Silent Truths (57 page)

By the time Wingate and Kleinstein joined them, they were attempting to outdo each other in expressing their stupendous good fortune of actually being right here, in this room, the very heartbeat of Hollywood, where most people wouldn’t even get past the mailbox, never mind into the C dip.

Listening with some amusement, Kleinstein helped himself to C dip from the silver bowl, then handed it to Mitzi with the suggestion they go pass it around the other men. Taking Eric with them, he left Wingate to perch on the stool Mitzi had just
vacated, while the barman fixed him another large malt.

‘So, young lady,’ he said, looking right into Ava’s eyes, ‘I guess you better tell me about this book of yours, and why it’ll make a great movie.’

Tilting her head playfully to one side, she said, ‘How long have I got?’

‘I’d say as long as it takes,’ he told her. ‘But I’m going to let you into a secret. It’s going to help your case a lot if I can look at those there puppies while you’re a-telling me.’

It was a moment before she realized he meant her breasts and, smouldering at the vulgarity of his expression, she hooked a finger into the zipper ring and, keeping her eyes fixed on his face, pulled it slowly down to her waist.

‘Now that’s what I call puppies,’ he declared, as the top of the dress descended on to her hips like wings.

‘I’m glad you like them,’ she responded.

‘How about you take the whole thing off?’ he suggested, sweeping a hand down over the rest of the dress.

Her eyebrows went up, but obediently she got to her feet, drew the zip down to the hem, then let the dress fall to the floor. The silver monograms on her thong matched those on the toes of her shoes. Then, laughing as the others whistled and cheered, she made a graceful curtsy, spun round a couple of times, curtsied again then climbed back on to the stool.

‘The book,’ he reminded her as she picked up her drink.

As she talked he began fondling her, rotating her
nipples with his fingers and cupping each heavy breast with his massive hands. She kept on with the story, sipping her martini and feeling the overwhelming love she had for Carlotta infusing her heart more deeply than ever with every word she spoke. Now and again, above her own voice, she heard Mitzi or someone else laughing, then she was vaguely aware of the doors sliding open and the room filling with noise from the pool as the others left. She was still talking, passionately, brilliantly, persuasively about Carlotta and Rodrigo and the terrible fate they had suffered, then finally overcome. And all the time she talked, he stroked and squeezed, pressed and tugged, while Manny, the barman, refilled their drinks and kept the white stuff handy.

When at last she finished his hands were on her thighs, and his mouth was clamped greedily to one nipple. She ran her fingers through his thick, greying hair and pulled him in tighter. ‘God, I love you,’ she seethed. ‘You’re such an animal, you make me feel sexier than sex itself. I want you to do everything to me that you ever dreamt of.’

‘That’s where I’m a-going baby,’ he told her, raising his head and wiping the back of a hand across his mouth.

‘I want you to come to Italy with us when we go,’ she said, fumbling with his belt. ‘I want you to know that I’m going to be there for you. Whatever you want –’

He put a hand gently on her lips, as Manny coughed discreetly and said, ‘Sir, Mr Kleinstein asked me to remind you about the phone call, sir.’

Wingate groaned, then laughingly shook his
head. ‘What can I say? You go join the party, girl. I’ll come find you when I’m through.’

After he’d gone Ava picked up her drink and sauntered out to the pool. There was no point wearing anything now, since no one else was. In fact, in her thong and high-heels she was decidedly overdressed. A lot more people had arrived since she and Mitzi had gone into the conservatory, so most of the loungers were now occupied, and the pool was as busy as a Sunset disco.

She began looking for Mitzi, then turned round as a voice nearby said, ‘Care to dance?’

It was the McConaughey lookalike Mitzi had admired earlier, stark naked now, except for a gold star of David lying amongst the curling blond hairs on his chest.

‘I’d love to,’ she responded and gliding into his arms she began moving with him to the music.

‘So how do you know Abe?’ he asked.

‘Through friends. What about you?’

‘He’s my dad.’

‘Oh.’ She giggled, then finished her drink. ‘So are you in the movie business too?’ she asked, putting her glass on a passing tray.

‘No. I drive cars. The Indie type. How about you? What do you do?’

‘I’m a writer.’

‘That’s cool.’

They carried on dancing, hardly in rhythm, but it was the feel of each other’s bodies rubbing in the right places that was guiding their movements. He was gazing down into her eyes, then laughed as a rush of unadulterated happiness made her throw back her head and start reciting poetry to the moon.
He held her waist and watched her as she finally came back to earth, and gazed wondrously around her.

‘Look at everyone,’ she cried passionately. ‘They’re all so beautiful and real and vital. They’re not ashamed of their bodies, and I love them for it. Don’t you love them for it?’

‘Sure,’ he agreed.

As another swell of ecstasy engulfed her, she felt hands on her breasts and leaning back into the man behind her she said, ‘I don’t know who you are, but I love you.’

‘I love you too, babe,’ he responded, kissing her neck.

Abe’s son melted into the crowd, then the man behind disappeared too after a while, leaving her to dance with someone she thought was Yuri, her first black lover, but who turned out not to be. Later she went to stand at the edge of the terrace, leaned against the railings and gazed down into the inky black canyon below. Someone lowered her thong, so she stepped out of it, then walked on round the pool, stopping in front of a cabana where six or more people were writhing in mutual pleasure.

She was about to go in search of another drink when she noticed a man watching her from over by the conservatory. He was one of the few people present who was dressed, and she couldn’t help but smile at his apparent embarrassment. Deciding to help him over it she picked up the nearest full glass and headed his way.

‘This is a crazy, wild party,’ she told him as she sauntered up to join him, ‘and I’m here to help you get into it.’

‘I’m OK,’ he responded.

Laughing, she turned her back and looked at him over one shoulder. He wasn’t particularly tall, or good-looking, or even encouraging, but tonight she was in love with the whole world, so the whole world must be in love with her. ‘I noticed you watching me,’ she said teasingly.

‘You’re hard to miss,’ he responded.

Her eyes narrowed mischievously. Then, spinning round to face him, she stretched out her arms. ‘Which part of me do you like best?’ she challenged.

‘It’s all pretty good,’ he told her.

Putting her drink down, she took his hands and placed them over her breasts. ‘There, doesn’t that feel good?’ she purred, starting to unbutton his shirt.

For a moment he looked at her, then his eyes moved past her, and releasing her breasts, he removed her hands from his shirt. ‘Abe,’ he said, as Kleinstein joined them.

‘Max,’ Kleinstein responded. ‘I didn’t expect to see you tonight.’

‘I got back early,’ Max answered. ‘I was hoping we could talk.’

Kleinstein smiled. ‘We’ve got a lot to discuss, my friend,’ he said. ‘Come back tomorrow. Around ten.’

Max nodded. Then, after a quick glance at Ava, who was swaying dreamily to the music, he walked back into the house.

‘Who is he?’ she asked Kleinstein as he coasted a hand over the rise and dip of her waist and gazed appreciatively at her nudity.

‘Max? Oh, just an old friend,’ he replied. Squeezing her bottom, he said, ‘So, what are we going to do to persuade Mr Wingate to help you with your movie?’

‘I don’t know,’ she pouted. ‘He disappeared to make a phone call, and I haven’t seen him since.’

He laughed. ‘Does it turn you on to play the hooker?’ he said roughly in her ear.

‘Mmm,’ she replied, resting her head on his shoulder.

‘Well, tonight you can be Mr Wingate’s very own,’ he told her, walking her gently back towards the house. ‘He’s waiting for you, right now, in a room we got set up specially.’

‘Is there something to drink there?’

‘Oh sure. There’s everything there.’

‘Even star dust?’

‘More star dust than you ever dreamt about.’

He steered her in through the crowded drawing room where most were dressed, but some weren’t, on out through the hall, then up the stairs and along a brightly lit corridor that led to the east wing. His arm was round her, holding her steady as she staggered and swayed and extolled true love for everyone in her life she could think of, especially Georgie.

‘Where are we going?’ she said as they started up another staircase.

‘To see Mr Wingate,’ he reminded her.

‘Oh yes.’ She gave a sigh of pleasure. ‘I told him about my book.’

‘I know. And he was very impressed.’

‘He’s a wonderful man.’

‘He thinks you’re wonderful too.’

‘I love him,’ she said.

‘That’s good. That’s very good, because he’s right in here, and now you can tell him yourself.’

As he pushed open a door he held on to her, then led her into a large, circular room where Wingate was standing next to a
faux
Louis XV bed, wearing a dark silk robe, which was belted over his stomach and showed his bare legs from the knees down. In one hand was a full glass of Scotch and fat Cuban cigar, the other was tucked into a front patch pocket. ‘Ava,’ he boomed. ‘Y’all are here at last, and now I reckon it’s about time you and me had ourselves some fun. What d’you say, girl?’

Throwing out her arms, she spun round in circles, moving towards him, saying, ‘I love fun. There’s nothing more fun than fun,’ and laughing, she kicked off her shoes and threw herself on to the bed, while behind her Kleinstein discreetly withdrew from the room.

It was right on ten when Max Erwin arrived at the chateau the following morning, to find the gates wide open and no sign of the normally ubiquitous security. Driving into this place always unnerved him, even when things were in order, for the double game he was playing with the syndicate was the most dangerous of his entire career. If they ever found out he was working against them, rather than for them, he’d be dead. He was under no illusion about that, which was why he so often wondered if he’d ever truly have the guts to expose them. He wondered too if their trust in him was as genuine as it appeared, for knowing he was a reporter surely had to make them leery, despite the
colossal sums they were paying him to keep them informed of any kind of journalistic inquiries that might jeopardize their existence. And Tom Maykin’s hook-up with the Brit Elliot Russell was causing them a lot of problems right now, which was why he was here, to feed them information that he and Maykin had prepared.

He took the Audi slowly along the drive for fear of running into any stray partygoers, who might come staggering blindly – and even nakedly – out of the bushes. However, there was remarkably little evidence of the previous night’s Bacchanalia, at least on this side of the house. He wouldn’t want to vouch for the pool and its environs.

As he reached the sign directing him to the residence he took out his mobile and hit the speed dial. ‘OK, I’m just driving up to the chateau now,’ he said when he made the connection to Maykin.

‘Got you,’ Maykin responded.

As he clicked off the line, he came into view of the house, and was surprised to see a paramedic unit, red light flashing, parked right outside. His curiosity increased when he noticed the front door was wide open, yet no sign of anyone around.

Leaving his car at a considerate distance, he trotted over to the house and went into the hall. Still no one in sight, nor could he hear anything, until he finally made out the mumble of distant voices. Not sure where it was coming from, he was about to head round to the pool when the sound of running footsteps made him turn back. Seconds later a medical unit burst on to the upstairs landing, carrying a stretcher, and began running down the stairs.

Immediately Erwin stepped aside, half expecting their patient to be Kleinstein, until he noticed Kleinstein bringing up the rear. As the unit rushed by, Erwin’s glimpse of the victim was brief, but despite the rolling eyes and oxygen mask, he could see that it was the blonde he’d met last night out by the pool.

‘What happened?’ he murmured as Kleinstein joined him.

‘Overdose, I’m afraid,’ Kleinstein answered. ‘It happens. I’d just rather it didn’t happen here.’

Erwin’s expression showed only a grim understanding. ‘Is she going to be OK?’ he asked.

‘Sure. They’ll fix her up. I guess there’ll be a few questions to answer, but we already cleaned the place up before we called in the medics.’ And, treating Erwin to a chummy slap on the back, he led him through to the den. ‘We’ve got a lot to discuss, my friend,’ he said, opening the door for Erwin to go ahead. ‘And I hope you’ve got a lot to report.’

An hour later Erwin left the house, drove out of the gates, and sped along Mulholland Drive towards Benedict Canyon. From there he drove all the way down to Sunset, where he pulled into the Beverly Hills Hotel and booked himself a room. As soon as the door was closed he picked up the phone and told the operator to connect him to Cedars Sinai Medical Center. It took a few minutes to find out what he needed to know.

Taking out his mobile, he hit the speed dial again and said to Maykin, ‘Beth Ashby’s in the hospital. The official story’s an overdose, but there are severe bodily injuries. I’ll know how severe once I’ve been over there to check for myself.’

CHAPTER 23

AN INDIAN SUMMER
had blazed so gloriously through the day that enough heat was left behind to warm the evening, and make it possible to sit out on the small, wooden deck at the back of The Grapes. Elliot’s entire team was there, having put in a full ten-hour Sunday yesterday, so the drinks tonight were all on him, though the handsome knighted thespian, who lived a couple of doors down, had just spotted them from his own river-view balcony and, after lamenting the fact that he was due at the theatre in half an hour so couldn’t join them, had promptly got on the phone to the landlord, and instructed him to deliver a round to the darling girl and her friends.