Helena Goes to Hollywood: A Helena Morris Mystery (10 page)

Bernadette and Rob were there and Rob was waving his prop weapon around like a cowboy. Bernadette looked uncomfortable just touching it.

I reached out, silently offering to take it off her hands. The Glocks were authentic in look and feel. I was lucky my ex trained me on an FBI standard issue weapon. Not that my gun knowledge was limited to one but I didn’t need them much. “Blanks?” I asked the director.

“Of course.”

“Good. Rob, have you ever shot a gun before?”

“Only a rifle one time at my uncle’s. Nothing like this in real life.” He made the little sounds like it was a BB gun.

“I don’t like guns.” Bernadette shook her head. “In England the police don’t even carry them.”

“Well, this is America, sweetheart.” Rob pointed it at her and jerked it like it’d fired.

I grabbed his gun from him with more force than needed. “Rule number one—no pointing guns, even fake guns, at people unless it’s in the script and you’re rehearsing. Okay?”

Rob grumbled and shrugged.

“Sam said you’re good with martial arts. Can’t we learn that instead?” Bernadette gave diva a new meaning. Considering I’d never heard of this actress before, she hadn’t really earned the right to be so difficult, not in my book.

“I don’t write the script, I’m just going to show you how to do what they wrote.” I pulled my own gun out of the back of my jeans and set it on the table. “Rob’s right, this is America. Every law enforcement officer has a gun. Many carry two.”

“Where do they carry the second one?” Rob asked suggestively.

“My ex used an ankle holster. Usually it’s a smaller gun that uses the same ammo for backup. You are using Glocks. Semi-automatics. They have clips, also called magazines.” I popped the clip out of my gun and freed the bullet from the chamber and handed it to Rob. “Your guns shoot blanks. Mine doesn’t. This is a bullet. Odds are at some point you’ll have to load your gun on screen, whether it’s to put in a clip or take out one. Clips run out. Automatic guns can jam and they expel shell casings. So you need to know the feel of your gun and the pieces.”

Rob handed the bullet to Bernadette and she froze. “I don’t like this.”

“Yours are filled with blanks.” I put the bullet back and snapped the clip home. “I carry a gun every day and I’ve never had to shoot anyone. I’ve shot at people but not intending to hit them. It’s a good deterrent.”

“How many people has your ex actually shot?” Rob asked with boyish enthusiasm.

I
exhaled slowly. Four hits, one kill. It haunted him at times and I wondered if that’s why he always wanted to move on. But he’d been right every time he’d used his gun.

I just shook my head. “Doesn’t matter but he’s not trigger happy. Internal investigations happen with any weapons discharge. So it’s not like the Wild West.” I kept my eyes on the weapons.

“Bureaucrats,” Rob grumbled.

“You’re portraying FBI agents. To earn that title you would’ve shot thousands and thousands of rounds of ammo in training. You have to qualify to keep your weapon annually. A gun is an extension of your arm. It’s part of your job, just like the badge.”

I nodded at them. “Pick up your guns.”

They stared back blankly, hopefully soaking in the information.

“You have the real one, right?” she asked.

“Yes. I know my weapon and always know where it is. Now get the feel of your gun.” I glanced around and then pointed toward a blank wall where no one was standing. “Practice just firing at the wall. Get used to the weight. Squeeze the trigger, don’t jerk the whole thing. Your wrist shouldn’t snap.” I stepped behind them and watched.

“It’s heavy.” Bernadette’s hand shook.

It really wasn’t but I brought her other hand up to support. “You can use two hands to learn, get the feel. By the time you’re taping, though, you need to shoot one-handed with confidence.”

I let them use up their blanks and went to the director. “My sister doesn’t need this training?”

“Not for this episode. She gets kidnapped while saving a girl. These two rescue her. The other issue with the pilot, besides the actress we had to let go, was that they looked unnatural holding the guns. Our last tech consultant was too easy on them. You won’t be.”

“I’ll let them practice a bit. I’m going to make a phone call or three.” I missed my little martial arts studio in the shadow of Sin City. I had friends and a nice little routine there. This was like babysitting people who really didn’t want to learn.

Finding a quiet spot, I checked with the police. No prints found on the garage that weren’t Sonia’s, Lupe’s or Danny’s. No evidence found, and no sign of forced entry. Great, so that was a big nothing. I called the security companies and two could give us cost estimates today. I relayed the info to Lupe with the times.

I still needed help getting the info from the FBI computer system.

Todd was a good ex; he understood me. When I wanted out, he didn’t get in my way even though we’d fought our share. Like many men, his career became his obsession. Regardless of the objections I made, he advanced in pay grade and rank, assuming I was okay with the end result. I was proud of him but a good marriage had to have compromise. He’d jumped on one too many promotions and I saw myself as an FBI widow with nothing else in my life. Now I had a business, a home, and control of both. Plus a group of friends that would be there.

Still, Todd was on my speed dial and I hoped he had time to chat.

“Agent Morris,” he answered.

“I need a favor.” We were fairly direct with each other.

“Hel, are you and Sonia okay?” he asked.

Damn, he’d heard. His concern hit me and I fought that longing to lean on him.

“We’re fine. She has a stalker problem and I’m trying to sort it out before things get ugly. I need some info. Feel like helping me?”

“See, if you’d stayed with me I’d be all over this with you.” He loved to rub in what I gave up.

A good guy with a badge. Great sex was a big loss, but he listened a hell of a lot more now that we were divorced. Our friendship had gotten better as had my sanity and self-respect. Maybe we’d been too young? I wasn’t playing games now.

“Subtle. I was not meant to be a nomad. I’m still getting the feel of L.A. and we’re going for low profile here. If you run me some info, I’ll invite you out to Vegas or even swing by Chicago on my way home and we can have dinner.” That opening would get me a lot more and I knew it.

“Make it a long weekend of expensive food and—we’ve got a deal.”

“No girlfriend?” I tried not to sound nosy.

“None—I live for the job, as always. You’re not dating anyone?” He hated me dating. After the divorce I’d sampled different types of men. It was fun but wild oats wasn’t why I wanted to be single. Still, bugging Todd was a bonus.

“At the moment I’m free. You’re paying for all this expensive food. I’m in Tinseltown now and they don’t eat so I’ll be hungry.” I warned him playfully.

“Done. I’ll come out and help now if you want. I’ve got tons of vacation time saved,” he said.

The offer touched me but also reminded me of the trips we’d never taken. Real vacations would have been nice but his work came first. I’d lived that and didn’t need him coming in and taking over.

“No, I’m good. I’ll keep you on speed dial,” I said.

“Fine, be that way. What do you need?” he asked.

I heard the disappointment in his voice and then papers rustling while I pulled out my own list. After giving him the names I read off the phone numbers. “How long do you think?”

“Phones are probably disposable. I’ll run it today and call you tonight. Give you a good bedtime story.”

“Right. Nightmares about who is trying to hurt my sister.” I could live without those.

“What’s the motive? Extortion—do you know?” he asked.

I knew so little it was annoying. “Not really. The notes are cryptic. The calls are hang ups. A few texts but it’s all very vague. I hoped my being here would scare them off but so far no luck there that I can tell. I’m getting her a security system. If it’s an amateur, that’ll be a deterrent.”

“Okay, I’ll call you. If you need backup I’ll be there on the next flight.”

“Thanks, but you’re a real distraction.” On that suggestive note I disconnected and headed back to my trainees. The shots had stopped, which meant they had no idea how to refill the blanks.

The only good thing I’d learned so far today was that if Bernadette was the stalker, my sister wouldn’t end up shot. Assuming Bernadette didn’t hire someone to do her dirty work.

O
nce my part time training duties were done on set, I decided to make myself useful. Texting Jordan to watch my sister, I buzzed out of the studio parking lot and used the navigation system to map my way to the car dealerships owned by Emmy’s ex. I had a problem with dads not paying for their kids.

All three dealerships were in a row and took over a Vegas block. I wandered inside the Ford dealership. A shiny red top end Mustang sat in the center. The sticker said over fifty thousand dollars, and I’d spotted twenty more Mustangs like it in the lot. I loved the car but who’d pay that much?

That was math that didn’t add up but it’d help me that the guy was bulging inventory of all types. Were Fords really his best seller? In Hollywood? Opening the passenger door, I slipped in the back of the convertible and stood on the seat, plopping my size ten butt on the back end of the car.

In ten seconds flat a saleswoman approached me. I could never be a saleswoman; being pushy didn’t bother me but I never profited from it. I felt guilty suggesting classes and clothing in my own martial arts studio.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Actually, I’m looking for Roger. A friend suggested I speak only to him. Is he around?” I drummed my fingers on the trunk, leaving lots of fingerprints.

She took me in from head-to-toe and apparently I passed. “He’s over at the Lexus office. Would you like a test drive? I can grab the keys.”

Jordan was right about the clothes, this woman thought I could drop fifty thousand on a car. Maybe I could. I was a saver by nature, but I wouldn’t blow that much on a car unless I hit the lotto.

“I’ll just wait right here,” I said.

“I’ll call him. It might take him a few minutes to wrap up whatever he’s doing.” She waited to see if that would change my mind but when I didn’t respond she hurried off to call Roger.

Ten minutes later an early forty-something man with thinning hair, glasses, and one of those string ties I never understood walked into the showroom.

“Roger?” I asked as he walked around and stood at the passenger door.

He extended a hand. “Yes, miss?”

I swung my boots up and onto the door, the windows being already rolled down for full convertible effect. I tucked my hands behind my head as though I owned the car and the dealership.

Attitude was everything. “Morris. A friend of mine recommended your dealership.”

“That’s great to hear. Always love a new customer. Now if this car isn’t fast enough, we’ve got some real flyers down at BMW.”

I shook my head.

“American car lover? I respect that.” He had a slight Texas drawl that said he wasn’t from here originally.

“Like my boots?” I asked.

“I do. I prefer a western style myself but those are lovely skins.” He looked at the boots for a brief moment. Roger oozed salesman. “Now what can I do to get you in this car today, Ms. Morris?”

“I’m in it right now, but the car isn’t really why I’m here. I like it, don’t get me wrong, but I already have a Mustang that isn’t quite so fancy. Who spends fifty thousand on an American car?” I rolled my eyes for effect. “I’m really here for Emmy.”

“Emmy?” His mouth gaped.

“Your ex-wife. You remember her? She gave birth to your son and is raising him. You’re supposed to pay her child support?” I kept it light and casual for now.

“Now, I paid that and I’m paying every month. I’m just a little strapped at the moment.” Roger stepped back. “Can I see some ID? Who are you with?”

“With? I’m not
with
anyone. I’m just a concerned friend who happens to have a lot of friends of my own in the FBI and the IRS. Three months behind is not acceptable.” I stared him down like an opponent and kept my voice serious and even.

He swallowed so hard I thought his Adam’s apple might pop loose. “IRS?”

Fear could be such fun to watch. It was the biggest weakness in the world, and the one thing you never wanted to show if you could help it.

“Yep, the IRS, and they don’t like when small business owners hide money. I actually own a small business of my own. Now you’re really not small—I mean, three big car dealerships. You certainly have the cash flow to pay for your son on time, we both know that.”

“Well now, that’s interesting you see, because sales are way down now. Lots of credit and leases to keep things moving, but not much cash. We’re trying to get people to buy again.” He believed he could talk his way out of this. Idiot!

“Tough times? In Hollywood? Doubtful and even if that’s true, you’re the one who picks your inventory levels. Tell me, do you finance or own your stocked vehicles?” Another of my ex-boyfriends was a fraud specialist at the IRS. He was too by-the-book for me but he’d have a field day with Roger. One phone call and I’d ruin Roger’s year.

“I own them all.” He adjusted his limp little tie.

“Good and smart. You have twenty-one top level Mustangs on your lot which adds up to over a million dollars in inventory on one style of one model. Around here it’s mostly Lexus, Bentley, Mercedes, and BMW. So why would you have so many of these?” I patted the pretty muscle car.

“People here collect cars, some have sports cars they only take out on rare occasions. One actor can own ten or even one hundred cars.”

“True, but they’re buying a Mustang over a Ferrari? I don’t know, even if you can prove your numbers are legit I’m sure the IRS would find the inventory numbers unusual enough to come in and check your history. Do a little audit. If you’re hiding money Emmy’s lawyer can appeal the monthly child support based on the new financial data. Of course, it’d be brought up how behind in payments you are at the time. Do you really want that?” I asked.