Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Everyone looked completely shocked. Especially Donald for some reason. Well, maybe not for some reason. No one was going to want a memorial episode for Finn Henderson if he was a murderer. The best Donald could hope for was an episode of America’s Most Wanted .
And, yes, it did seem like information Rick should have mentioned earlier. It might not have anything to do with Finn’s being poisoned, but it could.
“How do you know something like that?” I asked.
“I ran into him at a bar in Hollywood, early eighties. He was just blotto. He told me around the time of the wrap party for season two that he took care of Wes. They were both up for that TV show, Young Leonardo . It looked like Wes would be the one who got it, everyone said so. I think it was in one of those, like, gossip columns. But then Finn got it. And no one ever heard from Wes again.”
“Did you think about calling the police?” Marc wanted to know.
“Are you kidding? Knowing something like that was gold. Finn paid to keep me quiet. How do you think I got all those gyms?”
“Um… from your sex tape?”
“Naw, my ex-girlfriend took three quarters of that money. I barely got enough for my condo in Studio City.”
“So, you blackmailed Finn?” I pointed out.
“I wouldn’t call it blackmail. He made investments in my business. That I never paid back.”
“And that’s all you know, Finn said he ‘took care of’ Wes. You don’t have any details?”
“I know they went down to Compton to buy drugs for the party. While they were there, Finn paid to have him whacked. Some gang person did it. You know, some José or Jesus.”
“Where’s his body? Why wasn’t it ever found?” Louis asked.
“My guess is he’s buried under the blimp.”
“What?”
“Yeah, the Goodyear blimp. They bought drugs near the place where it’s kept. You know, they need this big field for landings and stuff. I think they buried him in that field.”
“But you don’t know that.”
“No. But Finn would get kinda weird if you brought up the blimp.”
Actually, I think I’d get weird if you casually brought up the Goodyear blimp. I mean, it’s not a usual thing to work into a conversation.
“So, in all those years you never asked him any more questions about Wes?”
“Well… it’s not like I saw him a lot. Once he started making movies I knew he’d have money. I went around and pitched him on the gym idea. He wrote me a check.”
I looked around the stage. Everyone was paying close attention. Meg in particular looked very sad.
“This is terrible. Wes was the only one of you who was truly kind to me. The rest of you did your best to keep your distance. Especially Finn and Kathleen. They didn’t want anything to do with ‘the fat girl’.”
“We had no idea about any of this,” Wendy said. “I wish you kids had come to us with your problems. We could have helped.”
“Wendy, we don’t know that what he’s saying is true,” Donald said.
“I’m not lying,” Ricky said.
“That’s not what I meant. Finn told you something that might or might not be like it sounded. And my guess is it wasn’t true.”
“Then why did he pay me?”
“Because it was close enough to the truth that he didn’t want anyone talking about it,” Donald said.
“Do you know something?” I asked.
“No. But I do know the people involved. Finn could be terrible, I know that, but I don’t think he’d have someone killed.”
Actually, Finn’s terribleness did seem to make him the kind of person who might have someone killed. He wasn’t quite terrible enough to have done it himself. There was a real difference between hiring a murderer and being a murderer. At least in the mind of the person doing the hiring.
That’s when Marc said, “Have you seen Grace recently?”
“No,” I said. “Weren’t you the last one with her?”
“I guess. She kicked me out of the ladies’ room. Said she had to pee. But that was ages ago.”
“Do you think she’s still in the restroom?”
“Maybe.”
“Was she okay after… the things she told us?”
“She was definitely emotional. But I’m sure… Wait, you don’t think?”
“I don’t know… I don’t know her or what she might do.”
“Did she seem distressed?” Eldridge asked.
“Yes.”
“Unable to cope with her emotions?”
“Yes.”
“Hopeless?”
“Oh God…”
Marc and I ran off the stage area toward the corner of the building where the restrooms were. A few moments later, we burst into the ladies’ room. Grace stood next to the sink smoking a cigarette. That seemed to be what she’d been doing the whole time, since the tiny room was thick with cigarette smoke.
“My God, your faces,” she said. “Did someone else?—”
“You’re okay! That’s great!” Marc said as he rushed toward her.
“Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be… No! You didn’t think I was suicidal, did you? How ridiculous. I have absolutely no intention of killing myself.” She waved away some of the smoke. “At least not quickly.”
“I need a cigarette,” Marc said.
“I think you just need to take a few deep breaths,” I pointed out.
“What’s going on out there? I couldn’t bear to face Donald and Wendy. Are they making people dance on Finn’s grave?”
“Ricky thinks Finn had Wes killed.”
She thought about that for a long moment, inhaling deeply from her cigarette. Marc went ahead and lit one of his own—though, and I’m serious, with the room flooded with smoke there hardly seemed a point.
“I suppose that would explain why Wes disappeared and no one ever heard from him again.”
“Do you think someone might have known about the murder and poisoned Finn because of it?”
“Honestly, it’s hard to think of anyone who’d care that much. I mean, Wes was nice to me. I think he was nice to all the girls. But he was always kind of… separate. He was a little older than we were. And I think he had a girlfriend somewhere, though she was never around. So if Ricky said Finn hired someone…”
“Yeah. The night of the wrap party.”
“I wasn’t there. I was starting to show, so I didn’t go. I was afraid I’d be found out.”
“And you never heard what happened to him?” I asked.
“I kind of remember Donald saying he went into the army. But then, honestly, I don’t know when he’d have said that to me. I didn’t really see anyone after the show ended. Well, Finn and Kathleen, obviously. Is there still coffee? I could really use some.”
The three of us went back to the stage. Louis was at the table. Donald, Wendy and Ed were all near the camera. Ricky was on the stool so, apparently, they were attempting to film something.
“It’s over, Donald,” I heard Wendy saying.
“You’ve been trying to sabotage this show from the beginning.”
“We’ve killed a major motion picture star. I doubt they’re going to broadcast any of this.”
“ We didn’t kill anyone. Your juice killed him.”
“That’s not true! Take it back! Take it back now!”
Okay, they were a mess. I looked around for Eldridge. He was sitting about six or seven rows up in the bleachers. I climbed up there and sat down next to him.
“Is Grace okay?”
“Yeah, I think we got a little carried away.”
“It seems like that kind of night.” Then he asked, “When was the last time you stayed up all night?”
The last time I’d stayed up all night was when Jeffer died. Of course I didn’t want to tell him that, because… well, because I didn’t really like to talk about Jeffer. But then I went ahead and told him anyway.
“The last time I stayed up all night was the night my partner, my ex—we were sort of, kinda, broken up… Anyway, he died. And I was there. At the hospital. With his family. He’d been asking for me. I’m not sure they would have called me if he hadn’t been. By the time I got there he was unconscious, not speaking, not looking around. I sat with him. Told him I forgave him—which to be honest, I’m not sure I had. Actually, I’m still not sure I’ve forgiven him. It did seem the right thing to say at the time, though.”
Eldridge didn’t say anything. He just nodded and slipped his arm around me.
“Anyway, after he died that night, around two in the morning, I knew I couldn’t sleep. I left the hospital. There was a time when I’d been close to his family, but when he died, well… I think I found a Denny’s that was open somewhere. I ordered a breakfast but only ate a little bit of it. After that, I drove up to the Observatory, sat on the hood of my car, and watched the sun come up.”
“How old was he?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“AIDS?”
“Yeah.” I took a deep breath and plunged onward. “Look, it’s not that I don’t like you. And it’s not just that I’m your boss. It’s also that I’m HIV positive. Okay? I’m guessing you’re not. I mean, I hope you’re not. You’re so young and that would be…”
“I’m not HIV positive.”
“Okay. There you go. We can’t go out.”
“Except we can.”
“You don’t want to get involved with me. I mean, I’m on these new meds and maybe they’ll work, maybe they won’t. There’s no guarantee I’ll be here in ten years.”
“There’s no guarantee I’ll be here in ten years.”
“Yeah, but?—”
Was he making sense? I really wanted him not to make sense. But then I thought maybe it didn’t have to be logical. It didn’t matter whether I was scared for him or scared for me. All that really mattered was that I was too scared to go out with him.
“Did you get the virus from your partner?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“It must have been so different before we knew what was happening.”
“He knew what was happening.”
“Oh.”
“Dating me would be dangerous.”
“You might not realize this, but I’ve never not had safe sex. It’s smart to just assume everyone you sleep with is HIV positive. With you I wouldn’t have to assume. I’d know. Seems easier, doesn’t it?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Not what I meant. Since Jeffer died, my dating life hasn’t been what you’d call… good. I went out with this one guy who ended up murdered and his body thrown into the dumpster behind Pinx. And then I dated this other guy who was murdered, stabbed right next to me in bed. That was… unpleasant. And then there’s this cop?—”
“I get the picture.”
Well, there. That was that. He wouldn’t be asking me out again. There wouldn’t be any more puppy dog eyes or subtle—well, not so subtle, innuendo. Eldridge would just be my employee and anything I was feeling or trying not to feel would fade away. He’d find a boyfriend. I’d be me. And it would all be okay.
“I’m exhausted,” he said. “Can I just put my head on your shoulder and close my eyes?”
“Um… okay.”
He had to scrunch down a little, but he managed. It felt a little weird. I mean, I’d just told him that a typical date with me ended in death. Running for the hills screaming would have been a much more reasonable response.
We stayed like that for a few minutes. Then Louis trudged up the risers, and said, “It’s after six. We should pack up. Noah, why don’t you do a final round of coffee?”