Of course she knew there were plenty of responsibilities that came along with all this wealth and comfort. And they took their toll on some folks: it drove them to drink and drugs and adultery. It was hard to be idolized and scrutinized. But she’d never had much sympathy for the complainers. So, people paid you millions to see you smile, and it made you feel inadequate. Tough shit.
She found Todd’s house readily enough. There was no number, but she recognized the castellated wall and the square lamps on either side of the gate. She drove on up the street, found a parking spot, and wandered back towards the house, trying to look as inconspicuous as any two hundred and three-pound woman in orange polyester pants could. When she reached the gates she saw that there was a car parked in the driveway, twenty yards inside the gates, its trunk open. There was no sign of anyone loading or unloading. She watched from the street for a minute or two, her courage alternately rising then failing her. She couldn’t just go up to the gate and ring the bell. What would she say? Hello, I’m Todd’s Number One Fan, and I was wondering if he was feeling okay? Ridiculous! They’d think she was a stalker and have her arrested. In fact they might be watching her right now, on a hidden camera: calling the police.
She stood there, quietly cursing herself for not having thought this through properly before she came up here. She didn’t know whether to stand her ground, and make the best of this nightmarish situation, or attempt to casually slip away.
Then a door slammed, somewhere out of sight. She wanted to make a run for it, but she too far from the car to make a quick retreat. All she could do was stand there and hope to God there was nobody looking at the security monitors at that particular moment.
Now came the sound of somebody whistling, and seconds later the whistler himself stepped into view. Tammy recognized him instantly. It was Marco Caputo, Todd’s assistant and bodyguard. She’d encountered the man twice before, once at the premiere party for The Burning Year, and the second time in Las Vegas, when Todd had been named Actor of the Year at ShoWest. She’d very politely presented her credentials as the President of the Appreciation Society, and politely asked Caputo if she could have a minute to talk with Todd. On both occasions he’d been rude to her. The second time, in fact, he’d called her ‘a crazy bitch’, which she’d complained to Maxine Frizelle about. Maxine had apologized in a halfhearted way and said it would never happen again, but Tammy wasn’t about to put Caputo’s temper to the test a third time, especially under these dubious circumstances.
Before he could look up and see her she backed off into the thicket of blackberry bushes that grew unchecked on the other side of the street. She kept her eyes on him at all times; he was too busy with his present labors to notice her, thank God; and now, hidden in the bushes, she had the perfect vantage point from which to observe him as he went back and forth between the house and the car. He was loading his vehicle up with an odd assortment of things: including several awards she knew belonged to Todd. He was also removing some other items: a variety of fancy ornaments, a marijuana plant in a pot, some framed photographs. All this, plus nine or ten sealed cardboard boxes, carefully placed in the trunk or on the back seat of his car. There was no sign of Todd through the process; nor did she hear any exchange from inside the house. If Todd was here, he was not engaged in conversation with Marco. But her instincts told her he was not here.
For fully a quarter of an hour she watched him work and finally — putting all the evidence together — she came to the conclusion that she was witnessing an act of theft. Of course, her dislike of the thief factored into her assessment, but there was no doubt that Caputo looked furtive as he went about his labors. Every now and then he’d glance up as if he was afraid he was being watched (perhaps he sensed that he was); and when he did she saw that his face was ill-shaven, and his eyes heavy. Sleep wasn’t coming too easily of late.