“No, Martin. Just the first and last.”
“Four twelve and five minutes ago. The last time he left a message. Said he is deeply concerned because you haven’t returned his calls. He made me underline deeply.”
Ann just sat there in the pool of light from the desk lamp, and thought very hard about her past relationship with Griffin. It was a see-saw. Up with the joys of feeling alive again when they met, because he had revived her ability to love. Down with the realization that he couldn’t reciprocate, more accurately wouldn’t reveal himself again after showing her once how much he wanted her. She squirmed with misery, hating herself for succumbing so easily to that one night of fulfillment which he cut off like sudden death. It was a bitter irony that this new insight into his dark torment explained it all. His reasons for not wanting to get close to someone, be intimate, spill the beans, expose his demons.
She tried using this new insight to feel better about her pained ego and frustrated emotions, but nothing got through. Stunned that this man could have held that big a secret, one that played an enormous part in her own life’s equally dark horrors, and that for two years she’d had no idea about it. She turned it over and over. It didn’t get any easier to accept the rejection. In fact she felt more shocked and duped than before.
Now Ann was thankful not to have met King Leo back then, though Tarquin had apparently spent hours with him. She was unknown to Griffin then, and had a different name now. It meant she didn’t have to say a word to him, certainly not yet. Not out of fear, she felt none, although she could imagine his need to eliminate anyone who knew his secret.
Ann laughed, that was too silly. But the dark side was there, the mystery of his friend’s murder. She also felt sorry for him. For his years of being a lone wolf, surviving outside the system, using cover names. Did his parents know? They must have, they’d been supplying him with money, or so he said. But he was always vague about his parents, the stories varied, were they alive or not? And where were they? Griffin was cagey about everything personal. Who was Griffin anyway?
Finally she shut down her thoughts and went back to her column, wrapping it with edit and corrections in just over half an hour.
CHAPTER 32
Outside The Weekly Independent Offices – Wednesday
Cortez, standing in a doorway across the road from the two-story building which housed the newspaper, was not enjoying himself at all. He’d been here the day before briefly, and he didn’t know what to expect as he waited outside her apartment this morning. He had to be ready for the long haul. It was only a hope and a hunch that she would do something that would connect him to Rivkin. So far this woman didn’t seem to have any friends.
It took him by surprise when she landed back at the office in the mid-afternoon today, and was still in there, hours later, after all the other staff had left, and hers was the only light burning. He used his powers of deduction to check the date the paper arrived on the street, and match it to a deadline. This was the reason. She was finishing her column. He’d read the last one and got an insight to her lifestyle, and saw her byline photo. Good looking woman. He thought freelance writers would work from home. He wondered why she was working in the office, better typewriters maybe, copiers, yes that made sense.
Cortez sincerely hoped she would be visiting Leonard Rivkin, very soon, and was actually praying for this event when he saw her leave the office building and walk slowly to her car, a ten-year-old Pacer.
It didn’t take him long to read the street names and realize that once again this would not be the night, as they made the turns that took her into Holloway Drive and home. He knew enough to linger for another hour or so outside in case she emerged for a late night visit, but the lights eventually went out and he drove back to his West Hollywood hotel. Too tired to give his curiosity an outing in this strange city he knew very little about. The kind of tired that comes from bored rather than frustrated.
CHAPTER 33
Griffin’s Place
Griffin was alone for that short period of time before the few close buddies he still had came by for an evening toke, which would be followed by constant arrivals until the clubbers turned up after midnight and stayed through dawn. He was wrapped in nostalgia, rummaging in his shelves for audio tapes, scratched and marked hastily by hand, but he knew exactly what he had and where to locate it. He spent a while playing with images on his editing machine, got impatient, played old music he wrote and sang in the sixties, pacing around restlessly, making phone calls, jabbing at the numbers, leaving terse enigmatic messages, and speaking roughly to someone for a few seconds.
When the phone rang he answered it brusquely, not hiding his ugly mood, saying he was busy writing his new project and to call him later.
Next time the phone rang he snatched it up immediately. It was Ann. As a way of showing the relief he obviously felt, his voice became warm, almost syrupy.
“So, you must have been busy doing something very pressing. You’re an important journalist. I should try to remember that.”
“Oh, Griffin, you know this publication I work for. Deadlines are a religion. And besides that, I had to dump my piece and write something completely new from scratch. About this controversial movie that’s all the rage.”
“I haven’t seen you for days, and I don’t want you to disappear from my life.”
Underneath the showy talk his vulnerability was touching, out of character and of course fleeting, she knew.
“Come off it, Griffin. I notice you didn’t ask me what controversial movie I’ve been writing about.”
“That’s because I know.”
“Oh, you do?”
“Yes, it’s ‘I Married My Mom.’”
“Oh. Okay, so you knew. I forgot about your network of gossip slaves.”
“I assumed you were spending a lot of time with that nice English friend of yours. The singer, name escapes me… Madeleine, of course.”
“No, I told you, she went straight back to London next morning, we said our goodbyes that night and she was off.”
“And she didn’t say anything about the time we met.”
“Honestly, Griffin, I don’t think you listen to a word I say…”
“Ann, please don’t switch moods on me…”
“The last time you asked me that question I told you all she said was that you had told her some private joke or something and she promised not to pass it on. Hell, I didn’t even bother to ask her what it was myself. Can’t stand jokes anyway.”
“Oh, yes, you told me that. I remember now. Well, it’s not important anyway. Now what is important is my script here. You did say you were going to give me some guidance with it? I hope you meant it. I need your help.”
“The science fiction project?”
“It’s a story that reveals the truth about our world. And one day the truth will be seen.”
“Well, I was telling you the truth when I said I think it’s fascinating and could be very commercial and successful. But…”
“There’s that But. You must remove the Buts from your life. Accept the denial, the negative, the rejection, the tragic, and move on. You’re a soldier in life, Ann. You are a very significant person. You could hold the truth in your hands.”
“Alright. And. And I would love to help you with it, and I will do that if you will take my advice because otherwise it’s too maddening to argue with you. And, Griffin, I will not be free from this current workload for at least three days. However. Is that allowed? However?” She chuckled, and Griffin took up the humorous mood, laughing with her, his voice sweet and rough at the same time as he reeled her in on his silver thread of persuasion.
“However can be acceptable, at certain times.”
“Then, however, it won’t be for a few days. Okay?”
“A couple of days. Maybe just one. How about tomorrow? My door is always open. Call me.”
He abruptly hung up, and Ann sat there for a while, wondering what it was she had just been throu
gh, why she enjoyed the sparring, and already looked forward to seeing him. She was as needy and crazy as him, for sure. It was time she met someone new.
***
That’s when the phone rang again. She shouldn’t have picked it up.
“Ann, it can’t wait. You know how much you mean…”
“I’ve heard this before. What’s coming?”
“It’s bad.”
She waited. Feeling the dread creep over her.
“I know she told you about when we met. I’ve done something really stupid. I trust you to hear me out. Thing is. I fell for her that weekend, that exquisite flower. She was haughty and cold with me. I was just the dealer, the Yank, no more than the help. But I was in love.”
He paused. Ann gave him nothing.
“When she spoke her name the other night my heart exploded. But there it was, the same disdain. I wanted to shock and hurt her, make her see me this time. See my power, what I did to them all. My life was haunted for years by her downfall and suffering, but look at her, she survived it and she still looked at me like I was shit. I just couldn’t let it go, could I? All the secrecy, and I just blew it away. I’m a fucking idiot. If she tells her friends then there’s only trouble for me.”
Ann could barely whisper the words. But she had to help him.
“She’s not going to tell anyone.”
“Can you help me with that? That’s what I’m asking.”
“I already have. Stop worrying. I have to go.”
CHAPTER 34
Ann’s Apartment
Ann sat up in bed leafing through the books she’d found in the library, enjoying the new shift in her feelings for Griffin, like a massive weather change, from attachment to detachment. He would be surprised to know he’d released her from their emotional tie with his strange confession. From a distant perspective she was feeling sorry for him now.
Most of the books revealed the scandals of London’s swinging sixties. A lot of ground was covered on the titillating Profumo girls, which entertained her for a good hour before she moved on. She’d forgotten the story and learned some new details, horrifying contrasts in fate. There were mentions of some drug busts of individual characters, well known to the public, but none more colorful than The Veils’ catastrophe, yet none of the writers had bothered to learn more about the focal point in the story, the disappearance of the mystery dealer. Perhaps they’d tried and reached a dead end. Curious. She wondered if the English newspapers of that time were available on file.
One of the newer publications she found at Samuel French was just a glossy collection of photos, a few she hadn’t seen before, including an early one of Madeleine and Pete Stebbings. It looked like their first public outing. Ann was touched by how young they looked and she remembered herself. Slim and pale, girlish in those little Biba dresses. That was the year Ann could have become anything, a film actress, a model. She was shy and just beyond mousey but once she put on the eyelashes and pale lipstick lots of lecherous men swept down on her like she was fresh meat.
Tarquin’s death took her in another direction. She answered to the call of the Maharishi, then found her own path, through Europe and the Far East, before falling in love with an older man, mentor, screenwriter, alcoholic, and followed him back to London to become his wife. They had a fascinating short life together but she couldn’t save him from the decline caused by his creative failures. Fortunately she met everyone in the movie business, and was offered an exciting job in an international literary and talent agency.
After a few painful years of combining happy success, an exhilarating life in the movies, and the sadness of having to leave him, Ann seized the chance to do that by moving to the West Coast. She still carried with her a great vision of the world and a belief that justice was possible. Working inside the Hollywood system instead of Europe took care of that unfortunate illusion, but it enabled her to become a respected writer and widow.
Just before she turned off the light and shoved the books onto the floor, Ann made her plan for tomorrow. She would check the proofs of her story with the newspaper over the phone, lock it in by noon, take a leisurely bath, then have a pleasant lunch with one of her impartial friends who would make her laugh. Then call Griffin and drop by his cave early in the evening, before he got high, and just stay a little while. Hope there would be no reference to their last conversation. And not get engaged in a tussle of wills. He always won. She would be at an advantage by taking over a pie, a peace offering. Good idea.
CHAPTER 35
Outside Barney’s Beanery – West Hollywood – Thursday
Vince had tucked himself into a corner behind a parked truck where he could watch for the arrival of Cortez. He’d told him exactly where to park. Burning a guilty hole in his pants pocket was a small heavy disc which would activate a tracking system by transmitting a signal to a receiving device, very sophisticated stuff, results guaranteed. All he had to do was attach it to the underside of Cortez’s car.
The three hours of phoning, persuading and technical tuition Vince had gone through made this last act a triumph of simplicity. He had made a few friends in various useful clandestine professions, with his free tickets, VIP passes and a rare chance to rub shoulders with the famous, all of which he wielded with spare cunning. His buddy Jacko, the owner of this tracking device, was one of them.
Now he was tapping his feet with impatience, blaming himself for arriving way too early, geared up with unfamiliar tension. Relief came with the arrival of an obvious rental snaking into the small car park.
Vince watched the suave black man emerge with a grandeur not appropriate to the vehicle or the occasion, and certainly not the venue. Something about Cortez bothered Vince. The cool attitude, the experienced look of an operator, he didn’t trust it. Suddenly he had a thought. Cortez could be an undercover cop, or a private detective, he was so confident in his style. Vince watched Cortez as he strolled out of the car park.
Waited a few beats, then walked over to the rental, dropped a pack of cigarettes on the ground, cursed for effect, bent down to pick them up and attached the bug. He then walked over to a payphone and made a short call to Jacko to signal success, before following his target into the restaurant, where Cortez stood staring around, seeming surprised that Vince was not already there waiting.
Those few seconds were enough for Cortez to get suspicious, annoyed, and righteously offended. He was being stood up. A moment later Vince walked in, looking strangely smug.
The coffee time was pleasant. The two men had started off formal, then steered by Vince with subtle mastery, they talked about the appeal of rock and roll up against rhythm and blues. Vince knew which buttons to push, he’d seen them all in concert. Earth Wind and Fire got Cortez’s defenses down, and it wasn’t difficult for the two men to connect, just short of ordering a second round. Neither man submitted any useful information about their sources or motivations, so the meeting was something of a standoff. Cortez seemed oblivious to the undercurrents, and Vince was very relaxed anyway, with his little bug in place, observing that Cortez was constantly looking at his watch. Obviously on a schedule.
CHAPTER 36
Outside Ann’s Apartment
Cortez couldn’t wait to get away from Vince and rejoin the Ann Stapleton stake-out. He had spent all morning outside her apartment, except for the coffee break. He was thankful he’d guessed right about her, that she’d be staying at home today, after that late night at the newspaper and her deadline. He sat in the car musing how involved he was getting with Ann Stapleton because he found himself very happy to see her sauntering down the road to her car at 1:15 pm looking refreshed and lovely. He followed her, almost in a trance, to what turned out to be a late lunch at a place called the Ivy, where she joined an elegant looking black girl at an outdoor table. He wished he had the credentials to follow up on that, but he was confused enough. The restaurant was very popular, even this late, and he was forced to park a distance away, look for a free space coming up,
rush to his car then re-park. Was this the real world?
Back in his car outside Ann’s, post-lunch, he was getting that anxious grip in his stomach again, wondering if he’d made a big mistake with this crazy gamble. A hunch that could keep him in this whacky town forever. He’d put so much faith into the woman leading him to his target, but he didn’t have anything else and doubted that Vince had a clue.
And now, to back it up this time, perhaps, here she was, emerging from her building, carrying a cake box. He tried to marry the image he had of Leonard Rivkin with a cake-bearing angel, but that wouldn’t match, so he just got into the car, started up and took off behind the Pacer.
CHAPTER 37
Outside Griffin’s Place
Cortez was hyped up, he couldn’t remember when he last felt this excited. He felt the power. Ann Stapleton had led him to this strange corner of Los Angeles. He didn’t know what the district was called, but the clues were everywhere.
It was a perfect hideout. Once a corner shop in a narrow street off a rundown retail thoroughfare surrounded by cheap beauty supplies, coffee shops, a kosher bakery, a launderette, and a kosher fish market.
The building was screened from pedestrian view and vice versa. The window flanked an obviously unused entrance door, set back and solidly blocked by a rusty iron gate. Locked into the space amongst long accumulated dirt were uncollected rolled up newspapers turning brown, discolored flyers and various bits of street garbage blown into the eternal grime on the cracked tiles.
Armed with an agent’s knowledge of a hide-out, Cortez recognized that it was all artfully designed to look both impenetrable and uninviting.
The display window was even more revealing to Cortez. As if casually left behind by a previous tenant were a few dust-covered items. The partial torso of an antique rosy cheeked doll, one set of eyelashes missing, a torn book, an old sepia photo of two kittens in a broken frame. Scattered here and there were long faded blue paper flowers. A cracked plastic Halloween mask grinned dull pink and sinister in one corner, caustic observer of it all. The weirdo was in there, Cortez knew. His heart started thumping. He wasn’t sure what to do next. Except wait.
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