Hollywood Kids (37 page)

'Don't worry, you'll love it.'

Michael made it to the TV station in time. A production assistant met him at the door and rushed him into make-up.

'I can't stand all this crap,' he complained, sitting reluctantly in front of the mirror as the make-up woman went to work.

'Just a touch of powder to take away the shine,' she insisted, dabbing away. 'We'll soon be done.'

Being in the studio was nerve-racking. The last time Rosa had done the interview at his apartment and it had been far less stressful.

'We have a busy programme tonight,' the production assistant said. 'Kennedy Chase is appearing again. Do you know her?'

The name sounded vaguely familiar. 'No. Who is she?'

'A journalist. She's doing a piece on the LA strangler. Our station is trying to alert the Chief of Police to form a task force.'

'Really?'

There's been a series of these murders in LA over the last couple of months. Kennedy will be on any minute. Come into the Green Room and watch her.'

The girl led him into the Green Room where he grabbed a cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup, and sat down in front of the TV set. Rosa was on camera finishing up a report on a small plane crash. When she was done she turned to her co-anchor - a smooth-looking black man. They exchanged a few words, and then he proceeded to do a story on an armed robbery in Orange County. As soon as he was finished the camera zoomed back to Rosa, who flashed her best professional smile and began to speak.

'Last week, journalist Kennedy Chase talked about the murders of several women in Los Angeles over the past two months. I am sad to report that since then the police have taken no emergency action. Recently another woman met her death at the hands of this sadistic strangler. We are all at risk. Kennedy, over to you.'

The camera switched from Rosa to Kennedy. Michael's interest was immediately aroused.

Kennedy stared gravely into the camera and began to speak. 'Good evening,' she said. 'Or is it?' A short but meaningful pause. 'How many more women are going to lose their lives before the Chief of Police and the Mayor decide to act? How many more female victims will be murdered before the conclusion is reached that what we have here is a serious state of emergency?'

Michael found he couldn't take his eyes off her. She was appealing and articulate. She was also incredibly attractive.

Was this the woman Rosa had tried to fix him up with? At the time he'd said no, but she sure had his attention now.

Kennedy continued to speak eloquently. She seemed to know plenty about the murders, maybe it wouldn't take long before she discovered that seven years ago they'd all worked on the same movie - Mac's movie. And that a killer had walked amongst them.

Before she was finished, the sound woman bustled into the Green Room and began hooking him up to a microphone. He stood up as she fitted the power pack on to the back of his belt.

'Not nervous, are you?' the sound woman asked.

'No, this is the second time for me.'

'I saw your first interview, it was quite touching.'

Thanks,' he said, breathing deeply, preparing himself for his on-camera appearance.

Whenever he thought about Bella he felt depressed and helpless. He had to face the fact it was possible she could be dead, or involved in child pornography. Both thoughts made him go cold inside.

As he was leaving the Green Room he bumped into Kennedy coming from the studio.

'That was a very effective speech,' he said, stopping to speak to her.

Thank you,' she replied, barely glancing in his direction.

'I'm Michael Scorsini.'

'Nice to meet you, Michael,' she said, turning to talk to one of the associate producers.

He was used to a more positive reaction from women, but she seemed distracted, in a hurry.

'I think Rosa might have mentioned you to me,' he added, determined to attract her attention. 'She tried to set us up on a date.'

Kennedy turned back to him with an amused expression. 'Ah, Rosa and her set-ups. She's always trying to fix me up, and I'm
always
saying no. Did she do the same to you?'

He scratched his chin. 'Yeah, as a matter of fact she did.'

'Hmm... Rosa has a dating obsession - take no notice.'

'I didn't. But now that we've met, I
would
like to discuss the murders with you.'

Finally he had her attention. 'Do you have information?' she asked, regarding him with serious green eyes.

'I used to be a detective in New York. Worked a couple of serial killer cases over the years. Maybe we can have a drink later and talk about it.'

'I'm on my way home.'

'Another time?'

'If you have anything to add - yes. Rosa has my number.'

'OK, Michael, it's show time,' said his production assistant. 'They're waiting.'

'I'll get your number from Rosa,' he said, allowing himself to be led away. 'And I'll call you - soon.'

She nodded and watched as he was escorted down the corridor. For once Rosa was right, Michael Scorsini was a great-looking guy. But she was not in the market for great-looking guys. She was not in the market for anybody.

All the same, she found herself lingering in the Green Room waiting to watch his interview.

He came across as sincere and sympathetic. Once she heard his story she felt genuinely sorry for him. What a nightmare situation not knowing where your child was.

When he came back to the Green Room she was still there. 'Changed my mind,' she said casually. 'I think I will have a drink.'

He smiled ruefully. 'Feeling sorry for me, huh?'

Her eyes met his. 'Exactly.'

'Is there a Michael Scorsini here?' somebody yelled from one of the offices.

That's me.'

'You have a phone call. Press extension three and pick up.'

He hurried over to the phone sitting on a corner table. 'Yeah?'

A muffled female voice. 'Michael Scorsini?'

That's right.'

'I saw you on TV.'

'Yes?'

'I can help you find your kid, but it'll cost.'

'Who is this?' he asked urgently.

'It doesn't matter who I am. Listen good -
I
know
where your kid is, an' if you want to see her again you'd better come up with ten thousand in cash. I'll be in touch.'

'No, wait a minute! We can talk about the money, but first I need proof she's alive.'

'Try this for proof.'

He heard a scrambling on the other end of the line, and then a child's voice. 'Daddy! Daddy!'

Oh, Jesus, it was just like the last time - he was almost positive it was Bella.

They sat in a bar across the street from the TV station. Kennedy sipped a vodka martini and Michael had his usual non-alcoholic beer in front of him, although right now he yearned for something stronger.

'I'm not the greatest company in the world tonight,' he admitted, rubbing his stubbled chin, thinking to himself that he was incredibly attracted to this woman. It wasn't so surprising - she was coolly beautiful, with a subtle sex appeal.

'You don't have to be,' Kennedy said, wondering why she felt so drawn to this man she hardly knew. Was she merely sorry for him? Or was there a genuine attraction? 'If I were in your position I'd be insane by now.'

'It's the not knowing that's such a bitch. I think of Bella all the time. It's like a constant ache. I think about where she is, what she's doing, or even worse, if she's dead. Because if she is, it would almost be better knowing.'

'The strain must be unbearable.'

'It is. No leads. Nothing on who killed my ex-wife and her boyfriend. I call the detectives working the case every day - they're understanding, but they've got nothing to go on. And then I get a call like this, and I imagine I hear her voice...'

Impulsively Kennedy placed her hand over his. 'You can't be sure it was her on the phone. It could be somebody trying to get money out of you.'

'Yeah, fine chance! Where would I come up with ten thousand bucks?'

'I don't know what to say, Michael.'

'Hey,' he paused. 'It's enough that we're here talking. It makes a difference. Quincy, my partner, he's away right now.' Another pause. 'Besides, you're great to talk to.'

She moved her hand away and smiled. 'I missed my vocation. Maybe I should have been a bartender.' She picked up her drink and sipped it slowly. 'Where's your family, Michael?'

'New York. I got one brother - a real loser. And my mother has problems of her own.'

'How about your father?'

'He took off when I was a kid. My stepfather brought me up. Eddie Kowlinski - a real jewel of an asshole.'

'Do you see them often?'

He laughed drily. 'Not if I can help it.'

'Hardly
Little House on the Prairie
, huh?'

'Hey, you're pretty good at this.'

'What?'

'Asking questions. Getting things out of me.'

'It's my job.'

'Do you mind if I smoke?'

'As long as you don't blow it in my face.'

He lit a cigarette and squinted. 'I noticed your ring. You married, Kennedy?'

'My husband died,' she said quietly.

'I'm sorry.'

'He was a great guy.'

'If he was married to you I bet he was,' he said, regarding her seriously for a moment. 'So here we are, sitting in a bar, and the funny thing is I don't even drink.'

'Never?'

'I used to be a crazy man. AA saved me. I've been dry for several years now.'

'Me, I'm a social drinker,' she said. 'If there's a glass of wine I'll drink it - if it's not around I don't miss it.'

'You're lucky. One drink puts me over the edge.'

'I'm glad you're not over the edge, Michael.'

'And I'm glad we're sitting here having a drink together.'

She smiled. 'Wouldn't Rosa be surprised?'

He smiled back. 'It's hardly a date, but I guess she'd be pleased, huh?'

'Ecstatic! Let's not tell her.'

'You got it.'

He took a pull on his cigarette. 'So, how did you get involved in this murder investigation?'

'I was deciding what to write for the magazine I work for. My father was sick, and a woman was murdered near the hospital. One of the things my father said to me before he died was, "Why don't you write about ordinary people instead of the rich and famous?" And you know something, he was right. So I started to investigate the first murder, and discovered there were others that might be connected. The police weren't interested, so Rosa talked me into appearing on TV to see if we could light a fire.'

'She's good at that.'

'You mentioned you worked on a couple of serial killer cases in New York. What do you make of this one?'

What was he supposed to say? That he knew who was committing the murders. That right now he couldn't do anything about it. Jeez, she'd really respect him for that.

'To tell you the truth, I haven't been following it,' he said, avoiding her eyes.

'Maybe you should. I'd appreciate your input.'

He waved for the cheque. 'Y'know, it's late. I gotta go, I'm working on a case. There's this rich girl who's being stalked...'

'Really? Sounds like another story for me.'

'I'll let you know.'

'Do that, Michael.'

'How about we try this again?'

She laughed wryly. 'What - tell each other our troubles?'

'I could buy you dinner tomorrow night.'

'I'm busy tomorrow.'

'Then can I call you?'

She looked at him very directly. 'I think I'd like that.'

Bobby awoke Tuesday morning regretting that he'd agreed to have lunch with Barbara Barr.

When he'd arrived home from location the night before, she'd been waiting in his bed, incense burning, a mound of caviar piled in a glass dish, and a matching mound of cocaine on the bedside table.

He'd been furious. 'How did you get into my house?' he'd demanded angrily.

'I broke in,' she'd giggled, jumping out of bed stark-naked and throwing her arms around him. 'I knew you'd be hungry so I brought you caviar. It's a gift from me to you. So's the coke.'

'I don't do drugs, Barbara,' he'd said, trying to extract himself from her clinging embrace.

'You don't? Why not?'

'Cause it screws up your head. So put on your clothes, take your coke and get out of my house.'

'Sorry,' she'd said, with a sarcastic twist to her mouth. 'I didn't realize I was dealing with Mister Clean.'

'I don't appreciate your breaking in, Barbara.'

Her eyes had glittered dangerously. 'I could suck you off, Bobby. Or I could fuck you good. How about it?'

The way she'd said it scared him. There was something way off about Ms Barbara Barr.

'We'll have lunch tomorrow and talk,' he'd said, trying to stay calm. 'Right now I'm going to sleep.'

Somehow he'd managed to get her out of his house and into her car.

Now he was on his way to lunch, and because she was about to star in his movie he was caught in a trap. He'd had Beth check her out and she'd come up with a pile of lurid headlines from the tabloids. Bobby felt foolish, he should have known that Barbara Barr was trouble about to happen.

Over lunch she regaled him with stories of her exploits. 'I've got this reputation for being out of my head,' she said, with an uncontrollable giggle. 'Queen of the rags! I don't know why. If somebody insults me like this tramp did the other night outside a club, I smash 'em in the face. Wouldn't you?'

'No, Barbara, that's how you get sued.'

'Nobody's going to sue me, I can assure you of that,' she said boldly. 'I have two brothers who'll break their fucking balls one at a time.'

'Oh, shit!

'Can we have dinner tonight?' she asked, playing with a silver crucifix hanging around her neck on a long black cord.

'No.'

She crinkled her forehead. 'What do you mean, no?'

'It's not a good idea.'

'Why not?' she demanded, pouting.

'Barbara, back off.'

'Back off?' she said, her voice rising. 'Back off? What's with you, Bobby? I'm not the kind of girl you can fuck and then run. You'd better remember that.'