Chapter 20
Ifigured we could smile and wave and fly right past the security guard at the studio lot. I mean, who stops somebody in a red Ferrari? We looked like we fit in.
Well, they stopped us.
The guard stepped out of the booth and looked us over. Jack flashed his badge, and the security guard didn't seem terribly impressed. He was dressed in a drab gray uniform with black accents.
JD said, "We're here to see Irving.”
"What's your name?"
"Jack Donovan," he said with a beaming smile.
He stepped back into the booth and fiddled with the computer for a moment, then returned. "Sorry, I don't see you on the list. Do you have an appointment?”
"It's more of an impromptu meeting.”
"Mr. Roth is a busy man. I suggest you call his office and schedule an appointment.”
"This is official police business."
"I'm sorry, but you will need an appointment.”
Jack frowned at him. "We're investigating a homicide."
That didn't phase the security guard. "Call the office. If it's important, I'm sure Mr. Roth will be more than happy to accommodate you."
I'm sure the security guard had heard every excuse in the book from actors trying to get on the lot, looking for their big break. In this town, I wouldn't put it past guys to rent a Ferrari and fake badges and try to pull a stunt like this.
Jack put the Ferrari into gear and turned around at the U-turn. A line of cars had grown behind us, waiting to get on the lot.
"What now?" JD asked.
"Let’s find Damien Stone,” I suggested, then called Joel. He told me the name of the restaurant Damien worked at, and we headed over to Melrose.
Jack pulled up to the valet at Nibble. The guy hustled around to get the door. Jack flashed his badge and told him to keep it up front.
We climbed out of the car and stepped inside.
The place was packed, and the murmur of conversation filled the air.
It was one of those places that served New American Cuisine with a stylish presentation in small portions, hence the name.
Farm to table, healthy dishes. Way overpriced.
But that was par for the course around here.
I flashed my badge at a cute blonde hostess. "Looking for Damien Stone.”
She laughed. "He doesn’t work here anymore.”
I shared a surprised look with Jack, then asked, "What happened?"
"He kept showing up drunk or stoned. He screwed up people's orders and went off on tangents about who he was, or rather who he used to be. Evan fired his sorry ass. Last I heard he was selling his ass on Sunset.”
I was even more surprised by that revelation. "You know where on Sunset?”
She gave me a curious look. "Why? You interested in making a purchase?"
I gave her a flat look. "No. We want him for questioning in connection with a homicide."
That rounded her eyes. "Oh." She scanned the restaurant, then pointed to one of the waiters who hustled across the floor with a tray of food on his shoulder. "Talk to Eddie. He told me he saw Damien the other day. He might be able to tell you where.”
I thanked her for the information, then we weaved our way through the tables to catch up with Eddie. After another flash of the badge and a brief introduction, Eddie said, "Yeah, I swear to God it was him. On Western.” Eddie shook his head. “This town is crazy. Dude had everything.”
"What time of day was this?"
"That's the crazy thing. This was the middle of the afternoon. Broad daylight. I didn't stop and talk to him or anything, so I don't know exactly what he was doing. But to me, it was pretty obvious. Why else would he be loitering around there?”
We thanked him for the information, left the restaurant, and the valet pulled around the car.
JD and I hopped in, and we drove down to Western Avenue.
We cruised around the neighborhood and saw plenty of street activity.
Girls in painted on dresses and stilettos with hemlines high and cheeky.
They waved at cars, trying to draw attention.
Drug deals went down. Exchanges of money and merchandise with a handshake.
All you had to do was slow down and pull to the curb. Someone would approach.
We drove the track but didn't see Damien among the working.
It sounded like he didn't have anyone to blame but himself. I'm sure in his mind he had made a solid case why Vivian was responsible for his downfall.
I called Isabella. "I need another favor.” I gave her the scoop about Vivian. "Can you track down a guy named Kai Mason. Aspiring actor in Los Angeles?"
"You got a phone number for him?"
"I don't have anything for him."
"Let me see what I can do, and I'll call you back."
I thanked her for the information, and we continued to roll through the seedy neighborhood.
Isabella called me back a few minutes later. "Right now his phone is at the Neon Lotus on Melrose.”
It was a trendy, upscale sushi joint.
"Judging by his cell phone history, he's there a lot. I'm going to say he waits tables. His phone also spends a lot of time at an apartment in Hollywood. The unit is in Claire Forrester's name. I'm assuming that's his girlfriend, and he lives with her.”
"Thank you, you're the best."
"I know. And you're welcome. But don't get sidetracked."
"I won't. But I’ve got to do this favor for Joel. Would you mind looking into this?”
She said she’d be in touch and ended the call.
Jack called Scarlett.
"Enjoying my car?"
"I am,” JD said with a smile. “I might not give it back.”
"You can afford to buy your own.”
"I just might do that. You want to meet us for lunch at the Neon Lotus?”
"Look at you getting all fancy. Are you looking to spot celebrities? You'll see them there. It's all the rage right now.”
"Great. We’re about 20 minutes out, give or take. Depending on traffic.”
"I'll see you there.”
Jack ended the call and grinned. His foot grew heavy and we left the track behind.