Fade to Blue (27 page)

Authors: Bill Moody

Tags: #Fiction / Mystery & Detective / General

BOOK: Fade to Blue

5.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

I spend the next ten days locked away with Skip Porter and Sandy Simmons for the final cut of the film, going through it scene by scene. There were a few more short cues to write, mostly solo piano themes, or a chord here and there, but in the end, Simmons is more than satisfied.

Skip grins and gives me a hug. “This was cool, man. Hope we do it again.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Simmons says, “I’ll be in touch. As soon as we get a distribution deal and a release date, I’ll let you know.” He gathers up his things, then pulls a padded envelope out of his bag. “This is for you. It’s a little souvenir, a baseball cap for the film. Wear it with pride.”

None of us refers to or mentions Grant Robbins once, pretending we haven’t read the flurry of news stories, or seen the television coverage citing Robbins’ arraignment and Anthony Torino’s arrest. Most of them end with Grant Robbins being unavailable for comment.

***

When I get to Burbank Airport, I return the rental car and go inside for my flight. I check one bag, and head for security with my carry-on. It’s surprisingly quiet this afternoon, but they pull me aside and take my bag off the conveyer. I had forgotten about the envelope Simmons had given me, which I’d stuffed in my carry-on.

The TSA guy asks me to open the bag. He looks inside and pulls out the envelope. It’s sealed and has my name scribbled on the front. “Will you open this, please?”

I pull the flap open and take out the blue cap. It’s folded flat, and
Murder in Blue
is stitched on the front in gold lettering. The guard looks at the stitching then raises his eyes to mine.

“I just finished scoring the music for a movie. That’s the title.”

He nods and pushes my bag to me. “Have a nice flight.”

I shove the envelope back in my bag and head for the gate.

The flight to Oakland is on time, and for once, so are the bags. In a little over an hour, I make it to baggage claim and walk outside. Andie is already waiting. She jumps out of her car when she sees me and rushes over for a hug and welcome home kiss.

“I see your escape from Hollywood was successful. Everything go okay?”

“Yep, all done, and they liked the music just fine.”

I throw the larger bag in the trunk, and keep the carry-on with me. We get in the car and, as Andie pulls away and heads for the exit, I open my carry-on, and take out the envelope, and don the cap.

I grin at Andie. “I just scored a movie and all I got was this baseball cap.”

Andie glances over. “Wow, I’m impressed. You can wear that all over town and let people ask what it means.”

I take the cap off and start to put it back when I feel something rattle at the bottom of the envelope. I reach in take out a microcassette tape in a tiny plastic box. I stare at it for a moment.

Andie looks over. “What’s that? Some of the music?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know it was here or how it got in the envelope.”

“I’ve got one of those micro recorders somewhere. You can play it when we to my place.”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

At Andie’s, I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge while she digs around in her desk drawers. “Here we go,” she says, holding up a pocket recorder. “I used it to tape some lectures.”

I take the recorder from her and sit down on the couch. I put the tape in and press “play.”

The first sound is a car door slamming, then a voice.

“Thanks for coming.”

Andie looks at me. “That’s Ryan, isn’t it?”

I nod, hold up my hand, and turn up the volume.

“No problem. Tell me what happened.” I’d never heard this voice before, but I know it’s Jerry Fuller, and I know they’re in Ryan’s car on Malibu Canyon.

“It was that crazy photographer, McElroy. He started chasing me.” I can hear the anxiety in Ryan’s voice clearly. “We came around this curve. He was like, trying to cut me off. He pulled in front of me and went over the embankment. You gotta believe me, Jerry, it was an accident. I didn’t know who else to call.”

Andie looks at me. “You gotta be kidding.”

“Okay, just calm down,” Fuller continues. “Where did he go over?”

“Back there, about a hundred feet.”

“Show me.” We can hear doors opening and shutting, then the faint sound of them walking, their feet crunching on the shoulder of the road.

“Right here I think,” Ryan says.

“Too dark to see anything down there,” Fuller says. There’s no sound for a few moments. I imagine them standing, looking down the embankment.

“You gotta help me, Jerry. I can’t afford to be involved in this. You know how the press is.”

Again there are a few moments of silence, then Fuller says, “Okay, you go home. I’ll call the police and wait for them. I’ll just say he passed me and I saw him lose control and go over the side. That’s what happened, right? You didn’t hit him, did you?”

“No.” Ryan’s answer is almost a wail. “I thought he was trying to run me off the road.”

“Okay, I believe you. Go home. I’ll take care of this.”

“Thanks, Jerry. I owe you big time.”

There’s more silence, then the sound of a car starting and driving off.

“Yes you do.” Then there’s a click as Fuller turns off the recorder. I fast forward a ways, but there’s nothing else.

I stop the tape and lean back, thinking this totally proves Ryan had been telling the truth all along. But how did the tape get in the envelope?

Andie says. “Any idea when it was sent?”

“None. Sandy Simmons, the director, gave it to me. I don’t doubt if he knew the tape was in the envelope.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I wish I knew.”

Coda

When I get a call from Sandy Simmons two months later, I still don’t know. “Evan, great news. It’s not an A-list movie, but Ryan is an A-list star. We’re opening in several key cities, and a premiere in Hollywood, red carpet and all.”

“That’s pretty fast, isn’t it?”

“You bet it is. You’ll get a formal invitation soon. Hope you can make it.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Sandy.”

A few days later, the invitation arrives and is followed up with a phone call from Ryan.

“How you doing, Piano Man?”

“Pretty good, Ryan. Just trying to keep busy.”

“You going to make the premiere?”

“Probably not.”

“I didn’t think so.” There’s a moment of silence then, “Listen, sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I just got, well you know, kind of busy.”

“I understand.”

“Look, I appreciate everything you did. I don’t mean just teaching me about the piano or scoring the movie. You were a good friend when I needed one. I won’t forget it.”

“Neither will I.”

“There’s one more thing,” Ryan says.

“What’s that?”

“Melanie and I are getting married.”

“Well, congratulations.”

“Surprised, eh? That’s what I’m calling about. We need a band for the reception at the Malibu house. You want the gig?”

I can’t help but smile. “I don’t know. I’m pretty expensive now, having scored a film.”

Ryan laughs. “I think I can afford you. Get those other two guys from the movie, and bring Andie.”

“Let me think about it.”

A few days later, Andie comes back from the store, carrying two bags of groceries. She pulls a magazine out of one of the bags and drops it on my lap. “Have a look at this. I saw it at the checkout counter.”

It’s the latest copy of
People.
Ryan and Melanie are cheek to cheek, smiling on the cover. Inside, there’s a brief story about their upcoming wedding and the release of
Murder in Blue
.

“You want to go?”

“Why not,” Andie says. “I’ve never been to a Hollywood wedding. I was just thinking though.”

“About?”

“What do you give a rich, famous, movie star as a wedding present?”

“I think I have just the thing.”

***

A few days later, Coop calls. “I got some news about our friend Mr. Robbins. As I expected, there was a plea deal. No trial. Involuntary manslaughter. He got six months in county jail, a thousand hours of community service, and three years probation.”

“So Robbins will be in orange overalls, picking up trash along the freeway?”

“Not likely. It’ll probably be some kind of teaching gig, but we can always hope.”

“What about Torino?”

“He got a year for tampering with evidence, contaminating a crime scene, and obstruction of justice.”

“So that’s it then.”

“Looks like it. Have you decided what to do about the tape?”

I had told Coop about it and played it for him over the phone. “Yeah I have.”

“Want to share?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know.”

***

By Hollywood standards, the wedding is small. The date and time was a closely guarded secret. When Andie and I arrive, Broad Beach road is crawling with a private security force augmenting a dozen police cruisers. Andie and I have to show our invitation three times to get to Ryan’s beach house. We’re almost late.

The deck is festooned with streamers and pink and white balloons. Emillio bustles us down the steps to the beach where about a hundred people are gathered for the brief ceremony. Helicopters drone and circle overhead. I briefly think about Darryl McElroy, as I imagine what the photos will go for. This was one he wouldn’t have missed.

Ryan and Melanie are both in white. Ryan in a suit, Melanie, looking gorgeous in a designer mini-length dress. When they kiss, there’s some light applause over the sound of the waves and a toast, then everybody drifts back up to the house.

Gene Sherman and Buster Browne are both set up on the deck next to the electric piano. When Ryan and Melanie reach the top of the steps, I go into the Charlie Parker blues, “Now’s The Time.” Ryan looks over and gives me the thumbs up sign and that megawatt grin.

I see Ryan’s parents mingling with the crowd. Bonnie Stiles looks over once and catches my eye, but doesn’t come over or say anything. We play for an hour, then join the crowd for the catered buffet set up and overseen by Emillio.

“Damn,” Buster says. “That’s Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes over there talking to George Clooney.” He looks at me. “This is the most far-out gig I’ve ever done.”

“Buster, you have no idea.”

Later, as things start to settle down, Ryan pulls me aside. “Thanks for coming, Piano Man, and especially for playing.” He slips an envelope in my hand. “Everything cool?”

“Perfect. You made my bass player’s day. Where’s the honeymoon?”

Ryan leans in closer. “Top secret. One of the Caribbean Islands. We’re going straight to the airport from here.”

I take out the tape, still in it’s little plastic box, and drop it in Ryan’s coat pocket. “Little something for you. Open it later.”

***

Andie and I pick a theater in downtown San Francisco that features independent films. Despite Ryan Stiles being the star of
Murder in Blue
, there are no long lines at the box office. I buy the tickets and we go inside where I spot a sign at the snack bar:
REAL BUTTER ON OUR POPCORN.

I get us a large tub and two drinks, and we make our way into the theater. We take seats near the back. There are only a few patrons already there ahead of us.

“Small crowd,” Andie says.

“Don’t worry. Eat some popcorn.”

Even though I’d seen the film scores of times and was familiar with every frame, I wanted to see it in a darkened theater with other people. The lights go down and we sit through trailers for coming attractions, then the screen goes black and I hear myself playing, see my hands in close-up on the keyboard as the opening credits start to roll.

Andie grips my arm. “I’m excited,” she whispers.

As the camera pulls back we see Gene Sherman, Buster Browne, and Ryan at the piano.

“It’s not fair,” Andie says. “We should be seeing your face.”

Finally, in about a minute we see the words that should have made it all worth it.

Original Music Composed and Arranged

by Evan Horne