Modern Girls

by Gary S. Griffin

  Next, to receive the public’s adoration was that aging lion of the court room, F. Lee Bailey. Bailey looked old and tired, but the applause and the calling of his name lit up his face and dropped ten years off him for that minute. It was a grand last hurrah. Then, the scientist-attorney, Barry Scheck, came next. He was in the middle of his defense showing the errors in the blood evidence. He looked dazed and unsure of this attention, but also seemed focused, lost in his thoughts as he passed me and the others.

  Finally, deliberately, Robert Shapiro exited his limo. Shapiro worked the crowd too. He had a magnetic smile and an easy manner, yet his eyes betrayed a conflict, uneasiness with the legal path he took when he invited Cochrane and Bailey to join the Dream Team. I thought as Shapiro passed that Andi would need only one of these legal superstars to prove her innocence.

  The team passed and the crowd dispersed; most left for the street, others, like me, headed into the building. It took five minutes to clear the security gates and make my way to the information desk where I learned that Sarah Brownstein’s office was on the fourth floor. I headed to the elevators.

  It was 9:22 when I opened the door to the public defenders’ suite of offices. A harried, gray-haired, middle-aged woman named Marge was on the phone, while another line rang, when I walked to the reception area. Marge indicated she’d be right with me as she hung up on the first call and picked up the ringing line. But, she quickly put that call on hold and asked if she could help me. I inquired about and was pointed to Ms. Brownstein’s office, the fifth one down the hall to the left.

  Sarah Brownstein was an image in black; collar-length curly hair, business suit, shirt and low-heeled pumps all in that basic color. She looked to be around thirty-years-old and had a friendly, slightly-overwhelming personality. She stood about five feet four inches and had a medium build. She greeted me and asked me to sit in the chair across from her desk. The desk was cleared of clutter; the same could not be said of the credenza behind her desk and the three book cases on the side wall. She shut the door behind her, asked if I wanted anything to drink and put her phone on hold as she made her way back to her chair.

  I apologized for being late, and she immediately guessed it was due to the OJ circus at the entrance. She told me to call her Sarah and she called me Stevie from the start. Sarah had thirty minutes available before she was due in court, downstairs.

  “So, Stevie, you’re Andi’s private eye friend from Philadelphia.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “OK. She’s scared and wired from this whole experience.”

  She said, “Yeah, no wonder. So, Andi wants you to help her, help us. Can I see your I.D.? I want to be safe. This is a capital case.”

  I pulled out my wallet and showed her my Delaware driver’s license, my Delaware and Pennsylvania private investigators’ licenses and gave her one of my business cards.

  Sarah said, “Thanks, Stevie. So, how can we help Andi?”

  “Do you have any idea who killed Sid?”

  She answered, “I guess that means you don’t think Andi committed the murder, correct?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Good. That gives you good motivation for this tough job.”

  I asked, “Do you think she’s guilty?”

  “I always presume my clients are not guilty, until proven otherwise. It’s just that the evidence is pretty overwhelming.”

  “It is except that Andi knows she didn’t kill Sid.”

  She paused and said, “Hmmm… yes there is that fact; isn’t there?”

  “Yes, there is. But, it’s clear the police don’t believe her.”

  “Sure, that’s true. You know, the gun is hers, her fingerprints are on it. She was found holding it when the first witnesses arrived on the scene, and she was next to Sid’s body. Plus, they were seen in the diner having a heated argument. They were on and off again lovers, and it seems like Andi blames Sid for a lot of her bad career choices in the past year and a half.”

  “Right, but the devil’s in the details of that night. Andi was not mad at Sid. He was bringing her a script for an audition in a real, big-time movie. She got hit on top of the head before Sid was shot. Andi still has the bump to prove it. She can remember some one, likely a woman, touching her, putting the gun in her hand, and then walking away. Plus, the gun was put in her right hand and she’s left handed.”

  “Yes, Andi mentioned some of that to me and in her statement to the police. Still, the police remain unconvinced. They think that bump could have been caused by Sid hitting her with his hand or briefcase when he saw Andi about to shoot.”

  “How long will it be before she comes to trial?”

  Sarah answered, “Maybe two months from now, but the preliminary hearing’s in two weeks.”

  “Have you found anything that I could pursue?”

  Sarah said, “Not much. I guess we should talk to the people in his life. Sid certainly played the field here in L.A.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. I’ve started doing that.”

  I spent the next few minutes explaining what I learned from Edie, and how I wanted to speak to Bambi and Sid’s son and ex-wife.

  “OK. I don’t have much of a budget, but I can reimburse you for your expenses.”

  She reached in a drawer and brought out a stack of invoices that I could use for my investigation. Sarah told me to call her at any time to discuss what I would find. I asked her if I could look at her case file. She said yes, but that I needed to do so right here, in her office. She looked at the clock and handed me her business card as she stood up.

  “I’ve got to run, Stevie. Read anything you want in the file, but please leave it here when you’re done. I’ll be downstairs for a couple hours. Just leave the door open when you leave. I’ll tell Marge you’re in here and not to be disturbed. Let her know when you’re leaving.”

  With that, Sarah Brownstein left me with her two inch thick file.

  Forty-five minutes later I was on my way out of the Criminal Justice Center. Besides photos of dead Sid, there wasn’t too much in the case file I didn’t know already. I learned Andi’s mother’s name was Alice and that she lived on Oak Street in Rehoboth, Delaware. I wrote down her address and phone number. I also found Lana Gabriel’s Malibu address and phone number. Andi was charged with second degree murder, and faced life in prison. It was second, and not first, degree, because the police considered the killing to be without premeditation, since it was in the heat of passion, in a sudden quarrel or fight.

  Andi’s bail had totaled $1 million, and Alice Anderson had to pay $100,000 cash.

  By 11 o’clock I pulled out of the downtown parking lot and headed back to Andi’s apartment to make some phone calls.

  seaside conversation

  I made it back to the apartment by noon.

  I started with my phone calls. The first was to my boss back in Philadelphia. I briefed him on my change of vacation plans. He understood. But, he did hope I could be back in the Philadelphia office in eight days. I agreed with him that it was my goal to return by then.

  Next, I reached our Philadelphia friend, Cyndie Myst, and gave her my update on the last few days. She listened for a few minutes before she said, “I spoke to Andi a few minutes ago. She called me collect from a pay phone at her audition. She’s so happy you’re there.”

  “I know.”

  Then, Cyndie added, “She sounds very vulnerable right now. She loves you and loves being with you. I know you’ll be kind to her.”

  I didn’t respond to that veiled comment.

  Cyndie went on, “How is she doing?”

  “OK, I guess. She has been very clingy – doesn’t want me out of her sight. Actually, I’m glad she’s at the audition because I haven’t done much so far. I don’t have a whole lot to go on.”

  “Who do you think did it?”

  “I don’t have a clue. But, Sid was a star with kinky tastes. My wild guess is that it’s a crime of passio
n. Maybe someone was jealous.”

  Cyn responded, “Well, could be. Many people would want to jump on Andi’s body and this guy Sid beat them to it.”

  “That’s true, Cyndie, but the weird part is that Sid was a real playboy. He had a girl even younger than Andi that was like a live-in girlfriend, and she and Sid had a ménage a trois with Andi. Plus, I learned that they had an earlier threesome with an older actress who’s now a stripper and Andi knows this stripper too from auditions. It’s just a weird scene with lots of loose ends to nail down.”

  Cyndie said, “Maybe one of them was jealous?”

  I said, “Maybe, I don’t think so, because Andi and Sid seemed to be friends with both of these women.”

  “Oh, well, like I said, maybe it’s someone who wanted Andi and she said no. Have you thought of that, too?”

  “Yes. But, I asked her about her love life and she’s slept with six people this past year. So, she’s hasn’t said no too many times.”

  Cyn said, “I would have guessed that. She loves it and she is gorgeous. Plus, in her sexy, tight clothes and new chest she would attract everyone.”

  “Boy is that true!”

  “God, Stevie, she sounds like a true Hollywood bimbo.”

  I started laughing.

  Cyndie then asked, “So, what about the murder? Did you find anything?”

  I answered, “Well, Andi can remember being hit on the head, and the person being short. She thinks the killer was a woman. Or, at least, a woman was involved.”

  “OK, hmmm… how long are you staying in L.A.?”

  “I don’t know. I got to figure this out. But, I really should be back in Philly by the day after Labor Day.”

  “Keep in touch, Stevie. Let me know if you find out who did this. OK?”

  “OK.”

  “And, be careful, I need you.”

  I was surprised and not sure what she meant by that last comment, and replied, “I will, we’ll talk soon, bye, Cyn.”

  ***

  As I warmed my coffee in Andi’s microwave, something in my conversation with Cyndie prompted a thought. If Andi thinks the killer is a woman, a small woman; who could that be? My thoughts want to Edie. She’s petite.

  Did she really get on the plane to Arizona on that Sunday night? How did she know Sid had resumed his affair with Andi? Did she really not care about that?

  I had to check out the flight records.

  ***

  After this morning’s mix-up in bed, I realized I hadn’t spoken to Dee Dee since last Friday night when I told her I was headed to L.A. I knew she didn’t work on Mondays so I called her Philadelphia apartment. There was no answer. I left a long, loving message, but not a phone number. I didn’t want her calling and speaking to Andi. I said I’d call her back tomorrow at work. I was sure to get a hold of her then.

  I wanted to call the detective. I looked around for Andi’s phone book. In the entertainment cabinet I found it in the drawer below the TV. On top of the phone book were two movie scripts. I pulled all three items out of the drawer and tossed the scripts on the coffee table. I looked in my notes for the Los Angeles Police Department detective’s name. Then, I remembered Andi gave me the detective’s business card, which I pulled out of my wallet. He was based at the Hollywood station. I called police lieutenant Peter Lomita’s number. After five rings phone mail kicked in and I left my name, Andi’s home phone number and the reason for my call.

  My next call was to Sid Gabriel’s ex-wife, Lana. She picked up on the fourth ring. I explained who I was and what I was trying to do for Andi. She understood what I was saying but didn’t think she could help me. I still asked if I could meet her for about an hour to talk. She reluctantly agreed, but I got the distinct impression that she thought Andi was guilty. Lana agreed to meet me ninety minutes later at Moonshadows, a restaurant in Malibu, near her home.

  I was about to grab my keys and head out of the apartment when I glanced at one of Andi’s movie scripts. It was titled, “Naughty Girl”. That title caused me to pick the script up and open it. I noticed a page with a turned-down corner. I opened it to that page and read:

  Rock: I’m angry at you, Candy.

  Candy: I’m sorry, Rock. What did I do wrong?

  Rock: You were a naughty girl.

  Candy: I try to be good.

  Rock: You’re good most of the time. But, last night you misbehaved.

  Candy: What did I do that was so bad?

  Rock: You dressed like a whore at my business dinner and embarrassed me very much.

  Candy: I’m sorry. I thought you liked my clothes.

  Rock: I do, but those clothes are for special places - like the club or our bedroom.

  Candy: Well, I’m sorry, but you said to wear something nice. This catsuit was new, very expensive and my best outfit. It makes me look great! Plus, I don’t have conservative clothes.

  Rock: I don’t think you fully understand. You cost me that new job. My boss told me he wanted a conservative, mature head of marketing. He didn’t think I should be walking around with a sexy wild child.

  Candy: I said I was sorry.

  At that point, I closed the script and put it back in the cabinet. I thought, “Oh boy, it sure isn’t War and Peace, is it?”

  ***

  We met at 2pm in Moonshadows; an upscale restaurant in Malibu on the Pacific Coast Highway. The lunch crowd had returned to work or play and Lana Gabriel and I had a quiet, indoor table that had an incredible view overlooking the beach and ocean. I was surprised to see Lana dressed in black and she was also mourning for Sid. Lana was a small-boned woman in her late forties with dyed-blonde shoulder-length hair, bright blue eyes, a small nose and a weak chin. Her teeth were ivory-white and she had a presence and confidence brought on by her nouveau-riche circumstances.

  After I greeted her and we were seated, she looked over me and my business card. She put the card on the table in front of her. Then, she said, “So, Mr. Garrett, what do you want to know?”

  Before I could speak, Lana went on speaking, “No, I don’t know who killed Sid. And, no, it wasn’t Troy or me, as we were happily enjoying dinner, here, eight days ago. Joy, the hostess, and Audrey, our waitress, and Sonny, the chef, and David, the piano player, are our witnesses. We didn’t plan to have such a solid alibi; it just worked out that way. So, what else can I help you with?”

  At that moment, our waitress came up to our table and asked if we wanted to order drinks. Lana ordered a vodka tonic and I asked for an unsweetened iced tea with lemon. The drink interlude gave me time to organize my thoughts.

  “Lana, can you think of anyone who was mad at Sid?”

  “I’m sure every one of the tramps he slept with over the years was pissed at Sid once they found his promises of stardom were just some porn movie roles and sex with him. But, there were so many over the years that I don’t know any of their names.”

  “How about Edie McCall?”

  Catching her in her first lie, Lana recoiled at that name. For a moment she looked like she’d lose her cool. Then, she composed herself and said, “Sid’s relations with Edie just shows how weird and sick he was. Edie was like family. Her parents worked for Sid’s parents and for us for years, for Edie’s whole life. Her father, Robert, was like an older brother to Sid. And, then Sid started his affair with Edie a year or so after our divorce, right as Sandra, Edie’s mother, started to get sick. Sandra died eighteen months later and those two continued their affair the whole time. It was just so weird.”

  I asked, “How did Sid and Edie get along?”

  “Edie loved Sid and understood him. She knew Sid wouldn’t be faithful or committed. But, Sid actually treated Edie kindly. From what Troy tells me, they enjoyed the same odd tastes in sex and women. I think Edie knew Sid and the way he was.”

  “Do you know Bambi Deer?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Who’s that?”

  “Apparently, another woman that Sid had an affair with. She’s a former actress and a stripper
now. Edie said she and Sid had an affair with Bambi, too.”

  Lana paused as our waitress brought our drinks. Once the waitress left, she said, “What an absurd name!”

  “Edie said it’s her real name.”

  “Unbelievable what parents will name their children. But, no, I have never heard of her. And, I never knew Sid was having an affair with your model friend, Andi, either. I really didn’t keep up with his sex life.”

  I decided to try a different subject. “I’d like to speak to Troy, too. He can reach me at this number.”

  I picked up my business card from the table and wrote Andi’s apartment number on the back. Then, I handed it back to Lana. She slipped it into her purse.

  I asked, “What will Troy do with the Beverly Hills mansion?”

  “He wants to keep it. I think he should. It will be a good investment, at least, even if he decides to sell it later. But, he says he wants it forever.”

  “What are Troy’s career plans?”

  “Who knows? He’s majoring in liberal arts at UCLA. He’s done some theatre, but I don’t know if he really wants to go into the business.”

  I was getting nothing out of this conversation, so far. So, I decided to play the one angle I had. As Lana sipped her drink, I asked, “Did you know Edie is going topless around Troy?”

  That made Lana choke a little on her swallow. “What are you talking about?”

  I answered her question with a question, “Do you know that Troy and Edie are having sex?”

  “Garrett, is this your idea of a joke? If it is, I don’t see anything funny in it.”

  “It’s no joke; I saw them together.”

  “Where?”

  “At the mansion.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday afternoon, when I went over there to speak to Edie. She was sunbathing topless and Troy was looking at her from the hot tub.”