Hollywood Kids (56 page)

She could hear shallow breathing nearby, and realized she was not alone. But it was too dark to make out who was down there with her.

'Who's there?' she called out, controlling any sign of panic. 'Who the fuck is there?'

Nobody answered.

Pushing her back up against the wall, she desperately tried to acclimatize her eyes to the dark. Although her ankles were bound together, she was able to move her legs, and she did so, pushing against a body in the corner.

Oh, God! Somebody
was
down there with her.

Shoving the person with her feet, she muttered an urgent, 'Wake up, wake the hell up!'

Whoever it was didn't move.

She was in the dark - ever since she was a little girl being alone in the pitch-black had always scared her.

Gotta start thinking straight, she told herself sternly. Gotta start thinking real straight if I'm to get out of this one.

She reviewed the situation. She'd been snatched off the street, put in a cellar, handcuffed and tied up. But she was determined not to be frightened. She'd get out of this, and she'd get out of it alive.

With that thought foremost in mind, she drew her knees up against her chest, rested her head on them, and settled down for a long cold night.

Halfway through the evening Kennedy knew she'd made a mistake, a little of Charlie Dollar went a long way. He was his usual stoned charming self, but she'd had enough. Just because she was angry Michael hadn't called, she should not have headed for the nearest man. It wasn't working out. And the sad thing was that Charlie thought he had a chance.

'You know what, Charlie?' she said. 'I've got a really bad headache. Do you mind if I skip coffee and go home?'

'
You're
the designated driver,' he reminded her, raising an eyebrow. 'And
I'm
your date.'

'So I'll do the right thing,' she said, making light of the situation. 'I'll take you home first, then you won't have any complaints.'

'I thought we were dropping by Homebase tonight,' he said.

'You go. I'm not in the mood. The thing is I'm still working on the LA Strangler story, and I have researchers in New York bringing me facts even as we speak. There'll be stuff waiting for me on my computer. You know what it's like when you're on a movie - I bet you get obsessed. Well, that's how I am when I'm working a story.'

Charlie pulled a face. 'Yeah, yeah, your message is coming across loud and painfully clear. This is called movie star turndown - something I do not see much of.'

'I'm sure you don't,' she said, hoping he'd take the hint and get up.

He made no attempt to move. 'So, you don't want to tell me who the guy is, huh? Maybe I can give you valuable advice, my vast wealth of experience is legendary.'

'It's not a guy.'

'C'mon, green eyes, put it on the table.'

She sighed. 'OK, I met someone. We had a drink together, and tonight we were supposed to have dinner. He didn't call, end of story.'

What's he got that I don't have more of?'

'I don't know. And quite frankly, I don't care. He's out of the loop.'

Charlie rolled his eyes. 'Women!'

'Excuse me?'

'Sweetheart, surely you know we
never
call when we say we will - it's a male thing.'

She was in no mood to listen to Charlie's take on male-female relationships, but he was on a roll. There were many ladies, who, before I was a movie star, would not give me the time of day. I know it's hard for you to imagine, my dear, but it's true.'

'Is that why you became an actor?' she asked, signalling a waiter for the cheque.

'It was unintentional. Rock stars claim they became musicians because of a love for music. This is not true. They became musicians to get laid. The same with actors. Why do you think every horny young guy in high school joins the acting class? To get laid of course.'

'So you're telling me that's why Sir Laurence Olivier decided to be an actor?' she said, with more than a hint of irony.

'Nah... the English are different. They're so busy getting whipped by their nannies and boarding-school matrons they don't know their ass from a hole in the ground.'

'Very eloquent, Charlie.'

'I say it the way I see it.'

The waiter brought the check and she handed him her credit card. Charlie seemed to have no problem with her paying.

'So that's why you became an actor, to get laid?' she asked.

He grinned wolfishly. 'I did a lot of other things first.'

'And you weren't successful?'

'Being a movie star means scoring with ninety-nine per cent of the women out there. Very few say no. You're one of the few.'

'Am I supposed to be flattered?'

'Don't be - you're missing out.'

'I'd sooner be your friend than your lover,' she said, signing the receipt.

'You can be both.'

She stood up from the table. 'Thanks for the offer, but I don't think so.'

She drove them home. He wasn't giving up. He invited her in for a nightcap or a joint. She turned both offers down.

'OK, green eyes, but I'm gonna get you one of these days,' he promised, wagging a warning finger at her.

'Keep waiting, Charlie.'

That wolfish grin again. 'Oh, I will.'

He stood on the steps of his house watching her drive off.

She wondered if Dahlia was keeping his bed warm.

The first thing Kennedy did when she got home was contact Rosa to find out the latest developments.

'They're probably naming Zane Ricca tomorrow,' Rosa said. 'They've matched a perfect fingerprint, there's no doubt it's him.'

'Do they have any idea where to find him?'

'No details. Maybe tomorrow they'll release his picture. If so, it won't be long before somebody turns him in. When they do, our producer wants you to do a story on air. You know, show his photo, ask people if they've seen him. Do a re-enactment of one of the murders with actors playing the roles. Those kind of shows are real ratings grabbers.'

'No, Rosa, I don't want to do tabloid TV.'

'Not if it helps track him down?'

'It's not my thing.'

'OK, OK,' Rosa said testily. 'Maybe
I'll
do it.'

Kennedy played her answering machine, and was pleased to find a message from Michael calling from a plane. So
that's
why she hadn't heard from him. Of course, he could have phoned earlier, but still, it was nice to know she hadn't been stood up after all.

Switching on her computer she checked to see what information her researchers had come up with. Tapping in to review the new facts she noted they'd done a thorough job.

ZANE MARION RICCA

Born 10 January 1958

New York Hospital

Father - Bruno Ricca (currently serving a twenty-year prison sentence for armed robbery) Mother - Phyllis Ricca (sister of Luca Carlotti)

Now that was interesting.

She scanned the rest of it quickly - schools, jobs, medical history, nothing of much note.

The name of Luca Carlotti fired her interest. Luca Carlotti was a reputed mob kingpin out of New York, a man to be reckoned with. And now it turned out that Zane Marion Ricca was his nephew - what a connection!

No wonder Zane had been represented by the highest paid lawyers in town - Uncle Luca must have paid.

Kennedy sensed her story getting bigger and better. She sat down and started work.

Hubert Potter had toiled as a private security guard on the Sanderson estate for almost eight years. It was a cushy job, nothing much happened except a few threatening letters every now and then, tourists driving up to the gate asking dumb questions, big dinner parties twice a year - and that was about it.

Five days a week Hubert got off duty at 7 a.m. Today he drove slowly down the long winding driveway in his old Packard, his mind occupied with personal concerns.

A few minutes after leaving the estate he was startled to come across a wrecked Porsche blocking his way. Pulling his car to an abrupt stop, he got out and went over to inspect the damage.

As he approached, it occurred to him that it looked like Jordanna Levitt's Porsche. Now, she was trouble. Coming and going at all times, driving too fast, blasting her music. And look what had happened to her now, she'd gotten her car smashed up.

He wondered how he'd missed her when she'd arrived home last night. He'd been on duty, but sometimes his eyes grew heavy, and maybe he'd closed them for a second or two. Still, he was sure he would have seen Jordanna if she'd come home by foot.

He walked around the white Porsche, noting quite a bit of damage. Yanking open the passenger door he was surprised to discover a woman's purse on the seat, which he thought was strange, because women always took their purses with them.

He picked up the purse, opened it and checked out the wallet, searching for a driver's licence. Sure enough the licence belonged to Jordanna.

For a brief moment he thought about putting the purse back, getting in his car and going home. But Hubert was too conscientious for that kind of behaviour. Duty was duty, and he was obliged to investigate.

Placing Jordanna's purse under his arm, he got back in his car, made a U-turn, and headed back to the Sanderson estate.

Michael rolled out of bed at seven thirty, exactly six hours after hitting it the night before. His plane had landed after midnight, so by the time he'd arrived home it was past one thirty.

It gave him a good feeling being back in LA. Especially as it was one of those perfect smogless mornings - the kind he'd grown to love.

Seeing his family would soon be a distant memory. The one positive thing was that Bella had seemed quite content where she was now. Maybe Sal and Pandi would turn out to be OK parents after all. He could only hope and pray.

Today is the beginning of my new life, he told himself. No more hanging on to the past.

It was too early to call Kennedy.

He picked up the phone and called her anyway.

On his way to the studio Bobby reflected on the night before. He'd had a wonderful time with Jordanna, she was exciting and different, but in the cold light of day he wondered if it was wise to get involved just as she was about to star in his movie. He'd made one mistake with Barbara Barr, he didn't want to repeat it.

Not that Jordanna was anything like Barbara - there was no way he'd even think of comparing them.

It niggled him that Jordanna hadn't phoned him last night when she'd gotten home. Eventually he'd called the Sanderson place, and the butler had informed him that everyone appeared to be asleep, and did he really wish to disturb Ms Levitt. No, he'd said, he did not wish to disturb her.

So she'd forgotten to call him - big deal, he'd see her for lunch.

He was kind of edgy because today was the first time he'd be working with his father as an adult. The last time he'd appeared in one of Jerry's movies he'd been eight - playing Jerry as a boy. That was a thrill a minute - with Jerry's encouragement the entire crew had nicknamed him 'Jerry's kid' and laughed at everything he did. Including Jerry, to whom humiliating his son was sport.

Well, he was no longer 'Jerry's kid', and this was going to be an interesting experience, because this time it was
his
set, and
he
made the rules.

If anyone was about to be humiliated, it certainly wasn't going to be him.

First thing every morning George Randall jogged. Even though he knew it was good for him he loathed every step of the way. The only reason he did it was for his wife. She was twenty-six. He would soon be fifty-six. Well, in Hollywood what was thirty years between lovers?

Nobody ever mentioned their age difference, but George was extremely aware of it, especially as he was in the youth business. George was an extremely successful plastic surgeon.

Running down the driveway of his three-million-dollar home on Lexington, he activated his remote control to open his automatic gates, and as he hit the street he was annoyed to find a silver BMW half-blocking the entrance to his driveway.

What kind of nonsense was this? How was he supposed to get his Rolls out when he left for work an hour later?

George decided that maybe he wouldn't go jogging after all. He'd go straight back inside and summon the police. They were quick enough to give him tickets whenever he left his car in the wrong place, let's see how quickly they could remove a car from his own personal driveway.

Kennedy wanted more. She always wanted more. As information came through, she checked it out, diligently searching for something to make her story fly.

Zane Marion Ricca being Luca Carlotti's nephew was a big plus. It was possible that only she and her researcher knew.

How close was Luca Carlotti to his nephew? A good question.

Right now she was working on the Hollywood connection. Like how had Zane first gotten to Hollywood and landed a role in
The Contract?
It was hardly likely he'd walked in off the street - a New York actor with little experience. It was more than luck. Was it possible Luca Carlotti had ties to the film industry?

She'd found out Nanette Lipsky was the casting director on
The Contract -
a movie directed by Mac Brooks. Nanette was currently working on
Thriller Eyes
. Kennedy planned to speak to her.

She wished she could view the scenes between Zane and the murdered actress. They'd both been cut from the finished movie, their roles recast and reshot, but somebody had the original footage.

Hmm... she'd really like to talk to Mac Brooks, too, although it might not be so easy, as Bobby Rush was producing and starring in
Thriller Eyes
, and she could just imagine his reaction if he heard she was trying to interview Mac.

She'd give Mac Brooks a shot anyway, tell him she was writing a story for
Style Wars
, and see what he had to say.

The worst he could do was turn her down.

Luca had forgotten the real purpose of his visit to LA. He'd been so busy thinking about Bambi that he'd let Zane out of the loop, and he needed to bring him back in and get rid of his dumb nephew before he did any more damage.