Insidious (23 page)

“I review the rushes each day, of course. She was very good. The casting director selected her from an audition of at least sixty young women. I reviewed her audition, approved it. After that, I had very little to do with her.”

Cam said, “Ms. Connelly kept extensive records about her career—all sorts of impressions, insights, gossip about other cast members, directors, producers. According to her boyfriend, she knew a great deal about you, sir.”

That question got her a raised dark eyebrow. “I see. So is this why you are really here? If this is an interrogation I will call my lawyers.”

“Oh, no, sir, certainly not,” Cam said. “Had you met her before her role in
The Crown Prince
?”

“Yes, at a party, maybe six months ago.”

“Can you tell us about that party? Tell us your impressions of her?”

He gave her a stingy smile that still managed to charm, and slowly nodded. He paid no attention at all to Daniel. “You look familiar, Agent Wittier. Wait, are you related to Joel and Lisabeth Wittier?”

Cam nodded. “Yes, they’re my parents. But like your sons, I didn’t choose to follow them into Hollywood, I chose law enforcement. Now, the party, sir, where you first met Deborah Connelly.”

40

“It was your basic drunk free-for-all party at Willard Lambeth’s house up in the Hollywood hills. He’s a longtime producer, very successful, been around nearly as long as Technicolor. I escorted Connie.”

“Was she your girlfriend, sir?” Daniel asked.

Markham stiffened, then shook his head. “Certainly not. I rented her my house in the Colony in Malibu because she had great talent and I was able to lift some of her financial burden. That night I escorted her to Willard’s party because I wanted to let her rub shoulders with people she should know.

“An assistant director introduced Ms. Connelly to me. Of course, like all the young actresses and actors at Willard’s party, she was eager to meet people who could help her career. I remember she brought her boyfriend—this Doc character. I only remember him because he wasn’t what anyone would call an asset to her. I wondered why she didn’t have the sense to leave him at home. He was very possessive of her, didn’t let her out of his sight, like a jealous dog guarding a bone. It was obvious he didn’t want to be there, didn’t want her to be there, either. I remember thinking he looked at us like we were a pack of perverts out to despoil his girlfriend.”

Markham shrugged. “I’m a very visual man, Agent Wittier, and I have an excellent memory for faces, expressions, body language. I remember clearly how sullen he was, not even trying to disguise his contempt. I wondered if he might snap and do something stupid, maybe even dangerous. Even Connie said Doc was acting like a real jerk. She asked me to introduce Deborah to some important people, and tried to pull Doc away.

“I remember Connie telling me she was getting fed up with Doc, because he was always belittling Deborah and her work. Yes, Connie and Deborah knew each other, how well, I couldn’t say. This business runs on contacts, and everyone wants to know everybody else. They say only nepotism counts in Hollywood, and to a large extent, that’s true, but it’s there in every walk of life.

“I did introduce Ms. Connelly to a couple of producers. Her biggest hit was with Willard.

“All the while, this Doc character stood against the wall, drinking quite a lot of Will’s excellent vodka, staring at Ms. Connelly. Connie was doing her best to keep his attention.

“I can add that although I found Deborah beautiful, that isn’t what struck me about her, or struck Willard. She was smart, fast on her feet, and charming. She was witty, but not malicious.

“I spoke to her once more, caught her when she was on her way to the bathroom, told her she should have left her dog in the kennel, nodded toward her boyfriend, who wasn’t further than three feet away, looking ready to froth at the mouth. She laughed, said wasn’t that the truth, but I could tell she was pissed off. I wondered if she was afraid of him, a jealous, possessive man like that.

“There was probably more, but I’ve forgotten. It was over six months ago. Then I saw her audition and approved her for the role.

“I did see her on the set of
The Crown Prince
now and then when I flew to Tuscany, and I was pleased I’d had the wit to cast her.” He rose.
“And that is what I know of Ms. Connelly. My meeting begins in four minutes. I bid you good day.”

“One more question, sir,” Cam said, rising. “You were acquainted with two of the six murdered actresses. If you would, you could be of great assistance to us. You were good friends with Constance Morrissey. Were you asked to reconstruct any information that might have been on her laptop and her cell phone?”

“I don’t understand, Agent. Weren’t Deborah’s computer and cell phone taken by the killer, as Connie’s was?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, sir.”

“I see. I understand that you wish to keep the stolen laptops and cell phones out of the media. However, I don’t believe you will be able to keep that under wraps much longer. I quickly found out from Connie’s friends and her parents who’d been asked to reconstruct any information, so it was obvious they were taken. However, Detective Montoya didn’t ask me. Even if he had asked, I wouldn’t have been of any use. Oh, she kept me informed about her auditions, how she felt it all went, but to recall them now? No. And there was nothing else I knew of that could be helpful.”

“But I was told you were of great assistance to her, Mr. Markham. Yet you can’t remember any of her business dealings?”

“No. I was her most important business contact. Is there anything else?”

“Do you believe the serial killer targeted Deborah Connelly for some specific reason?”

“How could I possibly know why this madman targeted any of these young women?”

Cam said, “Do you think your very good friend Connie was targeted specifically?”

Daniel saw it—pain and rage, a heady brew, passing over Markham’s face. Only a slight pause, then, “Yes, I do.”

“Why is that, sir?”

“Because Connie was going to make it in this crazy business. She would have been a star, maybe even without the help I gave her. It was only a matter of getting the right parts, and she was getting them.”

As he spoke, he gathered papers and slid them neatly into an exquisite Malmo briefcase.

Cam waited until he clicked the briefcase closed and looked back at her. “Sir, what if I told you the serial killer may not have been the one who killed Deborah?”

He jerked up, stared at her, shook his head back and forth. “Well, if you’re not lying for shock value, then that settles it for me: go arrest that psycho boyfriend of hers.” He punched the buzzer. “Brandi, please show the agent and detective out.”

He gave them a dismissive smile and strode past them, out of his own office, past beautiful Brandi, whose smile was gracious and lasted until they were gone from her sight.

Cam said to Daniel as they rode the elevator to the lobby, “Mr. Markham has an excellent memory, doesn’t he?”

“For what happened at a party six months ago? I’ll say. He’s sure got some hate in him about Doc. He even tied Doc to Constance Morrissey. Why so much animosity toward a man he only met at a party six months ago?”

Cam said, “I don’t know. Did he want Deborah for himself, now that Connie is dead? As for Doc killing Deborah—I spoke to him. His wild grief was real. He was drowning in guilt because he hadn’t moved her to their new place yesterday and she’d been alone there last night. I know, out of great love can come great hate. But it wasn’t Doc. He didn’t kill Deborah.”

“Doc—Mark Richards—told you he was at the hospital all night, taking care of that boy he’d operated on?”

“Yes. Detective Loomis has probably already spoken to all his
coworkers. But let me check.” Cam texted Loomis, asking him to call her.

Daniel said, “It may be impossible to prove he was there the whole time, every single minute. Hospitals can be a madhouse.”

“It wasn’t Doc,” Cam said again. She pressed down the window and stuck her head out. The wind tore through her hair, teared her eyes, salted her skin. She breathed in the ocean air and wondered why she lived in Washington. The smell of the Atlantic wasn’t at all the same—the water looked cold, opaque, hiding deadly secrets that shifted and roiled beneath the surface. As for the Pacific, ah, the water smelled oddly sweet. It was welcoming, somehow promised magic when you swam beneath those waves.

She pulled her head back in. “Hey, Daniel, isn’t
Paco’s
up ahead? I need brain food and that means Mrs. Luther’s chips and salsa, round two.”

41

MISSY’S COTTAGE

MALIBU

LATE WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON

When Daniel and Cam walked into Missy’s living room it was to see her and Doc sitting on the sofa, their heads together, laptops on the coffee table in front of them.

“Did you know he’d be here?” Daniel asked quietly as he set down a big cardboard box with papers from Deborah’s house in the doorway.

“No, but it’s just as well, saves us time.” Cam studied Mark Richards’s haggard face. He looked almost terminally ill, needing only a little push into the hereafter. When he took off his glasses and looked over at her, she saw something else. Intense eyes, even fierce, and she knew despite his grief he had a mission now, to find Deborah’s killer.

They stepped forward. “Hi, Missy. Dr. Richards, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve brought a box of Deborah’s papers to go over with you.”

Missy pulled a long hank of hair off her cheek and tucked it back into her ponytail. She gave Daniel a blinding smile. “Hi.”

He nodded to her, smiling. “Hi, yourself.”

Missy turned to Cam. “Doc called me to tell me about Deborah and we got to talking and I invited him over. I hope it’s all right, Cam,
I told him we were concentrating on Deborah’s auditions. What’s in the box?”

“Deborah’s paper records. A lot of them. They probably include all her auditions for several years. Whatever you can tell us about these will help us, Doc.”

Missy laid her palm lightly on Doc’s shoulder, a show of support and comfort. “Good. We were just beginning to go over my own auditions and those contacts I gave you. We know a lot of the same people, which makes sense, of course. It’s too bad we don’t have her cell to help us. Doc pointed out you could get those contacts through the phone company.”

Doc finally raised his head, nodded to them. “Agent Wittier.” He looked at Daniel. “Who are you?”

Missy said, “Sorry, that’s Detective Daniel Montoya, from the Lost Hills station. He and Cam are working together. And they’re letting me help them.” She sounded like a proud mama.

Cam said, “Doc, as Missy said, we’re focusing on the idea that Deborah’s death, all the killings, might relate to professional rivalry in some way. The fact that Deborah was a record keeper will be a great help.”

“And I’ll do anything I can to help you,” Doc said, and then broke off, as if speaking more words were beyond him.

To give him time to get himself together, Cam and Daniel looked down at the list Missy was making on her tablet. Daniel said, “So these are actresses you remember Deborah beating out in auditions. I see they go back to last year. Let’s go through the box, see if we can narrow the time frame.”

Cam said, “We’ll also narrow the list by importance. For example, I don’t think an audition for a mouthwash commercial would be relevant. What we’re looking for are TV or movie roles.”

She saw that Doc had gotten himself together, and handed him a sheet of paper dated three months before, Deborah’s record of an audition for a role in a TV comedy. He looked at her neat handwriting and swallowed hard.

“Do you remember this audition, Doc? It looks like a meaty role, for
Comfort Zone
, a TV comedy, casting for a fall pilot. Do you know if she won that, or turned the role down for something else?”

He slowly shook his head. “I would know if she won a role like that. She’d have taken it, I’m sure. Wait, I think I remember her talking about that one, but then again, she was always talking about her auditions, worrying about them. It went on and on, there were so many.” He swallowed. “Sorry, I’m not making much sense. Please, give me more of her records, maybe one will stand out. It’s tough to think about the auditions, it seems so trivial now.” He looked at her helplessly.

“Tell us about Deborah winning the role in
The Crown Prince
.”

“How do you know about that?”

Cam smiled. “We do a lot of interviews, Doc. We know she was in Italy filming for two weeks.”

He nodded. “Yes, and she’d been back home for about two weeks. The rest of the filming was set to take place at the studio. It’s all she could talk about when she got that role. I didn’t want her to take it, not with her having to be in Italy for two weeks. But you want to know who she beat out for it? You think there’s some sort of crazed actress or boyfriend out there?”

“It’s a theory,” Daniel said.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. She didn’t include who she beat out in her records.”

Daniel looked through a folder with huge red stars drawn all over it.
The Crown Prince
was the top sheet. He scanned it, shook his head. “It doesn’t say. We’ll have to get those names from casting.”

Doc was staring down at his hands, clasped between his knees. “We drank champagne, not that night, because I had to be at the hospital. But the next night, we drank a whole bottle and she ate a burger. A big double-decker with all the fixings, just as she liked it. I remember Deb told me it was her last splurge. She had to lose five pounds before filming started. She had to keep herself so thin, it pissed me off.” He paused, swallowed again. “Look at all the red stars. She loved her red stars. She even put them on bills she’d paid off.” He looked down at the sheet of paper. “She had two weeks to prepare before she went to Italy for the actual filming.” He met their eyes. “This role meant everything to her.”

Missy looked like she wanted to say something, but Cam shook her head.