by Blake Pierce
Jessie completed his thought for him.
“If only she didn’t have proof that you set up an elaborate system to sell young actresses to lecherous older men?” she mused unforgivingly.
Reinhold sat silently for several seconds. When he finally spoke, his voice was so soft she had to lean in to hear him.
“I didn’t kill her. I would never. Even if it had occurred to me, I just don’t have the energy. Besides, I wasn’t anywhere near Sovereign Studios last night.”
“Where were you?” Trembley asked.
“I spent the evening with Hilda.”
“Who’s Hilda?” Trembley pressed.
“Mrs. Portis. We’re friendly.”
“Can you prove that?” Trembley asked with his nose scrunched up.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“If you must know, there’s video.”
Jessie quickly departed the room, leaving Trembley to handle that revelation on his own. The thought of Phil Reinhold and Mrs. Portis recording themselves in a moment of passion wasn’t one she wanted to conjure up. But weirdly, it did conjure up an unexpected emotion: envy.
She had to get to the hospital. She had to see Ryan.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I think I’m going to head out for the night.”
It was 5:22 p.m. and they were wrapping up at the station, where they’d booked Reinhold for destruction of evidence. The hospital was a ten-minute drive away and visiting hours ended at six. Depending on the duty nurse, that rule was either a friendly guideline or set in stone. She didn’t want to take any chances.
“We should update Captain Decker first, don’t you think?” Trembley suggested helpfully.
Not wanting to explain the reason for the quick exit and face the detective’s pitying eyes, she nodded in agreement.
“Let’s make it fast though. I’ve got a surly stepsister to raise.”
They were walking to Decker’s office when they ran into him in the hall.
“I was just coming to find you two,” he said. “Solve the case yet?”
Despite his wry tone, Jessie could sense a hint of desperation underneath. She knew he was short-handed and that quick resolution on a high-profile case would be a huge relief. She felt bad that they didn’t have better news.
“Not quite,” Trembley admitted. “But we do have some developments. Should we go to your office?”
“Actually, the air conditioning in there is acting up. It’s pushing ninety-five degrees. Let’s talk in the courtyard.”
They went outside and found a shady bench under a large tree in the center of the courtyard. No one actually sat down. Despite the shade and the slowly fading sun, it was still easily ninety. Decker rested his hand on the tree trunk, looking at them with unenthused expectation. He seemed even more shrunken and weathered than usual.
“Where are we at?” he asked.
Trembley dove in. Jessie, distracted as the seconds ticked by, was happy to let him do it. He summarized the Reinhold interview, including the pimping out of actresses and the drive with the list of Hollywood johns.
“He’s pretty slimy,” Trembley concluded, “but I don’t think either Jessie or I believe he’s our guy. It’s hard to imagine him having the physical wherewithal to attack her. And it looks like he may have a solid alibi. But if that list is legit, we could have a brand new pool of potential suspects. Half of Hollywood might be on it. Anyone who knew she had it is worth looking at. And if that was the motive, Reinhold could be in danger too. Someone might want to shut him up”
“Have you seen the list?” Decker asked.
“Tech is trying to crack it for us now,” Jessie volunteered. “We’ll probably ask Detective Bray from Hollywood Station to help us vet it once we have a list of names. But even after we get it, we have another problem. It doesn’t make total sense for that to be a motive. Weatherly had the list for years. Why would someone come after her now? And according to Reinhold, he always demanded the increased rate on her behalf. It’s not clear that any of these clients even knew she was the one blackmailing them. They might have thought it was an agency thing.”
“That’s right,” Trembley agreed. “And that may well have been partly true. Corinne’s new agent was a protégé of Reinhold’s named Jake Morant. He’s at CTA. It’s possible that she only got back to a power agency because she shared the list with them. Reinhold seemed to believe they kept the girls for hire operation going after they pushed him out. Frankly, the whole thing is a snake pit.”
“Okay. That definitely seems worth pursuing. Any other contenders?” Decker asked.
Trembley looked at Jessie, who took over.
“We have four legit suspects from the movie she was working on: the film’s director, her co-star, her assistant, and a lighting tech. We aren’t able to formally eliminate any of them yet. We’re hoping their phone data helps. But there are other folks we’re looking at too, at least one of whom might make you uncomfortable.”
“Go ahead,” Decker said. She could tell he was getting agitated.
“Miller Boatwright, the producer whose name was written on the mirror in her trailer. He was already on our radar before his assistant slipped us the name of a woman who may have reached a huge settlement with him—details redacted. Jamil Winslow’s still trying to find out what’s going on there. But clearly, it’s worth pursuing. Of course, we also have to consider that with his name on that mirror, he might be a target too.”
Decker’s normally narrowed eyes widened in frustration.
“So you’re telling me that at least two of your suspects, Boatwright and Reinhold, might just as credibly be future victims?” he demanded testily.
“Potentially,” Trembley said, seeming unsure whether he should continue.
“I can tell there’s more coming, Trembley. Just spit it out,” Decker ordered.
“Yes sir. Detective Bray is looking into the credibility of a story that Corinne Weatherly once berated a production assistant on a film so badly that the girl had a nervous breakdown and may have even attempted suicide. If true, that PA would have a real motive to get some payback.”
Decker looked skeptical.
“Has Bray verified this?” he asked.
“She’s working on it,” Jessie told him. “I anticipate we’ll hear something by tomorrow at the latest.”
Decker’s hawklike eyes bored into her as she spoke.
“Why do I get the impression that you don’t hold this theory in much regard, Hunt?”
Jessie shrugged.
“I’ve learned never to dismiss anything outright. It feels like a long shot to me but I’ve seen stranger motives for murder. I just don’t want to get my hopes up about a mysterious suspect obliquely referenced in an unverified secret Hollywood horror story.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell that Trembley was irked. Apparently he was more willing to buy the theory and didn’t like her pooh-poohing so forcefully. She tried to smooth the waters a bit by pressing on.
“I also want to have another chat with her husband, Willem Struce. Not to be cruel but there’s definitely something wonky going on there. Weatherly was a big-time, sexy screen siren and she married a milquetoast CGI artist who has no discernible magnetism. The heart may want what it wants, but talking to him, even though he looked to be heavily sedated, I had trouble seeing why her heart wanted his.”
“So, almost solved then,” Decker said sarcastically, “apart from the unending supply of suspects, at least two of whom might be in danger themselves.”
“More than two, Captain,” Jessie said. As long as he was this pissed, she figured she might as well let it all hang out.
Decker looked like steam might actually shoot out of his ears.
“Let’s have it.”
“Captain, until we get a handle on the motive of the killer, we won’t know if this is a one-off murder or the start of something more. If somebody has a vendetta related to the film itself, the director cou
ld be at risk, along with her co-stars. We just don’t know.”
“Well, you better damn well find out,” Decker ordered. “I’ve got headquarters breathing down my neck. I don’t need to tell you that it doesn’t look great to have a murdered actress in the movie capital of the world. It scares off the money, as the chief told me about an hour ago. And now you’re saying this might not be an isolated incident, that we could have a spree killer on our hands? I need results on this one, and I need them fast.”
“Yes sir,” Trembley said.
Jessie wasn’t as inclined to be so solicitous but held her tongue.
“Okay, regroup and come at it fresh in the morning. I want to have something to announce by the end of tomorrow, got it?” He stormed off without waiting for an answer.
Trembley seemed reluctant to give up for the night but Jessie couldn’t wait any longer. She had to get to the hospital. She said goodbye and darted from the courtyard, leaving Trembley waving to empty space.
*
She got lucky. Nurse Tamara was on duty and even though it was 6:08 p.m. when Jessie arrived at the hospital, she ushered her to Ryan’s room without a word of protest.
“We lowered the sedative dosage intermittently throughout the day and he responded well,” she said. “He’s awake now, though I’m not sure how alert he is.”
“Can you spare a couple of Advil?” Jessie whispered to her once they were in the room. After all the activity of the day, her shoulder was throbbing and her back felt like fire ants had been nibbling at it. Tamara nodded and left the room.
When Jessie walked in, she heard the familiar hiss of the ventilator. Ryan’s eyes were closed but opened slowly when he heard the door close behind her. Even though his mouth wasn’t visible behind the tubing and tape, his eyes crinkled in what she knew was a smile.
She sat down next to him and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently in hers.
“Do anything exciting today?” she asked.
He blinked twice for “no,” then seemed to try to nod at her as if to ask about her day.
“Nothing electrifying for me either,” she said, deciding that sharing the fact that she’d agreed to take a case while he was incapacitated in a hospital bed might not buck him up. “Dealing with Hannah’s increasing churlishness as we get closer to her starting summer school next week. Trust me, you’re better off here than there. Sometimes I wonder if I should get stabbed in the chest just so I don’t have to deal with the eye rolls and snark attacks.”
His chest rose and fell more quickly than normal and she knew that he was laughing. She kept talking, trying to keep the mood light.
“We’re still at Kat’s apartment but I’m looking for a new place. I don’t want to take advantage of her generosity. My hope is to have found something by the end of the month. And I promise that our bedroom will have better soundproofing than the condo did.”
Again, his chest bounced slightly. Another chuckle. She was on a roll. As she waited for him to regroup, she wondered if still having a sense of humor was a sign that his cognitive function hadn’t been affected. Tamara silently entered the room, handed Jessie two pills and a paper cup of water, and disappeared again.
“I think I mentioned that I have interviews lined up for next week,” she continued as she downed the medication. “All of them are teaching positions focused on criminology. Dr. Lemmon really hooked me up. I’m talking to USC on Monday, UCLA and Loyola Marymount on Tuesday, and UC-Irvine on Wednesday. Remember my thesis advisor when I got my master’s there, Professor Hosta? He wants me back. I think he intends to put me in a display case more than actually have me teach. I don’t think I’d go there anyway. It’s just too far to commute every day. But I’m curious to go back and look around. After all, that’s where we first met, you remember?”
Ryan blinked “yes.” She wondered if he was picturing their first interaction, when he’d come as a guest speaker in her Forensic Psych class and she’d been the only one to solve the crime scenario he established during the lecture.
She’d been married back then and not looking at him as a potential romantic partner. But she still remembered what an impressive figure he cut: muscular, dark good looks, an air of unquestioned professional competence.
Seeing him now—frail, nonverbal, completely helpless—made her already cracked heart split even wider.
“I love you, Ryan Hernandez,” she whispered softly. “I miss being with you. I can’t wait to curl up in bed beside you. That day’s coming soon, you know?”
He blinked yes again but his eyes were watery with tears. She dabbed them for him. After she finished, she could tell he was tired, so she didn’t speak anymore. Sometime soon thereafter, he drifted off. She waited a while longer, not wanting to leave. But she had promised Hannah she’d be home for dinner and it was getting late. So, she gently extricated her hand from Ryan’s and quietly left the room.
She wrote a short note and asked Nurse Tamara to read it to Ryan if he woke up and wondered where she’d gone.
She didn’t want him to think she’d abandoned him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Jessie’s heart skipped a beat when she saw it.
She had hurried back to Kat’s apartment, arriving just as the clock hit 7 p.m. When she got to the door of Kat’s place, on the fourth floor of a walk-up, she saw that it was slightly ajar.
As she approached, Jessie pressed her back against the opposite wall and pulled her gun out of its holster. She listened for voices, any sign of distress. But there was nothing.
She was already on alert because of the man she saw loitering just outside the building as she approached. He’d been holding something in both hands. She was just reaching for her holster when she saw that it was a camera. He raised it quickly, took a few shots, and darted off without a word. A paparazzo. She didn’t know if he was shooting her because of the Weatherly case or her own infamy. Either way, it had her on edge when she saw the open apartment door.
She was just about to kick it open completely when she caught a waft of something good emanating from inside. It took her a second to realize that it was the smell of fresh-broiled salmon. Instead of kicking the door in, she pushed it open carefully and stepped inside.
Hannah was nowhere to be found. But Kat was at the dinner table. Her plate, pushed to the side, was empty save for a used lemon wedge, herb sauce, and a few stray bits of asparagus stalk. She was intently studying something on the laptop in front of her.
On the table, in the spot where Jessie normally sat, was a plate covered in foil. Apparently they hadn’t waited for her. Jessie closed and locked the door, holstered her gun, and walked into the room. Kat looked up and smiled.
“Have a nice day, honey?” she asked, batting her eyes extravagantly.
Jessie smiled. If Kat wasn’t in a bad mood, hopefully that meant Hannah wasn’t either.
“I don’t want to bore you with business talk, little lady,” she replied, playing along. “How was your day?”
“Oh, you know, a little cooking, a little cleaning, a little surveillance of a potential drug dealer selling MDMA to high school kids; same old, same old.”
“And the young one?” Jessie asked. “How’s she doing?”
“I believe she’s in your room creating a Spotify playlist based around the theme of sisters who show up late for dinners that they say they’ll be on time for after taking a murder case when they supposedly quit their jobs.”
“Ah,” Jessie said, her heart sinking slightly. “That’s a rich musical text. She should have lots of options to choose from.”
“You might want to poke your head in and say hi before you eat. Just make sure it doesn’t get bitten off.”
Jessie nodded. She kicked off her shoes, removed her gun, and walked across the living room, knocking on the door before opening it. Hannah looked up and hit pause on her phone.
“How’s it going?” Jessie asked.
“Okay. I bought a few odds and ends for school next week.”
“Oh yeah?” Jessie said. “Anything exciting?”
“Just a few shiny baubles so that the boys will notice the new girl and fight over who gets to try to impregnate her first.”
Jessie felt the muscles in her neck clench up but refused to be baited. She knew Hannah was just being passive-aggressive because she’d agreed to take on a new case.
“Fantastic,” she replied amiably. “Those baubles must be super shiny. Maybe you can show them to me after I eat?”
“Maybe.”
“Sorry about running late, by the way. I made a pit stop at the hospital on the way back.”
“How’s he doing?” Hannah asked, sounding genuinely engaged for the first time.
“Better actually. He was conscious and able to communicate through blinking. He has a long way to go but the doctor seemed to think it was a good sign.”
“I’m really glad to hear that,” Hannah said.
“Yeah. It’s nice to finally get some good news. If he continues to improve, maybe we can set up a time for you to see him later in the week.”
“Maybe,” Hannah said noncommittally. That seemed to be the word of the day.
“No pressure,” Jessie backtracked. “Just if you feel up to it. I was going to go eat now. Thanks again for dinner.”
Hannah nodded and returned to her phone without another word.
That could have gone worse.
As she walked back to the dinner table, her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number but answered just in case.
“Hunt here,” she said.
“Jessie Hunt,” a voluble male voice shouted, “have you found Corinne Weatherly’s killer yet? Was it your ex-husband?”
“Who is this?” she demanded.
“This is Blabber, the premier entertainment news site in the world. And the people demand to know, who killed Corinne?!”
“Call me again and I’ll have this number traced and get you arrested for harassment,” she said before hanging up.
