. That was her out there, no doubt about it. Personally, I think it was some kind of a suicide pact between them.”

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“That’s ridiculous!” Maxine snorted. “Todd’s got his whole life in front of him.”

“I think he may have been more desperate than you realized,” Jerry said. “Perhaps if you’d been a little better as friends, he’d still be with us.”

“I don’t think it’s very useful to toss that kind of accusation around,”

Eppstadt said. “Especially when we don’t know the facts.”

“I think the facts are very plain,” Jerry said. “I still read
Variety
.” He pointed at Maxine. “You decided to give up on representing him when he was having difficulties with his career. And you”—now the accusatory finger went in Eppstadt’s direction—“canceled a movie which he had his heart set on. Not to mention the fact that you”—the finger returned to Maxine—“just made a public display of humiliating him. Is it any wonder he decided to put an end to his life?”

Neither accusee attempted a defense. What was the use? What Jerry had said was a matter of public record.

“I want to see this Canyon,” Eppstadt said. “And the house.”

“The house has nothing to do with any of this,” Jerry said. “Frankly, I suggest you keep your distance from it. You’ve already—”

Eppstadt ignored him. “Where is it?” he demanded of Maxine.

“Well I’ve never been able to find it on a map but the Canyon runs parallel with Laurel Canyon. I don’t think it’s even got a proper name.”

“Coldheart Canyon,” Brahms said again. “That’s what they used to call it in the Silent Era. Because she was supposed to have such a cold heart, you see.”

“You know your way there?” Eppstadt asked Maxine.

“I . . . suppose I
could
find my way . . . but I’d prefer somebody to drive me.”

“You,” Eppstadt said. It was his turn to point.

Jerry shook his head.

“It’s either you taking me, or the police.”

“Why’d you want to call the police?”

“Because I think there’s some kind of conspiracy going on. You.

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Pickett. The woman who went into the sea with him. You’re all in this together.”

“To do what, for God’s sake?”