Born To Be Wild

by Catherine Coulter

  “No.”

  The officer was trying to understand what had happened when Daniel ran up. People hovered around her, nothing new in that. She sat on a bench in front of the studio, sunglasses perched on her nose, a bottle of water in her hand. She was speaking alternately to a Burbank police officer and to Jeff Renfrew. He heard her say, “I can’t believe it’s over. Officer, this is Jeff Renfrew, he saw the guy coming toward me and shoved me out of the way. Then he kicked his back tire, messed him up. We still don’t know who he is. Detective Vasquez, thank heaven you’re here.” She gave him a huge grin. “It’s over.”

  “I’ll want to hear everything, Mary Lisa, everything, but first things first.”

  “I don’t know if he’s dead. They left his helmet on. I don’t know who he is.”

  “That, Mary Lisa, we’ll find out fast enough.” He nodded to Lou Lou. “Okay, you guys want to come with me?”

  He led them to the cordon the police were setting up around the site. Daniel had to show three different cops ID before they were let through.

  When they reached the ambulance crew, the paramedics were lifting the man on a board onto a stretcher. His helmet was dented and scuffed, and there was a restraint around his neck. The man wasn’t moving, no, wait, his left leg twitched. They’d cut off some of his clothes, pulled a sheet to his waist. They saw blood.

  Daniel spoke briefly to one of them and looked down into the man’s face under the helmet’s opaque visor, which the paramedics had lifted.

  “Mary Lisa, come up here.”

  Daniel pulled her beside him so she could see the man’s face. He said nothing, waited.

  Even though the man’s face was covered with blood, she knew who he was. She was surprised even though she supposed she shouldn’t be.

  She said, “It’s Paulie Thomas. He’s Tom O’Hurley’s nephew. Tom’s one of the directors for Born to Be Wild. But you already know that, Detective Vasquez. Paulie was here at the studio today, I saw him. Is he going to be all right?” This to one of the paramedics.

  “I don’t know. Sorry. Okay, we’re out of here now. Step back, please.”

  Daniel pulled her away. They watched in silence as the ambulance wove its way through the crowds of people and cars and, siren on, began to pick up speed.

  Daniel took both her hands in his. “Listen to me now, Mary Lisa. It’s over.” He saw Lou Lou muscling her way through to them. “There’s my tough girl. Okay, I want the two of you to go home now. There’s nothing more you can do here. You drive, okay, Lou Lou?”

  “I can drive, Detective Vasquez,” Mary Lisa said, her voice surprisingly firm. “I’m dandy now.”

  He nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll call you when I know more about this.”

  FIFTY

  The head writer makes all decisions. Script writers are called dialoguers.

  Mary Lisa’s house didn’t stay empty for very long. Within the hour, there was a cacophony of voices pouring out the open front door and the open windows. A half dozen people had gathered out on her deck, patting her, handing her sodas, beers, a straight shot of vodka.

  “It’s over,” Mary Lisa heard them say over and over, “thank God it’s finally over and you’re okay.”

  Mary Lisa stood in the middle of all the well-wishers, wondering why she didn’t feel much of anything at all. What about relief? Surely she should be feeling immense relief, but she wasn’t. There was nothing, simply nothing.

  She knew if she fell to her knees and thanked God for getting her through this, she wouldn’t mean it, she wouldn’t mean anything. She sat on one of her deck chairs, a soda in one hand and a beer in the other, staring at the kitchen glass that held straight vodka beside her elbow on a side table and wondering who would drink this deadly stuff. She hadn’t known there was any in the house.

  Paulie Thomas. She said his name a couple of times in her mind. He’d been the one to hit her with the car, the one to shoot at her on the beach, the one who’d called her. He was Jamie Ramos? He’d kidnapped Puker?

  Her questions fell into a black hole. She got up and wandered into her kitchen. She saw Buzz Snyder laying out a half-dozen pizzas on her kitchen counter. For the first time, she smiled. Snyder was as skinny as the mirror above Mary Lisa’s bathroom sink, though he personally made about two hundred pizzas a day at Reality Pizza, a place he owned on PCH in Malibu. How could he not pop a dozen or two slices into his mouth every single day?

  A dog barked, a little-dog bark even though it was loud. It was Honey Boy, only five pounds on a rainy day, which meant that MacKenzie Corman, his doting mama, wannabe actress, and Mary Lisa’s newest friend, had arrived as well.

  Mary Lisa heard Breaker Barney’s scratchy laugh. He called himself the local “gangsta” because he made his living running gambling sites-some on the Internet and at least half a dozen for private clients in posh card rooms. He lived ten doors down in the Colony, and try as he might to slick his hair back and look tough and sexy, he looked like a preacher. She’d met him at Monte’s the first month she’d been in L.A., and had a standing Thursday morning date for espresso. His grin was so big she saw the gold filling in one of his molars.

  Mary Lisa looked out over the back deck, her kitchen and living room filled with people, and in that moment, she did feel something-immense gratitude for all of her friends. She didn’t think; she threw back her head and drank down the straight vodka.

  When everyone had a slice of pizza and had congregated on the back deck, she joined them, smiling widely now because someone, she didn’t know who, had poured another half glass of vodka for her, and she’d drunk it right down. She called out, “Hey, dudes, I’m heading over to the dojo tomorrow, working on my black belt. Any of you losers want to come with me and try to take me on?”

  There was laughter, some hoots, some voices yelling out.

  “Must be more like a pretty pink belt.”

  “You can’t stand peace and quiet, is that it?”

  “You couldn’t take on Honey Boy.”

  Woof, woof, yip, yip.

  “Come to Mama, Honey Boy, I don’t want Mary Lisa to try to beat you up.”

  Of all things, that second vodka brought her right back, planted her feet firmly on her wooden deck. She heard seagulls overhead, saw a pelican wing its way ponderously down the beach, right at the edge of the foaming waves.

  She listened to Carlo tell about a surfing lesson with Millie Cartwright, a young actress just breaking in, and how she’d fallen right on her head on the board and still came up smiling. She didn’t hear her cell phone over the din of voices, but she felt it vibrate in her jeans pocket.

  It was Tom O’Hurley.

  The first words out of his mouth were, “Paulie lost control of his bike, he wouldn’t do anything like this on purpose. He’s shy, Mary Lisa, you know that, but the thing is he’s always gotten these ideas into his head, but-” He paused, got ahold of himself, and sucked in a deep breath.

  “Tom, I-”

  “No, no, I’m sorry. You’ve been under a great deal of stress, everyone knows it. I’m very sorry for all of it. But Paulie-no, Mary Lisa, he really liked you, he wanted to ask you out, he told me that once, but I discouraged him.”

  Mary Lisa wasn’t deaf. She heard the pain and fear in his voice. She wanted to tell him Paulie badly needed professional help, that he’d obviously lost it today, but she didn’t. She said, “Tom, listen to me now. It wasn’t me Paulie was interested in, it was Margie. He didn’t like me, Tom, truly-”

  “Yes, he did like you but that doesn’t matter now. Listen, Mary Lisa, I’m so sorry about all this-this accident. It’s such a relief you weren’t hurt, even though Paulie was. And you know it was an accident, it had to be.”

  What to say now? Tom wasn’t thinking logically and who could blame him? “Perhaps it was an accident, Tom. How is he doing?”

  “They said he’s had a lot of bleeding into and around his brain. They’ve taken him to the operating room.” There was a hitch in his
voice. “His mother is frantic. The doctors are closemouthed, but I could tell they think he could die. Everyone keeps repeating we have to be patient.”

  “I’m very sorry, Tom.”

  Silence a moment, then, “I heard there was some talk that he didn’t climb the curb on his bike accidentally, that he was trying to hit you, that it was Jeff Renfrew who shoved you away and kicked his bike.”

  “Yes, Paulie did jump the curb, Tom. I’m sorry, but he did it on purpose, he wanted to run me down. A half dozen people saw the whole thing. I know this is difficult, but it’s what happened. When Paulie gets out of the hospital, he’ll need professional help, Tom, lots of it.” She prayed he was hearing her, not only hearing, but taking it in, understanding and accepting it.

  His breathing hitched again, he moaned. “If I’d had the slightest idea Paulie was capable of such a thing, he wouldn’t have been anywhere near you, or the studio. He so loved the show, loved being near the actors. He’s never been violent, Mary Lisa, I swear it to you.”

  “Like I said, Tom, it was Margie he loved, or maybe obsessed is the right word, Tom, not me.”

  Silence, then, “I’ll offer my resignation to the studio in the morning.”

  So now he’d decided to take the blame for all this. She wasn’t about to let him. He was a good director, the show needed him. “Tom, I don’t blame you for what happened, no one does. I want you to forget about the studio for a while, okay? Now isn’t the time for a big decision like that.”

  “But I-” She heard someone speaking and he hung up. Slowly, Mary Lisa disconnected, and stood staring at the portrait of a colorful sailboat on the far wall of her living room.

  She was still staring at the oil when Irene called from the studio. She supposed she’d been expecting this. The brass must be scared out of their minds and Irene was, currently, the biggest brass.

  “No injuries, Mary Lisa?”

  “No, Irene, I’m fine. Paulie is in the O.R. Tom told me they don’t know anything yet.”

  Irene made a rude noise. “Well, at least it’s over. Now, you’ve been through the wringer, Mary Lisa. I asked Bernie to spread out the scenes you’ve already shot. You’re now officially off duty. Rest, Mary Lisa, get your bearings back. Take it easy. You need anything at all, you call me, all right?”

  Mary Lisa smiled at her cell phone. She had nearly been run down on studio property by an employee. They must be terrified it would get out and she would sue them, and whatever-She said, “Irene, thank you for giving me some time off. I rather need it, you know?”

  “I know. Is there anything I can do, Mary Lisa?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thank you for calling, Irene.” She disconnected, and looked up to see Lou Lou standing close, a slice of veggie pizza in her hand. “They’re as concerned for their own skins as they are for mine,” she said, and laughed. She actually laughed.

  “I don’t blame them. That was Irene, right?”

  “Yeah. I’ll bet she’s chewed her nails down to her knuckles. Hey, Lou Lou, can I have a bit of that cold pizza?”

  Snyder, who’d worshipped Lou Lou from afar for as long as Mary Lisa could remember, ran up with a slice of hot pizza on a napkin and reverently placed it in her hand.

  Mary Lisa chewed on the cold pizza-no fresh hot slice for her-and made her way back out onto her deck. She heard the doorbell ring, but didn’t turn. She was listening to everyone’s advice, like, “You should fly over to Honolulu, catch some waves at Diamond Head”-that from Carlo. “You need a nice spa experience. They give the cutest pedicures at the Golden Door, like a golden door painted on your big toe”-this from MacKenzie, Honey Boy barking his agreement.

  Mary Lisa turned slowly to see Lou Lou leading Detective Vasquez through the mess of people, a slice of artichoke pizza in his hand.

  FIFTY-ONE

  “Daniel,” Breaker Barney shouted out, “any good news for us? You find any bodies in Paulie Thomas’s closet? You’ve been to where he lives, right?”

  Here he was, Daniel thought, fraternizing with a smalltime hood. At least this one was smart enough to stay away from petty crimes. “Sorry, guys, I didn’t find a single finger,” Daniel said easily, and took another big bite of pizza.

  “No dinner, Daniel?” Lou Lou asked him.

  He shook his head and smiled at Lou Lou as he chewed. Someone stuck a beer in his hand, which he regretfully handed back. When he finished his pizza slice, he raised his hand. “Here’s the deal, people. I’m still working right now, and I need to speak to Mary Lisa alone.”

  There was no empty spot in the house except in Mary Lisa’s bedroom. Still, they had to wait for a teenage girl to leave the bathroom, pausing to hug Mary Lisa on her way out. When Mary Lisa pulled the door shut, she saw that Daniel was looking very serious. She flipped the lock on the door. Her heart speeded up. She grabbed his arm, shook it. “What’s wrong, Daniel?”

  “Paulie Thomas just died. I wanted to tell you privately.”

  She stumbled back, fell onto her bed. He sat down beside her. “He never woke up, Mary Lisa, barely got through surgery. They said his heart stopped, simply stopped. They managed to revive him once, but when his heart stopped again, they couldn’t bring him back.”

  She stared at him, still unable to take it in. Paulie Thomas, dead. He’d been alive this afternoon, and now he was dead. She felt numb. “How old was he?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  “That’s around Jack Wolf ’s age. How old are you, Daniel?”

  He smiled. “That’s the first time you’ve called me by my first name. I’m thirty-one.”

  “He was thirty-two and everyone still called him Paulie, not Paul. That isn’t right, Daniel. That means everyone knew he wasn’t right.”

  “Yes, I know. Can I get you something, Mary Lisa?”

  She shook her head. “No, just give me a moment to take this all in. How is Paulie’s mother? His uncle?”

  “They’re both very upset.”

  She nodded. “Did his mother have any explanation for why he tried to kill me?”

  “She was too upset for me to get much out of her. She said only that Paulie seemed pretty hyper yesterday. He kept going on about seeing Margie McCormick crying on the set-something about her character, Susan Cavendish, having less of a role to play on Born to Be Wild. Paulie’s uncle Tom finally said Paulie told him that Margie blamed you because of the new plotline you’d worked out with Bernie.”

  “There is some truth to that, you know.”

  “Don’t be a fool. It doesn’t matter. From what I could glean, Paulie had never managed a relationship, he was a loner, but he was very attached to Ms. McCormick. His mother hadn’t made much of it until this happened.

  “The thing is, Mary Lisa, when we got to his apartment with a search warrant, we didn’t know what we’d find.” He sighed. “Fact is, we found a huge motive-his bedroom was filled with press clippings about Margie McCormick, and photos of her plastered on all the walls. On the wall facing his bed was a huge poster-sized photo of her in a bikini.”

  “So you think Paulie was trying to kill me because of Margie? He thought I was hurting her?”

  Daniel drew a deep breath, took both her hands in his. “Mary Lisa, whatever drove him to do this, he snapped and acted. I think this was a onetime thing for Paulie. Your stalker is someone else.”

  She stared at him, suddenly so cold she felt frozen. “Not the stalker?”

  He shook his head.

  “But Paulie tried to run me down on his motorcycle. A gazillion people saw him try.”

  Daniel nodded. “Yes, I know. But stay with me a moment, okay? The decision about the plotline-and Ms. McCormick being unhappy about it and complaining aloud-I realized that didn’t happen until after that car hit you here in Malibu. More importantly, you had already mentioned Paulie to us, and we checked out where he was both on the day of the auto accident and at the time of the shooting on the beach. He had strong alibis on both days-he was with family and friends, and this aft
ernoon we checked them again, got independent verification. It couldn’t have been Paulie, either time.

  “And finally, Mary Lisa, we found Puker Hodges a couple of hours ago, claimed he’d been on assignment in Santa Barbara and just gotten back. We took him over to the hospital.” Daniel sighed. “Puker said Paulie Thomas wasn’t Jamie Ramos, the man we’ve been looking for. He said he’d seen Paulie Thomas only once before and that was when he broke onto the set of Born to Be Wild and took that photo of you and Bernie.”

  Mary Lisa couldn’t believe this. She didn’t want to believe it, much less hear it. She turned on him, angry now because he’d told her the truth and she couldn’t bear it.

  Daniel handed her a glass of water from the table beside her bed.

  She drank it down, clutched the glass between her hands, and said slowly, “Then-what? You think Paulie did this as a copycat?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then Jamie Ramos is still out there?”

  He said nothing, he didn’t need to.

  She looked at him for a very long time, looked down at her bare feet, at the three chipped French toenails, and whispered, “Well, shit.”

  IT was midnight. Jack was angry and scared for her, pissed that he hadn’t been there, even more pissed that he couldn’t come down. She made him swear he wouldn’t tell her father, at least not yet.

  When Mary Lisa disconnected, she was exhausted, but her brain was squirreling around so madly she began to pace her living room, unable to keep still. Only Elizabeth and Lou Lou were here now, Lou Lou sprawled on one of the living room rugs, her legs up on a chair, bare toes in the air. Elizabeth, elegant in her TV clothes, sat on a love seat, a cup of coffee in her hand.

  “We will get through this,” she said to Mary Lisa. “We will.”

  Mary Lisa was wearing her favorite pea green T-shirt she’d bought that fateful Saturday and a pair of banged-up low-cut jeans. She nodded toward Elizabeth, and went out to her back deck to lookup at the star-strewn heavens. “So many interesting shapes up there. I don’t see a single motorcycle.”