Body on the Backlot Page 6

  “Thanks for helping out,” Ray said through his mask.

  We nearly had the dead man on the steel table when Ray pulled the upper body toward the table and misjudged. The head, which was hanging lower than the shoulders, got banged at the right temple, on the corner of the worktable. I winced. The dead feel no pain, I told myself.

  Ray lifted the shoulders higher and up onto the steel table. The head hit first with a soft thud. I swore to myself that I would never be a body in the morgue. If I could help it.

  “When do we get to Autumn Riley? Any information so far?” I asked.

  “Uh, you’re not going to believe this.” Ray looked from me to Gus and then back to the body we had just moved. “I have, some…I have some bad news. She’s gone.”

  Gus and I stood staring at him, so he continued.

  “I went to go check out your Autumn Riley to see what we could do for you. I talked to the driver who brought her in, but when I got to her gurney it was empty. She wasn’t there. It’s never happened to me before, and I don’t mind telling you, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Excuse me?” I was hoping my ears weren’t working right.

  “Autumn Riley is gone, Joan. Her body has disappeared.” The beast had come back for his prey.

  “Have you looked for it?” I asked.

  Without the autopsy, the investigation would be stalled. My eyes darted around the room really studying the bodies now. The coroner’s is always creepy, you never really get used to it, but suddenly I felt especially leery.

  “Yes, Joan. We searched the place up and down.”

  “Let’s check your security tape, right now,” said Gus.

  “I did that already,” said Ray. “Thing is, her body never really made it in. Like I said, we’re backed up. The check-in is slower than usual. The driver brought her just inside the door for processing. So, there’s really only one camera that had anything. It’s a little fuzzy, the tape is old, you know we use them over and over. Okay, I admit, it’s a lot fuzzy. You can’t see shit.”

  “Don’t worry, we can work with it,” said Gus.

  “You think someone would have reason to steal her body?” asked Ray.

  “Maybe they don’t want us to do the exam,” I said. “Don’t mention it to anybody else just yet, okay?”

  “I have to report it, but I’ll try to keep it quiet, believe me. You think I want to see it on the news? I’m shook up about it myself, you know?”

  “Ray, Gus and I wanted to treat you to lunch…”

  “Ah, no time for that. I’m ordering in. Let me go get you the tape.”

  Gus nodded, and I stood there like someone had just kicked me in the stomach as Ray split to get the tape.

  Parker has access to a team of techno guys that can unravel computer codes and clear up any recordings. I’d never seen them fail. Gus and I would have to run the disc over to Tech Corp by the airport.

  “The question is, who has the resources to get a body out of the morgue without being detected?” I said.

  “Maybe somebody with a lot of friends and money, who wields a lot of power, and has a lot of favors owed them.”

  “Like a movie producer.”

  “I’ve heard stories before of investigations where bodies disappeared,” said Gus.

  “And?”

  “None of them had happy endings.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  GLENN ADDAMS’S STUDIO WAS next to Oliver Stone’s lot, off Electric Avenue, a funky but chic area in Venice. After we nearly ran over a jogger that sprinted out before the light changed, we pulled into the entrance up to a security shack. Gus knew the guard and convinced him to let us in without a big announcement to Addams. We parked in the visitor section. As we walked across the lot, Gus and I looked like a couple of hard-ons in our suits compared to most of the movie populace in their casual or hip clothes. I’d heard somewhere that Hollywood producers were migrating westward into the ever-increasing upscale Venice area.

  “Addams kept his inamorata and his job site nice and close,” said Gus.

  I don’t know this word inamorata, but I figured he meant Autumn Riley. Gus has a vast vocabulary of words for sex and all those issues around it.

  “Just a few miles from each other,” I said. “Could make for an alibi.”

  “Hmph. Maybe. Word is this Addams literally envisions the movie and then looks for a script or hires somebody to do what he dreamed up.”

  “Sounds like a nice job. Hey, I had a dream last night. Here’s eighty million so I can see it again.”

  Actually, I wouldn’t want to see a movie of my own dreams. They’re strictly low-budget fare, a mix of hardboiled and noir with a dash of horror.

  We walked into a lobby across black marble. The security was muscled-up bodyguards, not the retirees you’d might expect. They had walkie-talkies and vigilant eyes, looked like Secret Service guys. When they walked, their shoes made no noise on the marble floor.

  A security guard dressed in dark blue pants and a white shirt seemed to recognize us before we even made it to the receptionist desk. Black glass rose up behind him. His pale skin against the dark shiny glass created a 3-D effect. “You here to see Glenn Addams?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “How’d you guess?”

  “Everybody’s a psychic,” Gus said in my ear.

  “He’s expecting you,” the man answered.

  We pulled out our IDs and said our names, and the man gestured to an elevator. I was annoyed because I wanted to catch the producer off guard before he could have someone write him a script for an alibi.

  “And how is it that he is expecting us?” I asked as the three of us stepped into the elevator.

  “Mr. Addams has his sources.”

  Gus and I shared a knowing look.

  The elevator was silent as a tomb. We got out on the third floor, and the security guard led us down the hall like a proud school monitor. At the end of the hallway were two black doors, which the guard opened, allowing us entrance. They closed silently behind us. We were standing inside yet another reception area of marble and black glass.

  An exuberant young man with glowing skin and blond wavy hair greeted us.

  “Good morning. I’m Benton, Glenn Addams’s assistant. He’ll be with you in a moment.”

  Benton, tanned and fit, could have been a social director on a cruise ship. A young woman appeared beside him. She wore a short blue skirt and a blue-and-white-striped men’s shirt. Her streaked blond hair was styled in a pageboy, flipped under like in the fifties “Connie, get these fine people some coffee, or would you prefer sparkling water, tea?”

  I passed. Gus got black coffee. Benton smiled brilliantly and was gone. Connie brought Gus his coffee.

  Her eyes were expectant like maybe we were going to arrest someone. “You’re here because of Autumn, right?”

  “News travels fast,” I said.

  “Mr. Addams said you’d be coming in.”

  I nodded. Gus swallowed coffee and studied a black-and-silver sculpture in the corner. “How well did you know Autumn?” I asked.

  “I saw her a few times. She never spoke much, came into the office a couple times, sat down, hardly looked at me,” Connie said.

  I handed her my card.

  “Oh, no. I’m just a secretary, more like a receptionist, really. I’m nothing.”

  I think she really believed that. Maybe it was part of her job description.

  “Keep the card, anyway. Who knows? And since we’re at it, how ’bout a home telephone number?”

  Connie looked around to see if anyone was watching, then scribbled her name and number on a nearby pad, folded it, and handed it to me like a secret.

  “Thanks,” I said. I was definitely going to call her.

  Benton reappeared and put out his hand like an angel guiding the way to paradise.

  “Please be quiet when we enter. I’ll let Glenn know that you’re here.”

  We walked down a hallway and entered through a cur
tained wall to a darkened room that opened into a stage with a giant green screen, in front of which a team of fifteen people worked silently. A man I recognized as the famous director, Rob Siennes, paced the floor.

  “How much longer?” Siennes asked.

  Another man in a headset answered, “Five minutes.”

  “Okay, I want this in one shot. One shot, understand?”

  The team of people nodded in agreement. A woman’s voice rang out, “Should be no problem. We’ve already run through it twice without makeup.” Siennes nodded.

  A lanky, dark-haired woman appeared. I recognized her as the actress, Ginny Deaver, a well-known animal activist. She walked across the set dressed only in red body paint from head to toe.

  “This is the film about Spain?” I asked Gus.

  “Parts are set in Spain, but it’s futuristic, sci-fi stuff.”

  A tall chair with the name GLENN ADDAMS printed across the back caught my eye. I didn’t know they still did that. I watched as a man took a seat in it. He was small, had close-cropped hair, and was younger than I expected. He looked relaxed, bored even.

  Benton went up to him and whispered in his ear and the man turned to look at us. He gave Benton a lazy wave of his hand. Benton scurried back over to us.

  “He’ll be with you as soon as this scene is shot, won’t be long.”

  The crew went to work in quiet focus as they put straps around the waist of the actress and attached that to a long cord. A large crane was moved into position, and the cord hooked up to it. Then everyone took their positions, leaving only the red form of the actress in front of the green screen on the stage.

  Two large cameras were rolled up to the edge of the stage. Someone snapped a board and said the title of the movie and a number. The director Siennes said, “Roll ’em and action!” The actress folded over backward until her fingers reached the floor behind her. She was essentially in a backbend position when the person operating the crane cranked it and the actress allowed her body to be pulled up into the air. She appeared lifeless as if she were supposed to be asleep or dead, I couldn’t tell which. Then, suddenly her eyes shot open like she had just discovered what was happening to her. The crane continued pulling her slowly, ever so slowly, up and up. Her arms and legs writhed around like that of a helpless spider in a hysterical panic.

  “Cut!” cried the famous director, and everyone applauded. Glenn came down off his throne and walked over to us. Behind him, they lowered the actress back down to the stage floor.

  “How can I help you?” he asked, looking at me.

  “I’m Detective Lambert, and this is Detective Van Chek.” Either he already knew our names or didn’t care to. “We’re here about Autumn Riley.” He looked sad right on cue.

  “I figured I’d be first on your list.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Isn’t the lover always your number one suspect?”

  “We received a nine-one-one call insisting that Autumn had been murdered by her producer boyfriend.”

  “Christ, you’re kidding me.”

  Gus gave me a side-glance. That’s not what was said on the nine-one-one call, but we are allowed to lie when questioning suspects. It’s legal. There would be no way for Addams to know different unless he made the call himself.

  “Let’s have this conversation elsewhere,” said Addams. “Follow me, will you?”

  We followed Addams down a hallway to a small office with a desk, a phone, four chairs, and little else.

  He invited us to sit. Gus took a seat, as did Addams, but I stayed standing.

  “There was also mention of a drug,” I said. Gus cut me another sideways glance.

  “What do you mean, a drug?” asked Addams.

  “That drugs may have been a factor in her death. Do you have any reason to believe that Autumn may have been experimenting with drugs and overdosed?”

  Addams shook his head. “No way. That doesn’t sound like the Autumn I know.”

  “Mr. Addams, did you kill Autumn Riley?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I didn’t really think I’d get a confession, but I was looking for that tick, an instant of body language. I got nothing.

  “Why do you suppose someone would call the police department with such a claim?”

  “I’m not a detective, but I’d venture a guess that they’d want to mislead you.”

  “Anybody you know have a grudge against Autumn?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Maybe one of your old girlfriends, one you left behind for Autumn.” I stepped toward him, hoping to have more impact.

  “No. I’m not like that.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?” I asked.

  Addams spun his chair away from me. “Look, I just got back in town a few hours ago.”

  Gus repeated my question, “When was the last time you saw her?”

  We waited for him to answer.

  “Last night, at her place,” Addams said finally.

  “Did you make love last night?” Gus asked.

  “Yes.”

  “We’re going to need a sample of your semen,” I said.

  Addams jerked his head toward me but said nothing.

  “Was she alive when you left?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  He answered the questions without a shred of emotion.

  “Did you have a fight?” I asked.

  Addams paused, looked at me, glanced over at Gus, then looked away again, back to the corner. “Not exactly. More like a disagreement.”

  “Explain that,” I said softly.

  He sighed and turned in his chair toward me.

  “She wanted to go for a walk on the beach. I was tired. I had to catch a flight to Palm Springs. I couldn’t stay. She got angry. Said she was going to find the kind of man who would take her for walks. I didn’t bother to argue. I was exhausted.” He looked at me as if I should understand these things.

  “You weren’t too tired to make love,” I said.

  He shook his head again.

  “One might think it would be more appropriate for you to be at home grieving,” I said. “But here you are on the set.”

  Addams slumped in his chair. He wore comfy, expensive clothes: a charcoal sweater and soft-looking black pleated pants.

  “There’s a lot of business to attend to. People depend on me. The show must go on, you know.”

  “Mr. Addams, I need to ask you, let me see, how can I put this?” He gave me that blank expression of his, so I dug in, “Was Autumn difficult to control?”

  “This conversation makes me want to call my lawyer.”

  I leaned toward Addams. “Sure, go ahead and call him if you like. But this is not an interrogation, it’s only an interview. Maybe there’s something you can tell us about your friends.”

  “I don’t have friends, I have associates.”

  “Yes, okay, associates. Any of them become friends with Autumn?” I asked. “Did she ever party with any of your associates? Do drugs, have kinky sex?”

  “Autumn would have none of that, so it’s not germane. I don’t mind telling you that I find that question offensive.”

  “Perhaps one of these associates had a new high in their coat pocket, some new-fashioned mixed-up ecstasy, say, and Autumn came upon it. Maybe your friend is completely innocent of any wrongdoing, maybe he was in the bathroom taking a wee-wee and didn’t know.”

  “That’s an interesting story, but Autumn is not the sort of person that takes things from pockets and she doesn’t do drugs.”

  Gus cut in, “Yes, but you do have some friends that might have drugs. Right? You sort of have that rep.”

  “Detective Van Chek, that journalist who wrote about me in Premiere Magazine saw me at a party. We never even talked. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Did you love Autumn Riley?” I asked.

  Addams put his elbows on the desk and dropped his forehead into his hands. “I cared for her, a lot. She was singular. I
t’s a tragedy she’s dead. But I had nothing to do with it.”

  I waited him out.

  “I have my airplane ticket,” he continued. “Stewards in first class who served me and witnesses as alibis in Palm Springs, the whole nine yards. Benton will get it all together for you. I’ll have my lawyer contact you if there’s anything further.”

  Gus stepped in. “Have Benton send over those details, but a lawyer’s not necessary at this point, Mr. Addams. We’re sorry for your loss. We merely wish to figure out what happened here.”

  Addams nodded numbly.

  I didn’t want to let him off the hook so easily. “Will you be attending her funeral?” I asked.

  Addams blinked at me. “Of course.”

  He moved a stapler on the desk, then a paper weight.

  “One last thing,” I added.

  He looked up at me without expression. He had probably practiced that in the mirror.

  “It’s important.”

  He waited for me to continue.

  “Was Autumn naked or clothed when you left her last?”

  He was silent for a moment. It was a struggle for him to keep his mask in place.

  “Naked,” he answered.

  The dam broke; his face turned red and scrunched up in pain. A moaning, from deep within, rose in him and burst from his lips. A loud wail filled the room. I went to him but he jerked away. I put my hand on his back. He turned to me then.

  “I neglected her. I’m a bastard. I should have held her hand more, hell! I should have taken her for a walk last night on the beach. She might still be alive if I had done that one thing! But I didn’t kill her. I swear to you.”

  “Okay,” I said. “We merely need to find out how things were between you.”

  He looked at me for the first time with what I took for genuine anguish.

  “Autumn wanted me to make her a star. It’s so common. Everybody always carries on about the evil producer preying on young women. But can you imagine how tedious it is that every woman you meet wants you to put them in a movie? Cynical is not even the word for it. I thought Autumn would be a different experience. I met her at an environmental rally, one of those Save the Bay things, and she so impressed me. She was brave and passionate.”