Black

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Black stared at the phone like it was a live snake, then raised the handset to his ear. "Hey, big guy. If it's advice you're looking for, four words: The butler did it," he quipped.

"Inside my heart soars like eagle at your pithy wit. Outside, not so much," Stan said, his voice typically dry and matter-of-fact.

"What's going on, chief?"

"You watch the news this morning?"

"No. Why? Did I win the lottery?"

"Another paparazzo bit the dust last night."

Black sat up, his mood no longer playful. "What?"

"Sliced up a block from FSA headquarters. Ugly. Lots of blood."

"Why are you telling me?"

"Why do you think? We're looking at your client as a possible. I just came from his house. His alibi sucks."

"Really? What was it?"

"That he was home, in his office. Problem is no witnesses. He claims he was reading scripts, so no computer history to verify he was there."

"Where was his wife?"

"Apparently she got the tequila flu and retired early."

"Daughter?"

"Wasn't there."

"Alarm system? Housekeepers?"

"Alarm wasn't on. Only the family at home. Or not."

"You're right. That's not a great alibi."

"Nope. Then again, we don't have anything linking him. No traffic cams of one of his vehicles in Santa Monica, no witnesses..."

Roxie's voice sounded from the front office again.

"What?" Black demanded, irritated at being interrupted.

"Your new client is on line two."

Black cupped his hand over the phone. "Shit. Really?" he asked her.

"You want me to tell him you're too busy to talk? Or you're in the bathroom or something?"

"No." Black returned his attention to Stan. "Are we done?"

"For now."

"Thanks for calling, buddy. Sorry you got another one thrown at you."

"Hey, at least it's job security, right?"

Black jabbed at the phone until line two lit up. "Black," he answered.

"Black. Hunter. The cops were just over here. Another scumbag got whacked, and they've got a hard-on for me."

"But all they did was question you?"

"Some bull about where was I last night. Like now I'm Jack the Ripper. I can't tell you how pissed off I am right now."

"Do you have an alibi?"

"Yeah, but I don't think they bought it."

"What was it?"

"That I was jerking off at the precise time they're curious about. Who the hell cares what it was? The point is I'm being raked over the coals. Have you made any progress?"

"Not really. It's only been one day. Remember our discussion..."

"Yeah, yeah. I got it the first time. You're a maverick. Work alone. Blah blah blah. Listen, that wasn't the main reason I called. You've got my schedule. Tonight's the sneak preview showing of the movie. I want you there."

"Why? Did you hire the security guy I put in touch with you?"

"Yes, but I want you, too. Because I can sense you're a film aficionado. You give off that vibe, with the clothes and all."

"The clothes?"

"Hey, I got nothing against you guys. To each his own, you know?" Someone in the background spoke to Hunter, and then he returned. "Listen, I don't have a lot of time to yak. Be there at 8:00. Show starts at 8:15."

Black found himself staring at the phone, a dial tone humming from the earpiece.

He glanced at his forties-cut retro suit jacket absently, wondering why everyone thought that such a classic look was the province of those celebrating alternative lifestyles, and then Roxie was standing at the door.

"You need to see this. FSA has a piece on Hunter from yesterday where he got into some kind of a fight."

Black stood and accompanied her back to her desk, where a photo of the actor from the worst possible angle managed to make him look paunchy, even though he didn't have an ounce of fat on him that Black could tell. He read the short blurb beneath it and whistled softly.

"Nothing like unbiased journalism. This makes it read like he went berserk and attacked some innocent bystanders for no reason."

"Isn't that what happened?" Roxie asked, and Black noticed that she smelled good - like vanilla and floral shampoo.

"Not at all. Some thugs were picking on a damsel in distress, and he came to her aid. I saw the whole thing. This is nothing more than a smear job."

"That's about what I'd expect from these guys. I checked the other big sites, and a few of them have photos, too. Probably taken with cell phones, but not bad. Their accounts more match your description of what went down."

"No question that FSA has it out for Hunter. Obviously, they hate his guts. I bet if he saved a basket of kitties, they'd spin it so it looked like he was trying to drown them."

"Hey, at least he's all over the news again. That can't hurt his new movie's chances, can it?"

Black eyed her profile thoughtfully. "Any publicity is good publicity - as they say?"

"I wouldn't know, given that my band has never managed to get noticed enough to worry about it."

"That's life in the big city." Black paused. "How did things work out with Eric?"

"I confronted him, and he swears on a stack of Bibles that he didn't do anything. I know he's a liar, but I kind of believe him." She looked away. "I'm a weak woman."

Black's hand instinctively moved to her shoulder to comfort her, but then stopped, hovering just behind it. A vision of Dr. Kelso popped into mind, staring at him like a stuffed boar's head. He lowered his arm and straightened.

"Hey. Nobody's perfect, right?"

"I guess not. I wish I had the cash to hire you to shadow him for a few days so I could know for sure."

"If you did, you wouldn't be working here, and that would be my loss. And think how it would impact Mugsy - the fat little shit would have to be nice to me so I'd feed him. I think it would kill him."

"He's probably rolling around on your jacket as we speak. Or using it as a scratching post or something."

Black's eyes widened and he darted back into his office. Mugsy was lying on the seat of his executive chair, methodically shredding the leather.

"Mugsy! Get off that right now!" Black screamed. Mugsy glanced up at him with a look of studied feline insouciance and then plopped down onto the floor with his trademark expression of disdain. Black watched as he stalked past on stiff legs, took up position by Roxie, and closed his eyes, exhausted from the exertion of destroying yet more of Black's meager possessions.

Black sighed and called out to her. "Let me know when you have the phone stuff on Hunter. That may give us a direction to pursue, because right now we've got squat, and the paparazzi are heading the endangered species list. And Hunter's a prime suspect, which is bad for us, especially if he's been naughty."

"Naughty might be a little tame for serial killing."

"Man's innocent until proven guilty."

"Aren't we all..."