Текст книги "The Dark Horse "

Автор книги: Josh lanyon

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I expected to hear Spago or Musso & Frank Grill, but Steve said, «At his place in Bel Air. Lenny Norman will be there too.» «Does that mean –?»

«I don't know what it means,» Steve admitted. «I can tell you that Marshall likes your work. He was very interested when I said you were hooked on the idea of playing Laurie. The bad news is he didn't know you were hooked before because Lenny Norman hadn't mentioned it to him – and that's because Norman doesn't want you. They're looking at David Cort for the role.»

«David Cort,» I echoed. Davie Cort would be perfect for Laurie Odell. I could see him already in the khaki wool Battle Dress uniform of the period. He was the right age, casually attractive, a decent actor – and English. I felt nauseous. «So is that the bad news: they're pretty much decided on Davie Cort?»

«No.» Steve paused and I could feel my already wrenched nerves strrrrrreeetch another foot on the rack. «Um … have there been any more postcards?» «No.» Silence. I said, «But someone killed my neighbor's dog and hung it on our deck.» «Jesus fucking Christ!»

«You said it.» I glanced at Markowitz who was out on the deck using binoculars to check out the bikini-clad women far down the beach. A real security threat, those teeny little swimsuits.

«Okay, well, I did some checking, like you asked. This is totally unofficial, but according to my source at Hollywood Division, there's more than a little doubt as to whether Hammond was even driving the car when it went into the aqueduct.»

It was like he was speaking a foreign language; I heard him but the words didn't make sense. «What?» I said at last. «Hammond may not be dead.»

Wasn't this exactly what I'd been saying the whole time? Why had Dan tried so hard to convince me otherwise when it was obvious his colleagues thought there was a good chance Hammond was still out there? «Why didn't anyone bother to share this before?» I asked.

Steve said carefully, «I think they did. I think Dan … didn't want to alarm you.» I bit down on my anger at Dan. «Do the cops have any leads on Hammond?»

«They're watching his apartment and the motorcycle shop where he used to work. Nothing's turned up. I mean, he could be dead. They're not ruling that out.»

My brain seemed to have stalled. Steve was still talking. I tuned back in to hear him query, «You coming to this premiere at the Chinese?» «What?»

«Are you getting hard of hearing? The premiere party for this new Peter Jackson flick. You plan on making an appearance?» «I don't think so.»

«Why? Sean, you need to get out and be seen. You know how this business is. Not to mention the fact that sitting around brooding is not healthy.»

«I don't know how healthy it is for me to set myself up like a sitting duck at some big Hollywood party.»

«What are you talking about? What could be safer than a tent filled with bodyguards, security, and cameras? It's called hiding in plain sight.» «I just don't feel up to it.»

Mistake. I knew what he was going to say before he said a word. «Are you having … trouble again?» Which was his diplomatic way of asking if I was headed for another stay in the loony bin. «I'm okay.» «For real? I mean, you're eating and sleeping and taking your meds?» «I'm not on meds, Steve. I'm fine.» «Hey, panic attacks are not fine.» «I'm not having panic attacks.» Well, not many. «Whatever you want to call not being able to function.» I was used to Steve, so I'm not sure why that stung. «I can function just fine.»

«Really? Well, then explain to me what's going on? You don't want to work; you don't want to do the publicity. You do remember that acting is a job, right? That we're in business here?»

«Yeah, I remember,» I snapped, because I was feeling guilty. Playing the publicity game is a big part of the acting biz.

«You're hiding out there in the sand dunes. I mean, if by some miracle you did land The Charioteer, would you be ready to take it on?» «Of course!» «Is this recluse shtick Dan's influence?»

«It's nothing to do with Dan. It would be easier for Dan if we moved back to Hollywood. He wouldn't have to drive so far to work.» «Then what the hell is going on?»

«I don't know. I'm just … enjoying my Indian summer, I guess. I feel safer here.» I hadn't meant to say that last bit aloud; it just slipped out.

«Safer? Is Dan telling you you're safer out there? Is it his idea to keep you so isolated?» «Why do you keep coming back to Dan?»

«Because you've changed since you've been with him. You seem afraid to make decisions on your own. I don't know. Less confident. More dependent. More like … before.»

By «before» he meant when we had first met in college, when I was not that long out of the hospital, and still shaky. I had been less confident back then. I'd had trouble making my own decisions. No, that wasn't true; I'd made my own decisions, but I'd agonized over the consequences. It had half-killed me to know I was disappointing people, hurting people, failing. Steve had been my only friend during that period, and I had depended on him a lot. And he'd been there for me, which is what now kept me from giving into the blaze of anger his words sparked. I worked to keep my voice neutral. «What are you talking about?» «I'm just worried about you, dude. I've known you a long time.»

I had to wonder if some of my anger wasn't partly due to unease that Steve might be getting close to the truth. Was I starting to rely on Dan too much? Was I slipping back into unhealthy habits? I mean, as much as I wanted to believe that I'd be the first person to know if I wasn't okay, that's not usually how it works.

But I was okay. Anyone would be a little freaked with what I'd been through this past year. Even Dan agreed with that. Although Dan had also suggested I might need to start seeing a shrink again.

Slowly, I absorbed what Steve was really getting at. I said, «Have you heard something about Dan? When you were asking about Hammond, did someone say something that gave you a bad impression?» He hesitated, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle. «Steve?»

«No,» he said quickly. «I mean, cops are sort of a different breed. Sort of above the law, right? He's never … I don't know … gotten rough with you or anything, right?» «Dan?»

He gave an uneasy laugh. «Yeah. No, I mean, that's what I mean. He's not that kind of cop.» «What kind of cop? What are you talking about?»

«Nothing. The kind of cop you hear about on TV. I watch the news. Cops get indicted for shit all the time. Bribery, corruption, murder. They've got really high rates of domestic violence … «

My throat went so tight I could hardly wedge the words out. «Dan's been nothing but wonderful to me. From day one, he's looked out for me in every way.» Now I was angry with myself for having started this line of conversation with Steve.

He returned with unexpected bitterness, «Dan's the man, that I do get. Unlike Dan, who I guess, gets it all.»

That caught me off guard. I didn't know what to say. It never occurred to me that Steve truly had a moment's regret for the past.

Into my disconcerted pause, he said, «Forget I said that. I'm sure he's a great guy off-duty. Okay? Put it down to jealousy. Mine and maybe some other folks.» He tried to sound light. «Besides, you haven't changed your will or anything, right? Left him your record collection and your subscription to Food and Wine?» «No, I haven't changed my will. And what the hell is that supposed to mean?» «Chill. It was just a joke.» «Good thing you kept your day job.»

«Okay, so it was a bad joke. Listen, Sean, don't get pissed off because I still care about you. I understand the guy won a medal, and he treats you great, but just go slow, okay? You haven't known him that long. You've only spent a couple of weeks together. Basically the dude is an unknown quantity. He's a … a dark horse.» I laughed – sort of. «I'm serious, dude.» «I know you are, and it's fucking ridiculous.»

The glass door slid open and Markowitz gave me a narrow look. I realized I didn't sound nearly as relaxed and humorous as I'd hoped. I lowered my voice. «I don't want to talk about this anymore.» «Everything okay?» Markowitz growled. I nodded.

Steve was saying, «Fine. I don't want to talk about it either. I'm sorry I ever brought it up. So, since everything is wonderful, do you feel up to taking this dinner with Marshall?» «Hell, yes.»

Stiffly, he gave me the details, and I wrote them down while Markowitz held an undervoiced conversation with Maria that apparently had to do with what he wanted for lunch. «Are you going to be there?»

«No,» Steve said shortly. «You're going to have to sell yourself to them. And let me tell you now, Lenny Norman is a tough audience.» * * * * *

Dan got home about six for a changing of the guard with Markowitz. Once again they went outside for their pow wow, which I found annoying. I watched Markowitz get in to his car and drive away. «No postcards,» I informed Dan when he came back inside. «That's what I hear,» he said, dropping a kiss on my mouth. «What else did you hear?»

He gave me a curious look. «I didn't ask him for a report. Is there something I should know?» I knew I was being a jerk and shook my head.

It was too cold to eat outside even if dining al fresco had been approved by my security team. I had the dining room table set and Dean Martin playing on the stereo. Hard to be down with Dino lounging around the room.

We had dinner and chatted about his day and mine. Dan had been called to the scene of an officer-involved shooting and was dealing with the fallout, and I'd read a bunch of scripts, so I wasn't sure why, as usual, I seemed to be doing most of the talking.

The record player needle moved to the brassy opening of «Ain't That a Kick in the Head.» As much as I had tried all day to block out Steve's comments, they'd worked like burrs into my consciousness. I broke off what I was saying to ask, «Have you ever had any complaints about the way you do your job?»

Dan, in the process of cutting off a bite of pork chop, paused. «What are you talking about?» «I mean did anyone ever accuse you of excessive force or anything?»

He didn't say anything for a moment, and I couldn't read his expression at all. At last, he said, «I'm a lieutenant now; it's not like I'm out there rousting suspects. But yeah, I've had a few complaints over the years.» «Like what?»

Reluctantly, he said, «Police put people in jail for breaking the law. That doesn't win you popularity contests. I've had suspects claim I violated their rights or that I used unnecessary force. I've had female suspects accuse me of sexual harassment.» His smile was wry. «I guess that one was kind of funny, although I didn't think so at the time.»

I wasn't quite sure what to make of his admission; I'd been hoping he would just categorically deny it. «Why?» he asked.

Which was a perfectly reasonable question. But for obvious reasons, I couldn't give him a good answer. I already knew how he'd view my discussing him with Steve: pretty much the same way I'd view him discussing me with anyone else. «I just wondered,» I said. «You must have had some reason for wondering.» I said vaguely, «It's just the cop thing, I guess.»

I wasn't really thinking about the implications of that comment, so it caught me off my mark when he responded seriously, «Is that a problem for you? Because that is who I am.»

«No, it's not a problem.» But into the pause that followed my words, I wondered if that was totally true. When I felt vulnerable and threatened, I appreciated the fact that Dan totally took charge. I felt safe with him in a way I'd never felt as an adult. Maybe it was the gun. Or maybe it was the fact that he had an air of being able to handle anything. But was I still going to feel that way once the danger was passed? I didn't want or need someone taking charge of me in my normal day-to-day life. It wasn't reasonable, but there was a little part of me that resented how closely Dan watched me, and – a little – how he tried to protect me. I guess it reminded me, uncomfortably, of being ill. Of needing to be protected, of needing someone to take charge. I never wanted to be that person again.

But I didn't see how I could tell that to Dan without sounding like I was pushing him away, so I did what I always did when in doubt. I started babbling. And Dan did what he always did, which was let me blab until I had to stop for breath.

«So what is it about this role that makes you want it so bad?» he asked after I'd told him about the invitation to dinner with Lenny Norman and Winston Marshall.

I shrugged. «I guess because I identified with Laurie so strongly when I was a kid. Now that I've read the screenplay I see how blind Laurie is. The role with teeth is Ralph. He's the real hero of the thing. Even from the way Renault describes him in the book you can tell that it's his story. There's a psychological depth there that would be a real challenge to capture.» «But you want the Laurie part?»

«Well, I don't have the physical presence to carry off Ralph. And Laurie's not bad. He's smart and sensitive, and he's got a sense of humor. He sees the stupidity of war, but he never wavers about doing his duty, and once he's crippled, he never whines about it. He's not afraid to face up to things. Well, except the one thing. But he's still got a lot of courage despite his blind streak.» «He sounds a lot like you. No wonder you identify.» I laughed nervously. «Oh, right!»

Dan's brows drew together, and to keep him from drawing any more ridiculous comparisons, I said quickly, «I guess it's his ordinariness that appeals to me – appeals to most guys who read the book. Although I'm a little more impatient with him now that I'm reading as an adult. I don't know if he's afraid to face the reality of who he is – what he is. Maybe he's just afraid to lose himself by loving someone completely.» Dan's expression was odd.

Changing the subject, I said, «I don't know what to do about tomorrow night. I can't show up with a bodyguard. It'll confirm everything Lenny Norman thinks about me.»

«I don't give a damn about what Lenny Norman thinks,» Dan said. «Until we've figured out who's harassing you, I don't want you out there on your own.»

Once again I felt a flare of antagonism at what was, after all, pretty much common sense. I guess it was the authority – verging on arrogance – in Dan's voice. Like there was no room for discussion. What was especially unreasonable was that I'd been resentful before because he hadn't seemed to take my fears seriously, and now that he was taking them very seriously, I was equally offended. What did I want?

«Yeah, well, I care what Lenny Norman thinks,» I said. «I want this role and I don't want to do anything that confirms his image of me as some stereotypical Hollywood himbo.» «A stereotypical Hollywood himbo wouldn't want that role,» Dan pointed out.

Somehow everything he was saying tonight irritated me. I said shortly, «He thinks I'm gutless, personally and professionally, and showing up with a cop escort tends to reinforce that idea.» «When is the dinner?» Dan asked. «I'll get off early and drive you.» «It's the same thing!»

I heard the hostility in my voice before it registered in Dan's eyes. There was an uncomfortable silence – long enough for me to try and take the words back, but I didn't. Steve was right. I was getting way too dependent on Dan. I needed to set a few boundaries.

After a moment Dan said, «I wasn't inviting myself to dinner. I'll drop you off and you can ring me when you're ready to go.»

I almost couldn't stop myself from saying, «How is that going to look?» but sanity prevailed – a limited engagement. I said, «I'm supposed to be there at seven.» «I'll be home by five.»

«Great. Thanks.» If my tone had been any chillier we'd have had to throw another log on the fire.

Later that evening I stood in front of the bathroom mirror frowning at my reflection, trying to decide if there was anything I could do that might make me look more like whatever Lenny Norman imagined Laurie Odell looked like. I could skip shaving. Would chic-scruffy be more appropriate for an invalided soldier? Probably not for a guy in a World War II military hospital. Being tanned wasn't a good idea either. I was probably too tall as well – although Peter Grady and I looked pretty good on screen together.

Davie Cort was shorter than me and a bit stockier. And a lot paler. Better shoulders. He had one of those appealing boney intelligent English faces – saved from effeteness by a broken nose. And he had that damned accent.

Not that I couldn't do an English accent. I was pretty good at accents, actually. «I say, old chap,» I said to my mirrored self.

There was a quiet laugh behind me. I turned. Dan stood in the doorway, smiling. Our eyes met in the glass. He unbuttoned his collar. «What number were you again?»

It took me a second to remember People magazine. I bit back a laugh, although I wished he hadn't reminded me of that. «Go to hell.» He chuckled. «You look more like a movie star than me.» «No need to be nasty.»

It was true, though. For old fashioned good looks, Dan was the guy. My face was all bones, sharps and angles. I photographed well, but in real life there was nothing remarkable about me. Tall and lanky, brown hair, brown eyes (okay, «sherry-colored eyes» and «sun-kissed chestnut hair» if you wanted to quote People magazine). «You'll do fine, Laurie,» he said, turning away.

I caught my own wide-eyed look in the glass. It occurred to me that one of the things irritating me tonight was the very thing that bothered Laurie about Ralph: his take-charge attitude when no one was asking him to take charge; the protectiveness that verged on domineering; the assumption that, because he didn't see a problem, it didn't exist. The funny thing was that Laurie's attitude in the book had always bothered me. He didn't seem to fully appreciate Ralph. Now I sort of understood his point.

By lunchtime on Tuesday I was getting a little tired of Sergeant Markowitz. He had all the personality of one of those Easter Island statues. He ate about as much, too. Maybe he thought I'd sprinkled gay powder in the roast beef sandwiches. The only time he livened up was when he went out on the deck and checked out the beach bunnies – and the beach

bunnies were few and far between now that the weather had turned. He even made Maria nervous – not an easy thing to do.

It was obvious he felt like he was wasting his time, and maybe he was right. There were no more postcards, no phone calls, nothing but the horrible memory of the dead dog. Maybe someone else had disliked that damned dog and got rid of it thinking it was mine. It spent so much time at my cottage I could see how the mistake might be made.

The morning dragged. The afternoon wasn't much better. I was freaking myself out thinking about dinner that evening, wondering what I could say or do to convince Lenny Norman that I was the right guy for the job.

About two o'clock I worked out in the weight room, showered and came downstairs for a snack. As I reached the ground floor I could hear Steve's excited and tinny voice echoing through the dining room. «Sean. Fuck. Sean, pick up. Fuck, pick up!»

Through the glass door I could see Markowitz and Maria out on the deck in deep discussion. About what? I stretched across the counter for the phone. «What's up?» «Sean! Someone shot Lenny Norman!» I said stupidly, «When?» «I don't know. His gardener found him this morning.» «Is he –?»

«Yes, he's dead! He was shot to death. Somebody blew a couple of holes through his chest.»

Behind me I heard a key in the front door. Too early for Dan. I turned, automatically dropping the handset into the cradle, cutting Steve's shocked voice off.

I stared across the wasteland of counter and table tops, the stretch of carpet and wooden floor. The sunlight lancing through the blinds and bouncing off the wooden floor was so bright it hurt my eyes. Hurt my head …

The front door opened and Dan stepped in, his face hard and unfamiliar behind dark sunglasses. He looked like a movie hit man, well-dressed and ruthless. I said, «Lenny Norman's dead. Hammond shot him.»

My voice was quiet and tired in the big empty rooms. Not strong enough to carry through the rush of noisy sunshine, but maybe he already knew what I was going to say.

I couldn't read his face behind those dark glasses, but his mouth opened. From a long way away he said, «Sean …»