Fourth Wall (An Anthony Carrick Mystery Book 8)

by Jason Blacker

  Kordel nodded. Roberts looked at Beeves. I looked at the back of their heads. Sixteen years was a long time to hold a grudge. A long time to plot and plan. Smelter looked at Roberts and then Beeves and back to Roberts.

  “You don’t mean… I thought Anna drowned,” she said.

  “She drowned after having been poisoned,” said Roberts.

  Smelter looked at Kordel and Kordel looked back. The light of understanding slowly awakening their faces.

  “You mean, Gina killed Anna, what about Rip then, he had a temper,” said Kordel.

  Smelter nodded.

  “He did, I know for a fact that he hit her once too.”

  “When was that?” asked Roberts.

  “A few months ago. He’s been trying to apologize ever since. That’s why Anna broke up with him.”

  “I think Rip would’ve killed her more than Gina,” said Kordel. “I mean, she seemed really nice the last couple of times we’ve seen her right?”

  Smelter nodded.

  “We know that Rip was at the party and he was asked to leave after causing a scene. Can you tell us about that?”

  “He arrived later than most of us. Most of us were at the party by around eight or nine, right?” said Kordel.

  Smelter nodded.

  “Rip came closer to eleven, I think?”

  Smelter nodded again.

  “And how was he?” asked Roberts.

  “He was drunk when he came. And it seems like he came in a mood. He was just looking for a fight. He was badgering Anna that whole night he was there. Like for about the hour he was there. Then Anna told him he had to leave and she walked him to the door.”

  “What time was this?”

  Kordel shrugged.

  “Around midnight, I think?”

  Smelter nodded.

  “Carry on?” said Roberts.

  “Well, once we all got outside, things got worse. Rip was calling Anna all sorts of horrible names. Then he punched Billy and then Billy punched him back and they got into a wrestling match. Kyle and Gary broke it up. And when Rip was leaving he told Anna that he was going to kill her. That he was going to kill all of us. But we didn’t take it seriously because he was so drunk, and well, Rip’s just always had a temper.”

  “Why did he punch Mr. Orpen?” asked Roberts.

  “He was calling Anna all sorts of names, like I said, and telling her that if she wouldn’t be with him he’d make sure she wouldn’t be with anyone. And Billy was telling him to keep it down and to watch his language and that’s when he threw the punch.”

  Roberts nodded.

  “Who all was outside when Rip was leaving?”

  “Rip of course, me and Miki, Clif, Billy, Mary, Anna, Kyle and Gary I think.” Kordel looked at Smelter. Smelter nodded in agreement.

  “We’ve heard that Rip came back around two in the morning, did you see him?” asked Roberts.

  Kordel and Smelter looked at each other. They both shook their heads.

  “No,” said Kordel, “I was in bed by two, like I said.”

  Roberts looked at Smelter.

  She shook her head.

  “No, I didn’t see him. But then when Patty went to bed I went up to my room. I mean the guest room I was staying in, and it’s on the opposite side of the house. I watched TV for a while because my head was spinning and I couldn’t sleep. I crashed out around two. But I didn’t hear Rip or anyone. But then Anna always left the door unlocked. It’s a very safe gated community. I mean he could’ve come in and I probably wouldn’t have known.”

  Roberts nodded. Beeves was making tons of notes. I was thinking about motive. Gina had a good motive now. For killing both Anna and Mary. But all we had was speculation rather than hard evidence.

  “Who was left at the house when you went up to your bedroom?” asked Roberts, looking at Smelter.

  “Gina was there, doing stuff. She was getting ready to leave. I think she said she was going to make Anna her favorite hot chocolate first before she left. Kyle was there and he was talking with Clif. Clif was asking him what it was like working with this actor and that one. Those were the only three I saw. I don’t think anyone else was around.”

  “Mr. Orpen and Ms. Beale had left at around one, correct?”

  Smelter nodded.

  “And like I said. They were Gina’s ride but she wanted to help clean up a bit.”

  “What about Gary, Ashlee, Marissa and Valarie?” asked Roberts.

  “They all left shortly after Rip left. They thought he was a buzz kill so they went home.”

  “And Ashlee and Marissa live in the same gated community right?”

  Smelter nodded.

  “Just down the street a few houses. So does Gary. Though he’s up a couple of houses. He lives with Kyle.”

  “What about Valarie?”

  “She drove. She lives in Beverly Hills.”

  Roberts nodded. He looked at Beeves, then he looked at me. I nodded at him. I had nothing to ask, nor anything to add at the moment. Roberts stood up.

  “Well, thank you, both of you for coming and speaking with us. You’ve been very helpful.”

  The two blonde twins stood up.

  “You will find out who did this, won’t you? I mean we could be next, couldn’t we? Especially now that Anna and Mary are both dead.”

  “I think we’re getting closer now thanks to you,” said Roberts.

  Kordel smiled a sad and slippery little smile.

  “Oh, and don’t drink anything offered to you by Gina,” I said.

  They both looked at me not sure if I was serious. I was serious.

  “And don’t be mean bitches either,” I said.

  Roberts gave me another look.

  “We’ve changed,” said Kordel, trying to convince me. “High school was a horrible time for all of us.”

  Roberts led us all out of the room and out of the building. The three of us watched the two of them get into Smelter’s white Mercedes that looked like it had just come off the dealer’s lot. Roberts gave them a friendly wave good bye. I watched them carefully under the shade of my fedora.

  “Looks like we know who did it,” I said. “At least for the Ancher murder.”

  Roberts looked at me and nodded.

  “I want to get on CID first and see if they’ve got fingerprints and chemicals from that chocolate mug. Then we’ll bring her in.”

  “Not to forget the Pommie bottles,” I added. “If she’s that careless her prints will likely be on them too.”

  Roberts nodded.

  “How the hell did she get the poison whatever it is?” said Beeves. “We’ve gotta figure that out too.”

  We all nodded and wished each other well. I said I was going to visit Brigitte from Brigitte’s Baskets and Gifts if there was in fact a Brigitte involved and see if she might remember who paid and bought the gift basket for Mary Beale.

  SIXTEEN

  Basket Cases

  BRIGITTE’S Baskets and Gifts is not far from Britain’s Best on Beverly Drive. About half a block up from Britain’s Best. I was driving myself in circles and that pissed me off. I didn’t know why I didn’t visit them right after I’d seen Styles earlier this afternoon. I was being a bloody idiot. Driving around town like a robotic chauffeur with a ghost as a client. Nevertheless, here I was again. Finding another parking spot and it had not long gone five thirty. I was hoping Brigitte kept decent hours on a Sunday, like to six pm. If not I’d be howling at the bloody moon and punching myself like a crazy person.

  I was in luck. Brigitte’s Baskets and Gifts’ store was about half the size of Britain’s Best. It was clean and sparse inside filled with only the finest goods you’d want to put in a basket. Artisanal chocolates and jerkies and smoked hams, even fruit that looked more plastic than real but which was certainly real. I wandered around the store quicker than Bolt could run the hundred meters. So I started doing laps. The only employee in the place was behind a counter setting up a basket of goodies for a retiree. And she see
med to be in no rush.

  The woman doing the basket I wagered was likely Brigitte, the namesake to the store. At least that was my guess. Why did I guess that? She was in her mid to late fifties, her gray hair not gray as much as sandy blonde, long and straight that went past her shoulders. Her face, hands and neckline were tanned and sandblasted by the California sun. Her face was tighter than you’d expect from a woman her age and I credited that to a proficient surgeon of the plastic kind.

  She was as tall as me, though I couldn’t tell if that was with the help of heels. She was still attractive, though I feared further plastic sculpting wouldn’t help with that. Her breasts were firm and ample, sitting a few inches higher on her chest than what would be natural for a woman her age. But this was Rodeo Drive - almost. This was Hollywood and LA. Silicon of all sorts was available in ample supply.

  She finished up with her customer and as the old woman left the store she smiled at me and came on over.

  “How can I help you?” she asked.

  I’d left my hat in the car. I nodded at her.

  “This is a lovely store,” I said. “Do you offer all sorts of gift baskets?”

  “Yes, that’s quite right. Anything really that you want in a gift basket we can manage for you. Though our best sellers are usually the coffee and chocolate, tea and cookies, though for you, I imagine our grilling and BBQ basket would be a hit.”

  She smiled at me and looked me up and down like a smoked ham. I did the same with her. She wore no wedding ring and she wasn’t wearing heels. She was a tall drink of sweet water, the kind that’s artificially sweetened. On another day, I might be inclined to flirt and play games with her. But today I was in a bad mood. Not the least of which being the fact I’d made two trips out here. On top of that, this wasn’t the sort of place you’d usually find me at. I pulled out my badge from the inside of my pocket.

  “Anthony Carrick,” I said, “LAPD Homicide.”

  Now strictly speaking I wasn’t lying. My name is true, and the badge was for the Los Angeles Police Department. Both true, and said together, you’d forgive a person for assuming that my name went with the badge.

  “Oh,” she said, as I heard the wind leak from her balloon of optimism.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m investigating a homicide.”

  She nodded.

  “Not sure how I can help with that. Never had so much as a shoplifter in here.”

  “Are you the owner?” I asked.

  “Yes, Brigitte Balalaika,” she said, offering me a well manicured hand with French nails. The kind of nails that in a different life I might have imagined gripping into my back in a state of passion. I shook her hand.

  “You might have heard of the untimely death of the actress Mary Beale last night?”

  She nodded.

  “Terrible, just terrible. The papers said she died right on stage.”

  I nodded.

  “We believe she was poisoned with juice,” I said. “Pomegranate juice.”

  “We only sell Tom’s Pom,” she said. “It wasn’t that, was it?”

  I shook my head.

  “No, it was Pommie.”

  “Oh, well I don’t sell that. You should check with Kathleen at Britain’s Best just down the strip about half a block.”

  “I did,” I said. “She sold the juice some weeks back, but we believe you packaged it up in a gift basket.”

  “You’re not suggesting I had anything to do with the poisoning are you?”

  “Not at all,” I said, touching her on the upper arm. “But I believe whoever did it, used you to package and deliver the basket to Mrs. Beale.”

  “I see,” she said. “When do you think this might have been?”

  I shrugged.

  “I’m not sure. The basket was sent out yesterday late afternoon I believe. You used a service like Stamper or Stampeding. Something like that.”

  I looked at her hopefully.

  Brigitte thought for a moment and started to nod slowly at first.

  “Yes, there were three deliveries yesterday afternoon. Only one of them contained Pommie, now that I think of it. Stompor’s is the service we usually use. They’re reliable and cheap.”

  I nodded.

  “I believe the driver’s name was Luther. Does that sound right?”

  More nodding like bobbleheads.

  “Yes, Luther is one of the sons of Frederick who owns the business. It’s a small family owned operation. I like to work with them. Loyal and trustworthy. Malcolm and Martin also often drive.”

  “Can you tell me who ordered the gift basket?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “He was a younger man. Younger than you.”

  I didn’t know if that was a compliment or a slap in the face.

  “Younger than us,” I said, before I had a chance to bite my tongue. I was in one of those moods. I was being an ass. She smiled at me thinly like a snake might, thinking upon whether it wants to eat you or not. I guess I didn’t look like a tasty morsel.

  “Yes, younger than both of us.”

  She looked at the watch on her wrist. I looked at it too. It was a Cartier. It was mostly silver with pink or rose gold interlaced in the steel band. It had a rectangular face with roman numerals for numbers. It looked expensive, but I didn’t know if it was accurate. The long hand was leaning towards the XII like a drunkard and the short hand was butting up against the VI. Not being Italian and therefore not Roman wasn’t a hardship. I still knew it was almost six.

  “I guess I can close up shop now, if you’ll give me a moment.”

  I nodded at her. She went to the front door and locked it. She didn’t have a neon ‘CLOSED’ sign nor even a placard that mentioned same. I wasn’t bothered. She came back to me.

  “Thanks to technology, everything is available on the computer. I have the digital receipt in the back along with his picture hopefully.”

  I salivated at the idea of getting a picture of the culprit. Though I was curious as to why it wasn’t Gina. Though perhaps we had been wrong about her. I’d find out in time.

  I followed Brigitte and her soft bum into the back where a small office was located. The backroom of hers was smaller than that of Styles’ but her office was better and actually walled off from the storage area that made up the rest of the room.

  “Pull the chair around so you can see better,” she said.

  I pulled the cheap office chair around the desk to her side. She powered on the computer and we sat in silence for a while as it started to boot up.

  “Why would anyone want to poison her?” she asked me, looking at the monitor.

  If it was Gina, we had an idea, but that was not something I wanted or was able to share with this woman.

  “That’s part of the puzzle,” I said. “If we knew the motive we’d likely have a firm perp in mind. By all accounts she was a likable person and arguably the best actor amongst her colleagues on that stage.”

  Brigitte turned and looked at me. She nodded her head.

  “I saw the play a couple of weeks ago and I’d have to agree. She was the best of the bunch. Perhaps it was envy,” she said. “Maybe one of the other actors was jealous of her abilities and stealing the limelight.”

  I nodded and smiled at her.

  “That wouldn’t be the first time that jealousy has been a motive for murder,” I said.

  “Perhaps you should be looking at the other actors for suspects,” she said.

  I think she was trying to be genuinely helpful and I almost said it was a brilliant idea and why hadn’t we thought of it. But I bit my tongue. I said instead, “we’re casting a wide net at the moment.”

  She turned back towards her computer and typed in her password to access it.

  “My husband was very tech savvy,” she said. “He invested a lot of money into my business for me and especially the cameras and software here to ensure its safe operation.”

  “I didn’t see any cameras,” I said, and I hadn’t.


  She smiled a knowing smile.

  “There are eight of them.”

  I nodded. That was impressive.

  “Two capture video from different angles at the till. Two are aimed towards the entrance at around waist height in the product stands. Two more are higher up aimed towards the front from the back and the last two are aimed towards the back from the middle of the store. There isn’t a space in the store that isn’t covered by video.”

  “I wish all stores were so diligent,” I said. “It would help us a lot. What business was your husband in?”

  “He serviced television and movie production. He supplied sound equipment most often used on location or on set.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “It’s quite lucrative,” she said.

  “Are you still together?” I asked.

  She looked down at her ring finger where there was no ring, and then back up at me smiling.

  “You’re quite observant,” she said. “Are you interested?”

  “I would be if I wasn’t attached,” I said, trying to be pleasant.

  “No, we’re not together. He had a heart attack on his fiftieth birthday. That was almost ten years ago now. I don’t have to work, he made sure I was well taken care of. But I like to have something to do every day.”

  “I can understand that,” I said. “Kids?”

  She nodded.

  “Two daughters, my eldest is here in LA working as a plastic surgeon…”

  I didn’t want to ask and I didn’t want to know if it was her daughter that had butchered her own mother.

  “And the youngest is working with Goldman Sachs in New York.”

  “They’ve done well,” I said, smiling.

  She nodded and turned back towards the computer.

  “How far back do your video recordings go?”

  “Generally seven to ten days, depending on how busy we are. They’re on motion sensors so there’s usually no recording once we’re closed. I think the young man who paid for the gift basket came in on Friday.”

  She tapped away at the keyboard as I watched and waited. She brought up footage of the store on Friday, starting in the morning. She sped it up to around eight times normal speed.