by Jan Moran
“First, I got a problem to clear up.” He lurched menacingly toward her. “You hired Buck Jones to watch me, didn’t you?”
“Buck Jones was hired to manage the tour.” Her fingers tightened on the edge of her desk. Cameron could not be trusted to remain sober, and after the mishaps of his last tour, she and Harry had retained Buck Jones, a seasoned manager.
“Why the hell do I need him?” He leaned closer and slammed his fist on her desk, rattling its contents.
Danielle drew back. He stank of alcohol and smoke. “His job is to control the tour.”
“The tour? You want him controllin’ me, right Dani?” His face contorted and his bloodshot eyes bulged.
“You have a contract to fulfill, Cameron.”
“To hell with the contract. I’m the star, I say he’s out.”
Danielle crossed her arms and glared. “Buck Jones stays.”
Cameron cursed, snatched a crystal bottle from her desk, and hurled it against the wall. Shards shot through the air like projectiles. He smashed another one, then another.
Danielle trembled inside. But I will not concede this to him, it would be a disaster. She lifted her chin. “Anger won’t do you any good, Cameron. The board decided on Buck Jones. Under your contract with National Music you have no right to dispute the decision.”
He whirled around, jerked a thumb at his chest. “Yeah, but I made National Music what it is today.”
Danielle glared at him.
“Still, you call the shots, Danielle, you always have.” His face darkened. “And I’ve had enough of it.” He clenched his hands into fists and started around the desk.
Glancing behind her, Danielle realized she was cornered. Her heart raced and she fought the panic that clenched her throat. “We’ll talk about this later, when you’re sober.”
“We’re through talkin’.”
She tried to run but he grabbed her by the arms. “Cameron, don’t!”
Though she struggled, she was no match for him. She arched instinctively, twisting her face from him as a blow exploded against her cheek. She hit the floor with her palms, screaming, glass from the bottles slicing her hands and forearms as she careened across the polished parquet floor. Quickly, she rolled onto her side, blood splattering her white silk blouse.
Cameron charged toward her again.
Danielle spied the silver letter opener that had been knocked from the desk. Kicking him away, she lunged for it.
But Cameron grabbed her legs and dragged her toward him. He straddled her and pinned her to the floor. His eyes were raw and savage, her blood seemed to feed his frenzy.
Danielle tried to struggle from his grasp, but it was no use. Mon Dieu, she thought, he’s going to kill me!
He gripped her neck with one hand, crushing her throat to the floor, and raised his other hand to strike her.
Unable to breathe, she stretched her fingers for the letter opener, found it, and jabbed in defense.
An agonizing wail erupted from Cameron’s mouth and his warm blood spurted across her face. The letter opener had pierced his hand, and protruded through his palm and forehand.
Frantically, Danielle tried to scramble out from under him, but Cameron threw his head back and roared with anger, clutching his hand, blood gushing from his wound.
Just then, Harry raced through the door. “My God, what’s going on?” Harry pulled Danielle free with one hand, and shoved Cameron off with the other.
“Call the police,” Harry shouted to Danielle as he fought to restrain Cameron.
With bleeding hands, she picked up the phone.
Cameron jerked away from Harry and ran from the office. Harry started after him.
“Let him go,” Danielle cried. “He’s completely crazed.”
Cameron disappeared, blood trailing behind him in the hall.
Harry pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped Cameron’s blood from Danielle’s face. “Here, I’ll make the call,” he said.
Danielle collapsed into her chair, shaking her head in disbelief. What had just happened? Gritting her teeth, she began to pick shards from the palms of her hands.
Harry finished his call. “Let me help you,” he said gently, kneeling beside her.
“I have never been so glad to see you,” she said, her voice shaking. She grimaced as Harry tenderly removed bits of glass.
“Glad I made it when I did.” Harry pulled a long shard of glass from her palm.
“Ouch, easy.” Danielle looked up. Harry had obviously just rolled out of bed. His clothes were wrinkled and mismatched, he wore no socks, his hair was in disarray, and he needed a shave. “You’re never here this early. What brought you here?”
“Erica phoned me. Cameron had been at her house ranting and raving about you and Buck Jones. She said he was threatening you, and she became frightened for you. I had an idea he might come here because everyone knows you work alone in the morning. We’re changing the locks. From now on, all doors are to be locked until nine o’clock, especially yours.”
A police siren sounded outside. “Look,” Harry said, standing and turning to the window. They watched as the police apprehended Cameron staggering from the building. “Good. They’ve got him.” He turned back to Danielle and pressed his handkerchief to her hands to stem the bleeding. “This isn’t the first time, is it, Danielle?”
She cast her eyes down, ashamed of the truth. Should I tell him? And then she made a decision. “No, but it’s the last time. I’ve tried everything. I can’t understand it, he has more going for him now than ever before and he knows it.”
“He doesn’t deserve you, that bastard.” Harry touched her bruised chin, raised her swollen face to his. “Why don’t you leave him, and marry me?”
“Dear Harry,” she murmured, lowering her eyes. “Don’t say things like that. He’d kill you if he thought—”
“If he doesn’t kill you first,” Harry exclaimed in exasperation. Removing the handkerchief, he inspected her hands. “You need stitches. We’d better get you to the hospital.” He ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt, then painstakingly wrapped her hands with it. “You can’t love him, yet you stay with him, despite my best efforts and offers. You know I’m here for you. Why won’t you leave him?” His voice dropped a notch. “Is there someone else?”
At his words, her heart constricted with real pain. Sweet, thoughtful Harry. “There’s no one else,” she said with resignation. After all, Jon is married now. “You’re a good man, Harry. I love you as my dearest friend and most trusted partner, but you deserve so much more than I have to give.”
He brushed her hair from her face. “I don’t understand you, Danielle,” he said softly.
Danielle turned from him. “I’d better go to the hospital.”
On the way to the hospital, Harry asked, “What did you mean, Danielle, about this being the last time Cam would hurt you?”
“I plan to have him committed to an institution,” she said, “He needs help for his addictions.”
Harry blew out a breath. “Well, he sure needs help, and has for a long, long time.”
Danielle grimaced, keeping pressure on the deepest wounds on her hands. “I know it’s the right thing to do, but it will create complications in the business.”
He nodded. “We’ll have to cancel the tour and the new record.”
Danielle grew silent. She hadn’t wanted to admit Cameron’s weakness, his dependence on drugs and alcohol, his promiscuity, and least of all, his abusiveness. But his behavior could soon sabotage her business as well as their home life. Most of all, she was tired of lying for him to their family, their business partners, and the press.
She was truly worried for his safety, and now, for her own.
The fun-loving man she’d married had disappeared into an abyss of addiction and abuse. Where was the man she’d once had such fun with?
Danielle gazed from the window as they turned into the hospital parking lot of Cedars of Lebanon. Guilt coursed through her.
Cameron had done so much for her in the beginning. Not only for her, but also for her mother and the girls. She shuddered to think of where Marie would be now, had it not been for Cameron. At the least, I owe him a chance at rehabilitation.
“When do you plan to commit him?” Harry asked, easing the car into a parking space.
“Soon.” Danielle chewed her lip, her mind whirring. “But first, if he can’t do the tour, at least he can finish the voice tracks for the new record. Afterward, if he hasn’t improved, I’ll commit him. Don’t you agree?”
He switched off the ignition, and turned to her. “Against my better judgment, Danielle. You have a will of iron, God knows I can’t budge you once you’ve made a decision. But this time, you should reconsider.”
“But the money we have invested—”
“My darling Danielle,” Harry interjected, “delaying his commitment puts you at risk, and for what? A few bucks? What would you be worth dead?”
Danielle clenched her jaw and shot a sidelong glance at him. He was right, but.... “You wouldn’t be so quick to say that Harry, if you’d ever been poor. Cancel the tour, but I will do everything in my power to deliver that album.”
After Danielle had been stitched and bandaged at the hospital, Harry drove her to the Beverly Hills police station where Cameron was being held after also having received treatment for his wound.
So often had Danielle visited police headquarters in the past year to bail out Cameron that the officers greeted her by name. Embarrassed, she nodded to them as she and Harry walked through the station.
They were ushered into the police chief’s office. Harry had also telephoned Danielle’s attorney, Otto Koenig, who was waiting for them there.
Chief of Police Dave Walsh, a leathery-faced man of immense stature, stood and waved them to a pair of plain wooden chairs. Danielle and Harry sat down, while Otto remained standing, a trim sentinel in his grey pin-striped suit and burgundy tie.
Walsh jerked his head toward Otto. “Shut the door.” Walsh leaned back in his chair, shrewdly studying Danielle through a haze of cigarette smoke. “I’m told you don’t want to press charges.”
“That’s right,” Danielle said smoothly. “You may release Cameron into my custody.”
Walsh coughed. “Let’s not be hasty.”
Danielle sat rigid in her chair, her freshly bandaged hands folded in her lap. She glanced down. Her white silk blouse bore bloodstains and she knew her face was bruised and swollen. She looked up, fixing her eyes on Walsh. “What do you mean?”
“We can charge your husband with attempted murder.” Walsh held up a plastic bag containing her silver letter opener smeared with Cameron’s blood. “It appears you might have acted in self defense.”
“I don’t want him charged. Can’t you simply release him into my custody as you have in the past?” Her neck crawled with tension, and she glanced down at her hands again. Cameron had crossed the line this time and she knew it wouldn’t be easy to sweep this incident away. Yet, she couldn’t afford the publicity, not with the planned record release. Furthermore, she’d signed a deal with Lou Silverman to use the new recording in an upcoming movie starring Erica Evans. After the recordings were complete, she would arrange professional help for him—even commit him—if she must. A month, that’s all I need. She raised her eyes, uncomfortable under Walsh’s unrelenting stare.
“You allege your husband attacked you this morning,” Walsh said. “It appears he tried to kill you. This is not the first time, and I assure you, it won’t be the last. Next time, Harry here might not be around to save you. What then? What about your children?”
Danielle stared straight ahead, determined to proceed with her plan. When Cameron didn’t fulfill his contracted appearance obligations on the last tour, she’d been left with the debts; she hoped to recoup those losses soon with record sales. She swallowed hard. In short, she owed a great deal of money for Cameron’s indiscretions—from her personal funds—much, much more than Harry realized. Without the tour, she thought, I’ll be bankrupt. What a choice, dead or bankrupt.
Harry stroked his chin. “Look Walsh,” he began in a conciliatory manner, “none of us wants to see this in the newspapers. Bad for business.”
Walsh narrowed his steely grey eyes. Leaning across his immaculate desk, he jabbed an accusatory finger at Danielle. “There’ll be plenty of publicity when you’re wheeled out in a body bag, Danielle.”
She stiffened. “I will not press charges.”
Otto stepped forward. “Release him into my custody, Walsh. I’ll see to him.”
“Nice try, Mr. Koenig, but not good enough. He’d be back at home within the hour. Danielle?”
“My decision stands.”
Silence hung in the air, and smoke from Walsh’s cigarette curled overhead like a storm cloud. Flicking his ashes, Walsh drew a long, slow drag, the ember blazing hot orange.
Danielle stared at it, transfixed, yet repulsed by the stench.
Walsh leveled his gaze at Danielle. “Looks like I’ve met my match. I admire you, but by God, you’re a stubborn woman when it comes to your scoundrel of a husband. How can I make you see that one day, you won’t make it out alive? Then where will your family be?”
Otto rested a hand on Walsh’s desk. “Look, Walsh. “I understand your tough position on domestic violence, and we’re all very sorry about the death of your daughter. But Danielle can count on us to come to her aid.”
Walsh’s jaw tightened. “My daughter had a police chief father looking out for her. It wasn’t enough, was it? Her sonofabitch husband got her in the end.” He looked back to Danielle. “I’m offering you a way out.” He reached into his shirt pocket for his cigarettes, lit another from the tip of his spent cigarette, then ground out the finished butt in an ashtray. “So?”
Danielle shook her head. “No charges.”
Walsh shook his head. “Excuse me.” He stood abruptly and marched from his office, the door slamming behind him. After a brief moment, he returned.
“The District Attorney is in the next office,” Walsh began in a grim tone. “We are prepared to press charges against you for attempted murder.”
“Me!” Danielle gasped.
Harry leapt to his feet. “This is preposterous!”
Otto Koening stepped forward. “This is absolutely inconceivable, it’s incomprehensible. This charge will never stand up in court. I’d never have imagined such deplorable tactics from you.”
“My job is to protect and serve.” Walsh blew smoke rings above their heads.
Harry turned to Danielle. “Please Danielle, can’t you see he’s dead serious? You know you’ve got to do something about Cameron. The recordings aren’t worth it.”
Averting her eyes, she stared at her bandaged hands, her mind clicking. She desperately needed Cameron to complete the recordings. And the publicity! She shuddered, imagining the headlines. It would decimate his career and National Music. Furthermore, her carefully tended business relationship with Lou Silverman would undoubtedly suffer. Her head pounded. The thought of bankruptcy taunted her, sickened her.
Walsh barked an order into his intercom. He swung back to Danielle. “We’re placing you under arrest, Danielle. My officers are on their way.”
Harry whirled around, grabbing the arms of her chair. “Danielle, no!”
“You’ll be safer in custody,” Walsh said.
“A battle of wills, is it?” Otto paced madly. “You can’t do this, Walsh, I’m warning you. This case will be thrown out, and you with it. Is it worth it?”
Walsh tapped an ash. “Your client leaves us no option.”
Danielle shifted uneasily in her seat. What can I do? Clearly, Walsh wanted to make a point, but at her expense? How far was she willing to go to protect Cameron and her investments? Thoughts of Marie and the girls filled her with worry. Suddenly, she had an idea. Mindful of her bandaged hands, she pushed herself up by her elbows, standing tall, meeting Walsh’s piercing glare. “I have a deal f
or you.”
“I propose the deals, Danielle.”
“Hear her out, Walsh,” Otto said.
A sharp knock sounded, and two uniformed police officers stepped in.
Otto swung around. “Come on Walsh, at least listen to her before you arrest her. Have some respect for my client.”
Walsh glared at the attorney. “When she shows respect for the laws of this country.”
“She does,” said Otto. “She’s perfectly within her right.”
Walsh coughed at his remarks. “Let’s hear it, then,” he said, motioning to Danielle.
She blinked, her eyes irritated from the smoke. “I have a plan that should be satisfactory to all concerned. First, absolutely no press, and no formal charges.”
Walsh began to protest, but Danielle held up a bandaged hand. “I’m willing to commit Cameron to a sanitarium, effective immediately, and grant full authority to the medical staff to determine his eventual release. Otherwise,” she added, offering her wrists to the officers, “you may arrest me now.”
Walsh raised his brows, considering, then nodded. “You’ve got a deal.”
“There is one condition,” she said, lifting her chin. “Cameron’s music is terribly important to him, and to his recovery. As part of his treatment, Cameron will be allowed to express himself creatively, through his music. Even if it means releasing him periodically to Harry Nelson’s custody to record music.”
“You’ll have to clear this with his doctors,” Walsh said, “but as far as I’m concerned, we’ll release him as soon as you have a judge’s order to commit.” He motioned to the officers to depart. “You win, Danielle.”
Otto was right behind them. “I’ll have the order within the hour. Judge Johnson owes me one for sponsoring his membership at Los Angeles Country Club.” He fairly sprinted from the office.
“So I’m free to leave?” Danielle asked.
“Yes, and as lovely as you are, I hope this is the last time I lay eyes on you here. Understood?”
“Exactly,” she replied. She felt tension melt from her shoulders.
Harry held the door for her and they left. Crossing the parking lot, Harry shook his head and ran his hands through his thick hair, which had greyed to salt-and-pepper during his management of Cameron Murphy. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Danielle, that was quite a performance.”
