Thank God he didn’t collapse.”
Neither of us talked for a while. Ever the prisoner of my training, I lapsed into thoughts of Claire’s childhood. Escape from… something… finding refuge in solitude… because solitude spun layers of fantasy… theater of the mind. Real theaters.
I said, “Claire’s love of movies. That’s something both the parents and Stargill mentioned. What if it led beyond just watching? Caused her to have acting aspirations? What if she answered a casting call-the same one Richard Dada answered?”
“She likes flicks, so all of a sudden she wants to be a star?”
“Why not?” I said. “It’s L.A. Maybe Claire did a bit on Blood Walk, too. There’s your link with Richard. The killer met both of them on the set.”
“Everything we’ve learned about this woman tells us she’s a privacy nut. You think she’d put herself in front of a camera?”
“I’ve known actors who were extremely shy. Taking on someone else’s identity allowed them to cut loose.”
“I guess,” he said doubtfully. “So they both meet some loon on the set and he decides to pick them off for God knows what motive…. Then why the time lapse
between the murders?”
“Maybe there are other murders in between that we don’t know about.”
“I looked for similars. Anything in car trunk, anything with eye wounds or saw marks. Nothing.”
“Okay,” I said. “Just a theory.”
The waitress came over and asked if we wanted dessert.
Milo’s barked “No thanks” made her step backward and hurry away.
“I understand about role-playing, Alex, but we’re talking Ms. Empty Room, her big thrill was being alone. I can see her taking in a matinee by herself, pretending to be Sharon Starlet, whatever. But going to the movies isn’t being in the movies.
Hell, I still can’t believe there’s no link to Starkweather. The woman worked with homicidal murderers, for God’s sake, and I’m expected to take it on faith that none of them got out and hunted her down. Meanwhile, we sit here wondering about some hypothetical acting gig.”
He pressed both temples, and I knew a headache had come on.
The waitress brought the check and held it out at arm’s length. Milo shoved a twenty at her, asked for aspirin, ordered her to keep the change. She smiled and hustled away looking frightened.
When she brought the tablets, he swallowed them dry. “To hell with Swig and his court orders. Time to get with State Parole, see what they can tell me about
Starkweather creeps flewing the coop since Claire went to work there. After that, sure, the movie thing, why not? Equipment rentals, like you suggested.”
Crumpling the aspirin packet, he dropped it into an ashtray. “Like you said, it’s
L.A. Since when has logic ever meant a damn thing here?”
16.
IN THE COFFEE-SHOP parking lot, he cell-phoned Sacramento, billing through LAPD.
Authorization took a while. So did being shunted from clerk to supervisor to clerk.
Every few seconds a plane swooped down to land. I stood around as he burned up calories keeping his voice even. Finally, his patience earned him the promise of a priority records search from State Parole.
“Which means days instead of weeks,” he said, walking over to a nearby phone booth and lifting a chained Yellow Pages from its shelf. Dried gum crusted the covers.
“One thing the supervisor did confirm: Starkweather guys do get out. Not often, but it happens. She knows for a fact because there was a case five years ago-some guy supposed to be on close supervision returned to his hometown and shot himself in the local barbershop.”
“So much for the system,” I said. “Maybe that’s why Swig was nervous.”
“The system is bullshit. People aren’t machines. Places like Quentin and Pelican
Bay, there’s all kinds of trouble. Either you cage them completely or they do whatever the hell they please.” He began paging through the phone directory. “Okay,
let’s find some rental outfits, play cinema sleuth.”
Most of the film equipment companies were in Hollywood and Burbank, the rest scattered around the Valley and Culver City.
“Hollywood first,” he said. “Where else?”
It was just after three P.M. when I followed Milo’s unmarked 135 onto the 405 and over to the 101. We got off at Sunset. Traffic was mean.