CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 5
Is the First Sequence in a Movie Always the Setup?
“ Fred is the case you’re working on?” I repeat what Connor just told me as our ferry chops through the waves toward Catalina. “What?”
Connor makes a shushing motion with his hand, even though we’re away from the rest of the passengers. “I can’t tell you too much. It’s confidential.”
“Maybe I can help you with whatever it is you’re investigating? I know these people.”
His mouth twists. “Because you’re so Hollywood and I’m an outsider?”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. But yes, you are. That’s probably why Tyler hired you.”
“And here I was thinking it was my world-famous investigative skills.”
I try not to roll my eyes. I might not entirely succeed. “Those are invented.”
“Excuse me, I was making my living at this before I met you.”
“Barely.”
“And yet you want to work with me.”
I take in and exhale a long, slow breath. “I do.” I pause. “Please?”
Like I suspected it would, this word affects him. I’m not sure if it’s something I’ve ever said to him before. 29 But I know him. I’ve been writing about him for ten years, my fingers flying over the keyboard like I’m playing a ballad on a piano. I don’t know which parts I made up anymore, and which parts were there to begin with. He’s bent to the pages, too, becoming more like the fictional Connor than he was in the beginning.
“If I tell you, it will stay between us?” Connor says.
“Of course.”
I may be crossing my fingers behind my back.
I mean, obviously.
He nods slowly, sealing the pact. “Fred owes Tyler a lot of money.”
“For what?”
“ Julius Caesar . It lost millions. Tyler financed the film, but Fred was the guarantor.”
“What does that mean?”
“If the film didn’t make Tyler’s investment back at the box office, Fred guaranteed he’d repay up to a certain amount.”
“Why would he do that?”
“It was the only way to get the movie made. He’s been obsessed with it for years.”
“How much?”
“Twenty million.”
“Yikes,” I say. “I assume Tyler’s asked for payment?”
“Of course. But Fred hasn’t paid.”
I cock my head to the side. “Where do you come in? Does he want you to threaten him?”
“That’s not my style.”
“You’re right, you used Guy for that.”
I mean Guy Charles, Connor’s former business partner. They had a falling-out at some point over the last ten years that I never got an explanation for. Not that this is unusual. Connor generally operates on a need-to-know basis.
“Where is Guy, anyway?” I ask. “I haven’t seen him since the funeral.”
“I have no idea,” Connor says. “And good riddance.”
“You ever going to tell me what happened between you?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Unlikely.”
“That tracks.” I tap the side of my face, thinking. “So, if it’s not violence, what are you supposed to do exactly?”
“Tyler wants me to track down Fred’s assets so he can seize them.”
“Like in a lawsuit?”
“Yes.”
“And?” I say.
“And what?”
Why is everything always so hard with this guy? Sigh. “Any luck with your investigation?”
“I only started looking into it last week.”
The ferry hits a large wave, rocking us up, then down. My stomach turns with the beginning of seasickness. Or it might just be proximity to Connor.
“How long has he owed the money for? Julius Caesar came out last year, right?”
“That’s right. But it takes a while to know what the total tallies are going to be. That happened when the accountants closed last year’s books in March.”
“So long before we started filming.”
“Yes.”
“Have you spoken to Fred?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d gather as much information as I could before I confronted him.”
I nod my head slowly. “That’s smart.”
He gives me that half smile again. “I learned it from you.”
“How?”
“The Vacation Mysteries? Our literary adventures?”
“You read the books?”
“Of course I read them.”
Okay, interesting.
I’m not sure why, but I always assumed he didn’t read the books. Not since he read a galley of When in Rome and discovered he could blackmail me for using his name without his permission.
But that’s all behind us, I guess. He isn’t in my newest book contract. It was part of what we’d agreed to in Italy.
It doesn’t make us friends.
“I thought that film cost one hundred and fifty to make?” I say.
It was all anyone talked about in the press surrounding its failure.
“It sold well overseas—I don’t quite understand the accounting. But twenty million is a hefty sum.”
“For you and me, yeah. But Fred should be good for it. Hasn’t he been paid millions per picture for years? Or did he buy some island in the South Pacific I didn’t know about?” 30
“As I said, I haven’t been investigating long. Perhaps he’s simply withholding payment for some other reason.”
“Such as?”
“Emma.” He takes a step closer. “A jealous man can make irrational decisions.”
Our eyes lock and I wonder what exactly he means. That’s one of the (many) problems with Connor. He speaks in riddles and ellipses, and it’s exhausting trying to puzzle it all out.
Also, we’ve been looking at each other for way too long.
I pull my eyes away and watch the waves beat against the boat.
We’re approaching the port in Avalon, a half-moon bay with a steeply rising mountain behind it covered in lush greenery. Candy-colored buildings climb the mountainside in a way that reminds me of the Amalfi Coast. But because of the name, I can’t help but think of the mists of Avalon, that made-up place in Camelot.
But wait...King Arthur and Guinevere—an epic marriage that ended badly because the bride was in love with another man.
Oh dear.
I think about the note Emma received yesterday.
Is life imitating art?
“Would Tyler make threats?” I ask. “Is he that angry about the money?”
“Do you know something?”
“I’m just speculating.” The boat bumps up and down again. I’m glad this ride is almost over. “We’re here. We should get ready to disembark.”
“Don’t say anything to Emma,” Connor says.
“I won’t.”
“Eleanor...”
“What? I said I won’t.”
I catch sight of Oliver approaching and take a step away from Connor.
Which is a mistake.
You don’t allay fears by stepping away suddenly.
“Ready to go?” Oliver asks as he arrives next to me, but what he wants to know is—what’s going on?
“Connor’s been hired by Tyler to investigate Fred,” I blurt, my voice high-pitched and rapid, like it always is when I’m nervous.
“Eleanor! I just said not to tell anyone.”
“You didn’t mean Oliver.”
“I meant everyone.”
“I don’t have any secrets from Oli.”
Oliver shakes his head as the boat slides into the dock. “Are we done here?”
I link my arm through Oliver’s. “Definitely.”
After the ferry docks, we’re met by a flotilla of golf carts, there to take us to our accommodations. Not everyone fits into the wedding venue at the Descanso Beach Club, and I made sure Harper, Oliver, and I got one of the private villas nearby.
Part of me wanted to have a romantic weekend with Oliver, but I didn’t want Harper to feel left out. She grumbled about being our third wheel, but I knew she didn’t mean it.
That doesn’t mean I don’t have plans for her this weekend.
There are a couple of wedding guests I have my eye on for Harper.
Not that she can’t find her own dates. It’s just that she doesn’t. Or she did, but the last person she was involved with was Connor, and that was a terrible idea.
So that’s what was on my agenda.
Only now it looks like I also have to figure out who sent that note to Emma.
Could it be Tyler?
But why send the note to Emma if he was mad at Fred?
“Someone is going to die at the wedding”—it’s so vague it feels hard to take it too seriously under this perfect sky.
But you can’t trust the weather these days.
Storms come whether they’re forecast or not.
And there’s a tempest on the way.
“Eleanor,” Oliver says, “what were you talking to Connor about?”
“I told you—he’s investigating Fred.”
“But why were you talking to him in the first place?”
“This is our golf cart,” Harper says, pointing to a white cart with the number 10 on its side. There’s a young man in a blue-and-white uniform sitting behind the wheel. He gets out to help us with our luggage, and then we settle in—Harper and I in the back, Oliver up front—while the driver, Tommy, gives us a tour.
“Santa Catalina Island is twenty-two miles long and eight miles wide, making it seventy-six square miles covering almost forty-eight thousand acres with a coastal perimeter of fifty-four miles. For a point of comparison, Manhattan is thirteen miles long and two miles across at its widest point. Of course, Manhattan’s population is 1.6 million people, where the permanent population of Catalina is only four thousand, mostly here in Avalon, with a smaller concentration in Two Harbors, which is located on the other side of the island.”
Tommy speaks in a bored drone. He’s clearly delivered this spiel many times before.
“The highest peak on the island is Mount Orizaba, at over two thousand feet in elevation. The island is also known for its wildlife and dive sites. It was first settled over seven thousand years ago and was originally inhabited by various Southern California tribes, including the Tongva. The Spanish were the first Europeans to claim it. It was then turned over to Mexico, and eventually the United States.” 31
We’re driving at maximum golf cart speed along the two-lane main road. To the left are small shops painted in bright yellow and stark white. To the right, dozens of boats are moored inside the breakwater. Up ahead of us is a massive round structure that’s painted white with a terra-cotta roof—the Casino, which sits on a point overlooking the Pacific. It’s ten times bigger than any other building.
Whatever Tommy says, gambling is clearly the island’s most important commodity.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, pointing to the nearly empty high street.
“Most people left because of the storm.” His tone says that we shouldn’t be here either.
“Sorry you had to stay,” Harper says.
“That’s fine, miss. Catalina Island has long been a stop for smugglers, gold diggers, and pirates. There have also been hunters and missionaries, and it became a resort a hundred twenty-five years ago.”
“Do you think he’s talking about us?” I whisper to Harper.
“Smugglers, gold diggers, and pirates, oh my!”
We laugh as our cart moves through a small roundabout onto St. Catherine Way, which will take us to a second, more secluded bay where the Descanso Beach Club is located.
“In 1915, a fire burned down half the buildings in town, which led to the island being sold to William Wrigley Jr. of chewing gum fame. In 1921, Wrigley even had the Chicago Cubs do their spring training here. They trained here until 1951. And Wrigley invested a lot of money into the island, building the Casino.” Tommy points to it as we pass.
Oliver looks back at me. “I assume that’s where Connor will be spending the rest of his time?”
I smile at him. “No doubt.”
We drive past the Casino, and the golf cart takes a left and starts going up the hill. The engine sounds like it’s working overtime, but that doesn’t detract from the beauty. We’re surrounded by palm trees and flowering bushes, and the air smells floral and sweet.
“Catalina Island has always been a popular destination for Hollywood, especially during the 1930s, ’40s, and ’50s. More than five hundred films, documentaries, and commercials have been shot here over the years.”
We crest a turn and arrive at a complex of forty white villas with red-tile roofs and balconies overlooking the bay. We’re in a two-bedroom. Emma’s staying in one of the villas near us. She and Fred came over on a private boat early this morning because arriving by ferry didn’t quite fit with her ideas for her wedding.
We’d laughed about that when she told me, because our lives have ended up so differently from what we’d imagined when we made Barbie and Ken get married on a floating barge in the canal near our houses in Venice Beach. Back then, she wanted to be an astronaut and I wanted to be an actress.
You never know where life is going to take you.
That’s not a clue, just an observation.
The golf cart lurches to a stop.
“The Beach Club is down that path,” Tommy says, pointing to a paved path that winds through the terracotta-tiled villas. “The tennis court is up there. There’s a map of the property inside, and here are your keys.”
He hands us three sets of keys, and Oliver tips him as we grab our bags.
“Say,” Tommy says, suddenly shy. “Can I have your autograph?”
“Oh, you’ve read my books?”
“I...You’re not Emma Wood?”
Harper starts to laugh. “No, she’s not.”
“Sorry, miss.”
“It’s fine.”
“I’ll be getting back to the marina to meet the next ferry.” He blushes as he ducks into the golf cart and puts it in reverse. It starts to beep like a truck backing up.
“You okay, El?” Harper asks.
“Of course, why do you ask?”
“Not every day that you get confused for Emma.”
I give her a look. “It happened more than once on set. I mean, she is playing me.”
“Fictional you.”
“Yes, yes. Let’s go in, shall we?”
Inside, the villa is a little outdated with lots of red tiles and reddish-brown wood, but it has an incredible view of the water and Descanso Beach below.
“You never answered my question,” Oliver says.
“Which question?”
He gives me a look because he knows that I remember, well, kind of everything.
Which is a curse, if you’re wondering.
I mean, would you want to remember all of your worst moments like a highlight reel every night before you fall asleep?
Oh, that happens to you, too?
So you know.
“El...”
“He approached me,” I say.
“Why?”
“He’s working his case.”
“Why would he think that you’d know anything about Fred?”
I loop my arms around his neck. “Emma’s my best friend. It makes sense to talk to me. Plus, it’s Connor. Who knows how his mind works?”
Oliver grimaces. “Oh, I know how his mind works.”
“He’s not that bad,” Harper says.
We both turn. “What?”
“I’m not saying he’s perfect or anything. I mean, he’s still Connor . But he’s been trying to do better. You know, reform his ways or whatever.”
“Since when?”
“Italy,” Harper says. “He took the blame, right? And you don’t have to pay him anymore.”
I get that sick feeling in my stomach that I had on the boat. “Why are you defending him?”
“No reason.” Harper busies herself at the table. There’s a welcome basket on it, full of wine and fruit. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”
Oliver and I exchange a look because Harper is acting weird.
Not that I’m not grateful to her for distracting us from my conversation with Oliver.
Connor is a sore subject that I’d rather bury than exhume.
“Emma said there’d be a schedule.” I spot a piece of paper on the kitchen counter. I pick it up.
It’s written in pressed lettering on thick paper.
Welcome to Emma and Fred’s Wedding!
SURPRISE!
That’s right! We’re not filming any scenes from the movie. Instead, we’re on a journey to start our lives together! We’re so excited you could be with us for our big day!
We’ve got lots of fun activities planned for you over the next several days.
But first, we’d love to keep this wedding in the family—so please, no posting of pictures or videos while you’re here.
We also ask that you leave your phones in your rooms/villas , as per the conditions of our contract with People , who’ll be providing an exclusive look at the wedding for their readers!
In the meantime, here is the schedule for the weekend!
FRIDAY
12:30 p.m.—Lunch—Descanso Beach Club
2:00–5:00 p.m.—Afternoon activities
· Glass-bottomed boat tour
· Snorkeling
Let Shawna know which activity you’d like to do and when.
6:30 p.m.—Rehearsal dinner—Descanso Beach Club
SATURDAY
9:00 a.m.—Exhibition tennis match—Fred & Emma vs. Eleanor & Oliver
11:00 a.m.—Ropes course
12:30 p.m.—Lunch—Descanso Beach Club
6:00 p.m.—Wedding, followed by dinner & dancing until dawn!—Descanso Beach Club
A MIDNIGHT MURDER WILL BE SERVED.
Wait, what ?
29 Okay, maybe I said “please” once or twice in the bedroom, but I don’t like to think about that.
30 There’s at least one celebrity who should be canceled but somehow isn’t who lost a lot of money this way.
31 Tommy’s preset spiel can be found, in part, on the Catalina Island website.