The Past, page 19
Caroline sat quietly for a few moments. Her eyes didn’t tell him much. “I never suspected you were. Everyone has something they’re not proud of. I’ve done plenty of things I wish I could take back.”
“Not like what I’ve done.”
“Ben, you’re a good person. You didn’t stay there. You found another way. A chance came to get out, and you took it. Besides, the scripture stresses we’re not to judge others. It’s for them to judge themselves.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean everyone has done wrong in their life. We don’t have the right to judge someone else.”
He searched her eyes for any betrayal, but he only saw acceptance. “I guess I didn’t know that part, about the not judging.”
“If you read far enough, you’ll find it’s in there.”
“I figured you’d surely walk out.”
“I’m made from stronger principles than that.” She grinned. “You didn’t forget, did you? We plan to snorkel at the orphanage after you get out. You promised. The girls there will think it’s awesome such a handsome man from the movies came to see them.”
“I didn’t forget. I already signed contracts on new film projects, but I’ll find time. I’ll make time. Assuming those jobs are still mine when I get out of here.”
“You’re a great actor. With this much exposure, everyone will want you. I’ve always heard there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
An hour later Caroline left him. She told him she needed to get ready for her meeting. He wished he could hear her preach. Just another reason he had to get out of here.
Twenty years earlier
Ben continued north along I-5. Time drifted with no context. Miles separated him from the De Palmas. He’d cried until he had no tears left. He had to learn to survive on his own again.
He didn’t know what happened back in La Jolla. He felt sure that whatever had happened, that young pregnant woman was involved. She’d lied, but about what? Bonita had been suspicious, too, but she still wanted to help. The killer surely took the girl with him. Was it the father of the baby? He hated not knowing what had happened. Hated that he’d run away even more.
He put one foot in front of another until he wanted to drop, but a breather on the interstate was impossible. In the distance he could make out an overpass. He could rest there and hide from the sun for a few minutes.
The sound of a vehicle slowing down got his attention. His first instinct was to run, but that would be impossible. Cars by the hundreds crowded the lanes. He turned to see a black limousine pull up next to him. Thank God. He’d thought for a second it was his father.
If they meant to harm him, plenty of people would witness it. The back window eased down, revealing a woman inside. Ear lobes covered in diamonds, she belonged in the limo. She seemed older than forty. When she smiled, crow’s feet crinkled at the corners of her eyes.
“You’re one handsome young man. Where are you headed?” The words sounded rehearsed. She’d made arrangements like this before. Her brown hair was highlighted with blonde streaks. When she lifted a hand to her cheek, he saw her perfectly manicured fingers, long false nails a brilliant red. The cream-colored suit fit as though tailor-made specifically for her.
“I’m between jobs right now. So I’m open to suggestions.” The line sounded stupid, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.” He figured he couldn’t push it too much, or she’d never believe him.
She tilted her head and studied him for several seconds. “I think you’ll do fine. Get in.”
He should feel leery after Cathy, but this woman seemed different. And he couldn’t resist the chance to ride in a limo, even though he was certain he knew what she wanted. For his next meal and a bed for the night, he’d gladly give it. He strolled around to the other side and scooted his butt across the seat.
“My name’s Ben.” He stuck his hand out to shake, but she ignored it.
“Call me Sweetness. Everyone does.”
“Okay.” Seemed like a stupid name to him, but whatever.
By this time, the limo traveled toward downtown LA. They sat in silence for the rest of the journey. When they past the Staples Center on I-10, he didn’t know where they were headed and didn’t want to ask. Wherever they went, he’d covered a lot of territory from La Jolla. Sweetness kept herself occupied by gazing out the window. She’d seemed attentive at first, but now she didn’t seem interested.
Whatever happened, he would keep alert. At least they got him farther away from his old man. He didn’t doubt his father meant to kill him, and nothing was worse than dead.
The vehicle turned off I-10 onto the 405. Once they exited on North Santa Monica Boulevard, he recognized the rich part of LA located nearby. He’d been there before with his father. They’d picked up a pregnant lady who worked as a maid in the area. He said someone paid him to give her a ride to the doctor, but his old man lied a lot. So who knew what the real story was.
They took a left on Rodeo Drive and arrived at the heart of Beverly Hills. Everyone understood what this meant. People with real money. He sat back and wondered if he’d turned a corner into something good.
The limo wound through a neighborhood of glitzy, monstrous homes, finally pulling into a driveway. Ben stared up at the glass and concrete mansion, all sharp angles and stark tones. This was a house, not a home, but it seethed wealth. He couldn’t dream of owning such a place.
The chauffeur opened the door for Sweetness. She got out and went directly into the main entrance. She didn’t indicate what she wanted him to do so he stayed put. The man got back in and drove them to a huge garage in the back. The guy still didn’t say a word to him, so he got out and waited for directions. The old driver stared at him and moved toward a back entrance to the main structure.
He was starting to have second thoughts about this. Was anyone going to invite him in? “What should I do?”
“This way, please.” The driver motioned with his head toward the doorway.
He followed him into an ultra-modern kitchen, huge and sterile, nothing like the De Palma’s tiny, bustling kitchen that had always simmered with conversation and spices. His stomach growled. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “My name’s Ben. May I get yours? I don’t know what to call you.”
The old gentleman swung around. “I’m Charles.”
He nodded.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes, sir. Last I ate was early this morning.”
“Sit down. Our cook will bring you something shortly.”
He sat at a breakfast nook with his backpack. Charles left through a door to the far side of the room. In a few minutes, the man appeared with a short, thin woman in her fifties. His dad always said never to trust a skinny cook, but his old man hadn’t been right about anything else. He smiled at the lady.
“My name’s Myrna. Charles says you’re hungry.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Dinner isn’t served for several hours so how about a ham and Swiss cheese sandwich. That should hold you over.”
“Sounds good. Do you know, will I stay for dinner?”
“More than likely. An attractive boy like yourself? She’s been known to keep them for a long time.”
He sighed with relief. A long time with a roof over his head and food in his stomach sounded great. He’d work hard at whatever the woman wanted.
After he finished his sandwich and a glass of milk, the cook took him up the back stairs to a room—a huge room with a queen bed and plush carpet in tones of beige. He ran a hand over the bed cover. Was that silk?
He glanced at Myrna. “When will I see Sweetness again?” He still didn’t know for sure why he was here instead of on the streets.
“She’ll come down for dinner. You’ll see her then.”
“How long until the evening meal? I mean, I need to know what time to come down.”
“I put it on the table at seven sharp. Don’t drag in late.” She closed the door behind her.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said to the empty room.
He explored and opened the two other doors in the room. One contained a large walk-in closet, the other a good size bathroom. He found the remote in the night stand, and flipped on the huge TV. In a few seconds the screen lit up with HD clarity.
He still worried a little about what she expected from him. He’d thought he understood, but now she didn’t seem to want him for sex. So he didn’t have a clue, unless she needed other jobs done that Charles couldn’t handle anymore. He surfed the channels, found his favorite show, and watched an episode of The X-Files to pass the time.
He came down the back stairs ten minutes before seven. The cook was putting the last of the food into serving dishes.
“Need help?”
She peeked up. “Sure. Take the dressing caddy in and set it on the table.”
He picked up the contraption she’d nodded toward and carried it to the huge dining table, wondering how rich you had to be to serve this many salad dressings on a table set for three guests. A table set with delicate china and silver, he noted. How did anyone keep all those forks and spoons straight? Maybe he should offer to eat at the breakfast nook by himself.
He returned to the kitchen and asked the cook, “What do I do with the extra silverware out there? We only used one fork, spoon, and sometimes a knife at home.”
She laughed. “Use the one on the outside first and watch the others for the rest. You’ll do fine. Besides, Sweetness loves to teach young men new tricks.”
He didn’t know how to take the last comment. That could mean anything. Damn, he wanted to get this over with. Surely by tomorrow he’d know what went on around here.
At seven, Sweetness entered the dining room with an older gentleman on her arm. The man stood small in stature, but so did she. They seemed to belong together. Both nodded at him as they took their seats. They’d barely sat down when Sweetness addressed her companion.
“Paul, this young man’s come to stay with us for a time. I found him hitchhiking on the I-5 and thought I might keep him busy for a bit.”
“I bet you can.” The man grinned.
“What’s your name? I didn’t catch it before.”
“Ben.” He smiled.
She proceeded to ignore his presence for the rest of the evening.
Sweetness and Paul discussed many subjects during the meal. He learned Paul produced movies and sat on many boards to do with the film industry. Sweetness had her committees, too, but she didn’t seem as busy as Paul. About halfway through the evening, a beautiful man in his late twenties came into the room and seated himself beside Sweetness.
“Gordon, this young man is Ben. He’ll stay with us for a time,” Sweetness said.
The dark-haired man nodded at him. “Understood.”
“I’m so glad you got here in time to join us for dessert.” Paul’s expression softened.
“Always,” Gordon answered.
The three finished the evening with talk about issues that held no interest for him. He wanted to excuse himself, but he hesitated to interrupt their conversation. By his manner with Paul, Gordon appeared gay, but he’d never paid attention to anyone who was. His father always called them horrid names. He’d never been around homosexual men before and didn’t know what to say, but he understood he couldn’t say what his father did.
Around ten thirty, the two men got up and left together. It didn’t surprised him. He figured the evening might turn out this way. When Sweetness came to his side of the table and took his hand, he got up and went with her. This time they climbed the expensive stairs in the front of the house. They strolled down the hall to his room. After he opened the door, she went in and closed it behind them.
She sauntered over and sat on the bed. “Did you ever learn to please a woman?” She patted the place beside her.
He shook his head no and moved toward her.
“Do you think now would be a good time for a lesson?”
He knew the correct answer and gave it.
By the time he left Beverly Hills, two and a half years later, he equaled any expert in the field, but he got too old for Sweetness, so he had to go. While he stayed with her, she helped him get his GED, taught him how to use silverware, and set him up with an apartment. Her last gift was a list of women who’d gladly take her place.
A year later, on a whim, he walked into a casting call. Paul Malone stood in the outer foyer, and gave him a nervous glance when he recognized who he was. By then, he understood what a beard meant. Sweetness was Paul’s. They’d been married for thirty-odd years. Everyone believed they lived as the perfect Hollywood couple, and they did. They loved each other, but not in a sexual way.
“Long time no see.” Paul nodded.
“Yes. I hope Sweetness is well.” He smiled cordially.
“She is. What part are you auditioning for?”
“I’m not sure. I saw the sign and wanted to give it a shot. Dumb idea, I guess.” He shrugged.
“This movie has a small part with several lines, a character named Todd. Go study those lines for a few minutes. We’ll give it a run through and see what happens. I can’t do any better than this since you’re new in the business. I’ll come get you in a bit.”
“Okay.” He wandered back out into the common area and followed Paul’s instructions.
He got the part, and they never mentioned why. He believed Paul feared not to, but he didn’t intend to out him. He’d been as surprised to discover Paul there as Paul had been to see him.
After the break the producer gave him, more offers came his way, lengthier and more involved roles. Women loved him, and the camera did too. The first time he was asked to read for a lead in a film, complete shock accompanied the thrill. He told himself he’d earned this with hard work. But he never lost the shame of how he landed his first role.
19
Paige waited on a bench in the hallway for Buck and Vern to get through with their meeting. Her phone signaled Bill’s ringtone. She hoped he finally got the murder book for her.
“Hi, gorgeous. Good news. I put the murder book on your computer a minute ago.”
“Thank God. I need to find out where Ben McCall’s fingerprints were found all those years ago and why. He still hasn’t coughed up the truth about them.”
“I didn’t go through it. I’ve been busy on another case. That’s why I took so long.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad I finally I got it. Now I can study it. I’ll work on it tonight. At the present time, I’m waiting for friendly cops to come out of a meeting. Is Hank still doing okay?”
“I stayed there again last night. He’s fine, unless you consider he doesn’t leave his recliner except to go to the toilet.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your help with him. When I get home, we’ll tackle his liquor problem and sedentary lifestyle. You will help me, won’t you?”
“Of course. He meant a lot to everyone on the job here. Besides he half-raised Bobby and me.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“I need to go. My boss is headed my way.” He disconnected.
She glanced up and saw a familiar face. His dark hair and tall stature would turn any woman’s head, but he’d saved her life so she had an additional reason to like this guy. “Oh my God. They let anyone in here, don’t they?” She got up to shake his hand, but he turned it into a hug.
“We’re way past handshakes except in formal settings. So why are you here?” Trin’s smile reached clear to his eyes.
“It’s a long story, but I got caught up in this case. Once we have a few minutes, I’d like to get your take on it. They’re expecting someone from the FBI. You, I guess. I’m not officially on the case. So I’m waiting out here.”
“Who says you’re not officially on the case?”
“Listen. Buck and Vern have been great. I don’t want to make any waves. I’m reasonably sure their supervisor knows nothing about me. I can’t prove anything, yet, but I think our cases are related. So I want to stay a little mouse who hears any small detail that could help me.”
“Yes, but unlike the last time, I won’t let you out of my sight. Why don’t you come in? We’ll let them assume you’re with me.”
“You think it’ll work? I don’t want to get anybody in trouble. I want their help.”
“It’ll be fine. If the detectives in charge of the case shared with you, you might know more than I do. Besides, you know how these cases go between police and the FBI. They won’t divulge any piece of information they can hold back.”
She grinned. “It’s the way we usually play it, but this time I’m not officially the police.”
“You mean you don’t work for TPD on this.”
“In a way, but not technically.”
“Cryptic, are we?” Trin raised his brows.
The squad room door opened. Buck stuck his head out.
“We wondered what took so long. Figured you might’ve gotten lost in the maze.”
“I met an old friend along the way. We worked a case together last summer,” Trin said.
“I see.” Buck nodded.
“Any chance we could get her on the case with us? I found her helpful last year.”
“We can run it by LT. Vern and I got no problem with it.”
“I told him I came to observe, but he seemed to think I could help. You sure? I don’t want to butt in.” She paused for a moment to watch Buck’s response. “I’ll do what I can to assist. We need to get this guy off the streets.”
“You’re the one who recognized the pattern in the blood. I got no problem if you give us a hand. I don’t think LT will either, but we gotta ask. Hell, I’m retired once we solve this case. What do I care?”
