Jane stepped outside into the corridor and looked down to the lounge where she and Tim and Jeb had been sitting. Unless one really leaned over or craned his or her neck, none of them would see someone go in or out of Bix’s room.
“How long was this room open? I mean open and vacant?” asked Jane. “I was in the hall by the nurses’ station, talking to”—Jane hesitated for just a beat—” Professor Oh when Tim came out and asked me to come back in because you and Lou were having a disagreement over who could take better care of Bix. Jeb and the others arrived then, so we came here together. The room was empty.”
Skye gathered up her purse and a loose-knit green sweater she had draped over a chair to ward off the hospital air-conditioning. “I have no idea how many minutes transpired between the time your friend Tim came to tattle on Lou and me and when we went downstairs. I know that I was outside of that recovery room arguing for at least twenty minutes, since I couldn’t even get anyone to tell me anything for the first fifteen. And now, if you’re done with your little grill session or whatever you call it, I am leaving.”
“Honey, I’ll drive you over to Bix’s if you want,” said Louise.
Jane looked over just in time to see Jeb give Louise a slight head shake. Jane wasn’t sure whether or not Louise noticed it.
“Thank you, but it won’t be necessary,” said Skye. Jane could tell that although she was truly upset, something that crossed her mind almost made her smile. Watching Detective Oh for the slightest trace of an expression had given Jane a keen eye for the almost smile and the minimal frown. Jane could see that Skye’s expression carried a trace element of pride.
“No longer necessary ever again,” she said, jangling a key ring in front of them and walking out the door.
They listened to her steps in the hall, then heard the hum and thud of the elevator door.
“Attention all drivers, buckle up and batten down,” said Rick.
“Good for her, I say,” said Louise.
“About time, isn’t it? Hasn’t she had her thirtieth birthday?” asked Greg.
“At least twice,” said Jeb.
In Kankakee, Illinois, the primary driving force behind growing up was getting to be old enough to drive out of town, so Jane and Tim, like everyone else they knew, had been ready and able to pass their road tests on their sixteenth birthday. Jane figured that Skye, who was having a busy year as one of the stars of Southpaw and Lefty around the time of her sweet sixteen, probably never had the time to take driver’s education, let alone take the test to get her license.
Jeb told Greg and Rick to go gather up their work. He asked Louise if she had her briefcase and was ready to go. His cell phone rang just as he began to say something to Jane and Tim.
Jane had been a cell-phone watchdog earlier, explaining to Tim why cell phones weren’t allowed in the hospital. Twice she had snatched Tim’s trusty BlackBerry away. Tim gestured toward Jeb, but Jane shook him off. While Jeb was engaged with the call, Jane began scanning the room. She moved Jeb’s messenger bag off the bed and place it on the floor next to her large tote. Bending down next to them, she disappeared from sight for a moment while she looked under the bed, then shook out the blankets.
“Where’s the mobile, Jeb? The police should have it.”
“Skye must have taken it,” said Jeb, signing off from his call. “I’ll get it from her.”
Jane nodded. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Jeb came over and put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re exhausted, Jane. You’ve had a terrible day, finding Patrick and all, and now this bit of the bizarre. Why don’t you and Tim head over to my place like I suggested? I can call the W and have your things sent over to my guesthouse. I’ll be there after I make sure Bix is okay at her place and we can hash this thing out.”
Tim shook his head violently behind Jeb’s back. Mouthing no and waving his hands like windshield wipers, he made it clear he wanted no part of Jeb’s hospitality.
“We’d love to,” said Jane. “But we’ll go back to the hotel, pack our stuff, and meet you later.”
“Good girl,” he said. He picked up his bag and promised to meet them back at his place in a few hours.
“What in the hell was that all about?” asked Tim.
Jane picked up her giant purse and took Tim’s arm. She hustled him out of the room and down the corridor in the opposite direction of the elevator that all of Bix’s guests had been using.
“I don’t want to run into anyone from the B Room on our way to the parking lot,” said Jane.
“Oh no, you’ll have us stay with that warlock in his cave of shrunken heads, but we wouldn’t want to run into him in the elevator, oh no,” said Tim. “Have you lost your mind?”
Jane shook her head. As soon as the doors of elevator D, a full city block away from elevator B in Bix’s corridor, closed behind them, Jane turned to Tim.
“First of all, Timmy, did you notice that Skye carries a darling little blue Kate Spade bag?”
“You picked a fine time to discover your inner InStyle girl,” said Tim.
“So she would have no place to stash that weird arts-and-crafts project we found in Bix’s room, right?” Jane asked. “But Jeb, who carries that nice big eight-hundred-dollar leather messenger, he had plenty of time and room to take it when Skye was dangling that key ring in front of us. Have you noticed that every one of them puts on a show every chance they get?”
“So if you thought he took it, why didn’t you say something?”
“When he got on the phone, I checked his bag,” said Jane. She reached into her own shopping-bag-sized purse and pulled out the photo of Patrick Dryer attached to the origami swans. “And I took it back.”
“Excellent, Nancy Drew. Now what? I mean, I don’t mean to be unimpressed, but…”
“I also grabbed this.” Jane held up the small sharp blade that had been missing from the tracheotomy tray.
“Good. You set us up to stay at Jeb’s place because not only is he creepy, but now we have the extra added feature that he might be the dangerous phantom origami folder. You are a thinker, Nancy.You were so busy during Skye’s little rant. Lucky for you she distracted them all by waving her keys around,” said Tim.
“That’s another thing,” said Jane. “Did you notice that key ring?” Despite the fact that they took the least convenient elevator, they found themselves almost as close to the parking lot entrance on the first floor. Jane slipped into the front seat, tossing Tim’s Thomas Guide onto the floor.
Tim started the car and headed toward the hotel, but Jane suggested they make one stop on the way back.
“On her key ring, Skye had a car key and what was probably a house key and one more thing….”
“Yeah?”
“A teeny tiny key just like this one,” said Jane, pulling the key to the secret gate behind Bix’s office from her pocket. “Want to go see if she’s using it?”
12
He asked you out and you are thrilled! Why wouldn’t you be? He’s got a steady gig on a weekly series. Now ask yourself…is he a sincere actor or is he acting sincere?
—FROM Hollywood Diary BY BELINDA ST. GERMAINE
There would be no sneaking in through anyone’s back door this Sunday night. The street that led to the parking lot annex that led to the hidden gate that led to Bix Pix Flix was closed. Large sawhorses blocked access and uniformed police stood around enforcing the roadblock, looking stern, official, and bored all at the same time.
“While you turn the car around, I’ll just hop out for a second,” said Jane. Before Tim could ask any questions, she had opened the door and was heading toward the men in blue.
“Excuse me, Officer, is there a problem here? I left something in my car in that parking lot and…” Jane asked one of the sleepy on-duty cops.
“The street closing was clearly marked in advance, ma’am,” he said. Now wide awake and up to full speed, he added,” That lot has been closed for hours. Your car must have been already towed…right
, Len?”
“Yup.”
“Oh no,” Jane said, trying to sound suitably distraught, hoping they wouldn’t ask for any details about her phantom car.
“Yup,” said Len again,” and towing is plenty expensive around here. Course, if you want to slip us a buck or two, maybe we can fix it up for you.”
Jane’s jaw dropped. How could a uniformed police officer on a city street be so openly crooked? She searched for a number on his badge, deciding then and there that she would call Oh and see how best to approach cleaning up the bad cop situation in Los Angeles.
The first cop, Len’s partner, started giggling.
“That was pretty good,” he said. “You played a cop before?”
“Just about all I do,” Len said. “Usually I play a Chicago cop, but I find the emotional work pretty much the same for most urban law enforcement roles.”
The two actors became engaged in shop talk, forgetting all about the citizen they had fooled with their expertise.
“So you’re actors? This is a movie set?”
“Yup,” said Len. “We just got set up. I don’t think any cars really got towed from the lot, but they surely won’t let you in there.”
Jane nodded, looking at her watch. “How long would you say the street’s been blocked?”
Len and his partner told her that the street had been impassable for at least two hours.
“Gosh, I wonder if my husband and his secretary know about the street closing,” said Jane, pulling rabbits out of her hat. “I mean, they might have tried to get in and get my shopping bag for me. Jane described Lou Piccolo and Skye Miller and asked the two actor cops if they had seen anyone who looked like them trying to gain access to the parking lot.
“I saw a car with two people in the front seat come down the street and read the signs and turn their car around, but I couldn’t tell what they looked like,” said Len.
“Was it a BMW?” asked Jane. Although she didn’t know the make of any cars belonging to the B Room, she did remember that Jeb’s car was black and expensive-looking. BMW was her default expensive car model. Might as well go fishing with it.
Len shrugged. “I’m not a real cop, lady. I don’t waste my time eyeballing cars or memorizing license plates.”
“It was a vanity plate, though,” said the other actor. “I can’t remember what it said, but I remember it being a word.”
Len looked approvingly at his acting partner. “You get into the part, don’t you, pal?”
So Jane might not get back into Bix’s office via the annex parking lot, but neither would Skye or anyone else who held a back-door key. Not tonight anyway. The sign that Jane now noticed for the first time said the street would be closed until midnight.
When she got back into the car with Tim, Jane explained the street situation. They headed back to the hotel, with Jane recapping what she knew so far and filling Tim in on what she had learned from Louise about Heck and all that she had and hadn’t learned from talking to the seemingly open Lou Piccolo.
“He seemed so forthcoming,” said Jane, “about confessing to accepting the ghostwritten scripts and all, but there’s something weird about it. He was so self-effacing. So ready to say he was a hack and didn’t mind ghosting scripts. Not sure any of that modesty rings true around here. Then his fight with Skye, leaving without saying anything to anyone…I don’t know, it’s all so damn theatrical.”
Walking into the hotel, Tim suggested they eat something before deciding what they were really going to do. In his own self-conducted poll, he voted against moving to Jeb’s place.
“I don’t really want to do it, either, but I think that it’s the place to discover more about the whole group and why someone is trying to hurt them. I mean, at first it might have been some sort of threat, but Patrick Dryer’s murder puts…” Jane stopped talking when she couldn’t make her key card work in the door. Tim stepped in front of her, brandishing his own card. His, too, failed to trigger the flashing green light that signaled admittance to their suite.
At the desk, they learned that Mr. Gleason had been by, paid their bill, and checked them out of their room. He had someone pack up their suite and transport their things to his guesthouse and he had left an address and a driver.
“You allowed someone to come into our room like that?” Jane asked, shocked. She couldn’t cash a check for fifty bucks at her hometown bank without a picture ID and a major credit card.
The clerk excused himself and came back talking to someone on the phone. He covered the mouthpiece and explained to Tim that the lady had authorized it, signed her name.
“That lady?” Tim asked, pointing to Jane.
“A Mrs. Jane Wheel,” answered the clerk, checking the paper he was holding.
“Me?” asked Jane.
“Mrs. Wheel accompanied Mr. Gleason and they checked out of the room together.”
“I am Mrs. Wheel and I did not authorize—”
“I am very sorry, Mrs. Wheel, but I was not on duty. The clerk who was here,” the man said, nodding to the phone he was holding, “says he thought he recognized the woman as Jane Wheel, who was a guest of the hotel. He didn’t formally ask for ID because they didn’t ask for a key or any help with access to the room. They simply paid the bill and left the address and driver for Mr. Lowry. He wants to know if it was perhaps a friend of yours who had a key and was surprising you by doing your packing.”
The person on the other end of the line, apparently, was the clerk from the earlier shift and Jane and Tim could both hear him talking loudly. He seemed to alternate between being defensive and apologetic.
“He says he is very sorry for any inconvenience, but he’s sure that it was just a friend planning a wonderful surprise. The two people were quite enthusiastic and…” The clerk standing nervously in front of them seemed to hesitate as if deciding whether he should be interpreting and/or editing for his colleague on the phone. “He says to tell you that he’s quite certain that the lovely woman who had Mrs. Wheel’s key could not mean any harm.”
He hung up the phone and looked as if he might cry. “I am so sorry. I’ll report the idiot to my supervisor and call the police immediately, Mrs. Wheel. What a fool!”
Jane held up a hand and asked him to hold off on phoning the police. She dialed Jeb Gleason’s cell phone.
“I know it was presumptuous of me, Janie. I tried to call you, but you weren’t getting service. I did leave a message, though. The clerk assumed that Louise was Jane Wheel and we didn’t disabuse him of the notion.A maid let us in and we thought we could just save you some trouble. You’ve had enough since you arrived. Please come over and we’ll work all of this out. My driver is waiting there for you,” said Jeb. He sounded like he was close to apologetic, but not quite there.
Since Jane had turned off the sound on her phone, it had been easy to ignore the blinking light signaling a message—Jeb offering to save them a trip back to the hotel. He said Bix would want them to salvage their trip by spending a few days of R and R, where, perhaps, Bix herself would be recuperating.
After accepting the apologies of the hotel—Tim tried to get them to throw in a bathrobe, but apologies were the only offer on the table since Jane had refused to call the police about the matter—Jane suggested to Tim that they accept Jeb’s hospitality for the time being.
“I have a feeling we’ll know a lot more about the B Room if we actually visit the secret clubhouse,” said Jane.
“I’m not giving up my car,” said Tim, “and getting into a limo with some driver owned by that creep Gleason. Tell me again about how he was once your boyfriend.…I knew it was a mistake to let you go off to a different college for four years. Something bad happens every damn time I let you out of my sight.”
“We’ll keep the rental car. We’ll get the address or follow the driver, whichever is easier. He’s been paid to take us there anyway. Besides, we’ve got all our flea market stuff in the back,” said Jane. “And about college, my friend, remember I
met Charley there, too. Besides, Jeb was different then.”
Jane’s defense of Jeb was rote by now. She felt required to protest Tim’s assessment of Jeb as a lifelong creep, but she was not so sure he was wrong.Jeb had behaved badly with her. Maybe he truly was a creep, not just a college-age scoundrel-nudge-nudge-wink-wink with a wandering eye. Why had she always needed to file him away under one of her mistakes rather than just dismiss him for the liar he had been?
The packing and moving of Jane and Tim and all of their belongings from the hotel to Jeb’s house was, at best, a grand gesture. And as high-handed and controlling as it might seem, the aspect that most troubled Jane was the thought of someone, anyone, going through her things, packing them up. No one could really believe that a violation of privacy was a kindly gesture. Jeb and Louise were looking for something they believed Jane and Tim had in their possession.
Jane had stolen the mobile from Bix’s hospital room back from Jeb, but even if he discovered that it was missing and suspected that she had taken it, he couldn’t think she’d managed to stash it in her room already. Jeb and Louise had to have come there directly from the hospital, one step, or so they had thought, ahead of Jane and Tim, if Jane and Tim hadn’t detoured toward the studio.
“Whoo doggies,” said Tim, after they turned down a private lane. “Look, Elly May, at the size of that there cement pond!”
Tim had driven their Volvo around a circle drive, following the driver provided by Jeb, then he had branched off toward a six-car garage in the rear of a large Spanish-style house. An Olympic-sized pool shimmered to the east of the garage. An art deco mosaic-tiled half wall on one end of the pool added to its glamour and provided a backdrop for six midcentury modern turquoise chaises. Jane felt her jaw drop and was not sure she would ever be able to close her mouth again. Among her stacks of postcards, she had several that were accordion books of photos of the stars’ homes. Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, Ozzie and Harriet, James Stewart, Harpo Marx—a souvenir album from the fifties was the one she recalled now. She’d swear that this house had been one of those pictured.
Hollywood Stuff Page 13
