Reel Murder (30 page)

“Yes, that’s how it all started.” She paused to dab at her eyes. “Well, what a surprise, there wasn’t any audition.” Her voice was a little shaky and she swallowed a couple of times. “I was such an idiot, Maggie. This guy called me out of the blue. He said he was a Hollywood producer, and you know me, I thought it was my big break.”

I couldn’t help but smile. It’s true. Lola thinks everything is going to be her big break.

“And he lured you to this—warehouse? Tell me exactly what he said.”

Lola nodded. “He said they were auditioning actresses for speaking roles in an indie film, a horror flick. He told me it was a lot like
Death Watch
and that I’d be a shoo-in for a major role.”

“He said that?” I was half listening, watching the street outside for any sign of Rafe. Something was nagging at the edges of my brain but I couldn’t quite bring it into focus.

“Yes, he did. He said he was planning on shooting in south Florida even though his company is based out in L.A. He made it sound like I’d be up for other parts, maybe even the lead role, in future productions. But it was very important that I come in today, because they had to make a decision by tonight. And he didn’t want to go through Edgar. He was quite insistent about that.”

Okay, now I knew what was wrong. “Wait a minute. Back up. Why didn’t he want to go through Edgar?”

She looked puzzled, biting her lower lip. “I don’t know. He said that everything with Edgar was a big deal, that he was too slow to close a deal. Now that you mention it, it does seem a little strange.”

“It’s more than strange. It’s very suspicious.”

“Yes, you’re right; I should have picked up on that.” She shook her head, her eyes starting to tear up a little. “The timing was perfect. Hank told me this afternoon that he’d probably wind up filming in Cypress Grove in a day or two, so I figured it would be good to get another job lined up as soon as possible. And I can only rely on Edgar to do so much. He’s got over a hundred clients, so he can’t spend every minute thinking about me or my acting career.”

She paused while I ordered a couple of coffees from a waitress who’d materialized next to us.

“It makes sense to me, Mom. I can see why you fell for it.”

I glanced at my watch, wishing Rafe would show up and hoping he’d have the entire Miami PD with him. Or maybe a SWAT team.

I still didn’t have any concrete information about what happened to Mom, but I knew Rafe would ask all the right questions. We needed to get back to that warehouse, but we didn’t dare set foot in that place without the cops.

“No, really, what I did was inexcusable. It was incredibly stupid of me, wasn’t it?” Mom broke into my thoughts. “I can’t believe I didn’t take the time to check it out.”

“Well, you thought it was legit. You can’t blame yourself; you’re not psychic.”

“I was an idiot, Maggie.” She gave a derisive little snort. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it; I know I messed up.”

“Well, you’re okay; that’s the main thing.” I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. She looked haggard and washed-out under the harsh fluorescent lighting. “That’s what we should focus on, because that’s the only thing that matters. I know how excited you get when you hear about an audition.” I smiled at her. “You used to be the first one in line at those cattle calls, back in New York.”

It was true. And she used to drag me along with her. Funny, I vowed never to go after a career in show business and yet here I was, a talk show host at a tiny south Florida radio station. The bottom rung of the entertainment ladder, but I was still in show business, when all was said and done.

Maybe you can’t fight genetics, after all.

Lola gave a wistful smile. “Cattle calls. That’s exactly what they were. We were all young and hopeful, jammed together into a big room, waiting to do a three-minute reading for a producer. All of us were convinced this would be our big break, our entry into show business. Sometimes I wonder why I did it. Those were some crazy times.”

Mom seemed calmer, and I figured it was time to redirect her to the present before she tripped down memory lane. If you give her a chance, Mom will start talking about Woodstock and the Summer of Love and how she nearly met Jerry Garcia. (Then she’ll catch herself and tell you she was a toddler at the time.) “I bet you never ran into anything like this, though.”

“Oh, never. Absolutely not.” She rested her chin on her hand and looked lost in thought for a moment. Was she thinking about tie-dyes and flower children? Or was she reliving the scene in the warehouse?

On the phone, Mom had said that someone had tried to shoot her. That’s pretty black-and-white, not the kind of thing she would invent. But could she have been mistaken?

I wanted to hear about what happened in the warehouse, but I knew Mom needed to tell me in her own good time. There was no sense in rushing her; she’d been traumatized by the event and she needed time to process it.

“I wonder if I’ve gotten more careless lately?” She gave a wry little laugh. “All those years ago back in Manhattan”—she gave an impatient little flip of her hand—“I never would have fallen for something like this. This is the kind of mistake that only a newbie would make. Somebody really green and naive. So what does this say about me?” she asked ruefully. “That I’m not as smart and streetwise as I used to be? I hope I’m not getting old and foolish.”

“Old and foolish? Never.”

She grinned to let me know she didn’t believe it, either. “Well, maybe old and foolish is too harsh. How about ‘in her prime and ready for anything’?”

“Works for me,” I told her.
Especially the part about being ready for anything.

“
You’ll have to take the coffee with you,” a familiar male voice said
. “
We need to get moving right now and head back to the warehouse
.”

Rafe.
My heart did a grateful little flip-flop when I saw him. He was standing next to the booth, jiggling his car keys in his hand, tight-lipped, his expression grim. He had his cop face on, I decided, taking in his dark eyes and the muscle jumping in his tense jaw.

He looked poised like a panther, ready to spring. I realized I still hadn’t gotten any details from Mom, but now that Rafe was here, he could take over. I felt a surge of relief, knowing he could handle everything from here on in, dealing with the Miami police and checking out the warehouse. It was all in his hands.

“Are you okay, Lola?” His tone was brusque but I knew from the look on his face that he was concerned about her.

“I’m fine. I don’t know how I get myself into these things.”

“Did you get the guy’s name? It’s probably an alias, but we can check it out.”

“I’ll write it down for you.” She scribbled something on a napkin and handed it to him. Her face flushed with embarrassment. She was all set to launch into a major apology, but I stood up and grabbed my purse, signaling it was time to go.

“I have my car right outside, Rafe. I’ll take Mom with me and we can follow you.”

“Good, the Miami PD is already over there. That was smart to give the address from Lark. They sent a couple of patrol cars to the warehouse right away so they’ve probably had a chance to check things out. Let’s go and see what turned up. It should be interesting.”

“I can’t believe we’re going back there.” Mom gave a little shudder, and shot me an imploring look as we got into my Honda.

“If you want, you can stay in the car, but I really think Rafe needs you inside, okay? You’re going to have to tell him exactly what happened. Especially the part about being shot at. Just saying the word “shot” made me wince. “Do you think you’ll be able to do that?”

She bit her lip and fastened her seat belt. “I’ll do my best. This is no time to wuss out.”

Mom and I followed Rafe, and a few minutes later, we pulled up outside a boxy structure with a filthy gray facade and a flat cement roof. It looked like an abandoned chop shop and I raised my eyebrows. I couldn’t believe Mom actually had gone in here
. What was she thinking?

“This is it?” I asked incredulously.

There were four windows facing the street. They were covered with years of grime, and like many buildings in that part of town, they had black security grilles over them. Security grilles? How could there be anything in there worth stealing? The place looked like it had been deserted for years. A broken cement sidewalk snaked up to the battered front door and the dusty front yard was littered with beer bottles and debris.

I spotted an empty Miami PD black-and-white pulled up at the curb and saw two cops coming out of the building. I wondered if I should get the okay from Rafe before getting out of my car.

“Mom, it looks like a crack house.”

“It looks a little better inside.” She cast me a sideways glance, her tone defensive.

“I’m not even sure we
should
go inside,” I muttered. “I can’t believe you went in there alone.” I’d warned myself not to sound judgmental, but it was hard not to, after seeing the place.

“Maggie, I’ve been to loads of auditions in bad areas. I figured it must be a low-budget outfit, that’s all. It didn’t look dangerous to me, just run-down.”

I bit my tongue; there was no point in lecturing her. I was shocked, though. No one in their right mind would go into a place like this, even in the daytime.

Then I spotted Rafe talking to a couple of uniformed officers who were pointing and shaking their heads. I got out slowly, wondering what to do next when Rafe saw me and signaled me to join him. He introduced us to the two officers, Jiminez and Conrad, who stared at us with frank curiosity. I wondered what Rafe had told them about the situation.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” Rafe began. “They’ve already checked out the building and didn’t find anything. Lola, how about if you and I do a walk-through and you tell me exactly what happened?”

The three of us headed inside, with the Miami officers trailing along behind us. One of them was talking into a mike on his shoulder and I had the feeling they were winding things up, getting ready to leave.

The building looked deserted. The main room had a concrete floor and was nearly empty, containing only a couple of battered desks and an old file cabinet. There was a dingy hallway off to the right. It was paneled in some cheap imitation-wood material and the floor was covered with dirty linoleum.

“What’s down there?” Rafe asked, pointing to the hallway.

“The john,” Officer Jiminez said, making a face. “Believe me, you don’t want to go in there.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“A back door?”

“Yeah, but it’s double locked from the inside. It looks like it hasn’t been opened in years.” Jiminez took a quick peek at his watch. From the look on his face, he was dying to get out of here and get back to some real police work. Or maybe he just wanted to get a burger at Big Pink on Collins Avenue.

Rafe was right; there was nothing here. Had they even dusted for fingerprints? The whole place was so filthy it was hard to tell. I didn’t see any telltale white powder sprinkled anywhere. I glanced at Jiminez and Conrad, who were talking in low voices—it was obvious they’d given up on doing any real investigation here. There was no crime scene tape in place and none of those little cones they use on
CSI
to mark evidence.

“Was the front door open when you got here?” Rafe asked the two cops.

“Yeah, it was unlocked, open about three feet.”

“I left it
like that,
” Mom offered. “I went flying out of here, and didn’t look back.” She turned to the officers. “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone inside or maybe running out the back?” Mom couldn’t resist launching her own investigation.

The two officers exchanged a look. “No, ma’am, we didn’t.” She stared them down and Jiminez continued, “We walked through the whole place. Nothing. Nada.” He threw an apologetic glance at Rafe. “Do you want us to stick around?”

“Just for a minute.” He turned to Lola. “Show me what happened. You were standing where?”

“Right about here.” She walked forward a few feet. “I called out the producer’s name and there was dead silence. It was a little creepy. I wondered if I’d gotten the address wrong but I checked my notes and this is where he told me to come. I was just about to leave”—she gave a little gasp—“when a shot rang out. It went whizzing by my right ear. It was really loud.”

“You’re sure it was a gunshot, ma’am?” Jiminez asked.

“Of course, I’m sure.” Mom’s tone was haughty. “I’ve been in dozens of action movies and I know what a gunshot sounds like. Once I even auditioned for a Chuck Norris movie. I would have gotten the part, but they wanted someone who could ride a horse.”

“Mom—”

“Another inch and that bullet would have blown my brains out,” she said dramatically. “Or at least blown my ear off.” She touched her hand to her ear as if to reassure herself that she hadn’t ended up like Van Gogh.

“And you never saw anyone, or heard anyone?” Rafe asked.

“No one.” Mom sighed. “The moment I heard that shot, I hightailed it out of here. I locked myself in the car and called Maggie. I was shaking like a leaf. I certainly wasn’t going to stick around to get shot at again. I took a few deep breaths to calm down and Maggie told me to drive straight to Dolce Vita.” I squeezed her arm in sympathy. “I figured it would be safe there, and it would be a good place to meet up.”

“Show me where you think the shot came from. If you were standing here, and it went past your right ear, I’m thinking it came from—there.” Rafe whirled around and pointed to a pile of wooden fruit crates in the corner. They were easily tall enough to hide an attacker. “And that means the bullet would be lodged somewhere over here.”

He inspected a section of drywall on the far side of the room; it was riddled with graffiti, and suspicious-looking brown smears. I didn’t want to look too closely, but Rafe took out a penknife and poked around in a few spots.