Slythe froze. His mouth fell open.
He had a gun?
It wasn’t enough that he was alive and apparently unharmed. He was holding a gun!
There was no way Slythe could take him on with just a straight razor. Not someone as good as this guy apparently was.
Slythe backed into the shadows.
The sirens were louder.
Slythe crept around the house and headed for his car. He drove off just as the first fire trucks and police cars pulled up.
48
Teddy’s property was surrounded by four fire trucks, six police cars, and two ambulances. For all that, they hadn’t managed to save his house. By the time he had woken up it was pretty much gone.
A policeman was talking to Teddy on the front lawn. “You woke up and smelled smoke?”
Teddy figured the cop suspected him of arson. The house was totaled, and he had barely a scratch. “That’s right.”
Teddy was still dressed in his pajamas. He had managed to stash the gun in his glove compartment before the cops arrived, or the conversation would have taken a whole different turn.
A cop hurried up to them. Teddy couldn’t help thinking he was so young he must be thrilled to be up past his bedtime.
“It’s arson all right. There are gas cans scattered all around the place.”
“Did you collect them for fingerprints?”
“It’s being done.”
“Without fucking them up?”
“I’m on it,” the cop said, and hurried away.
“This is your house?”
“That’s right.”
“And your name is?”
“Billy Barnett.”
“Can I see your identification?”
Teddy jerked his thumb in the direction of the fire. “It’s in there. Look, I’m the owner, so I know you need to check whether or not I burned it down for the insurance money. It’s insured for the bare minimum, and I never increased it. If you asked me if I’d rather have the money or the house, I’d take the house, because I guarantee you I won’t be able to buy anything as good with what I’ll get as a payout.”
An EMS worker from one of the ambulances came over. “Sir, you’re going to the hospital?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“We still need to check you out.”
“Go ahead.”
“You mind sitting on the back of the ambulance? We want to check your blood pressure.”
“Officer,” Teddy said, “may I suggest a change of venue? I’d like to get these guys squared away.”
They walked over to the ambulance. Teddy sat down, and they strapped on the blood pressure cuff.
“One-thirty over seventy,” the EMS worker said.
“A little high from the excitement,” Teddy said.
The EMS guy said, “High?”
Teddy checked out fine. He had a few cuts and scratches from the broken window, but they were superficial. His forearms had taken the brunt of it. The medic cleaned them up, dabbed on antibiotic, and pronounced him good to go.
“How about it, Officer?” Teddy said. “What do you say you check with Motor Vehicles, pull up my driver’s license, verify I am who I say I am, and let me get a room for the night? We’re shooting first thing in the morning, and it’s going to be hard getting up.”
“You’re in the movie business?”
“Yes.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Centurion.”
“What do you do there?”
“I’m a producer.”
The Hollywood community was divided between people who were impressed with a producer and those who considered him nonessential personnel. The cop clearly fell in the latter category.
Still, he ran Teddy’s driver’s license and let him go. Teddy knew he would. He had been Billy Barnett long enough that his cover was damn near perfect.
49
Teddy drove up to the Arrington Hotel, handed his car off to the valet service, and walked into the lobby in his pajamas with his gun in a paper bag.
The woman behind the desk was surprised to see him, to say the least. She gulped and said, “Sir?”
“I’m Billy Barnett. I’m going to be staying at Stone Barrington’s house. It’s spur of the moment, and I don’t have a key. I understand Stone keeps a key at the desk for emergencies.”
“Sir?”
“I apologize for my appearance. My house burned down. If you check with the police, you will find it just happened.”
“That’s not the issue. In the absence of Stone Barrington, I would have to clear this with Peter Barrington. And he can’t be reached at this hour.”
Teddy held out his hand. “Give me the phone.”
She frowned.
“Mine burned up. I need your phone.”
Teddy called and got Peter’s answering service. The service was an improvement over voice mail, because Peter was able to leave specific messages for specific callers.
The woman on the line was clearly used to fielding calls at all hours. “Peter Barrington’s line.”
“This is Billy Barnett. Put me through to Peter Barrington.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnett. Mr. Barrington does not accept calls at this hour.”
“He’ll accept mine.”
“I have no instructions to that effect.”
“What are your instructions?”
“Not to ring him for anything short of a fire.”
“Then you won’t get in trouble. My house just burned down, which is going to affect tomorrow’s shooting unless I speak to him now.”
A minute later Peter’s groggy voice came on the line. “This better be good.”
“It’s not. I’m at the Arrington. My house burned down.”
“What?”
“Yeah. You attend one little stockholders’ meeting, and—”
“Billy.”
“Relax. I’m sure it has nothing to do with that. But the fact is, my house burned down, along with everything in it. I’ve got the pajamas I was wearing, and that’s it. So if you expect Mark Weldon to show up on the set tomorrow, I’m going to need some clean clothes and a makeup kit sent over to Stone’s house. I figure if anyone can make that happen this time of night, it’s the director. You also need to vouch for me with the Arrington desk clerk. She seems pretty freaked out.”