Dead Famous (Danny Costello)

by Tony Bulmer

  I pursed my lips thoughtfully, sucked a long breath.

  Joe butted in, ‘You got to be kidding Barrington, we save you miserable train wreck life twice in one day and you want to fire us? Next thing you will be asking for a damn refund,’

  I turned from the window, smiled. ‘Nice view you got going on Barrington, real nice, I am thinking you can see Long Beach from here, am I right?’

  Barrington scowled, ‘What the fuck do you know about Long Beach Costello?’

  Again, I pursed my lips, furrowed my brow in thought, said, ‘It is funny you should ask that, because I was down there just recently, met some real interesting people.’

  ‘You been talking to that creep Chimola Costello. I know that you have. First thing I figured I would do when I heard that was I would shoot you dead as a matter of principle. Now what do you think of that you smart-mouthed motherfucker?’

  ‘I think the past is catching up with you Barrington.’

  ‘What you talking about the past?’ Frowned Barrington, ‘You on crack or something? Because there ain’t no way the past can hurt anyone, it’s bullets that hurt people Costello, ain’t you heard?’

  ‘I heard a lot of things down in Long Beach.’

  ‘You been listening to that creep Chimola, Costello, you better smarten up. That freak is a soul deep liar, wouldn’t know the truth if it shot him in the face.’

  ‘He told me you two were as good as family.’

  ‘As of five minutes ago Costello, my business ain’t none of your business, so why don’t you and your smooth-ass business associates get out of my building, because you are fired, every damn one of you, and don’t be waiting around for no million dollars either, because if you don’t get out of my sight and fast, you might just find yourself taking the express elevator from the top of the building, if you know what I am saying.’

  I smiled, ‘Ambitious as ever Barrington. But that ain’t going to happen, and here’s why—that sweet little daughter of yours, the one you were so worried about standing in the way of your trillion dollar business deal with the Wall Street people, she’s more out of control than you were letting on, and now I know why.’

  ‘You know jack-shit Costello. You think you can talk to Chimola and suddenly know me like you are my oldest friend? You know nothing Costello, only what I want you to know—nothing, nada, zip.’

  ‘She is killing people Barrington, don’t you think it’s about time you reigned her in?’

  ‘Sly Barrington smiled, ‘She never killed anyone who was worth a damn, you think I care what she gets up to with her penny-ante problems, I am running a god damn Corporation here.’

  I nodded, understanding everything, ‘That is exactly what I thought you would say Barrington, and that is why I am going to see this thing through to the end.’ I looked at Inez, then Joe, ‘Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.’

  ‘You got to be kidding me,’ blurted Joe, ‘The little bitch stabbed me in the neck with a syringe full of poison shit, you telling me we are just going to walk away?’

  As the lift doors opened to the penthouse boardroom I gave Joe an easy look, ‘That is exactly what I am telling you,’ I said.

  Dead Famous 49

  As the fire trucks lined up out front of the Barrington residence on North Carolwood Drive. Ramirez and Kozak stood on the lawn surveying the devastation. ‘That sweet little Santos girl done outsmarted us, you know that don’t you?’ said Ramirez.

  ‘She ain’t so smart, she thinks her bullshit clients are going to walk away from this one,’ replied Kozak.

  ‘Any sign of the weapons?’

  ‘Zip so far, but the boys are still looking.’

  ‘We got to get something out of this cluster-fuck mess, or questions will be asked, what you say we run Mr. Johnson down to the emergency room by way of PAB, that prick-wad loser knows more than he is letting on.’

  Kozak sniffed, I got bad news there, that weasel flew the coop just as soon as the cavalry got here, which fits with the theory I have been developing, on why that creep was bragging to us about his big friends, yet panicking about being persecuted—or worse.’

  ‘I don’t like your damn theories Kozak, I told you that already.’

  ‘I know what you damn well told me, but if we want to move forward on the Saquina Johnson case, we got to do more than play public relations for the COP.’

  Ramirez winced, ‘I hear that skin crawl acronym, and already I don’t like where you are going with this detective, you fuck with the Emperor and he fucks with you. I don’t like being fucked with. Are we clear on that Kozak.’

  ‘But this whole mess is fitting together can’t you see that?’

  ‘I can see some terrorist motherfuckers done blown a giant hole in Mr. Barrington’s palatial home right here. I know also the minutes are counting until the Commissioner finds out that we were the poor shmucks who witnessed this bullshit mess. So, if I was you detective Kozak I would be thinking up some smart answers to the long list of shrewd and far reaching questions he is going to be firing at us in the very near future.’

  ‘You ask me, it’s all tied in.’

  ‘Tied in? You kidding me detective—you see the Commissioner giving that pack of media jackals who are baying at the gates some bullshit conspiracy theory? He ain’t going to like it bucko. That “tied in” bullshit has Wilshire traffic division written all over it. You like working traffic do you?’

  ‘I am sick of this high jingo bullshit. You ask me, this case is real simple: Johnson killed his wife—drowned her pretty little lover in the bath, then murdered Martin so he couldn’t blab, or throw a blackmail threat into the mix.’

  ‘Well listen to Inspector Clouseau. That being the case, according to your world of bullshit theories, how do you account for the grave yard shooting?’

  ‘Barrington stood to make millions from the Johnson girls death, and worldwide publicity for this Wall Street stock flotation of his. Stands to reason he would have his tightest friend take care of things for him—he couldn’t trust no one else.’

  ‘But Johnson is a weasel, and slippery with it, we know that much first hand.’

  ‘I will roll with you on that detective, but I see the punch line coming and it ain’t pretty.’

  ‘How do you see the punch line, you a damn psychic all of a sudden?’

  ‘You are thinking Barrington planned the graveyard hit so he could have the perfect alibi. You were thinking that the reason he was so cool and collected when Danny Costello jumped on top of him was that he knew the shooter wasn’t aiming for him, so he had nothing to get worked up about.’

  ‘You thought that too?’

  Ramirez stared into the flames rising from the Barrington residence, said quietly, ‘Yeah, I thought that—until this mess, but now something is off, way off, there ain’t no way an ego-maniacal sleaze-rider like Sly Barrington would ever blow up his own house, it don’t fit with his MO. There is more to this than we are seeing, so we got to move forward and fast, because the way things are going, this case is freefalling away from us and I ain’t happy about it.’

  Dead Famous 50

  Roxy Barrington pulled into the parking lot behind Circus Liquor North Hollywood. The lot was close to Vineland in back of Burbank Boulevard. As she pulled in, she saw the black windowed SUV parked tight against the chain link storm fence. She reversed into the adjacent spot, underneath the broken security light. The place had a dark energy that moved in the shadowy periphery of the lot, biding its time. Roxy smiled. The evening was so perfect. Her sense of building euphoria stretched away into an endless future. She switched off her ignition and quickly changed cars.

  Shaqui-J gave her a frightened look, ‘You took your damn time, anyone could recognize me in this hood. It ain’t safe.’

  Roxy Barrington cocked her head sympathetically, ‘Poor, poor, J, you must be having a torrid time, why don’t you tell me all about it.’

  ‘The house is gone. A giant explosion and flames like you wouldn’
t believe, it was horrible,’

  ‘Was anyone hurt?

  ‘Hurt? The whole place is gone Roxy. I tried to reach Sly on every number he has, but I couldn’t get through, same with Dolla.’

  ‘Where were you while all this was going on J, crawling out of the rubble like a cockroach I suppose?’

  ‘Sly’s been funny since the funeral, I thought it best to stay out his way, you know how he gets when he is in one of his moods, there ain’t no talking to him.’

  Roxy gave Shaqui-J a sour look that intimated she knew exactly how her father got when he was in one of his famous moods. ‘It would appear you are out of favor, persona non grata as one might say, that is most unfortunate.’

  ‘He’ll come around, you just see if he don’t.’

  ‘You are very sweet J, very sweet, and I am sure you are right.’

  ‘We got ourselves a problem though, way bigger than your daddy.’

  Roxy Barrington looked at him stone-faced, distant headlamps on the boulevard illuminating her face periodically then plunging it into darkness.

  ‘Two cops came by the house, asking all kind of questions, said their names was Ramirez and Kozak from Robbery Homicide, right here in Hollywood.’

  ‘What kind of questions did they ask you J?’

  ‘They asked me about Remi, and that old pervert Blandell. I told them I didn’t know nothing and if they didn’t like it, they could go fuck themselves.’

  ‘Interesting. What else did they ask you?’

  ‘They asked me about Chubby god damn it. Asked me bold as we are sitting here, all these tricky assed questions, to catch me out, like they fucking know something, we got to be careful Roxy—these pricks are on to us.’

  ‘They don’t know a damn thing.’

  ‘How you know they don’t know a thing?’

  Roxy Barrington smiled, said, ‘You are all tense J, you need something to calm you down, how about we do a shot together, keep it mellow like the old times?’

  ‘I don’t know about no shot Roxy, I’m off that shit now, have been for months, and it ain’t no picnic let me tell you.’

  Roxy Barrington nodded, pursed her lips sympathetically, and said, ‘I know exactly how it is J and I completely understand.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Completely.’

  ‘Good, because I was worried, let me tell you, I been fretting something awful thinking you would be mad at me, I hate it when you are mad Roxy, you know that.’

  Roxy Barrington smiled, let out a musical laugh and said, ‘Yes, I know exactly what you mean, and I will prove I am not mad.’ She leaned in, her eyes closed, to kiss Shaqui J on the lips. As she moved in closer, he put a hand on her shoulder another on her hips, felt the warm soft curves of her body through the shimmering fabric.

  The kiss was longer, more passionate than he expected, he pulled away slightly to share a thought, but he never got chance to speak.

  Roxy Barrington moved quicker than a snake, She smashed the snub nosed .38 into Shaqui-J’s mouth and pulled the trigger, in one deft motion. The force of the gunshot rattled his head against the window—as his skull bounced away, a thick sheen of blood and cranial matter oozed down the glass. He choked, convulsed, and then slumped silent in his seat. So dead, it was as if he had never lived.

  Roxy Barrington placed the .38 in Shaqui-J’s hand and sat in the passenger seat drinking in the scene. She stared expressionless at the corpse for several long minutes and when she was done, she left, calmly and quietly, like nothing had ever happened.

  Dead Famous 51

  I sat up front of the counter in Duke’s coffee shop off Spring-Street and West-first, just a cloven-hoofed hop from the dark beating heart of LA government. The TV on the wall was playing loud, as City Attorney Cheyenne Wallis came in the door at a rapid clip.

  I peered up over the top of the crisp printed news section of the LA Times, on the cover, panoramic pictures of the Barrington blaze, and a headline that read: Gas explosion ignites furor. I cast a wry eye over the breathless leader column, a triumph of press manipulation to rival Commissioner Charles Jardine’s commentary of the Saquina Johnson funeral. In an age where facts no longer mattered, it seemed somehow appropriate that first strike spin held the power to shape perceptions. No matter if the misdirection was outed later. The media machine was fully synchronized to the Barrington agenda that much was clear.

  Attorney Wallis sashayed over to me, in her too-tight business two-piece. She looked pale and hungry, her black-rimmed spectacles outlined starkly against her sallow face. The TV news boomed loud: talk of a multi-car wreck on highway five, traffic backed up for miles. She sat, jamming her designer bag onto the counter between us. The bag was stuffed to bursting with paperwork—so much inside, the zip was gaping open. Looked like it was going to be a busy day on the fourth floor, a real busy day.

  Poor Cheyenne had the harassed vibe of the big-business bureaucrat oozing from every pore. ‘Meeting at short notice like this Danny, with everything going on, it is most inconvenient. A few minutes at the most is all I can spare.’ As she talked, she scrolled messages on her shmantzy cell phone, like she was too busy to even look at me.

  ‘You asked me to keep you abreast of events,’ I said.

  She looked up, smiled thinly, ‘Events have rather overtaken us, don’t you think Daniel?’

  ‘You look like you could use breakfast…’

  ‘I really don’t have the time, The Commissioner is on the warpath, and I have to say, he is very unhappy with your involvement in this entire affair,’

  ‘Affairs can be messy,’ I deadpanned.

  She gave me a cold look.

  ‘I had a look at the movie footage. The security cameras at the Peninsula, that is quite a system they got there.’

  Again the cold look.

  ‘The footage has been doctored hasn’t it?’ I said.

  ‘Difficult to prove Danny, almost impossible some might say.’

  ‘Amazing what can be accomplished in a video editing suite isn’t it?’ Hey, you sure I can’t get you breakfast, how about a omelet or something, they do a great breakfast omelet here.’

  ‘I am not hungry.’

  ‘I can understand that, Chanel 11 had some real rich footage just now of the Barrington place burning down.’

  ‘Perhaps if you had been there Daniel, things would have been different.’

  I broke a smile. ‘I had my best operatives working that job, me being there wouldn’t have changed things. Besides, I had more important matters to attend to.’

  ‘More important than protecting Mr. Barrington Daniel, I thought we were clear, the Commissioner and I? Mr. Barrington is very important to the future well being of this City. The entertainment Industry is in crisis everywhere, but Mr. Barrington’s organization shines out against the harshness of these very austere times, and he is very loyal to the City’s interests, very loyal. We thought you understood the importance of your role Daniel. Quite obviously you didn’t.’

  ‘Hey, throttle back with the city speak your attorneyness, I couldn’t give a damn about Sly Barrington and his moneybags empire. The guy is rotten, filthy-rotten. No surprise you are too ill for breakfast, kissing ass to a guy like that for money would make me want to puke too.’

  ‘Is that what this is about Daniel, you dragged me down here to castigate me with your socialist principals, because I am not buying it.’

  ‘Convenient.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘You know about the daughter don’t you?’

  Cheyenne Wallis looked uncomfortable, ‘Roxy Barrington has problems. Everyone knows that.’

  ‘She has more than problems the girl is a screwball psychopath. You ask me the crazy little brat killed the Johnson girl and a bunch of other people too.’

  ‘An interesting assessment, Daniel, but what evidence do you have?’

  ‘She stabbed my partner in the neck with a hypo full of something that nearly killed him. My guess is it was Thiopental, the same
shit that killed those other people.’

  ‘The charming Mr. Russell…I understand he has a reputation for louche behavior, I am sure you have reported this unsavory incident to the relevant authorities?’

  ‘I am reporting it to you now, what you do with it is up to you, but when the lid blows off this little shit-storm you been bottling up, the taint will be far reaching. So why don’t you tell me everything you know now, before those nice people in the media ask me about your part in this debacle?’

  ‘Conjecture. Nothing more. So you better watch who you shoot your mouth off to, with these baseless allegations.’

  Channel 11 cut to nighttime footage of the Barrington fire, made comment about a leaking gas line. I sniffed, stuck my spoon in my coffee and stirred. ‘I got to compliment you on your little press release Cheyenne, seems like the media are swallowing it whole. Were you up the whole night figuring that one out, or did The Emperor spoon feed you the story for breakfast?’

  ‘Stay out of it Daniel, I like you. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt. But if you stand in the way of City business, I won’t be able to protect you, you know that don’t you?’

  I smiled. ‘I know a thing or three about protection, and politics too, so thank you for the warning, but I got a long standing problem that has bearing on this matter and you’re not going to like it.’

  Cheyenne Wallis’ dark eyes flashed with understanding. ‘There is no room for your misplaced conscience here Daniel, or your out-of-hours meddling either.’

  As she sat there on the counter stool, she looked pale, vulnerable, like all the color and life had been drained out of her, by some higher cause running parasitical through every synapse and capillary in her body.

  ‘You can rely on me to do the right thing,’ I said evenly.

  ‘Your perverse charm…it’s like a disease with you Daniel isn’t it?’

  ‘Perversity or charm—that is a compliment either way.’

  Cheyenne Wallis stared at me a long moment, like there was something that should, or could, be added to this test of will over good humor, ‘I have to go,’ she said.