He could sense the tension crackling over the phone wires. “Mr. Corrigan, I’m afraid I have some bad news. There’s no good way to break it to you, so I’ll just say it. You are the contact listed on the ‘in case of emergency card’ for Zak Mercury.”
Confusion filled Rhett. Zak had plastic surgery on his nose the day after they visited him. He was supposed to be discharged from the hospital in the morning and head to Twin Hills. Wouldn’t the hospital be calling if some medical problem arose?
“Sir? You are the emergency contact?”
“I guess. He has no family to speak of. Has Zak—”
“I’m sorry to inform you but Mr. Mercury died in a car wreck earlier this evening.”
“Wait. Wait a minute. Zak . . . is dead?”
Cassie gripped his hand, tears spring to her eyes.
Rhett knew a mistake had been made. He needed to nip this puppy in the bud. “You’ve got it wrong. Zak Mercury is in the hospital, Lieutenant. He’s leaving tomorrow for rehab. There must be some mistake.”
Lieutenant Price sighed. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Corrigan. Mr. Mercury was killed on the 405 about three hours ago. Witnesses said his car was weaving in and out of lanes. He’d probably been drinking. We’ll know after the autopsy.”
“But . . . how did he get . . . for God’s sake, he’s a patient. He couldn’t have been out. What car? Why . . .” Rhett’s voice trailed off.
“Mr. Mercury did have on a hospital bracelet. I checked with them and discovered he walked out around eight-thirty tonight. The floor nurse said he was belligerent and argumentative and insisted he was leaving. She couldn’t stop him.”
The policeman paused. “I’m sorry to break this kind of news to you, sir. The autopsy will be in the next forty-eight hours. If it’s fine with you, I’ll give them this number to contact you when it’s over but you might want to go ahead and make some arrangements with a local funeral home before then.”
He had trouble finding a response. “Uh, okay. Yes. I will.”
“Sorry for your loss, Mr. Corrigan.”
Rhett heard the officer break the connection but he froze, the phone still to his ear.
What the hell had happened to Zak?
◆◆◆
“The limo’s here.”
Cassie handed Rhett his jacket. She watched him put it on absently, almost as if he were sleep walking. She was worried about him. He’d spent the last three days in a stupor, leaning on her heavily as he met with Zak’s lawyer, made arrangements for the memorial service, and tried without luck to track down anyone remotely related to Zak other than a second cousin living in Sacramento. The cousin told Rhett he might try to make it if his car would start.
She greeted Johnny, glad she’d thought to request him from the car service. He nodded politely and opened the door. Rhett followed her into the car and sat quietly in his own world.
He was taking Zak’s death hard. Cassie would’ve strangled Zak if he weren’t already dead. The comedian’s blood alcohol content was at .26. How he’d been able to drive at all was beyond her comprehension.
Zak had been driving his own car. Police traced his steps, from the Lyft that picked him up in front of the hospital and delivered him to his apartment. The driver said he’d taken his fare straight home with no stops so Zak must’ve gotten plastered at home. The cops found several empty vodka bottles strewn around his apartment and another one inside the wrecked vehicle.
What possessed him to get out and drive was what she couldn’t understand. The two witnesses that came forth were quoted in the media as saying they thought Zak deliberately crashed his car into the median.
Why would someone with such a bright future ahead of him do something so destructive?
Cassie supposed it was the upcoming rehab stay that threw Zak into a panic, though he should have known with good, loyal friends such as Rhett, he would have been supported.
Paparazzi loitered outside the gate. She knew after her short time around Rhett that they were vultures who made money off others’ pain. She didn’t know how Rhett dealt with them on a daily basis. He couldn’t walk into a store to shop for a new pair of shoes or a birthday present, much less go into McDonald’s for a Quarter Pounder. It made Cassie understand how Michael Jackson went a little crazy, renting out movie theaters after midnight and living a trapped life in a fishbowl as the media sharks circled him 24/7.
She dreaded the memorial service that lay ahead. She hated the thought of death. Her dad had died of lung cancer on her seventh birthday. He was the lighthearted one, always making a joke, whistling, pulling her into his lap for a story or to read the newspaper aloud to her.
After his death, things changed. She had understood her family didn’t have much money or material possessions before he died but she’d never felt poor. Things grew increasingly difficult in the aftermath. Her mom always yelling at her, working dead-end, part-time jobs. Cassie wound up taking care of the house, doing all the cooking as best as she could, but it was never enough to please her remaining parent. Her mom grew increasingly bitter, with no joy in her life. Their relationship had deteriorated so badly that Cassie doubted either would attend the other’s funeral.
More photographers waited outside the funeral home, kept out by the security team Rhett hired for the occasion. He’d had a few photos of Zak on his phone and they’d gone to Zak’s apartment to find a few more to display in a slideshow. It was important to Rhett that people remember Zak as he was in the prime of his life. She decided she would return alone later to see everything went to the proper charities. Cassie didn’t think Rhett could face walking in there again, seeing Zak’s dirty dishes stacked high in the sink or his unmade bed waiting for his return.
Taped classical music played over the system. She nodded to the small group of friends that had gathered to celebrate Zak’s short life. The entire poker group was in attendance, along with Marty, his agent.
She glanced over her shoulder when she heard a raised voice. Two men built like college linemen stood at the back, part of the security detail. They blocked a guy with shaggy hair and a rumpled dress shirt from entering.
“Hey, man, Zak was my cousin. We used to do weed together down on Venice Beach when we were kids.”
Rhett stood and walked over. After a brief conference, he motioned to the guards to let the man in. Cassie assumed the glassy-eyed man was the cousin whose car had actually started. At least Zak had some family represented here.
Rhett glanced at his watch and crossed to the podium as the music subsided. He’d been closer than anyone to Zak and would give the eulogy. She prayed he could make it through without breaking down. She had no idea what he would say. He’d locked himself in his study last night to work out the details. She’d fallen asleep before he came to bed.
Rhett took out a folded page from his jacket and sighed before crumpling it up and pushing it aside on the podium.
“I had a few thoughts planned but I don’t think Zak would’ve liked that. He was a fly by the seat of your pants kind of guy. Very spontaneous. Very witty. So, I’ll try to do him justice and talk from my heart.”
He hesitated. Cassie saw his hands shaking, even as they gripped the sides of the podium.
“This should be a gloomy day since such a playful light has gone out of the world. Zak Mercury was fun personified. He always loved to tease and joke. But you know, we shouldn’t be sad because he’s smiling down on us. Probably laughing his ass off, if you want the truth.”