Heart Attack and Vine, page 14
“Because you’re so used to it. I saw him in the graveyard. Right after I spotted Brandon. We fought.”
She gestured to Crush’s head. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”
“Oh, he didn’t do this. Do you think Bub could have killed your father?”
“No. Bub is a soldier. He only does what Lustig tells him to do, and Lustig wanted my father alive to finish the job.”
“How well did your father know Adam?”
“They were drinking buddies. Adam loves colorful characters. My father filled that bill.”
“I need to talk to Adam.”
“I don’t know if I can disturb him. He’s working on the script.”
“Isn’t figuring out who killed your father more important to him than a movie?”
“You don’t know show business people very well, do you?”
They’d made it to the Monteleone, a big Beaux Arts edifice on the outer edge of the French Quarter. While walking through the lobby to the elevator, Rachel called Adam on her cell phone to tell him they were coming. “He’s not answering. Wait here while I see how he is. We don’t want to burst in on him while he’s writing.”
“Why not?”
“Sometimes he’s naked and watching German dungeon porn. It fuels his muse.”
Crush didn’t want to walk in on that, so he waited in the lobby while she went up. Glancing into the bar he saw Sterling sitting there nursing a tumbler full of amber liquid. The bar was round and decorated like a carousel. At first he thought it was an optical illusion, but the bar was actually turning slowly around, like a drunkards’ merry-go-round.
Crush walked over and climbed onto the stool next to Sterling.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey yourself,” Sterling replied. “Do you like the ride? I do. It makes you feel drunk even before you’ve started drinking.”
“Yeah. It’s a little early for bourbon, isn’t it?” Crush asked.
“Early, late,” Sterling said, “what difference does it make?” He was slurring his words a little, so this evidently was not his first drink.
“Something bothering you?”
“Aside from the fact that I can’t get hard even if I take five Viagras? I’m old, that’s what’s bothering me. I’m used up. I should have died in 1995. That was my last good year.”
Crush ordered a cranberry juice from the bartender. Sterling snorted. “Why don’t you have a real drink?”
“Because I’m an alcoholic, remember?”
“How can you be an alcoholic if you don’t drink? That’s like being a vegetarian who only eats meat.”
“What’s bothering you?”
They were gliding past the front windows. Sterling gave a little wave to passersby on the street and then looked back into his empty glass. “I tried to tell him. I actually got up the nerve to tell Adam he was crazy. For dumping Polly.”
“How’d it go?”
“I got two words out before he fired me. And he didn’t just fire me. He said he was taking my Don Quixote idea for himself. Said I was too old to do it justice.”
“Can he do that?”
“He can do whatever he wants. He’s Adam Udell.” He shook the ice in his glass and tried for another swallow. “For now.”
“For now?”
“As long as his movies make money. As long as he doesn’t piss the studios off. Remember Michael Cimino?”
“No.”
“Neither does anybody else. Adam’s doing it now. He’s going off the deep end.”
“How so?”
“He’s locked himself in his suite. He’s not making his movie. Worse yet, he’s rewriting it. He showed me the pages. He’s ruining it. Taking out all the action. Making a plea for peace, for God’s sake.”
“Peace is bad?”
“Peace is fine. In its place. But it’s not box office. It’s not what people want from The Rage Machine. It’s not what people want from Adam Udell.” He finished his drink. “Mark my words, his days are numbered.”
“What’s pushing him over the edge?”
Sterling shrugged. “Success? It’s a cruel mistress.”
“Did he say anything about what happened last night in the cemetery?” Crush asked.
“He just said he was a changed man. That he couldn’t go back to being the Adam Udell they want him to be. Trust me, when he shows studio executives those new pages, they’ll be on the plane in thirty seconds to shut the production down and hire a new director. I wish I could be there to see it.”
Crush’s cell phone vibrated. He read the text from Rachel. Adam will see you for dinner. He put the phone away.
“Is that from Rachel?” Sterling asked.
“Yep.”
“How is she?” Sterling asked.
“Her father’s dead.”
“Lloyd?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I thought he’d outlive me. What was it? His heart?”
“His head. He got a bullet in it.”
“You’re shitting me. Who did it?”
“We don’t know.”
“I liked Lloyd,” Sterling said. “He had great stories. He lived a life.” Sterling raised his empty glass. “To Lloyd.”
It was only at that moment that Crush really accepted that Lloyd was gone from the earth. He was a con man and liar and only out for himself, but he was the closest thing to a father that Crush had ever known. He raised his glass of cranberry juice and clinked. “To Lloyd.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“What are you going to do now?” Crush asked.
“I don’t really know,” Sterling said. “I’d hire a whore but I couldn’t do anything with her except listen to her talk, and I’m not masochist enough for that. I guess I’ll just sit here and drink myself to death. That’s not as easy as it sounds.”
“You want to go back to my hotel? Polly’s there.”
Sterling cocked an eye toward him. “She is, huh? Nice.” He chuckled. “I’m glad you were able to soften the blow for her.”
“It’s not like that,” Crush said.
“Then what is it like?”
Crush couldn’t quite answer that question.
“Oh, brother,” Sterling said as he watched Crush hesitate. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for her. That one is very complicated. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years it’s that complicated women are too complicated.”
Crush checked his watch. It was one-thirty in the afternoon. He’d told Polly he’d be back by noon. He thought of calling her but decided he’d walk back to the hotel and see if she was still there. He climbed off the carousel and gave Sterling a salute. He’d grown fond of the old guy.
He walked to the Best Western, wrapping his jacket tightly around himself to keep out the chill. Back at the hotel, he knocked on Polly’s door and she answered. “You did come back,” she said. “I thought maybe I’d scared you off.”
“It takes a lot more than that to scare me,” he said.
They paused in the doorway, both wondering if they should kiss. Kissing now, the first time they saw each other after last night, that would say something. That would say they were in some kind of relationship. Not kissing, that would say that last night was a one-shot deal, born of a broken heart and broken head.
He stepped around her and walked into the room.
“What did you do today?” she asked him.
“Walked around.” He was about to tell her the story when she cut him off.
“Cool. Me, I slept late and started reading Anna Karenina.” She gestured to her Kindle. “I haven’t read it since the last time somebody dumped me. Back in college. It’s a whole different book now. When you’re over forty Levin becomes the main character.” She glanced at him as if she were afraid she had offended him. “But I don’t imagine you’ve read that.”
“Why? Russian books have too many big words for me?”
Now she looked sure that she’d offended him. “No, I just—”
“I’m kidding,” he said. “Actually I haven’t read it. But it’s on my sensei’s list of books I should know. Right after Crime and Punishment and 1984.”
“How many books are on the list?”
“Five hundred.”
“He must be a hard taskmaster.”
“She is.” He wanted to sit down, but the only places to sit were the desk chair and the bed. If he sat on the chair, she’d have to sit on the bed. If he sat on the bed, she might join him. He remained standing.
“I’d like to meet her, Caleb,” Polly said. She called him by his first name. The only other people who did that were Zerbe and Gail. Rush didn’t know how he felt about that.
“Her name is Catherine Gail. She saved my life. Taught me how to channel my anger and…” He was cut off mid-sentence by her kiss. It was a softer kiss than the ones she’d given him last night. Those had been angry and devouring. This was a tender, inviting kiss. Her arms were around him, and he found himself kissing her with equal tenderness.
“Are you sure about this?” he murmured.
She gave a little laugh. “You didn’t ask that last night.”
“You didn’t give me the chance.”
“I’m sure,” she said. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him. “It’s the only thing I am sure of right now.”
They moved to the bed and took their time, exploring each other’s bodies with delicate fascination. Time seemed to pause, to be held in place. Forgetting all his troubles, he was lost in the flow of just being. He had no idea whether they were going at it for fifteen minutes or fifteen hours. When they were still, they lay with their arms entwined, their breathing quiet and calm as if they’d had their first good night’s sleep in weeks.
“I better not make a habit of that,” she said, her head resting on his chest.
“Why not?” he asked, tracing his fingers on her skin.
“I could get hooked,” she said. “Tell me about your day. What happened on your walk?”
“Nothing much.”
“No.” She ran her finger along the scar on his head. “Talk to me. If we’re quiet I’ll have nothing to think about except how this can’t possibly go anywhere.”
“Why does it have to go anywhere?”
“See, you’re thinking about it, too.”
So he told her what had happened that day. He told her about going to the motel with Rachel and finding out that her father had been killed. About going to the morgue to identify the body.
“That’s awful,” Polly said.
Then he told her he was going to talk to Adam that night. Polly didn’t take it too well. She plucked her e-cigarette off the bedside table and started to vape.
“So you’re going to talk to Adam. I don’t like that. He’ll get you in his orbit again. I thought you were out of it, Crush.” So he was Crush again.
“I don’t care about Adam Udell,” Crush said. “I care about Lloyd. I have to find out who killed him.”
“From what I saw of Lloyd, you’re well rid of him.”
“You didn’t like him?”
“Well, I didn’t trust him. Did you?”
“Not particularly. But I didn’t want to see him dead.”
She brushed the hair from her eyes. “I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.”
“Weren’t you?” She sat up straight, naked and angry, ready to pounce.
“Okay, it crossed my mind. But I doubt that you’d use a gun to kill a man.”
“What would I use?”
“Your bare hands.”
She blew a cloud of electronic smoke at him. “Damn straight. What difference does it make who did it anyway? It was bound to happen. Lloyd and Rachel and Adam, they’re all bad news. Those people will do nothing but suck you into their vortex of disaster.” She paused. “That would be a good title for a movie. Vortex of Disaster. Maybe I’ll go home and write it. Not that I have a home.”
“You can stay at my place. My brother would be happy to have company.”
“Will you come back with me?”
“Not right now. I need to see this through.”
“Then fuck you very much, Crush.” She got up and went into the bathroom. He heard the shower running. Looking up at the ceiling, he tried to recapture the calm feeling of relaxation that had flowed through his body only minutes before, but it was gone. A knock on the door came as a welcome distraction.
“Just a minute,” he said as he pulled on his clothes and opened the door. Lieutenant Savoy stood outside with a uniformed officer backing her up.
“Well, hello, Mr. Rush,” she said, looking fake-surprised. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“Not at the moment,” he said. “Are you looking for Polly Coburn?”
“We were looking for you, actually. You didn’t answer your door. We thought Miss Coburn might know where you were.”
“Well, here I am. What do you want?”
“Just to let you know that we have apprehended Mr. Renbourn. At least we think we have.”
“You think?”
“He has no driver’s license and he won’t talk. We were wondering if you could come down to the station and ID him.”
“Fingerprints won’t work?”
“That takes time. We can only hold him for a few hours without charging him. Would you mind?”
Something about this didn’t sound quite right to Crush, but he thought he’d play along and see where it led. The shower had stopped, so Crush knocked on the bathroom door. “Polly? I’m going out for a while.”
“Are you coming back?” she asked.
“If you want me to.”
“I think I want you to.”
“Then I think I’ll be back.”
Lieutenant Savoy eyed him. “Did we come at a bad time?”
“You came when you came,” Crush said, heading out the door.
“Don’t you want to get your jacket? It’s chilly outside,” Savoy said.
That didn’t sound right either but Crush grabbed his jacket and walked out with them. He wanted to see where Savoy was going with this. They rode the elevator down in silence and walked through the lobby out to the waiting squad car. Climbing into the back seat, he found Rachel inside.
“They nabbed you, too?” she asked, surprised to see him.
“It looks like it.”
Savoy climbed into passenger seat up front. “You really need both of us to identify him?” Crush asked.
“I don’t want there to be any mistakes,” Savoy said.
They pulled out. After they took a few turns, Crush could tell that they weren’t heading for the police station. “Where are we going?”
“Just need to make a quick stop first. Hope you don’t mind,” Savoy said.
“What if we do mind?” Rachel asked.
“It’ll only be a minute.” Savoy didn’t turn around. They were in the back of a patrol car, behind a grate, with no handles on the doors. If they weren’t under arrest, Crush couldn’t tell the difference.
Rachel didn’t speak to Crush. Crush didn’t speak to Rachel. They knew enough not to talk in front of the police. The squad car drove around the boundaries of the French Quarter until they reached the gates of Cemetery Number Four. They stopped and the cop who was driving got out and opened the rear door.
Crush and Rachel got out of the car and followed as Savoy led the way into the cemetery. The air was brisk and Crush thought he couldn’t wait to get back to the heat and smog of Los Angeles. Savoy led them through the tombstones and crypts, walking in the direction of Adam’s pyramid. The uniformed officer went along with her, carrying a duffle bag slung over his arm.
The sky was heavy with dark clouds, and it looked like it might pour at any moment. They reached Adam’s tomb. “That’s quite a thing,” Savoy said. “Have you seen this before?”
Crush knew to stick as close to the truth as possible. “Yeah,” he said. “Adam brought me here yesterday.”
“Adam Udell?”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “That’s his mausoleum.”
“So I’ve heard,” the Lieutenant said. “And you were here, too?”
“Why do you want to know?” Rachel asked.
“Because…we’re the police,” Savoy said. “We like to know things.”
“Adam brought me here,” Crush said.
“And you?” the Lieutenant asked Rachel.
“I came on my own.”
“And you just met by coincidence?” Savoy asked.
“It was a date,” Rachel said.
“You were having an affair?”
“Not yet. We were building up to one. The journey is half the fun.”
“I see. Go on.”
Rachel told Savoy how she’d waited to meet Adam and Crush by the gravesite. How they’d gone into the tomb to make out.
“Really?” Savoy said.
“Don’t judge,” Rachel said. “The heart wants what it wants.”
“When did Brandon Renbourn show up?” the Lieutenant asked.
“What makes you think he showed up?” Rachel asked.
“He told me.”
“I thought he didn’t talk to you,” Crush said.
“Oh, I lied about that,” Savoy said.
Savoy looked at Crush. “You want to tell me what happened next?”
“Not particularly,” Crush said.
“Well, how ’bout if I tell you what Renbourn told me and you can correct me anytime the story goes wrong?” Savoy said. “He said he was lying here on the ground, taking pictures. He said you had agreed to it, Miss.”
“He’s crazy,” Rachel said.
“Renbourn said you attacked him, Mr. Rush. Viciously and without provocation. He said he ran off and hid. He said he was terrified.”
“I can be pretty terrifying,” Crush said.
Savoy turned to Rachel now. “Do you have the key to that door?” she asked, pointing to the pyramid.
“No,” she said. “Adam has it.”
“And where is Adam Udell? He wasn’t at the hotel when we picked you up.”
“I told you, he went for a walk. He often does when he’s writing.”
“We could wait for him to come back,” Savoy said, “but I’d really like to look inside there. Wouldn’t you, Mr. Rush?”
“Not particularly.”
“I could force it open.”
