Diagnosis Murder 3 - The Shooting Script

by Lee Goldberg

  "I've been too busy to watch the news," she said.

  "What have you been doing?" Jesse asked, with worry in his voice. The last time he'd left her alone for a while in his apartment she'd rearranged his closet and thrown out his favorite pair of old socks.

  "I've been going through all this stuff you printed out about Noah Dent," she said. "I think I found something. Buy me dinner at BBQ Bob's and I'll tell you all about it."

  Moira Cole sat glowering across the table at Steve from the same lopsided chair Nick Stryker sat in not so long ago.

  While Moira Cole and Lacey McClure shared some obvious physical similarities, they projected a very different presence. Moira's facial features were as sharp, but came across as harder, less feminine. Lacey effortlessly radiated an intensity, with her eyes and with her body language, that Moira simply couldn't match. It was easy to see why Lacey was the movie star and Moira was the stunt double. She was Lacey McClure at half the wattage.

  Steve wondered if Moira would be more attractive if she didn't try so hard to look like Lacey, which only invited comparisons. But being the lesser Lacey was Moira's profession and, if she wasn't careful, it would also be her downfall. He was there to remind her of that.

  "You've taken being a stunt double to a whole new level," he said. "You don't just stand in for Lacey McClure in movies, but in real life, too."

  "I don't get it," she said.

  "I'm talking about being an accessory to murder," Steve said. "I'm talking about helping her fabricate an alibi so she could shoot Cleve Kershaw and Amy Butler."

  "Huh?" she asked, acting confused. Her acting made Lacey McClure look like Meryl Streep.

  Steve held up a video tape. "We know this is you having sex with Titus Carville, not Lacey McClure."

  "I didn't know having sex with a guy was a crime," Moira smirked.

  "It is if you're doing it to help someone commit murder," Steve said.

  "I'm, like, totally lost," Moira replied. "So I hooked up with a guy in a motel. All we killed was an hour and a few calories."

  "We know you were in the adjoining room that Titus rented. We know you slipped in and had sex with him after Lacey left," Steve said. "You knew there was a private eye outside with a camcorder. So you positioned yourself with your back to the camera to be sure he'd see the tattoo on your back, but not your face. You wanted him to mistake you for Lacey."

  "I positioned myself that way because I like it," she said. "Sure, I've got a scorpion tattoo because I want people to mistake me for Lacey. That's what I do for a living. I get people to think I'm her. But I had no idea some pervert was outside the window filming us."

  "So you were just there having a romantic rendezvous with Titus Carville," Steve said.

  "Yeah."

  "Lacey's boyfriend."

  "He's not her boyfriend," Moira said. "He's mine."

  "That's not what he told us," Steve said. "He said Lacey was his true love. So you can see why I am bit confused."

  "So am I," Moira said. "I suggest you ask him again."

  "I'd like to," Steve said. "But he's dead."

  Moira's whole body stiffened and she blinked twice, as if trying to clear her vision. Again, not a very convincing perfonnance.

  "What happened?" she stammered.

  "It looks like suicide," Steve said. "But as you know better than anybody, looks can be deceiving."

  "I'm tired of this," Moira said. "I want to leave now."

  "You want to go? There's an easy way to walk out this door," Steve said. "Tell us everything that happened. Testify against Lacey."

  Moira gave him a cold look. "I have nothing to testify about."

  "Lacey murdered two people and you helped her do it by trying to create an airtight alibi for her," Steve said. "Tell us how she planned it and I'll get the prosecutor to cut you a deal. Who knows, maybe you'll even get immunity."

  "I told you, Titus and I were lovers," Moira said. "The two of us hooking up at the motel had nothing to do with any killings."

  "So why was Lacey there?" Steve said. "And why did she drive off in your car, then come back and leave in hers again?"

  "She didn't go anyplace."

  "We have surveillance footage from the gas station across the street," Steve said. "We know that you arrived in a rented Ford Taurus. Ten minutes after Lacey showed up, kissed Titus, and went into the room, the car you rented was driven out of the lot. Forty minutes later it came back, and a few minutes after that, Lacey came out of the motel room and drove out again in her Mustang. She was followed out by Titus in his pickup truck and then you in the Taurus."

  "I didn't rent a car," Moira said.

  "We traced the license plates on the Taurus back to the rental company," Steve said. "The car was rented by a woman using a stolen credit card—another felony by the way, Moira. We looked at their security-camera footage. The woman was wearing a large hat and sunglasses, but we're sure it's you."

  "It wasn't," she said.

  "Why did you rent the car?"

  "I didn't," Moira said. "Don't you listen?"

  "So you're saying you met Titus Carville at the motel for sex."

  "Right."

  "And that Lacey showed up and didn't leave," Steve said.

  "Uh-huh."

  "What was Lacey doing there?" Steve asked. "Are you saying it was a threesome? Or does she just like to watch?"

  "You're a sicko, you know that?" Moira said. "It wasn't anything like that. We were rehearsing a scene."

  "I thought you met Titus there for some afternoon delight."

  "That wasn't exactly how it started," she said. "I double for Lacey in sex scenes that involve nudity. But since I'm still portraying her, she wants to be sure I look right, you know? That I evoke the essence of who she is, or people won't believe it's her. So she asked me to rehearse what I was going to do, with Titus, my boyfriend, and she'd give me pointers on how she wanted me to perform."

  Steve gave her an incredulous look. "You've got to be kidding."

  "I'm a method actress," Moira said. "Since Titus is my boyfriend, we kind of got into it, so Lacey went into the next room to give us some privacy."

  "Why did you do this in a motel instead of Lacey's house, your place, or his place?"

  "Lacey was afraid of how it might look," Moira said. "She wanted to go someplace where we wouldn't attract attention."

  "That's the dumbest story I've ever heard," Steve said. "It makes no sense."

  "Like yours does?"

  "I'm not telling stories," Steve said.

  "Sure you are. You're twisting everything to fit this stupid fantasy of yours, anyway," she said. "It's pathetic."

  "I don't understand something, Moira. What's in this for you? Why are you protecting her?" Steve said. "She killed Titus Carville. She would have killed you, too, if we hadn't arrested her first."

  "See, you're doing it again," Moira said. "Twisting everything around. I'm done. You have any more questions for me, talk to my lawyer."

  "You don't have one yet."

  "I will," Moira said.

  "Is Lacey providing one for you?" Steve said.

  "Is that a crime, too?"

  "No, just not very smart." Steve got up from the table. "Do you really think your interests and hers are the same? She will sell you out. But I guess that's an improvement over what she did to Titus."

  He left the interrogation room, hoping she'd think about what he'd said, but he didn't have much hope. For whatever reason, Moira Cole was willing to go down with Lacey McClure.

  Fine, he thought, let 'em both go to prison. Moira didn't deserve any breaks, anyway, and he certainly didn't need her testimony to convict Lacey.

  His beeper went off. He looked at the number and felt a pang of anxiety in his stomach.

  Chief Masters wanted to see him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Jesse slid into the booth across from Susan at BBQ Bob's. The printouts Jesse made off the Internet were spread all over the table between them, only n
ow the papers had color- coded tabs, and sections of text were highlighted.

  "Aren't you organized," Jesse said.

  "I get that way the more disorganized the rest of my life becomes," Susan said.

  "You've only been out of work for a few hours," Jesse said.

  "And see how I am already?" Susan replied. "Imagine what I will be like in a week."

  "You can start work here tonight," Jesse said. "If that will make you feel better."

  "We haven't talked about my salary," she said.

  "I need to consult with Steve about that," Jesse replied.

  "You haven't talked to him yet?"

  "He's been kind of busy with his day job," Jesse said. "I'll catch him tonight or tomorrow."

  "But what if he doesn't want to hire me?" Susan said. "What if he thinks I'm not qualified?"

  "Susan, you've already been working here for years," he said. "The only difference is that now, instead of taking ad vantage of you, we're going to pay you."

  "It's just until I find another nursing job," she said.

  "Then we'll be lucky if we can keep you until this time to morrow," Jesse said. "Hospitals will be lining up to have you. That is, if Community General doesn't beg you to come back."

  "They won't," she said. "Not as long as Noah Dent is there."

  "Which may not be long if you found something."

  "Don't get your hopes up," she said, turning some papers towards him to read. "It's interesting but I'm not sure what it means. Check out his work history since he graduated from business school, and tell me what you see."

  Jesse scanned the documents. "Dalberg Enterprises, Deon Worldwide, Mediverse Corporation, Healthcorp International, Davis & Laurin Properties, Hollyworld International." He looked up, bewildered. "Mediverse, Healthcorp and Hollyworld have all owned Community General at one time."

  "It gets creepier than that," Susan said. "Dent left Mediverse as soon as they sold Community General to Healthcorp. He worked briefly at Davis & Laurin while Healthcorp went through bankruptcy liquidation, then went straight to Hollyworld the moment they acquired the hospital."

  "How come we never heard of him before?"

  "Because until now he never worked in divisions of the company that gave him any control over Community General," she said. "He's been in finance, not in administration. It's almost like he's been working his way up, waiting for his chance."

  "You're amazing." Jesse leaned across the table and gave Susan a kiss. "I thought you weren't interested in being a detective."

  "I never had a reason before," she said. "You know what? It's kind of fun. I felt a real charge when I saw the pattern in his work history. It was like the feeling I get when I win at the slot machines."

  "Why do you think I've been helping Mark out?" Jesse said. "It's because I like that little thrill of discovery when you unearth a clue."

  "We still don't know why Community General means so much to Dent."

  "It doesn't," Jesse said. "Mark does."

  "How do you know?"

  "It's a hunch," Jesse said. "Now all we have to do is prove it."

  * * *

  Police Chief John Masters had the largest office in Parker Center and, perhaps, the largest office of any Los Angeles public official. But with Masters, DA Burnside, and ADA Karen Cross waiting for him in the room, it felt very cramped to Steve.

  The mood was hardly congratulatory or festive when he walked in. It was an atmosphere of barely controlled rage. Steve felt like he was a lit match in a room full of explosives.

  "Lt. Sloan, we understand you've arrested Lacey McClure for murder, along with her stunt double," the chief said.

  "Yes, sir," Steve said. As long as the chief was going to state the obvious, Steve figured it was best to follow his lead.

  "Did you consult the district attorney or Ms. Cross before you made the arrest?"

  "No, sir," Steve said.

  The chief's face was as lifeless and cold as a statue. "You want to tell me why?"

  "Because new evidence came to light that torpedoed Lacey McClure's alibi and established her guilt," Steve said. "There's no question she's the killer."

  "Would the evidence have changed if you waited an hour or two?" Burnside asked. "Would the evidence have evaporated, would Lacey McClure have fled, if you'd consulted with us first before making an arrest?"

  "I didn't see the point of waiting," Steve said. "Or why she should get special treatment because she's a movie star. If this was anybody else, you wouldn't care if I arrested her or not and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

  "But it isn't anybody else, Detective," the chief said. "And this is no ordinary case."

  "It's tragically ordinary, sir," Steve said. "She murdered her husband over love or money or both. I see it every day."

  "You may not be seeing it much longer," The chief said. "You acted alone. You disregarded procedure and willfully defied your superiors. I ought to take your badge right now and flush it down my toilet."

  The chief was right and Steve knew it. The fact was, he'd gotten caught up in the energy of the moment. His father had cracked Lacey's alibi and Steve couldn't wait to slap the cuffs on her after that. He was tired of being manipulated by her. But now, as Steve stood in Chief Masters' office, feeling the angry glares of his superiors, he realized another reason why he'd done it.

  "But you're not going to do that, Chief, because the way you figure it, you'll have my badge when this is over, any way." Steve glanced at Karen Cross. "You'll probably be rid of her, too. This case is a career-killer, no matter what happens. If my career is going to end over this, then I want as much control over how I'm going to go out as I can get. I'm not going to be a pawn in anybody's political game."

  "It's all about you, isn't it, Sloan?" Burnside sighed with disgust. "What about the department? What about the city? Do you care about what will happen in the wake of your thoughtless actions? There will be lasting repercussions."

  "Each day she is on TV, manipulating the press and directing this investigation, the LAPD suffers and the city suffers," Steve said. "Which is why she needed to be taken down the instant we had the evidence to do it. I hope this arrest has repercussions, and that the message is that murderers will be prosecuted, no matter who they are."

  "You shouldn't have given up law school," Karen said. "You obviously enjoy playing to an unfriendly jury. I've only got one question for you. Do you have the evidence to back up your arrest?"

  "She's got so many motives, you can pick the one you like best." Steve handed her the videos Mark had shown Lacey. "And we've cracked her alibi wide open and exposed the cold calculation that went into it."

  "You mean your father did," Masters said.

  "Yes, he did," Steve said. "Does it matter?"

  "Perhaps it wouldn't if Dr. Sloan's entire conversation with her hadn't been recorded and broadcast all over the globe," Masters said. "If we win the case, the message is that a doctor solved a crime that you, and this department, couldn't. It makes us look incompetent. If we lose, the message is that we're a bunch of fools who let some doddering old civilian run our investigation. And we will look incompetent. Do you see the theme here, Detective?"

  "I do." Steve took a step forward and looked the chief in the eye. "And you've just explained, better than I ever could, why I didn't call anybody in this room for their approval. I'm not interested in the politics. I'm interested in who shot Cleve Kershaw and Amy Butler to death while they were laying unconscious and helpless in bed. That person is Lacey McClure. She has to pay. Everything else is irrelevant."

  "If you think that, Sloan, then you're a bigger fool than I thought," Burnside said. "Context is everything. You made a big mistake here today."

  Steve turned to go. There was no point to listening to this garbage any more. But before he reached the door he stopped, replaying everything that had been said. Suddenly the whole meeting suddenly took on new meaning to him, a new context, as Burnside might say. Now there was one more thing S
teve had to say. He looked back at the three of them.

  "You're right. I broke the rules. I disrespected your authority. So fire me. Go ahead," Steve said, holding his badge out to them. "C'mon, why wait? It's what you want to do, isn't it? Take my badge and flush it down your toilet, Chief."

  He stared at them, daring them to act. None of them said a word. Steve shook his head and put his badge back in his pocket.

  "You can't do it, can you?" Steve said. "Because it will look like you're punishing me for arresting a famous movie star for murders that she obviously committed. And what message would that send about you? What repercussions would that have for the department and the city? So unless you're ready to take my badge now, I guess I'm pretty much free to do whatever I want and not care what you think."

  Karen Cross smiled. "I thought you didn't play politics."

  "I'm a quick study," Steve said, and walked out.

  Arthur Tyrell's new home theater sat across from him in a bright orange prison jumpsuit, a sullen expression on her famous face.

  Despite her predicament, her wardrobe, and her sour mood, Lacey McClure still looked terrific, and still radiated her undeniable star power. But all Tyrell saw when he looked at her was a loving recreation of one of LA's grand, Art Deco theaters, most of which had either been torn down or were decaying in obscurity, relegated to screening Spanish movies and providing shelter for drug addicts.

  His home theater would be small, a mere one thousand square feet, but the plans included a concession stand, a ticket booth, and a marquee. If this case was as lucrative as he expected it to be, he would honor Lacey McClure by having her movie posters on permanent display in his home lobby. Perhaps he'd even ask her to autograph one of them.

  "I hear you're the best," Lacey said.

  "You heard right," Tyrell said.

  "I want you to represent me and Moira Cole," Lacey said. "She's my stunt double."

  "I'll need a $500,000 retainer to start," he said, realizing he'd yet to choose a pattern for the curtains over his movie screen. "That is by no means the limit to what it might cost to adequately defend you and Ms. Cole in this case."