23
The other players were surprised to see the little man again.
“I thought you went bust,” the snide guy said.
“I went to get cash. I’m buying in again, as soon as I go to the john.”
The little man went in the bathroom and locked the door. He whipped out his cell phone and brought up his contact screen, and he clicked on Ace. There were two numbers listed, his office and his home number. He often got leads after hours and the detective didn’t want to wait.
Of course he didn’t usually call him at two AM.
Ace was groggy and pissed. “Listen, dipshit, this better be good.”
“It’s a hot tip, but it isn’t good. I’m calling to warn you. There’s a guy on your tail. I think he’s private.”
“You think?”
“He showed up at the club posing as a rube. Cleaned me out and confronted me in the parking lot. He’s after the Tessa Tweed video.”
“You gave him my name?”
“He would have killed me. I had no choice. He told me not to warn you, but I am.”
“What does he look like?”
“Long hair, dressed like a hippie, but he’s not. Twenty bucks it’s just for effect.”
“Did you give him my home address?”
“I didn’t give him any address. I said you ran the Ace Detective Agency. He’ll come during business hours, assuming he comes at all.”
“All right. Call me if you hear anything.”
* * *
—
Ace hung up and called Mason Kimble. Ace had done a couple of jobs for Mason and knew he was interested in Centurion Pictures. A scandal involving one of their leading actresses figured to be a juicy tidbit, particularly one involving the wife of the head of the studio. Ace had been right. Mason had paid and paid well. He’d want a heads-up about this new development. And he’d pay for that, too.
Mason was disoriented. “What the hell time is it?”
“It’s two in the morning. Sorry to call you, but it’s important. This is Ace Vargas. There’s a private dick looking for the Tessa Tweed tape.”
Mason was suddenly awake. “Really? Did he talk to you?”
“No, but he’s on his way. Probably tomorrow during working hours. I’ll keep your name out of it, but I’m going to take a pounding, and I may need compensation.”
“Come in to work an hour early, I’ll send you some cash. I don’t want my man to cross paths with this guy.”
“You got it.”
* * *
—
Mason hung up and called Gerard Cardigan. Gerard processed the information with his usual understated aplomb. “That’s unfortunate,” he said.
“It is,” Mason said.
“Would you like me to handle it?”
“I would.”
“Don’t give it another thought.”
“It has to be done early, before this detective gets there.”
“How early?”
“Vargas will be there at eight.”
“So will I,” Gerard said.
24
Teddy had an early call, so there was no chance of swinging by the Ace Detective Agency before work. He went to the studio, got into costume and makeup, and prepared to shoot his scene. While he waited he called the agency to see if Ace Vargas had come in early, but there was no answer. Teddy kept calling every ten minutes or so. Finally, around eight-fifteen, someone answered, “Hello?”
Teddy hung up. He didn’t want to talk to Ace on the phone, he wanted to talk to him in person. Now that he knew Ace was there, he’d run over the first chance he got.
Only he never got a chance. Teddy was tied up on the set all morning. Peter was shooting close-ups and reverse angles for a scene for which he’d already shot the master, so the action was locked, and there was nothing new. Teddy knew Peter needed the footage to cut the scene, but he chafed at the delay.
Teddy was killing a hotel bellboy when Tessa showed up. The bellboy hadn’t done anything except see Teddy come out of the wrong hotel room, but that was his tough luck. He’d be found in a linen closet later on.
Teddy had his hands around the unfortunate man’s throat when Tessa walked in. He continued to kill him until Peter called, “Cut!”
Tessa pulled Teddy aside while Peter reset the scene. Apparently the young bellboy was going to die again.
“You look worried,” Tessa said.
“I’m not.”
Tessa didn’t buy it. “Are you making any progress?”
“Some.”
“You don’t want to tell me?”
“I’ll tell you when it matters.”
“Okay, but can you tell me this? It isn’t Nigel, is it?”
“Nigel’s not the one behind the blackmail, but he was the source of the tape. He sold it to pay off his gambling debts.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“He’s a bad gambler. Some people are, and Nigel’s worse than most.”
“Who did he sell it to?”
“That’s what I’m working on.”
“Any progress?”
Teddy shook his head. “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”
“I know you haven’t found who sent the video. But you have a lead, don’t you?”
“I have a lead. It isn’t much.”
“How much?”
Teddy sighed. “Pretty damn little. The Ace Detective Agency may have acted as an intermediary. I’m going to shake them down during lunch.”
“They’re in L.A.?”
“Yes.”
“So Nigel’s in L.A.?”
“He’s not in L.A.”
“Are you positive?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“How can you be sure?”
Teddy smiled. He had an image of Nigel cowering on the floor of his jet, expecting at any moment to go hurtling out the cabin door.
“Just a hunch.”
25
When Peter broke for lunch, Teddy walked off the lot and got his car. As producer Billy Barnett, he had a parking space, but as stuntman Mark Weldon, he didn’t rate such special treatment, and never would until his name appeared above the title. That’ll be the day, he told himself.