The Cinderella Killer (14 page)

‘What did he say?'

‘Rehearsal started again. He didn't have time to say anything.'

Kitty looked puzzled and a little shaken by what Charles had told her. ‘So if there was a connection between Jazzy and Kenny Polizzi, then maybe she was going to see him on Friday night …?'

‘It's possible. It's also possible that whatever she said to him had such an effect on him that he started drinking again.'

‘How'd do you mean?'

‘Kenny fell very spectacularly off the wagon on Friday night.'

‘I didn't know that.'

‘He'd had a fairly stormy encounter with Lilith Greenstone, his … well, she was still technically his wife, but she reckoned that wouldn't have upset him enough to break his pledge. Something else that happened that night, however, shook him up so much that he reached straight for the vodka bottle.'

Kitty looked thoughtful. ‘And you think it could have been something to do with Jazzy. What kind of connection could there be between her and Kenny?'

‘Well, let's start with the obvious one, shall we?' said Charles. ‘Sex. You say Jasmine always looked older than her years. How old was she when she flew to the States with her dodgy producer?'

‘Fourteen,' replied Kitty Woo.

BARON HARDUP: I always suffer from paranoia
When I have dealings with a lawyer.

C
harles had a lot to think about after he left Kitty. The girl was desperately worried about her friend's disappearance and this gave him a further incentive to find out what, if anything, had happened between Jasmine del Rio and Kenny Polizzi on the Friday evening. He mentally went through the members of the
Cinderella
company to think who might possibly have some relevant information, but drew a blank. The one person he was keen to contact, though, was Lefty Rubenstein. Surely Kenny's factotum must know something about his employer's movements on the Friday night. The end of the phone conversation Charles had heard in the pub suggested that Lefty was sourcing cocaine for him. And if that was the case, then the two of them must have met up that evening.

The trouble was that Charles didn't have any means of contacting the lawyer. He knew Lefty wasn't in the Grand, but didn't know which hotel he was staying in. And Charles had no mobile number for him. For all he knew, after his boss's death Lefty had flown straight back to the States.

Back at his digs, Charles took a long swig of Bell's to act as a
digestif
after his lunch and then sat down to think seriously about the disappearance of Jasmine del Rio.

He was woken once again by the ringing of his mobile. The fact that it was Lilith calling brought him instantly to wakefulness.

‘Charles,' she said, efficient, no-nonsense, businesslike, ‘I'm flying back to the States on tonight's red eye. I just thought I should tell you we won't be repeating last night's experiment.'

‘Oh,' said Charles, understandably deflated.

‘You're not what I'm looking for,' she went on, her words not calculated to do much by way of reinflating him. ‘But I did just want to tell you that I have very good lawyers.'

‘You already told me that. You said they were dealing with the divorce in a way—'

‘I'm not talking about the divorce. I'm talking about the possibility of you going to the press about what happened last night.'

‘What? You mean you think I'm likely to produce a kiss-and-tell memoir?'

‘Someone in my position always has to be wary of that possibility.'

Charles was insulted and let Lilith know he was. ‘Look, it's a little diminishing for a man to be told he's an inadequate lover, but—'

‘I didn't say you were inadequate, just not what I'm looking for.'

‘Well, thank you very much for making that distinction. But what really offends me is that you think I'm the kind of man who would try and sell “My Night of Passion with Lilith Greenstone” stories to the press.'

‘I'm sorry, but I have to take precautions against that kind of thing happening. And all I'm saying is that if you ever change your mind about spilling the beans, my lawyers will leave you so shredded and beat up you'll wish you'd never been born.'

‘I can assure you,' said Charles with some hauteur, ‘that the eventuality you describe will never arise.'

‘I'm very glad to hear that, Charles.' Then she added formally, ‘It was a kinda pleasure to meet you. We won't meet again.'

‘Oh, before you ring off, there is one thing I want from you.'

‘Oh?' said Lilith, bridling.

‘I'd be grateful if you could give me Lefty Rubenstein's mobile – I mean, cellphone number.'

Lilith could see no reason why that was an illegitimate demand, so she gave Charles the number.

No time like the present. He called Lefty straight away.

And his call was answered straight away. No self-identification, just a cautious ‘Hi.'

‘Lefty, it's Charles Paris.'

‘Oh yeah?'

‘I just wanted to say I'm very sorry about what happened to Kenny.'

‘Well, that's very gracious and British of you, but it's not really necessary. Kenny's dead, that's all there is. Kinda life he led it was no big surprise.'

‘Yes, but there's a lot of discussion in the
Cinderella
company about what might have happened to him.'

‘I'm sure there is. There's a lot of discussion in the entire world about what might have happened to him. Kenny Polizzi was an international star. I haven't dared look at your Sunday papers yet. But you should see the number of tweets there've been just this morning.'

Charles did by now know what a ‘tweet' was. Something to do with Twitter. But he'd never actually seen one. Although he knew most of his fellow professionals were wedded to it, there had yet to be a meaningful interface between Charles Paris and the social media.

‘Well, Lefty, I was wondering if you were clearer than anyone else about what actually happened on Friday night.'

‘Why should I be?'

‘Last time I saw Kenny alive I was drinking with him in the pub by the theatre. He was asking me about drugs and then the phone rang. He saw who was calling and he said it was synchronicity.'

‘So?'

‘The phone call was from you.'

‘What makes you think that?'

‘He called you “Lefty”.'

‘So maybe Kenny had a lot of friends called Lefty.'

‘Maybe, but I'd say it was unlikely.'

‘What are you saying, Charles? What's with this “synchronicity”?'

‘I think you were ringing Kenny to say you'd managed to find some cocaine for him.'

‘Is that what you think?' said Lefty shortly. ‘We better meet.'

It wasn't the Grand. Lefty had selected an anonymous modern hotel, a few roads back from the sea front. The bar had as much atmosphere as a bedroom in a private hospital. A premature undecorated Christmas tree did little to cheer the place up. Late on a Sunday afternoon there was no one else there but an older man and a younger woman, clearly too involved in the complications of their extramarital affair to listen to anyone else's conversation. Even the barman had to be summoned by ringing a bell on the counter. Charles Paris ordered a large Bell's, Lefty Rubenstein had another of his Diet Cokes, drunk straight out of the bottle.

‘So have the police talked to you, Charles?' he asked. He looked sweaty and uncomfortable, his bulbous body barely contained by his crumpled suit, the comb-over uneven across his head.

‘Yes. And presumably to you?'

‘Of course. I'm Kenny's attorney. Not to mention his agent and everything else.'

‘And did you get any impression of the direction in which the police's investigations were heading?'

‘Surely even British cops wouldn't be stupid enough to let anyone know that.'

Charles felt duly put down by the response. ‘No. You're right.'

‘When you rang me on my cell you talked about drugs and the idea that I might have obtained cocaine for Kenny …'

‘Yes.'

‘You have any reason for thinking I did that?'

‘Just what he said about synchronicity.'

‘Hm.' Lefty took a moment to assess that response. Then he asked, ‘Did you say anything to the police about this “synchronicity”?'

Charles was able to reply an honest, ‘No.'

‘So when you talked to the police drugs weren't mentioned?'

‘Yes, they were. Detective Inspector Malik – did you meet her?'

‘Sure I did.'

‘She was the one who raised the subject of drugs with me. I got the impression Lilith Greenstone had told her that Kenny tended to fancy some cocaine every time he started drinking again.'

Lefty nodded ruefully. ‘That figures. Lilith would have said that. The bitch.'

‘She also,' Charles began cautiously, ‘suggested that on occasion you sourced cocaine for Kenny.'

The lawyer looked horrified. ‘She said that to the cops?'

‘No. Not so far as I know. She said that to me.'

‘Ah.' Lefty smiled a crooked smile. ‘You been spending a bit of time with the lovely Lilith?' Charles found himself blushing. ‘Yeah, that figures. She always liked variety.' Then he became serious. ‘Listen, Charles, this situation I'm in is a real shithole. My responsibilities don't stop with Kenny's death. I've managed the guy's image for years, and I reckon that job's just got harder. While he was alive and he did something stupid, we could always limit the damage. Get him to own up, go on some chat show, be all contrition. We could work it out. Protecting his image without him there is going to be one hell of a lot trickier.'

‘But why do you need to manage his image now he's dead?'

‘Hell, don't you know anything about showbiz, Charles? Kenny Polizzi is still one hell of a big star. The media'll be all over the story. Possibly dead he'll be a bigger star than ever. Remember the line about Elvis – dying was “a good career move”. You see the same thing with Michael Jackson.
The Dwight House
is still being repeated round the world. There's a lot invested in seeing that the image of Kenny Polizzi doesn't get tarnished.'

‘Why does it matter so much to you, Lefty?'

‘It matters so much to me,' he replied, ‘because I'm on a percentage of everything that comes in. I may not be that sentimental about people, but I'm sure as hell sentimental about money.'

Lefty swallowed down the last of his Diet Coke, jumped up to the bar and banged on the bell to be supplied with another one. Just to be sociable, Charles ordered a second large Bell's.

While the barman was getting their drinks, Charles noticed that the woman of the extramarital couple was crying. The man's guilt must have been clicking in, now he was preparing to go back home to his wife and children. The lie about ‘a conference in Eastbourne' felt pretty shabby to him now. Satiated with sex, he had no doubt just told the girl the thing had to end (as he no doubt would on many more occasions). To Charles the whole scenario had an uncomfortable familiarity.

Lefty once again sat down opposite him. ‘Listen, keep it the way it is with the cops. If they ask you more about Kenny and drugs, act dumb. You know nothing. And if they should happen to ask you if you'd ever heard of me procuring coke for Kenny, you know even less. Got that?'

‘Sure thing,' said Charles, taking on the actor's habit of beginning to talk like the person he was with. ‘But there are things about Friday night I still want to know.'

The lawyer's eyes narrowed. ‘Yeah? Like what?'

‘You did meet up with Kenny, didn't you?'

‘Why should I tell you whether I did or not?'

He didn't like doing it, but Charles was so intrigued by the puzzle of Kenny Polizzi's murder that he said, ‘To ensure I don't forget what you just told me and happen to mention to Detective Inspector Malik that you have on occasion sourced coke for him.'

He'd feared this would prompt an outburst, but in fact Lefty took it very calmly. Maybe, as a lawyer, he was used to negotiation. He was used to a world where information was just another bargaining counter.

‘OK.' He nodded. ‘That's your pitch. And you put me in the kind of bind – which I'm sure was exactly what you intended to do. If I don't tell you more about Friday night, you're threatening to spill the beans to Malik about me sourcing coke for Kenny. If I do tell you, you then have more beans to spill, should you change your mind about staying shtum.'

‘I won't.'

‘Your word is your bond? Very British, Charles Paris. Hm.' Lefty was silent for a moment. He took a long swig from his Diet Coke and swept his sweaty comb-over back across his head. ‘As it happens, I am inclined to tell you more, and that's for one simple reason.'

‘What?'

‘Because I'm as keen as you are to find out what actually happened to Kenny on Friday evening.'

‘Who killed him, you mean?'

‘Exactly that. If the two of us pool our information, maybe we have a better chance of reaching a solution.'

Charles liked the way the conversation was heading. He already had the feeling that he'd embarked on an investigation. To have Lefty Rubenstein, with all his knowledge of Kenny Polizzi's past history, on his side would be a considerable bonus.

‘Sounds good to me, Lefty. If you answer a few questions for me I'll tell you anything I know – though I'm afraid that probably isn't much.'

‘You say that, Charles, but you were the one who actually found Kenny's body.'

‘Yes, but I don't know if I was the first person to find it.'

‘Well, let's assume for the time being that you were. So how long would you say it took from you getting the call from Kenny's cell and arriving at the pier?'