Read Hollywood Confessions Online
Authors: Gemma Halliday
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Cozy, #Women Sleuths, #Romance, #Romantic Comedy, #Suspense
Hollywood Confessions (9 page)
“
May I help you?” a deep voice asked behind me.
I spun around…
Then looked down.
Gary Ellstrom stood all of four feet tall, his hands clasped in front of him, an expectant rise to his bushy eyebrows.
“
Um, yes. Please. I’d, uh, like to try these on in a seven,” I said, figuring posing as a customer was the best way to garner a little info from our Little Bachelor.
“
Ah. A wonderful choice. Just a moment while I find them in the back. Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the red chairs.
I did, sinking into the plush cushions as I waited two beats for Gary to return with a pink and silver box. He made a big ceremony of setting it down beside me, lifting the lid with flourish and unwrapping layers of pink tissue.
“
Hey,” I said, leaning in. “Don’t I recognize you?”
Gary pulled a poker face. “I don’t think so.”
“
I do. You were on that show.”
He sighed. “Here we go again.”
“
That dating show,
Little Love
, right?”
He sighed again and sat back on his haunches. “Yep. That’s me. The Little Bachelor.”
“
I loved that show!”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Really.”
“
Yes, it was fantastic! The way they—”
But he didn’t let me finish, instead putting his hands on his hips. “Fantastic, huh? Exploiting a man’s romantic hopes while making us all look like a bunch of mutated freaks just for the viewing pleasure of Jane Couch Potato is fantastic, huh? You get a kick out of that, do you?” he asked, his voice rising high enough that the Real Housewives all stared.
“
Uh, well, I didn’t really mean—”
“
You think making a mockery of little people is funny? Medical conditions are so entertaining? Maybe you should go yuck it up in a cancer ward!”
Suddenly I was pretty sure the rumors of him being a hothead where not exaggerated.
“
Hey, calm down, pal. I have nothing but respect for little people. Look, I’m only five-foot-one,” I said, standing up.
He narrowed his eyes at me.
I sat back down. “Yeah, okay, I know. Not the same thing.”
“
No. It’s not,” he said, shoving the kitten heel on my left foot with a little more force than was strictly necessary. I winced but kept my mouth shut. Obviously Gary’s strong reaction to the mention of the show was proof I might be on to something here.
“
If the show was such an exploitation, why did you agree to be on it?” I asked.
“
Oh, the producers had a totally different spin when they pitched it to me, let me tell you. It was all about showing the world that little people are no different than anyone else. That love comes in all sizes. What a crock!”
“
I take it that wasn’t what the show ended up being.”
“
Hell, no!”
The brunette housewife jumped in her seat at his words.
But Gary plowed ahead. “The producers took every chance they could to make me look like an idiot. They even said I had anger issues, can you believe that? Me!”
“
Shocker.”
“
Anyway, the whole dammed thing was rigged from the start.”
“
Rigged?”
“
Staged. Set up. Barker had a real loose interpretation of the word ‘reality’.”
“
So, it was scripted?”
“
Well, no.”
“
You were told who to give your rose to?”
“
Not exactly.”
“
You were told who to vote off?”
“
No.”
“
Then I’m not following the whole rigged thing,” I admitted.
“
Look, lady, ever heard of editing?”
I ignored the attitude, instead encouraging him. “Go on.”
“
What they filmed was real enough, but they edited the footage to sell the story the producer wanted to tell. Everything we said was taken out of context. I’d say something to one girl, and they’d make it look in editing like I was talking to someone else. They made me look like a total asshole! What the public saw was not what really happened, you know?”
I nodded. “Okay, so what really happened?”
“
What really happened was that I was stuck in a house with twenty bimbo wannabe actresses. Like I was really gonna find love with one of them.”
I thought back to the few photos I’d seen on IMDB. “You didn’t look all that put out when you were in the hot tub with Mandy. And Tandy. And Candy.”
“
Well, I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. I’m a sensitive guy,” he said, putting one hand over his heart.
Uh-huh.
“
Only now,” he went on, “my love life is completely ruined, thanks to Barker.”
“
How so?”
“
What are you, stupid? Weren’t you listening? He told the world I was some hot-tempered little freak!”
I gave him a look.
“
I do not have anger issues!” His face turned bright red, a vein just above his right eyebrow pulsing wildly.
Two Housewives grabbed their purses and scuttled out of the store.
“
What about the woman you picked at the end of the show?” I pressed. “Didn’t you propose to her?”
“
Oh, sure. Only, turns out she was just on the show to launch her career as a country singer. She was no more real than Barker. And what’s worse, I had to pay for that engagement ring myself! Barker said it would show the world how serious I was about Tandy.”
“
I thought you picked Mandy at the end.”
“
Whatever. Point is, I’m out two thousand bucks now and gotta works this crappy-ass job on commission as a shoe salesman. A fucking shoe salesman! I’m Al Bundy, for Christ sakes.”
I sat back in my seat, scrutinizing him. “Well, it sounds like Barker got what he deserved then.”
“
Yes, he did.”
“
I bet you were pretty happy to see him murdered.”
“
Ecstatic. I threw a fucking party.”
“
Where were you the night he was murdered?”
Gary paused, narrowed his eyes. “Wait—what is this? Barker’s people set you up to this?”
“
No. I’m with the
Informer
.”
“
The tabloid? Great!” He threw his arms up in the air. “Just what I need. My face plastered all over some cheap trash.”
“
Hey! We are not cheap.” I made no comment on the trash part.
“
Look, I did not kill Barker,” he said. “You can print that. If you wanna know, I was here. Doing inventory. The new line of Pradas came in, and I was busy cataloguing the whole fucking lot of them.”
That was a pretty calloused way to talk about Prada.
“
Anyone with you?”
“
Jesus, what is this, the fucking inquisition?”
“
You sure they did much editing on that show?”
He crossed his pudgy arms over his chest. “Look, you gonna buy something or what, lady?”
God, I wished. I looked down at the kitten heels currently caressing (yes, caressing…they were that good) my feet. In my wildest dreams I couldn’t afford them, let alone reality.
“
Sorry. They’re not really my style,” I lied.
Gary threw the box down on the carpet. “Fucking hell!”
Chapter Six
I left Bella Sole with a serious case of shoe envy and a serious doubt that Gary had killed Barker. For one thing, I had a hard time envisioning Barker letting Gary into his place for a late-night chat. Clearly the man was not Barker’s biggest fan. Second, I couldn’t imagine him being calm and collected enough to poison the producer. Poison required planning and finesse to trick the victim into ingesting it. Now, if Barker had been bludgeoned to death with a pair of six-inch heels, Gary would be my suspect numero
uno.
However, just to be sure, I phoned Bella Sole, pretending to be an unhappy customer, and asked to speak to Gary’s manager. He confirmed Gary was, indeed, doing inventory the night Barker was killed. What’s more, his manager had been with him the entire time, providing an iron-clad alibi.
Which left me with one suspect ticked off my list, but not a whole lot to write about for today’s article. I looked down at my watch. I had three hours left to find something scandalous enough to be printable. With the deadline looming, I moved on to the next reality show under Barker’s belt:
Don & Deb’s Diva Dozen
.
As any member of the paparazzi knew, Don and Deb lived in a large, Tudor-style mansion in Beverly Hills, a far cry from the modest suburban digs they’d inhabited when the show first started.
I had to admit, I’d had some sympathy for the couple when they’d first gone on the air with their brood. With a dozen kids, it was hard to make ends meet for the couple. Deb had been a night shift nurse and Don a computer programmer—not exactly the kind of jobs that could support twelve college funds, let alone a hundred and fifty diapers a day. In their position I totally would have jumped at the idea of TV documentary paying to follow me around for a while.
Only “for a while” turned into an entire season’s worth of episodes, which turned into seasons two and three, which had turned into a media phenomenon, sparking debates over everything from the morality of selective reduction of multiples pregnancies (something, clearly, Deb and Don did not believe in) to the morality of parading little girls in skimpy bathing suits with fake tans across a stage for a panel of adult judges (something they clearly did believe in). The family had become overnight household names, going from John and Jane Everyman thrown into mega-parenting to celebrity status. During their separation, Deb’s face had graced the cover of People no less than five times. And I was pretty sure Don had his own TMZ cameraman assigned to him 24/7.
Besides fame, the other thing the show had brought Don and Deb was cash. Lots of it, I decided as I pulled up to the heavy iron gates surrounding the dozen’s compound. Beyond the gates a lush, manicured lawn yawned up to the large brick house, bordering on castle in both size and shape. To the right was a grove of trees, where twelve little play houses sat. It looked eerily like a scene from the seven dwarfs. If all the dwarves had a thing for purple and unicorns.