Sex and Violence in Hollywood (56 page)

Did Horowitz expect Diz to help their case? Of course she did. She believed Adam’s story, therefore she thought Diz would be able to back it up. What if they found him? If anyone could, it would be Max and Horowitz. What would Diz tell them?

The truth, Adam thought with a shiver.

“Diz and Billy are both wanted by the police, right?” Adam asked, turning to Max.

“Yep. And the feds.” He chewed noisily, drank some cola. His lips curled with distaste. He was loyal to his Barq’s diet root beer.

“So if you find them, you’re going to have to turn them in, right?”

“Damn, this is a good burger, Adam. Glad you suggested it.”

“If the police and the FBI want them, what are you gonna do with them?”

Max turned to face Adam, leaned an elbow on the counter. “Ain’t you learned nothin’ yet, Adam? You don’t have to worry ’bout none of that stuff. Leave it to Rona.”

“Okay, so I won’t worry about it. But since I’m the one who’s on trial, can’t I at least know about it?”

Max took another bite of his burger, chewed leisurely. “Look, son. You gotta be more like me. Rona tells me to do something, I don’t ask questions, I don’t try to figger out how it fits into the scheme of things. I just do it. In the end, it always turns out to be the right thing to do.”

“But I don’t work for her. She’s working for me, remember?”

Max sighed, sucked his teeth. “Rona Horowitz don’t work for nobody. Maybe you’re payin’ her, but that don’t mean she works for you. She just decided to save your sorry ass, that’s all. If she does things you don’t understand, you don’t question it. You just wait for it all to finish up. Then everything’ll make sense. And if not...well, then it won’t matter ’cause it’ll all be finished up.”

It was clear he would get no answers from Max. Adam quietly finished his drink.

“Damned good burger,” Max said before putting the last bite into his mouth.

“I’m just afraid something will go wrong,” Adam said. “I don’t want any surprises.”

“Not gonna happen. Trust me, Rona’s always in control of whatever situation she’s in. Even if it don’t look like it, she’s pullin’ the strings. She don’t leave room for accidents. ’bout the only thing she doesn’t control is the weather. But I think she’s workin’ on it.”

Adam chuckled. “Don’t you think that’s an exaggeration?”

Max’s eyebrows rose above his glasses. “Nope.” He ate the last of his fries, licked salt from his fingertips.

“Nobody is that good. I mean, there are always surprises, unpredictable things that—”

Laughing, Max shook his head. “Lamont told me you was hard-headed.”

“What about the stuff I didn’t tell you at first? The liquor store robbery and—”

“That was your fault. You didn’t tell us. I said she’s always in control of whatever situation she’s in, I didn’t say she was the Amazing Kreskin. She can’t read minds. That’s why she was so pissed off. She wanted to rip your head off when that liquor store tape showed up.”

“It’s still something she wasn’t able to control until the tape was—”

“Do you think it’s an accident that the public’s on your side?” Max interrupted. “You think they like you ’cause you got nice teeth, or somethin’?”

“No. They like me because Rona’s been all over television telling them what a wonderful guy I am.”

“Nah. That don’t make that much difference. She could talk till she’s blue in the face, and if they don’t like you, they just don’t like you, that’s all there is to it.” He wiped his mouth and hands with the paper towel. Wadded up all the paper, stuffed it in the bag, then did the same with Adam’s leftovers. Tossed the bag into a nearby garbage can. “Let’s head back.”

They walked away from the shack toward the Escalade.

“All the jawin’ Rona’s been doin’ on television has helped, no doubt about that. But on its own, it wouldn’t be enough. People out there like you ’cause they feel sorry for you. First, you lost your mama, then your daddy. Your stepmama and stepsister. Far as they’re concerned, you got along with them just fine. A nice happy family.”

They got into the Escalade and Max started the engine, drove into the traffic.

“So, you lost your family and your best friend, you’re all alone,” he continued. “And you’re accused of murder. On top of that, with all the fuss and preparation for the trial, you have to go out on the Internet to have any contact with your girlfriend. People love a love story, Adam. Always have. That whole Nick and Nora thing, they ate it up. They’re still eatin’ it up. Then some loony woman attacks you in a restaurant with a knife. ‘This poor bastard,’ they say. ‘Nobody with that kind of luck is a killer. He’s just a poor guy can’t get a break,’ they say. Everybody loves an underdog, and that’s you. They like you even more ’cause they can get on the Internet and chat with you. With everything else you got goin’ for you, they find out you’re not just a celebrity they been seein’ on television and readin’ about in the papers. You’re a friendly, polite fella, intelligent, with things to say. You’re just like their kids, their friends. You’re one of them. They like that even more. Put all that together, they love you.”

Adam waited for him to continue, but realized he was finished. “What’s that got to do with Rona?”

Max smirked. “You think she didn’t know there was a computer in that satchel?”

“She knew? But...she didn’t want me to have any contact with anyone. That’s why she didn’t bring my laptop from Carter’s house. Why would she leave the computer in the satchel if she didn’t want me to...” He stopped talking, but his mind moved ahead, working on the puzzle. Finally, he turned to Max and said, “It doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t she just say it was okay for me to get on the Internet and chat with Alyssa?”

“She wanted you to think it was your idea,” Max said. “People’re better at things if they think it’s their idea. So she says you can’t see your girlfriend no more. She gave you that story about Alyssa’s parents, but that was just window dressing, a cover. Alyssa’s parents really do use and grow grass, but they only share it with close friends. They’re pretty safe. Just in case, though, Rona did have a little talk with ’em. But none of that mattered. The important thing was for you two to be separated. For you to be told you couldn’t see your girlfriend no more. Then all she had to do was stand back and wait for you to do what you were told you couldn’t. Which is exactly what you did, exactly the way she wanted you to.”

“She planned all along...to get me on the Internet? So people could come chat with me?”

“That was the plan. But you didn’t hear it from me, y’understand? Think you can keep your mouth shut this time?”

Adam stared out at the oncoming headlights that swept by. It was very clever. More than that, it was devious. He was not sure how he felt about it yet.

“It wasn’t an accident that Melonie Sands was at Chinois the night you went there, either,” Max said.

“Oh, come on. She couldn’t have planned that.”

Max laughed. “We knew she had a problem with drugs and booze. Knew what her testimony was gonna be. Potentially damaging stuff, whether it’s true or not. If she got on the stand and the jury bought her testimony, that could hurt. She was pretty sweet on your dad, y’know. Really fell for him. Rona knew she was gonna be at Chinois that night. There was no way to know exactly how she’d react to seeing you, ’course, but she had a pretty consistent record for making scenes and behaving violently. Rona hoped for the best.”

“The best?”

“Sure enough, she went for the bait.”

“Jesus Christ! What if she’d had a real knife? That crazy bitch could’ve killed me!”

Another laugh from Max. “Her security boys were there. They weren’t gonna let nothin’ serious happen to you. Just enough to make Melonie Sands look crazier’n a wet sack of ferrets. And it made everybody feel bad for you. Worked out nice and fine, don’tcha think?”

Adam did not know whether to feel angry about being so manipulated, or grateful. “How did she know Melonie was going to be there?”

“Wolfgang happened to mention it.”

Adam nodded. “Does she plan to do any more of that during the trial?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Have to wait and see. But don’t worry about it. If she does, it’ll be for the best. We’re all just Rona’s puppets, Adam. Get used to it.”

FORTY-NINE

The trial moved along
with the speed of an extraordinarily complicated dental procedure. Sometimes, when it became especially dull, it made Adam’s teeth ache. By the fourth week, he had a splitting headache at the end of each day.

Raymond Lazar called Wally Kirk to the stand. Wally looked uncomfortable, almost as if he were in pain. Lazar asked what kind of merchandise he sold in the Creature Features Book and Video Emporium in Hollywood. Asked if he knew Adam, how long he had been a customer. What kind of things he purchased, what kind of books and movies he favored.

Adam wondered what was going through the heads of the jurors as Wally answered the questions. Wondered what they thought of his fondness for horror movies and novels, of the titles Wally named. Herschell Gordon Lewis movies like Two Thousand Maniacs, Blood Feast, The Wizard of Gore, A Taste of Blood, The Gore-Gore Girls. Low-budget drive-in classics like The Microwave Massacre, Blood Bath, The Corpse Grinders, Maniac, The Toolbox Murders, and others. Movies Adam and Carter had watched repeatedly. They laughed at them, made fun of the garage-sale effects and atrocious acting. There was nothing funny about them now. The titles made Adam wince. They sounded much worse than they were, all of them. But how could the jurors possibly know that?

Once he had extracted from Wally a long list of damning movie and novel titles and a few plot summaries, Lazar returned to his seat. Horowitz went to the lectern.

“Mr. Kirk, if Adam wanted to purchase the comedies of the Marx Brothers, would he find them in your store?”

“No. I don’t carry any Marx Brothers movies.”

“What if he wanted to purchase a drama, or a musical? Would he be able to find either of those in your store?”

“No. I don’t carry any of those, either.”

“Why did Adam purchase only horror films and novels from your store?”

“They’re the only kind of films and novels I carry. Horror and science fiction.”

“Then it’s not at all unusual that Adam purchased only horror films and novels from you?”

“Not at all.”

“Tell me, Mr. Kirk, how many customers come through your store each week?”

“Oh, jeez. I couldn’t tell you exactly.”

“It doesn’t have to be an exact number, just a ballpark figure.”

Wally Kirk tilted his head back, pursed his lips. “I’d say between two and three hundred. More if an author comes in for a signing or a reading.”

“Are all of your customers in their early twenties, like Adam Julian?”

“Oh, no, not at all. Most of my customers are middle-aged or older.”

“What kind of people are they?”

“How do you mean?”

“Do they come from different backgrounds? Different professions? Incomes?”

“Oh, yes. They make up a pretty broad cross section. Everything from the unemployed to doctors and lawyers.” He chuckled. “One of my regular customers is a judge.”

There were a few quiet, cautious titters from the spectators.

“Don’t look at me,” Judge Lester said with a smirk. “I don’t like the scary stuff.”

Horowitz asked, “Do you have customers who regularly make bigger purchases in your store than Adam Julian?”

“Quite a few. They’ll drop a couple thousand dollars or more a visit. I got some big spenders, but I’ve never considered Adam to be one of them.”

“As far as you know, Mr. Kirk, are any of your customers murderers?”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“Have any of your customers committed murder?”

“Well...no. Not that I know of.”

“Are they antisocial? Violent? Psychotic?”

“Objection!” Lazar stood. “Mr. Kirk is not a psychiatrist.”

“Sustained.”

“I will rephrase my question. Are your customers normal people, so to speak? Average people?”

“Oh, yes.”

“They are productive citizens?”

“Yes.”

“They have families?”

“Many of them, yes.”

“Children?”

“Yes. Some of them shop for their kids in my store. Sometimes they bring them along.”

“What attracts them to the books and films you sell?”

Wally shrugged. “They like their entertainment to be a little more imaginative and exotic than the mainstream. That’s all.”

“What about you, Mr. Kirk? What interest do you have in the things you sell?”

“Me? Oh, I’ve been a fan of horror and science fiction since I was—well, as far back as I can remember.”

“Even as a child?”

“Oh, yeah. I never missed a monster movie at the Cascade Theater in the town where I grew up. Watched them on TV. Learned to read on horror and science fiction stories.”

“Are you a violent man, Mr. Kirk?”