Scream Test: An unforgettable and gripping psychological thriller

by Mark Gillespie

  He might have been a producer, Ellie thought, but everyone in Toronto knew who he was.

  Klein’s wife, Lara, was there beside him. Lara Klein was thirty-two and from the little Ellie had read about her in the past, she’d been an actress who’d starred in some interesting indie films over the last decade, but her output had waned after marriage and children left her on the professional sidelines. According to Klein, Lara was the woman who’d cured him of his ‘philandering ways.’ Ellie stared at the woman lingering by her husband’s side, her arm threaded through his. She had beautiful olive skin and her black hair was tied in a perfect bun. She wore a sleek off-the-shoulder gown that complimented her hourglass figure.

  Ellie was pressed up against the barrier’s edge, watching as Klein’s group slowed down to stop for pictures. She had to get a move on or face blowing the whole plan. Klein and his posse were well on their way towards the theater entrance. Wouldn’t be long until they were inside. Ellie took a deep breath, put the phone to her ear and brazenly squeezed past the slip point. This slip point was an opening in the barrier that only the skinniest of con artists could ever hope to get through. The area was crawling with security and as expected, a dark-haired man with mountains for shoulders saw what she was doing. He marched over with an unforgiving expression on his stubble-covered face. Pointing a walkie-talkie at Ellie.

  “Hey! You can’t come…”

  Ellie flashed her VIP pass like she’d done it a million times before. Like she was bored of the inconvenience. She almost had done it a million times, at least in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom in Scarborough. There was a polite, slightly irritated smile on her face. “Klein Productions,” she said. “I’m one of the PAs for Lara and Grady.”

  She held the pass so close to the man’s face that he was forced to take a good look. The amount of money she’d spent on the fucker, it had better be solid. If not, her plans were dead in the water.

  The security guy looked confused, as if he’d been expecting a par for the course bust. Maybe even hoping for it.

  Ellie reveled in the puzzlement on his face. It meant hope.

  The guard glanced at Ellie. Then at the card. Then at Ellie again.

  She held his gaze.

  “Everything okay?” she asked. She pointed to the Klein party. “Would you rather I called them back here?”

  The man looked at her pass again and shook his head. “Okay,” he said, waving her through as if she’d wasted enough of his time.

  “Thank you.”

  Holeeeeee shit!

  Ellie was laser focused on the task at hand. The rest of the city and its inhabitants faded to a blur as she followed the Klein procession towards the main entrance of the Lightbox. She ignored the actors – they were nothing to her. Ignored the cameras flashing on either side of the barrier, vaguely aware that the people on the sidelines were taking pictures of her too.

  She didn’t have much time to grab Klein’s attention. She crept closer, waiting. When Klein was momentarily separated from Lara to address someone in the crowd, Ellie saw her chance and grabbed it.

  She marched over and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Mr. Klein?”

  Klein spun around and devoured her with his eyes.

  “Hello there,” he said. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

  Ellie shook her head. “No.” She lowered her voice to a mock whisper. There was an embarrassed smile on her face.

  “To tell you the truth, I’m not even supposed to be here. As far as the red carpet goes, I’m…illegal. My name is Ellie Ferguson and just so you know, I’m wearing a fake VIP pass. I have no official part to play here in tonight’s proceedings. I guess you could say I’m trespassing and the reason I’m trespassing is that I wanted to meet you.”

  Klein’s face was a picture of stoic concentration.

  “I’m intrigued.”

  “Look,” Ellie said, checking in all directions to see if any meatheads were running over to drag her away. “I’m sure you get this all the time but I’m an actress. I’m moving from Toronto to LA next year and yeah I know, blah-blah, fucking blah. All that desperate actress crap.”

  Klein narrowed his eyes. His attention was distracted by something over Ellie’s right shoulder. “Be right there,” he called out. Ellie didn’t look but she figured that Lara Klein had long since noticed her man talking to the tall blonde and Ellie could only imagine what the look on the poor woman’s face was right now.

  “I admire your guts Ellie,” Klein said. “But you know I could have you arrested right now. If I wanted to.”

  She nodded. “But you’re not going to, right?”

  He stared at her. Then another look towards his people and a wave of the hand.

  “One minute!”

  Klein’s attention returned to Ellie. “You say you’re coming to LA?”

  “I am.”

  Klein nodded. He slipped a hand into his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a card and before handing it to her, borrowed a pen from the guy he’d been talking to in the crowd. Klein waved to Lara, then scribbled something on the back of the card.

  “You can either call the agency,” he said, handing Ellie the card, “or you can call me direct. I’ve put my cell on the back of the card. I recommend you call that number. That’s my personal number and I don’t give that to just anyone. Understood? But I have a feeling about you, Ellie Ferguson. Takes guts to do what you did. Getting past security and all. I like that. Give me a call when you land in LA and we’ll talk.”

  “I’ll be there,” Ellie said.

  Klein handed the pen back to its owner. Then he turned around to face Ellie again. “Well, I sure hope so.”

  “Don’t forget about me, Mr. Klein.”

  Klein laughed, walking past Ellie and placing a hand on her arm. Just for a split second, his eyes were on her breasts. “No chance of that sweetheart. No chance at all. I’m already looking forward to your call.”

  “Good luck with the movie,” Ellie said, watching him go.

  “Call me,” Klein said, walking back towards his people. “Thank you. Good to meet you.” He waved briefly and rejoined his wife, locking an arm around her waist. Lara had a frosty, tight-lipped smile. She stared at Ellie. The lioness staring at her prey.

  Klein steered his wife towards the door. Together, the Kleins waved to the fans before climbing the steps and walking through the theater door. Inside, a sea of welcoming faces and open arms greeted them.

  Ellie stood, watching from afar. Now it was on. She’d go to LA, make contact with Klein and do whatever she had to do to stay in the man’s inner circle and for as long as necessary. It wouldn’t be easy, in fact it would be downright torture, but it would be worth it in the end.

  Nicole wanted the Shadow Man. Ellie would give him to her.

  12

  Nicole saw the bright yellow and blue of the Checker Cab cruising up Sunset Boulevard. She hurried to the edge of the sidewalk, thrusting out her arm so that the driver wouldn’t miss her. Thank God, she was wearing sneakers and she could move. As she stood hanging off the curb, the dreadlocked, twenty-something driver of a silver BMW tooted his horn at her. He yelled something through the window in Spanish. Nicole didn’t speak Spanish – she didn’t have to in order to understand.

  She ignored the BMW. Kept her eyes on the Checker Cab.

  The cab rolled past Nicole, slowing down and pulling into the side of the road. Nicole caught up with the car, opened the door and jumped into the back.

  “Afternoon,” the driver said in a cheery voice. The accent was more West Texas than California. He was white, thickly built with a gleaming bald head that showed no sign of ever having a hairline. There was a friendly smile on his face as he glanced over his shoulder.

  “Hi,” Nicole said.

  “Where you heading today?” the driver asked, steering the cab back onto the road. With a wave of the hand, he signaled his appreciation to the woman behind the wheel of a tan Ford
who let him cut back out in front of her.

  “Hollywood Hills,” Nicole said. “Is it far from here?”

  “Nope. Which part of the hills you talking about?”

  Nicole saw the address in her head. The one she’d read off Klein’s cellphone. “It’s on Blue Jay Way.”

  “Blue Jay Way? No problem. I can get you there in ten minutes or less.”

  “Good,” Nicole said, leaning back against the seat. She felt much better now, far away from Room 59 and the stink of Klein’s sweat. She rolled down the window even though the driver had the AC unit running. “Come to think of it, I might even make a stop along the way if that’s alright? Maybe you can help me. I need to pick up a birthday present for someone but it’s been a long time since I was last in Los Angeles. I don’t know where’s good anymore.”

  The driver nodded. “Sure thing pal, I can help you out. What do you need?”

  “Nothing fancy or original. Flowers. Candy, I don’t know.”

  “Flowers and candy. Yeah, sure. There’s a great place down on Santa Monica Boulevard and best of all, it’s only a few minutes away so it ain’t gonna cost you much more. Wanna go there first?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Alrighty then. I’m Eric by the way. Very nice to meet you today.”

  “Nicole. It’s nice to meet you, Eric.”

  “Swell. Let’s get you where you need to go Nicole.”

  Nicole glanced at the smiling photo and driver number on the ID card. She made small talk with Eric on the way to West Hollywood Florist, but the small talk wasn’t a chore like with most other people. Eric was alright. Or maybe it was because Nicole made everything up. She told the driver that she’d come over from Pittsburgh to visit her ailing uncle in the hills and that it was a big surprise for him. Said she was born in LA, but due to personal reasons, hadn’t been back in a long time. It wasn’t much of a story but fortunately Eric wasn’t the probing type and he didn’t try to dig any deeper.

  The Checker Cab pulled up outside the florist and Eric waited at the side of the road while Nicole went inside to buy presents for her ‘uncle’. Nicole browsed the store in a hurry and using Ellie’s credit card, paid almost a hundred dollars for a deluxe bundle of pink and white flowers. It was a beautiful bouquet that included stargazer lilies, mini carnations, pink roses and white daisy poms. The flowers were enough but Nicole was so impressed with the store and how nice everything was laid out inside, that she bought a gift box of brownies too.

  Go big or go home, she thought.

  When she walked outside, the sun felt hot on her face. LA was still warming up and it showed all the signs of being a scorcher.

  “All set?” Eric asked, after Nicole had climbed into the back seat with the flowers and gift box. “Got everything?”

  “Got it,” Nicole said. “Thank you for waiting.”

  “No problem. Okay, where to now? Any more stops or are you ready to go to your uncle’s house?”

  “I’m ready to go see him now.”

  “Oh boy,” Eric said, indicating as he pulled out into the slow-moving traffic. “He’s going to get one hell of a surprise when you show up at the front door bearing gifts. Right?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “I’d love to see the look on his face.”

  Me too, Nicole thought.

  From Santa Monica Boulevard, the Checker Cab drove north towards the Hollywood Hills. Nicole sat upright in the back seat, tote bag at her feet, gifts sitting on her lap.

  She was smiling.

  13

  Nicole gazed through the window as the cab traveled through the winding roads of the Hollywood Hills.

  It wasn’t hard to see the attraction of the place. The hustle and bustle of West Hollywood was gone, replaced by something more intimate. More exclusive. Panoramic views that stretched for miles, a slower pace of life, as well as a choir of birds that never stopped singing. It was like the Checker Cab had crossed an unmarked border north of Sunset Boulevard, leaving the crowded sidewalks and traffic behind.

  The houses were unique, not bound by any particular style of architecture. Funky bungalows, trophy mansions, Mediterranean revival villas and more. This mix of styles pointed to the diversity of the residents living in the hills – lawyers, studio executives, as well as writers, musicians, actors and artists. Some of the houses were so close to the road that Nicole felt like she could roll down the window and touch them with her fingertips. Touch the lush and expansive gardens. Rose patches. Shining tiles. There was one house in particular that delighted her. Its driveway was a yellow brick road, weaving its way through a small forest of trees and shrubs towards the door.

  “Almost there,” Eric said.

  The Checker Cab passed a small tour bus making the return journey to downtown Hollywood. Nicole glanced at the passengers, many of them with their faces pressed up against the windows, cellphones tilted at impossible angles as they took selfies and pictures of the ritzy hills. There was a blonde-haired girl of about ten sitting at the back, apart from the adults. The girl pushed her face against the glass and waved at Nicole.

  “Here we are,” Eric said, turning onto Blue Jay Way. “Final destination.”

  Nicole could feel the blood coursing through her veins. She leaned forward in the seat, her body stiff with tension. She held the flowers so tight she almost crushed them. Nicole was only half-listening as Eric blabbered on about the area, sounding like a tour guide or a real estate agent who loved the sound of his own voice. He told her this was a cul-de-sac and one of the best-known places in the Bird Streets neighborhood, located above the Sunset Strip. One of the reasons the street was so well known, Eric said, was because of a song called ‘Blue Jay Way’ written by George Harrison of The Beatles. 1967, Eric said. Nicole could find it on something called Magical Mystery Tour. Most properties here, the driver continued, were built in the mid-twentieth century but a lot were being torn down and rebuilt for millions. Happened all the time, apparently. Properties in Blue Jay Way traded for somewhere in between four and twenty million dollars.

  “Uh-huh,” Nicole said.

  They drove by a group of construction workers halfway along the street. Some of them stopped work, leaning on their drills, noticing Nicole in the back seat of the cab. They were staring at her. Like they could read her mind.

  “Where’s the house?” she asked Eric. “Is it far?”

  “Top of the street. I’ve seen this house before, you know? Very modern, easily a twenty-million-dollar job, give or take a few hundred grand. Say Nicole, I wasn’t going to say anything but your uncle wouldn’t happen to be a living legend, would he? More like a great-uncle, right? Great-great uncle? I know whose house this is, that’s all I’m saying pal.”

  Eric glanced at Nicole in the rearview. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  “I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Nicole said. “Unspoken family rule.”

  “Fair enough. Anyway, it’s too late to start telling stories because we’ve arrived.”

  The Checker cab pulled up beside a big, ugly slab of a concrete fortress with four levels. No doubt it had been constructed and reconstructed several times like all the other houses in the street desperate to keep up with the market. That was the way it was done around here, so Eric had said.

  So ugly, Nicole thought. Like a giant brick with windows.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said, handing the driver three twenties. “Keep the change.”

  Eric whistled as he counted the notes. “Woah, easy pal,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Are you sure? You’re still getting a decent chunk of change out of sixty if you want it.”

  “Would you mind waiting out here till I come back? I’m not staying long.”

  “You’re not sticking around?” Eric asked. “To see your uncle?”

  “Not right now. And I’ll need a lift when I’m done.”

  Eric drummed his fingers off the steering wheel. “Sure thing. Ta
ke as long as you want. I’ll pull into the side of the road across the street and put the tunes on. When you come out, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “You got it. And uhh, say hi to your uncle from me, will you? Tell him I’m a big fan of his work.”

  “Will do.”

  Nicole opened the door and stepped outside, the flowers and gift box tucked under her arm. She heard Eric turning the cab around as she walked towards the house. By now it was early afternoon and that gentle morning sun she’d felt sitting on the motel steps had turned into a monster. A clanging jackhammer struck concrete further down the road.

  A winding stone walkway led Nicole to a tall, wrought iron gate with a huge sign that had ‘private property’ printed in bold print. The sign also said something about intruders being prosecuted, about high-tech security and below that, a second sign with the silhouette of a dog’s head on it. Nicole could hear the dogs barking from somewhere out the back of the property.

  State of the art electronic surveillance and dogs. Didn’t matter to Nicole. She wasn’t exactly planning to break in.

  She studied the intercom on the wall. There were instructions printed under the metal fixture.

  Press 0 to call house.

  Nicole looked over her shoulder, taking a deep breath to slow her quickening heart. Eric’s cab was a yellow blur on the sunbaked asphalt. She turned back to the gate. For the first time, Nicole felt a flicker of doubt about her purpose on Blue Jay Way. A voice, not unfamiliar, grated in the back of her mind.

  What if everyone else is right and we’re wrong?

  Cassandra. Of course.

  Was it too late to turn back? The answer was a resounding yes. This thing had already started and Grady Klein’s body was lying on the floor of Room 59 in the Chateau Lux, waiting to be discovered by some unfortunate employee.