Authors: Melodie Johnson-Howe
I
made it over Coldwater Canyon and down into the tangled spread of buildings, shops, and traffic that was Ventura Boulevard. Turning right, I went a few blocks and found Kinross, then another three blocks and I was at the Larchmont Motel. It sat in the middle of a parking lot. The asphalt had lifted, and weeds and pretty wild flowers had popped up between the cracks. Just one story, the motel looked as if a 1.0 earthquake would rattle it into a pile of sticks and chunks of stucco. The sun beat hard on its façade. In each window a liver-colored blind had been pulled against the glare. This was the kind of place for quick sex, a quick high, or a long binge.
I didn't see Celia's white Lexus as I pulled in and parked. Taking the camera out of my purse, I got out of the car, found room 10, and knocked. The door opened only inches because the chain was on. Celia peered out at me through the crack.
“I've got the camera.” I showed it to her before she could slam the door in my face.
“Goddammit, Diana. Were you followed?” she asked.
“No.”
Sighing heavily, she slipped the chain off, let me in, and relocked the door. A bolted-down dresser lamp was the only light in the darkened room. The air conditioner built into the back wall heaved out moldy air while rattling the picture hanging above it.
“How are you?” I asked hesitantly.
“How do I look?”
“Not too good.”
Dressed in a wrinkled short black skirt and rumpled red silk blouse, her skin was sallow and dry as the brittle shade covering her only window. The bruise around her eye and across her cheek had paled to a jaundice color. She reminded me of Parson's wife, a woman who knew death was near. But Mrs. Parson welcomed it, even planned it. The shattered expression in Celia's eyes told me she feared death with all her being.
She eyed the camera with all the intensity of a drug addict waiting for her fix.
“Where's Pearl?” she asked.
“It's a long story. Let's just say two of Parson's men are following her to Valley Presbyterian Hospital, where P. J. Binder is recuperating.”
“If they catch her, she'll tell them where I am.”
“Then you and I should transact our business quickly.”
“Give me the camera.”
I let her grab it.
Sinking onto the edge of the unmade bed, she ripped it open. She looked up at me. “The memory card is gone.”
“I have it.”
“On you?'
“I wouldn't be that stupid.” I felt it pressing into my breasts,
Jumping up, she ran to the window, pushed aside the shade, and peered out. She let it drop back and demanded “Where is it?”
“I want something for it.”
“What?”
“We were friends once, remember?”
She leaned against the dresser. The dust-filmed mirror reflected the back of her hunched shoulders and her tangled dark hair. “I remember.” Her voice softened. “Knowing you, you probably came here for the truth.”
“Yes. And Parson wants me to bring you and the memory card to him, or he'll kill someone I know. Someone I care about.”
Her violet eyes flashed, her expression hardened. “You're going to try to take me to Parson? And how in hell do you think you're going to manage that?” She reached for her handbag on the dresser.
“Don't.” I slid the Glock from my bag and aimed it at her.
She stared. “I don't believe this.”
“I don't either.” I edged nearer to her and yanked her purse away. Feeling around inside, I pulled out a gun.
“Funny, we both keep voting for gun control.” She smiled ruefully.
“I've changed my mind on that.” I put her weapon inside my purse, then threw hers on the floor.
Then I sat in the only chair, still holding the Glock on her.
“Listen to me, Diana, I'm a businesswoman, and you're not.” She paced, barefooted; her five-inch heels were on the floor by the nightstand. “I know how to deal with men like Parson. He'd rather have the video of his daughter screwing everybody under the sun than kill me. He's more concerned about her image. Or maybe he wants to continue her blackmailing business, who knows? I don't care.” She was a boss tossing off ideas to her assistant instead of a woman with a weapon pointed at her. “The memory card is my only protection. I can make this work. It's what I do. I make people buy houses they only think they want.”
“Is Ben in any of the videos?”
“Ben?” She stopped.
“You can't make it work, Celia.” I leaned to one side and slid the photograph of her, Gwyn, and Ben as a baby from my jeans pocket and held it out to her.
Taking it, she ran her finger over his face just as Gwyn had done. Two mothers, and yet Ben was so unloved.
“How did you know about this?” She looked at me, eyes narrowed. “I kept it tucked in a book on my nightstand.”
“I found it crumpled on your kitchen floor, where I think Ben must've dropped it. He trashed your house.”
“Why?”
“Anger, probably. He was looking for some sign that you really are his mother. Gwyn confirmed my suspicions that you were.”
“She would never tell anybody.”
“Her world has fallen apart, just like yours. Just like mine, come to think of it.”
“My world is intact as long as I can stay in control of the situation. You have to help me, Diana. You have to give it to me.”
“Your world isn't intact, Celia. Ben's dead. He hanged himself in your garage.” As I told her what had happened, her face crumpled. Her body sagged.
On the other side of the adjoining wall, a toilet flushed.
Celia slumped on the bed.
I
listened to her cry and moan, and I wondered who she really was crying for. Then she sat up, wiping her hands across her eyes. “Suicide?”
“Parson said it was.”
“You believe him?”
“I believe he can kill someone without laying a hand on them.” I thought of Colin. “But he told me that when he arrived at your house, Leo Heath was trying to cut Ben down. He may still have been alive then. But Parson's men stopped Heath.”
“Heath?”
“The one you lied about. I think that was your first lie to me, at least that I know about.”
“Are you saying Ben wanted to kill himself?”
Not wanting to keep the fury out of my voice, I said “The kid grew up thinking his biological father was a rapist. That his stepfather didn't love him because he loved his mistress more. Then the mistress turned out to be his real mother. Robert didn't even know, for Christ's sake.”
“Shut up!”
“And to get back at them, Ben joins Jenny in blackmailing everyone who's important to Robert and Gwyn. Yes, Celia, I think he wanted to kill himself.”
She stared at me, shocked at my rage.
The TV turned on in the next room. Its low muttering mixed with the rumbling of the air conditioner.
“I want to know what kind of killer you are,” I said. “Are you cold-blooded, or accidental?”
She pushed her ink black hair from her face. “Jenny was an accident.”
“Start from the beginning.”
“Ben found out I was his father's mistress. I don't know who told him.” Her expression hardened. “Was it you?”
“He grew up, Celia. He put the pieces together all by himself. It wasn't difficult for him.”
“He wanted to meet me.”
“On the night of Jenny's death?”
“No, a few days before. He came to my house. He was drunk or high on something. He wanted to see where Robert slept with me, wanted to see where his family's money was going. He was shocked when I told him I wasn't taking any money from Robert. I told Ben that I loved Robert, but that I also loved my independence. And I never wanted to marry or have children.” Her voice broke.
“You said that to your son.”
“Ben didn't know that then. He asked if I didn't worry about his mother's feelings. I told him she had her relationship with Robert and I had mine.”
The TV grew louder. I could make out two actresses speaking in Spanish.
“He told me he was working in the video business. That his father and mother would be very proud. And then he blurted out what he was really doing. He ranted about how he and Jenny were going to show up all the hypocrites like Robert, like me. Then he tried to kiss me while taking a picture of us on this small video camera. I pushed him away, and he fell on the sofa and passed out.”
“You checked to see what was on the camera?”
She nodded. “I recognized Bella Casa immediately, Jenny Parson with Ryan, and Jenny taunting Beth Woods while she was having sex with her. God, it was a Who's Who of Hollywood elite. There was no security protection. No password. Anybody could've seen the videos. What were they thinking?” Furious, she jumped up and pounded the wall. “Keep it down in there!”
The volume on the TV lowered. Celia leaned against the dresser, hands clasped in front of her. Her face was ragged. “In the morning Ben was frantic when I told him that I wouldn't let him have the camera back. He became a little boy again, pleading with me, telling me that Jenny was dangerous. That he didn't want anyone to know what he was doing, that he wanted out. That she and Zackary Logan would kill him if he didn't have the camera.”
“So you had Ben set up a meeting with Jenny?”
She nodded. “Ben called me from the club. He said Zackary would be driving her home. Jenny had been drinking and was threatening him. If she didn't get the camera back that night, she would tell Robert. He told me where she lived and to wait in the shadows by the garbage bins in the alley. He would be following them in his car so he could bring Zackary back to the club. When they arrived, Zackary drove Jenny into the garage and parked in her slot. Ben, who had a key, let me in through the side door next to the gates. Keeping us out of view of the security cameras, he guided me to Jenny. She made Zackary get out of her Audi and told me to get in. I slid into the driver's seat.” She paused, unclasping her hands, then rubbing them over her forehead and into her hair.
“I thought I could talk her out of what she was doing,” she continued. “That was my intention, anyway. But she threatened me. She said if anybody found out about their business, she'd tell them I was a full partner. That I'd let them bring the johns to Bella Casa. She was hysterical, out of control, making all kinds of wild threats, so I shook her. She screamed, and then she started hitting me. That's when my cell must've somehow got turned on.”
“It was Jenny I heard screaming, not you.”
“Yes. You understand, don't you Diana? I really didn't have a choice. I had to stop her. I shook her harder and harder until her neck snapped back and her head hit the passenger window. It made an awful sound, a kind of dull crack. I couldn't believe it had gone that far⦠.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and buried her head in her hands.
“Oh, Celia,” I murmured.
“It was Zackary Logan who took charge.” She looked up. “He got the key from her purse, and he and Ben went up to her condo and got the bags to put her in. All three of us wrapped her up and carried her out to the bin. Ben kept saying âYou didn't have to kill her.' The boys drove away in Ben's car, and I walked back to mine and went home.”
“
Did
you have to kill her?”
“I didn't mean to. I was trying to protect everyone.”
My long-time friend, the girl I had grown up with, had become a woman who could spend most of her adult life living a lie about her child and her lover, and then lose control and kill someone. Another lie, another person I didn't really know. The TV was loud again.
She was peering anxiously at me. “What are you thinking about?”
“Remember the night we sat on the side street and you told me how Ben had attacked you in your car in the vacant lot? You were so believable.”
“The essence of what I said about him and me was true. I didn't plan to kill Jenny. I just saw Ben's life being destroyed.”
“And yours. And Robert's.”
“All right, I felt threatened. Everything I had worked so hard for could have been destroyed by this uncaring bitch. I didn't have a movie star for a mother, Diana. I had to create my own life the way I wanted it, with no help from anybody.”
“If you let people cut in front of you in line, you'll never get ahead.”
“What?”
“That's what you said to me when we first met. We were waiting to get in to see one of my mother's movies. You're the one who reminded me of it when I was holding frozen peas to your bruised face thinking a man had beat you up.”
“Killing Jenny was an accident.”
“Was Zackary Logan an accident?”
“I didn't kill him. I swear to God. He called me and said he wanted to meet me at Bella Casa. But I didn't go.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“No reason, except it's true.”
“What about Ryan Johns?”
“Robert told me that Parson was a madman. That whoever killed his daughter would face an awful death. He told me he had Leo Heath working on the case, and I remembered him from Bella Casa. I panicked. I assumed Heath knew what had been going on at the house. So I thought if I sent him and Parson the video of Ryan⦠.”
“He'd be the perfect scapegoat. Except Ryan turned around and gave Parson your name. That bit of irony must've stung.”
“It did.”
“How did Ben find out you were his mother?”
“After you called to tell me to leave my house, that I might be in danger, I phoned Ben. If I was going to die, I wanted him to know the truth. And that I killed Jenny for him.”
“You left him with the burden of all that?”
Ignoring my question, she asked “What are you going to do?”
Disgusted, I stood and walked to the door. “You can save yourself. I won't stop you. But I'm keeping the memory card.”
“You can't.” She got her feet. “You can't leave me like this. You know what Parson will do to me. Even if I did mean to kill Jenny, it was to help everyone involved.”
“And now you want the card to bargain with Parson. And you don't care if he uses it to continue his daughter's blackmail, even if he hurts everyone you were supposedly trying to help. Christ, Celia. It's over.”
We stared at each other. Then the TV in the next room suddenly turned up to full volume, filling the tense silence between us. As we glanced toward the booming noise of the chattering Spanish women, the breathless soft sounds of
pop, pop, pop
splintered the common wall. I lost sight of Celia as I dove for the floor. My gun flew from my hand. The muted gunfire continued. The TV turned off, and the room was quiet. Neither of us moved.
Seconds later, the motel room door crashed open, and a man stepped over me. My hair had fallen across my face, and I was lying on my right arm. I opened my eyes just enough to see Rubio take the camera from the bed. Rubio ⦠I had forgotten about the son-of-a-bitch. Then I saw Celia on the floor, blood pumping from her chest. He knelt down next to her.
“Gotcha,” he said, like a hunter to a deer.
Then Rubio was beside me. He pushed the hair from my face and we looked at each other. My throat went dry.
He flashed his thick white teeth at me and aimed the gun between my eyes. “Gotcha.”
But another gun went off. His grin froze, then vanished, and he fell heavily to the side. I lifted my head to see what had happened. Celia was on her knees, the Glock in her hand. She smiled at me the same way she had when we were young. Then she dropped the gun and collapsed. The room tilted. I laid my head back down.
“What the fuck?” It was Bruno's voice.
I felt him standing behind me. Tensing, I lay still.
“Parson's not going to like this,” Gerald rushed into the room, stopping near Rubio.
I tried not to breathe. I opened my eyes just enough to see him peering inside the camera Rubio had dropped.
Gerald frowned. “There's no memory card. Maybe the actress has it.”
My need to survive kicked in, my mind began to work. These two men were my one little area of power. Without trying to show any movement, I edged my right hand up between my breasts and pulled the card out, holding it in my palm.
“Is she alive?” Bruno kicked my thigh with his foot.
My body recoiled.
“Yeah, she's alive.” Now standing in front of me, Bruno grabbed me under my arms. I let myself go limp and heavy as he dragged me up the front of his body to my feet.
His sweat reeked. I went into my madwoman act, except I wasn't acting. I screamed. I punched and kicked. Moving my right hand down his chest, I slipped the memory card into the handkerchief pocket of his suit jacket and shrieked louder.
“Shut up!” Gerald yelled from behind me.
Then something hard slammed into the back of my skull. I fell to my knees.