My Gun Has Bullets (31 page)

"I was doing it to
help
the show," Flint said. "It was gonna be a surprise."

"Believe me, it is."

"You don't understand," Flint said. "I was gonna bleed her for every cent she had, and then send out the pictures anyway. You know, cropped real tight so all you saw was her and my big dick. It would have ruined her show."

"Miss Agatha
was on Sundays," Delbert said. "They just moved opposite us."

"I was looking ahead," Flint said.

"Can we do something about
this,
Delbert?" Crofoot asked calmly.

"I think I can take care of it,
"
Delbert said. "It could even work out to our advantage."

"I don't see how," Crofoot said, "but do what you have to do. Flint, I'll talk to you later. "

Crofoot abruptly hung up.

Charlie twisted the steering wheel, forcing the car into a tight, screeching U-turn across Wilshire Boulevard. He slammed down on the gas, the tires smoking, and roared back toward the San Diego Freeway.

There was more to Esther's killing than covering up Flint's stupid blackmail scheme. Somehow the mob was involved in
Frankencop,
and Charlie had stumbled into it.

Who was Delbert Skaggs? Was
he
the one who planted the money on Charlie? Could
he
have killed Esther Radcliffe? And was she killed to frame Charlie or for some other reason?

Charlie weaved through the cars in front of him, then cut across Wilshire Boulevard traffic onto the freeway on-ramp, roaring up the shoulder and into the northbound lanes. His speedometer edged past 90 as he sped through the Sepulveda pass, using the shoulder as his own private lane, leaning on his horn to force cars out of his path.

He began to think back on the events of the last few weeks, and a disturbing trend began to emerge. All the tragedies that had befallen the industry had benefited
Frankencop.
The shooting death on
My Gun Has Bullets.
The electrocution of the Two Dicks. The disappearance of Boo Boo. And now, the murder of Esther Radcliffe.

Was it a coincidence, or something more? Charlie knew his own future could depend on the answer to that question ... and finding the proof to back it up. And he knew exactly where to start.

Pinnacle Studios.

T
he mistake most crazed fans made trying to break into the studio was that they went through the front gate. There were at least a hundred ways onto the lot. You could get in through the tour, the office tower, the two dozen buildings that ringed the perimeter, the employee parking structure, and the various service tunnels.

Or you could do what Charlie did, and just climb the fence where the security camera is blocked by a billboard advertising Pinnacle's latest, high-concept, over-budget, flop movie. Which, at the time, was another remake of
King Kong,
starring Shannen Doherty.

Charlie dropped over the other side of the fence somewhere in Spain. The famed Spanish street was part of Pinnacle Studios' "little Europe" section of the backlot, which gave so many of Pinnacle's 1960s espionage series their international production value.

He crept through villages in Italy, Germany, and France, then trudged through the jungles of Africa, which at times had also been the jungles of Vietnam, South America, and the planet Umgluck, among others.

Finally, after traversing half of the earth and some alien worlds, he found himself outside Eddie Planet's bungalow.

Because producers had such faith in the security of the lot itself, they didn't take many precautions with their own offices beyond a decent dead-bolt. Besides, what was there to steal, story ideas? No one would notice, or care.

Charlie didn't bother with the lock; instead he found an unlocked window, slid it open, and climbed in.

He found himself in the outer office, where the walls were adorned with publicity posters from Eddie Planet's shows.

He's the best deputy ever to wear the badge. And this town wants him, dead or alive. DEPUTY GHOST. Taming the West from beyond the grave.

What do you get when you take the best of a dozen dead cops? One incredible cop. FRANKENCOP. Coming this fall!

Charlie studied the
Frankencop
poster. In small print, he saw the words
Eddie Planet Films in association with Pinstripe Productions.
Perhaps that was where Daddy Crofoot and Delbert Skaggs fit in.

He continued on, passing a door that had
Executive Bathroom
written on it in Magic Marker, and stopped when he saw Delbert Skaggs's nameplate on a set of closed double doors.

Charlie opened the doors, expecting an opulent office. Instead, he saw the same basic furniture that Pinnacle provided in most of their offices and that almost all the high-profile producers tossed out in favor of something more stylish.

The corner office was dominated, however, by a giant schedule board. Already the magnetic placard for
Miss Agatha
had been removed, leaving two empty spaces opposite
Frankencop
where series should be.

The placards for
The Two Dicks, My Gun Has Bullets, Boo Boo's Dilemma, Johnny Wildlife
and
Miss Agatha
were being used as paperweights on Delbert's neatly organized desk.

Charlie sat down at Delbert's desk and examined the board for a moment. He remembered seeing one in Jackson Burley's office, too. It was almost as if the things were altars, symbolizing the religion this strange sect of people lived by. But what they did in front of it after genuflecting wasn't clear to him.

Burley had likened it to the chalkboard a football coach might use to illustrate plays to his team. This, Burley had told Charlie, is the playing field. The only thing you don't see is the ball or the goalposts, but they are there.

Charlie tried to understand the game that was in play on the board now, feeling that if he did, things might suddenly make sense. But the board seemed lifeless to him, hardly the strategy in motion.

He turned in his seat and scanned the desktop. In front of him he saw a yellow legal pad on which a very different schedule had been drawn. It was the original three-network line-up for Thursday night as it stood at the beginning of the season. The ratings of each show had been jolted down beside their listings.

Lifting the page revealed another sketch, this time of a schedule with
The Two Dicks
and
Boo Boo's Dilemma
X'd out. Beside each show that followed
Boo Boo's Dilemma
on UBC Delbert had written a "current rating" and a "probable rating." In each case, the probable ratings dived. Except for
Frankencop,
which dramatically increased. Obviously, Delbert was guessing what would happen to the performance of those shows if they lost Boo Boo's lead-in. Which Charlie knew couldn't conceivably happen, since
Boo Boo's Dilemma
was the highest-rated show in America, and there was no way Don DeBono was going to move it.

Unless someone else did.

It was a chilling thought. Charlie quickly flipped through the pad—on each page was another hypothetical schedule, each one anticipating what effect the loss of a particular competitor would have on
Frankencop's
ratings.

Now they're are dead, Charlie thought, just like Delbert imagined. Lucky Delbert.

Finally, there was a page in which
Miss Agatha
was slotted against
Frankencop.
The "current rating" for
Frankencop
was far below the rating for
Miss Agatha.
On the next page,
Miss Agatha
had been X'd out, and the "probable rating" for
Frankencop
doubled.

Now it all made sense to Charlie. The accidents, the frame-up, Esther's murder.

The mob owned
Frankencop,
and they were killing anybody who got in the show's way. As long as it was on the air, people would die.

With the pictures of Flint taking Esther's money, and the secret recording of Flint's call to Las Vegas, Charlie figured he had enough evidence to clear himself and, possibly, stop Delbert Skaggs before anyone else got hurt. Especially Sabrina.

He took the notepad and left in a hurry.

Eddie Planet eased open the Executive Bathroom door and peeked out in time to see Charlie Willis slip out the window.

Earlier in the evening, Eddie had been in his office, punching up a particularly awful
Frankencop
script, when
Where's Boo Boo?
came on the air.

He watched it mesmerized, knowing deep in his gut that he was witnessing television history.
Where's Boo Boo?
was an inspired, brilliant conception on every commercial and creative level. His immediate gut reaction was the show would grab a minimum 30 share. His immediate gut reaction also sent him running to his Executive Bathroom.

If
Where's Boo Boo?
could knock out a 30 share or more, it could make hits out of whatever stupid sitcoms or lame action shows followed in its wake. Which translated into doom for
Frankencop,
and a lot more killing. And with Delbert Skaggs's imminent demise, the responsibility for murdering the competition would fall to Eddie.

That prospect was enough to send anyone scurrying to the nearest toilet, especially a man with as sensitive a digestive system as Eddie Planet.

So there he was, sitting on the toilet, pants around his ankles and Watchman on his lap, when he heard someone crawling through the window in the outer office.He turned off the mini-TV and listened to the footsteps move down the hall.

At first he was afraid it was someone coming to kill him,maybe Delbert, maybe someone else. But the intruder went straight for Delbert's office, spent a few minutes inside, and then hurried down the hall.

Eddie took a chance and opened the door a crack, enough to see that the intruder was Charlie Willis.

What was
he
doing here, in Eddie's bungalow, only a day after being arrested for murdering Esther Radcliffe?

Of course, Eddie knew Delbert had done it, but how could Charlie Willis possibly know?

Oh God, did he know?

Suddenly, Eddie's stomach was seized by the memory of Charlie Willis, the morning after the shooting on his show, staring out from Eddie's TV set, his gun aimed at his unknown adversary.

I don't know who set me up, but I got a message for you. My gun has bullets and I'm coming for you.

What if Charlie thought it was Eddie who had set him up? What if Charlie came gunning for him?

Eddie grabbed his cramping stomach and tried to think. Breaking into a studio had to be a violation of Charlie's release. If Eddie could get him thrown into jail, maybe Crofoot knew some people who could jam a shiv into Charlie or something. At least if Charlie was in jail, Eddie would be safe from him.

Eddie picked up his cellular phone and dialled.

"Hello, security? This is Eddie Planet. Somebody just broke into my bungalow. I don't know for sure, but I think he had a knife, maybe even a gun."

# # #

Charlie was walking down a snow-capped street in Copenhagen when he was caught in the glare of headlights. He whirled around to see a Pinnacle Studios security cart humming up behind him.

"Stop right there," the security guard ordered from his souped-up golf cart.

Charlie dashed into the nearest storefront, came out of a saloon in Dodge City on the other side, ran across the dusty street, through the Silver Dollar Hotel facade and emerged from the courthouse that dominated the square of Anytown, USA. The main street led off into a painted backdrop of a country road that seemed to meander off into the horizon.

For a moment, he stood in the town square, a bit disoriented, feeling like a hapless, time-traveling protagonist in a bad
Twilight Zone
episode. Then he heard the buzz of an approaching security cart and the crackle of a walkie-talkie. He crawled underneath the bandstand just as the high-powered floodlights around the square flashed on. Suddenly, the entire town was awash in light.

The security cart glided to a stop beside the bandstand, the guard pausing to look around. Charlie looked behind him and, through the slats in the bandstand, saw the security guard from Copenhagen arriving on the opposite end of the square.

The radio crackled on the cart beside the bandstand. "He's got to be in the square somewhere," said a voice Charlie recognized as the guard from Copenhagen. "Be careful, he's probably a wacko, and they say he's armed."

They
say? Who the hell were
they?
Charlie wasn't going to stick around to find out, but he'd have to be very careful. Studio security guards were usually the guys who, for good reason, couldn't get into law enforcement. They spent most of their days sitting in the guard booth, or sitting in the security cart. Either way, their physical prowess was hardly honed to a sharp point. On the other hand, amateurs with guns scared him a lot more than an armed professional. Action was so rare for these guys they were likely to shoot the first person they saw, especially if they thought they were hunting a crazed psycho.

The guard got out of his cart, took out a flashlight, and walked up the courthouse steps to investigate inside. Charlie didn't waste a second. He crawled out from under the bandstand and slid into the cart, where he found the key still in the ignition.

Charlie twisted the key into drive, lowered his head, and sped off. The security guard whirled around and reached for his gun, which, thankfully, he had forgotten to unstrap. While the guard fumbled with his holster, his friend from Copenhagen gave chase, tooling after Charlie in his own wobbly cart.

Once outside the city limits of Anytown, USA, Charlie made a hard right, toward Muck Thing's swamp. The cart bounced onto the wide tram tracks, and continued along the predestined route. Charlie twisted the key to neutral and, as the cart entered the swamp lands, he dived out into the brush. The cart continued on its own momentum along the tram tracks, disappearing around a curve. A moment later his pursuer followed, also disappearing around the bend, his cart zipping as fast as its batteries would allow.