Scavenger hunt

by Robert Ferrigno

  "Mrs. Panagopolis, my name is Jimmy Gage. I'm a reporter." Jimmy showed her his photo ID from SLAP. "I'd like to talk with you for a few minutes, if it's all right."

  "I see. Well, I'm busy now. Maybe you could come back-"

  "I need to talk to you about April McCoy."

  She nodded. "Of course you do." She didn't move.

  "I've come a long way to see you." Jimmy waited while she slowly slid the chain off the door, then followed her into the small living room. "Were you expecting me?"

  "Yes… for a very long time." Stephanie sat on the sofa, knees together, and placed her hands in her lap. She was plain, with a long face and the wrong shade of makeup, but her eyes were pretty, and she had a generous mouth. Photographs of her daughter hung on one wall: pictures of her in a Brownie uniform, in a bathing suit hurtling down a water slide, in pajamas. The daughter looked just like her mother. The yellow floral-print couch was faded, but the arms were covered with bright knitted squares, and there was a knitted afghan across the back too. The house was clean and quiet, the only incongruous bit of decor the cardboard boxes stacked in the far corner of the room. No radio, no TV, no stereo-just the sound of the wind outside. "Can I get you a glass of water? It's filtered."

  "Ah, sure."

  She didn't move. The question had been mechanical, and his response didn't trigger any action. "I sell water-filtration systems. The unit screws right into the faucet. It's more economical than bottled."

  "Mrs. Panagopolis-"

  "Call me Stephanie. There's no Mr. Panagopolis anymore, there's just me and my daughter-and that stupid doorbell. I hate that song. It was my husband's idea. Only thing he ever did around the house was install that doorbell." She plucked at the collar of her blouse. "I sell Amway products. Business used to be better. If you need laundry detergent or hand cream or shaving lotion, if you need anything, you just ask me."

  Jimmy glanced at the cardboard boxes.

  "The bath gel, the apricot bath gel, is quite nice. I carry a full line of vitamins too. You can never get enough vitamins. Our food is dead. They don't tell you that, but it is."

  "I'm here to talk to you about Heather Grimm."

  "You said you wanted to talk about April."

  "You'll be an unnamed source. You have my word."

  Her eyes focused on him, and she saw him clearly. "An unnamed source? Oh my, that's a relief. That will fix everything."

  "I talked to a man-he used to be a photographer. His name then was Willard Burton." Jimmy saw Stephanie grimace. "Burton told me about April McCoy's sideline."

  "Sideline?" She tugged idly at her hair, a few strands drifting toward the carpet.

  "Burton said he used to steer underage girls and boys to April."

  "How is Willard Burton? Is he well? Has life been kind to him?"

  "Heather Grimm was one of April's clients."

  "I get a mammogram twice a year. I feel myself for lumps every day. My mother used to say that cancer was God's judgment. Do you think that's true?"

  "No, I don't."

  She smiled, and her relief made her pretty. "I think you must be right, Mr. Gage. If Willard Burton is alive and well… you must be right."

  Jimmy moved onto the couch beside her. "Heather Grimm didn't end up at Walsh's beach house by accident-April sent her. But it wasn't April's idea. Whose idea was it?"

  Stephanie shook her head.

  "You worked for April McCoy for years."

  "I worked at a desk." Stephanie's whole body was shaking. "I sat behind a desk. I answered the phone. I made coffee and went out for sandwiches. That's all."

  "Maybe sitting at your desk you saw something. Maybe answering the phone you heard something. I'm just asking for your help. I'm not trying to blame you."

  "If I had known what she was doing, if I had known for sure-"

  "What did you see?"

  "Willard Burton was an awful man. I knew that the first moment he showed up in the office, digging his hands into my candy dish on his way into April's office, not even waiting for me to announce him."

  "When did he first start coming around?"

  "It was a few years before-before Heather Grimm became a client. He didn't come in very often after that first time. I think April must have said something to him."

  "So when he stopped coming by the office, he called?"

  "Yes."

  "You handled the incoming calls."

  Stephanie fidgeted. "That was my job."

  "If it was my job, I would have listened in once in a while."

  "I could have gotten fired for doing that."

  "A man like Burton calling my boss-I would have done it anyway. I would have worried for her, wondered what she had gotten herself into. I think you're the same way."

  Stephanie stared out the picture window at an empty Bucket-o-Chicken blowing down the street. "This used to be a lovely place to live. Lots of young families, plenty of kids for my daughter to play with. Some of the fathers put up a playground in a vacant lot down the street-slides and swings. It just sits there now. When we had block parties, everyone turned out. People used to love my pasta salad. They would ask me for the recipe, and I always gave it to them. Some women don't share recipes, or they deliberately give you the wrong ingredients, but I can't do that."

  Jimmy put his hand on her wrist and felt her pull back. "Pimentos, that was the secret to my pasta salad. Pimentos and Del Monte tartar sauce."

  "I bet Burton flirted with you when he called. I've met him. He calls himself Felix now, Felix the Cat. He thinks he's a charmer."

  "He used to call me Porkchop. Porkchop." Stephanie watched the brown grass across the street. "Burton talked in code to April. 'I've got a guppy for you,' he would say. I didn't even know what he was talking about for a long time. Not until it was too late. I had read somewhere that there was a black market for tropical fish. The article said that collectors paid big money for rare ones, fish that were endangered; sometimes for fish that weren't even pretty, just dangerous. That's what I thought he was doing."

  Jimmy didn't argue with her. "So Burton supplied guppies to April; I already know that. What I'm interested in was who April sold the guppies to. Who paid her to send Heather Grimm to the beach house?"

  Stephanie twisted a strand of hair between her thumb and forefinger. "Heather wasn't a guppy."

  Jimmy stared at her. "What was she?"

  Stephanie twirled her hair faster now. "A goose." She nodded. "A goose that laid the golden egg. There were plenty of guppies, but Heather was the only goose. She was very special."

  Burton had described her the same way to Jimmy at the porn shoot.

  "My daughter is seven years old now. I look at her sleeping sometimes, and I wonder how I could have been so stupid." Strands of hair floated in the quiet room. "I was stupid, wasn't I? Not something worse?"

  "You just didn't put it all together until it was too late, that's all. It's happened to me before. You think you know what's going on, but you don't."

  "You're a kind man."

  "No, I'm not. I just know what it's like to fuck up."

  Stephanie clasped her hands. She looked like she was trying to catch her breath. "I sell ozone generators that are supposed to reduce stress. I can't… I can't guarantee-"

  "You never overheard April on the phone talking to someone about Heather?"

  Stephanie shook her head.

  "You never heard Garrett Walsh's name mentioned?"

  "I left the office at six o'clock, but April always stayed late. I don't think she liked going home. Whoever you're looking for, they must have called after I left."

  Jimmy sat beside her for a long time thinking. "What exactly made April special? Because she was so young, and yet so mature-"

  "Heather was the only one April ever put under contract. That's why she was special."

  "I don't understand."

  "The other guppies, I never even met them. I would hear April and Burton talking, and a week or two later April would hav
e a new designer outfit, something from Rodeo Drive. She was a big girl, but she was a clotheshorse. Stylish. I admired that."

  "You never met the guppies. Did you meet Heather?"

  "Heather was a goose." Stephanie smiled at the memory. "April was so proud. She kept telling Heather about this big part she had locked in for her, a 'star vehicle' she called it, not just a walk-on, a real break-out role."

  "April never promised a specific part to one of her clients?"

  "Oh my, no."

  "What was the part April had locked in for Heather? It's very important."

  Stephanie concentrated, then shook her head.

  "April was sure that Heather had the part nailed?"

  "She said it was a done deal."

  Jimmy nodded. April had never expected Heather to be killed that night; Heather's rape was to ruin Garrett's career, and his arrest would make Heather a household name, a player. A high-profile film role could turn Heather into a star, and a contract would guarantee that April got taken along for the ride. Even Mick Packard at the height of his power couldn't have opened that many doors to Heather. Neither could a jealous coke dealer or a software king. No, that took real juice.

  Stephanie sniffed. "You okay?"

  "It's like I said before, sometimes it takes a while to put things together, and when you finally do, you wonder what took you so long."

  "Don't be so hard on yourself. It's not healthy. I think that's why April committed suicide-she must have blamed herself for what happened to Heather."

  "You think April committed suicide?"

  "April-underneath it all, she was a very spiritual person."

  "Willard Burton thinks she was murdered."

  Stephanie was very still, a rabbit trying to blend into the background. "Willard Burton is a man who doesn't understand guilt," she said at last. "April knew about guilt. Just like me. That's why we both overate." She looked at Jimmy. "If the thing with Heather had worked out the way it was supposed to, April wasn't going to have anything more to do with Willard Burton. I'm sure of that. She disliked that man as much as I did." Her eyes were downcast now, remembering. "The afternoon Heather signed with the agency was such a good day. Heather was going on about buying a Corvette, a pink Corvette, and April was talking about getting a new office, and maybe one of those ergonomic chairs for me. A wonderful day. My hand actually shook when I notarized the contract."

  Jimmy stared at her. "How could Heather sign a contract? She was a minor."

  "Her mother was there. She signed too. We were all so happy, and then Garrett Walsh ruined everything. Me and Burton, we're the only ones left alive. It kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it?" She looked at Jimmy. "That sounded bad, didn't it? Should I be worried?"

  "Just stay put. I'll be back in touch soon. If you remember the name of the movie April had promised Heather, let me know."

  Stephanie glanced out the window and checked the street. "I knew I shouldn't have answered the door."

  Chapter 40

  Darn it. Sugar slowly pulled the splinter out from the tender flesh between his thumb and forefinger, then flicked it out into the weeds surrounding the playhouse. He sucked at the wound and tasted copper. He smiled at the double entendre.

  The playhouse was a small structure with a peaked roof about ten feet off the ground, with a ladder on one side and a long slide on the other. It was built of raw boards painted to look like logs, blistered by the sun now. FORT APACHE was stenciled onto the sides. There was room for about four or five kids, but Sugar filled it up, lying there on his belly, his legs sticking out the back as he peeked out the front entrance. Down the street he could see Jimmy Gage standing on the front porch of the blue rambler, talking to a woman in jeans and a white blouse. She looked familiar.

  Sugar had followed Jimmy all the way from Huntington Beach to this godforsaken bump in the road, keeping fifteen or twenty miles back. He didn't even play the radio, listening instead to the beeping from the locator-receiver on the passenger seat. The transmitter attached to the undercarriage of Jimmy's car sent out a steady signal.

  One of Sugar's old cop buddies had retired and gone to work for LoJack, an electronic tracking service that retrieved stolen cars equipped with the device. Last year Sugar had traded Vince a cooler full of bonita for one, and a demonstration of how to use it. Vince had winked, asked if Sugar had a girlfriend he thought was fooling around on him. Sugar had winked back, said you never knew when fancy gear would come in handy. It had come in handy too. After saving Jimmy's bacon that day at the marina, then driving him home when he was too beat up to drive himself, Sugar had hooked up Jimmy's car.

  Sugar had been keeping tabs on Jimmy ever since. He just had to turn on the receiver in his own car and follow the blinking light on the map readout to know where Jimmy was. Following Jimmy over hill and dale, from one end of the county to the other was too much like work, though, and Sugar was retired. Catching those yellowjack a few nights ago, well, it was just flat-out relaxing hooking that first fish, hearing the line spool out as it headed off to freedom. Particularly after dealing with that Felix the Cat fellow.

  Sugar adjusted his position, making sure that he stayed in the shadows, careful of splinters now. The playground was deserted, the basketball hoops bent, the swings rusted. Half the houses on the block were empty. He had spotted Jimmy's car parked in front of the blue rambler, made a U-turn, and parked on the next street, taking up his position in the clubhouse, where he had a good view and privacy. The houses on either side were boarded up. He didn't have to wait long until the front door opened and the two of them came out, dragging out their good-byes. Sugar rested his chin in his hands. He just knew he had seen the woman before.

  Chapter 41

  "Danziger residence."

  Jimmy drove with one hand on the wheel, thinking.

  "Danziger residence, may I help you?"

  Jimmy disconnected the call. He wanted to talk to Danziger's wife, but not enough to go through the butler or whatever the hell Raymond was. He punched in the main switchboard of SLAP, then the extension for the magazine's gossip columnist.

  "This is Miss Chatterbox, talkee-talkee."

  "Hi, Ann, it's Jimmy." He kicked the Saab up to eighty-five and passed the silver Toyota 4x4. The kid behind the wheel was in a backward Lakers hat and toasted Jimmy with a beer. "Do you know anything-"

  "I know you're in heap big trouble. Napitano has been looking for you all day."

  "Yeah, I got a couple of his messages."

  "He's been cursing in Italian."

  "Ann, do you know anything about Michael Danziger and his wife?"

  "Film producer, right? Used to be somebody?"

  "Used to be head of Epic International."

  "Oh, yes, I remember him now. Got canned five or six years ago. Taurus Rising finished him, if memory serves. Budgeted at eighty million and did less than five million at the box office. Sayonara, Mikey."

  Jimmy could hear Ann flipping through her Rolodex. She was one of the old-school gossip columnists who preferred card files to computer directories. There were plenty of Hollywood big shots who April McCoy could have been working for, plenty of executives who could have promised a film career for Heather Grimm, but Michael Danziger was the one who had hired Walsh, the one who showed up on set halfway through the shoot. He'd been keeping an eye on the production, he had told Jimmy. Maybe. Jimmy remembered Danziger swimming against the jets in his lap pool, swimming hard and steady, his workout routine precisely calibrated. Yeah, there were plenty of suspects, but like Jane said, when your investigation stalls, start with what you have in front of you.

  "Michael and Brooke Danziger," Ann must have been reading it off the card, "married twelve, no make that thirteen years ago. No children. The usual charities, Cedars-Sinai, AIDS America, Lupus, Parkinson's. I see them at parties and fund-raisers once in a while. He's a smoothie, handsome as the day is long, always shaking hands. Perrier drinker, vegetarian… Oh, this is interesting. I made a note to myse
lf a few months ago. Seems Michael's last two-no, three charity pledges haven't been honored. I was going to run it, but I decided to wait until he had another hit. How is his new movie? My Troubled Girl, Trouble with My Girl, something like that. Can I run with my item?"

  "You're going to have to keep waiting." The Saab's steering wheel vibrated in his grip, and Jimmy slowed slightly. The road was nearly empty going back to the city, but he backed off the gas. The Highway Patrol had radar units and helicopters, and he didn't want to waste another Saturday in traffic school. "What about the wife?"

  "Ummmmm, Brooke's not really part of the business. I remember seeing her at the Academy Awards a few times, but she seemed a little out of place. She always sticks close to Michael. Oh, she was evidently an equestrian champion before she was married. Rode in the Rose Parade for several years-a real Dale Evans."

  "Do you have a photo?"

  "I smell a scoop here, Jimmy. I told you where Samantha Packard worked out, and the next thing I knew you're on TV being attacked by that jealous ass of a husband. Now you want to know about Brooke Danziger. If you're on some Hollywood wives scavenger hunt, I want an exclusive."

  "You overestimate me." Jimmy checked his rearview mirror. The Toyota pickup was a silver speck in the distance. He thought of Stephanie Panagopolis miles away now, with her memories of guppies and the goose that was going to lay the golden eggs. He should have bought something from her, apricot bath gel for Jane, or a water filter. He could have put it on his expense account, see what Napitano said about that.

  "What's this all about, Jimmy?"

  "Just a minute, Ann, I've got another call. Hello?"

  "Jimmy? Michael Danziger here. You just called the house but didn't say anything. I was wondering if there was some kind of problem?"

  Jimmy hated Caller ID. He was going to have to find another way to contact Brooke Danziger. "Thanks for following up, Michael. The battery in my cell phone is running low and kept cutting out. Just wanted to ask, when is the premiere of My Girl Trouble?"