Shadows May Fall (9 page)

“You ain’t arresting me! You the one’s who broke in here!” The girl hauled off as if she was going to slap Deputy Bronx but in a rather impressive move, he grabbed the woman’s wrist and swung her around so that he could begin cuffing her. It looked like a move out of Dancing with the Stars.

“You have the right to remain silent, which I strongly suggest you assert!” Bronx rolled his eyes, hiked the woman’s top up for her, then continued issuing the Miranda warning while leading the screaming shrew out of the office.

“You okay?” Dillon asked Lou.

“Yeah..” She adjusted her shirt. “except for the fact that my nipples are innies now!” Both Dillon and Johnson burst out laughing. “Johnson, help Bronx with that... that.. find out who the hell she is, would you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Johnson was still laughing when he headed down to the parking lot to help his Training Officer.

With all the ruckus over, Dillon and Lou took a good look at the place. What appeared to constitute the reception area was at best an eight by eight square foot area with a small desk that looked like something out of the seventies and two heavily stained chairs where visitors could sit. The source of the music had been the computer on the reception desk. The bimbo had been watching YouTube videos at full blast and playing Bejeweled on her cell phone, thus her unresponsiveness to their knocks.

“We should get a tech down here to look through the computers.” Dillon advised.

“Yeah, that might be smart.” Lou agreed, and Dillon made the call.

Lou opened the door to the rest of the office which only led to one other room. The scuzzy reception nook and Gerald Griffen’s office were all that made LMT Talent Management. While the Griffen’s personal residence was a tasteless exhibition of excessive wealth, good old Jerry’s office looked like a bad Kojak episode. The walls were covered with porno movie posters, emblazoned with freakishly large breasted women. The Formica credenza that sat behind the matching faux wood desk was lined with framed photos of Gerald Griffen posing with more freakishly large breasted women.

“So, Jerry was a leg man.” Dillon broke the awkward silence, making Lou snort with laughter.

“I’m beginning to understand the impulse to bash this guy’s brains in, just out of Principal.” Lou stepped to the corner of the room and took it all in. A fake ficus tree coated in dust was shoved on one side of the sagging leather couch that was propped against the left wall. Griffen’s desk sat on the opposite wall and was completely cluttered with papers, empty candy wrappers, porno DVD’s and assorted trash from what Lou thought to be a couple of hot dogs from the 7-Eleven downstairs. The smell of mustard and stale coffee added to that supposition. On the opposite end of the couch from the ficus were a tri-pod and a video camera. There was also a coat rack wedged behind it that looked like it had various costumes hanging on it. Lou could make out what she thought was an old fashioned nurse hat and a red riding hood cloak. She got the heebie-jeebies just thinking about what went on here. “This guy was just a scumbag.”

“Total stereotypical perv.” Dillon agreed. “I can’t wait to meet Mrs. Scumbag. What kind of woman would marry a guy like this?”

“Fifty bucks says she’s a former porn queen.” Lou stuck out her hand to shake on the bet, but Dillon just smirked.

“That’s a sucker’s bet.” He declined.

“No pun intended?” Lou grinned.

“Geez, Lou!” Dillon gave her a disapproving look. “I didn’t need that thought floating across my head!”

“Okay, I’ll stop.” She assured him as she sat at Griffen’s desk and began rifling through the drawers. Dillon did the same with the filing cabinets.

“I am not even touching this computer. I might get some disease.” Lou said as she fought the urge to put on a second pair of gloves.

“But you’re totally okay with sitting in his chair?” Dillon said with a raised eyebrow, causing Lou to stand up immediately.

“Shit!” She grumbled. “Now I gotta throw out these jeans!”

Dillon laughed, and they resumed going through all the drawers, sifting through papers, looking for anything that could give them a clue as to who hated this man enough to pound his head into mush. They probably had the largest suspect pool in the history of murder cases when they considered all the fathers of the girls that walked through Gerald Griffen’s office door.

“Hey wasn’t one of your victims in the rogue case from Spank Me productions?” Dillon asked, but he was certain he was right.

“Yeah, Katarina purrs.” Lou stopped what she was doing to see what Dillon had found. “Why?”

“This whole drawer is related to Spank Me.” Dillon had a hard time saying the name without laughing. “There’s a designated folder of threats from Spank Me.”

“That’s interesting.” Lou wasn’t sure why. A guy like Griffen probably did business with every porn production company in Southern California. “What kind of threats?”

“Looks like a whole bunch of emails and letters about someone named Hunny Trainer.” Dillon looked up at Lou with a pained expression. “What the hell? Why would a woman allow themselves to be given a stage name like that?”

“How do you think she got that name?” Lou replied. “What kind of woman would do that kind of acting?”

Dillon shuddered. “I just don’t get porn.”

Bronx walked in just in time to hear Lou laughing at Dillon. “What did I miss?” He asked.

“Not a whole lot.” Lou was grinning. “We were just having a philosophical discussion about porn names.

“Oh!” Bronx looked excited. “Were you playing that game?” He asked.

“What Game?” Dillon and Lou asked in unison.

“You know!” Bronx explained. “The game where you take the name of the first street you ever lived on and the name of your first pet, it makes your porn name!” You could see Dillon and Lou calculating in their heads. “Mine is Jefferson Butch.”

Lou laughed. “What’s your actual first name?” She asked the deputy, feeling bad she hadn’t bothered to ask until now.

“Xander.” The deputy informed her, proudly. “I know, not exactly a traditional Irish name. My mom said it’s Greek and means Defender of the people. So I was born to be a cop!”

Dillon smiled. “You realize your real name sounds more like a porn name than your fake porn name? Lou started laughing hysterically as Bronx pondered that a moment.

“Wow, it does!” He had to laugh too.

“Okay, so what’s yours, Lou?” Dillon was dying to know.

“It doesn’t work for me.” She answered once she regained her composure.

“That’s crap!” Bronx called her out. “Just tell us!”

“Fine but I’m telling you, it doesn’t work for me.” She shook her head. “Kingsbury forty-six.” Dillon and Bronx looked at each other in puzzlement. “The first place I lived was on Kingsbury Avenue and, my first pet was a sea turtle but he was a foster rescue and, he only had a number. They were really strict about us not giving real names so we wouldn’t get too attached.”

“You gotta be the only person I have ever met that the game never worked on.” Bronx was astounded. “Okay, what about you Dillon?”

Dillon hesitated. “Liberty Sparks.” Lou and Bronx erupted in laughter. “It’s not that funny.”

“But it is!” Lou insisted. “That’s it!”

“What?” Dillon asked.

“Your nickname. Sparky!” Lou doubled over with laughter and Bronx began to snort.

“Get over yourselves already and get back to work.” Dillon hid his embarrassment. “I’m hungry. I want to get the hell out of this skeevy place before I catch something.”

“Oh! That reminds me of why I came up!” Bronx suddenly remembered. “Tech just pulled up. I wanted to check and see if it was alright to send them up or not?”

“Give us five more minutes.” Lou instructed.

“You got it.” Bronx started to leave but stopped short. “Oh! Princess Charming’s name is Mia Longo.”

“Of course it is.” Lou would have smacked her forehead, but she didn’t want any germs she had been touching actually to hit her skin.

“She’s screaming left and right.” Bronx filled them in. “Yelling that Jerry is gonna sue our asses, make sure I give her my badge number, all kinds of stupid.”

“So she doesn’t know Griffen is dead?” Dillon wondered if her boss was predisposed to vanishing for days on end without a word.

“Not a clue, from the way she’s ranting and I sure as hell ain’t gonna tell her.”

He put his hands up in the air and resumed walking out. “Way above my pay grade.”

After turning over every cushion, checking the backs of all the pictures, checking under drawers and even under a loose piece of paneling, they figured they had as much as they could scrape up without getting into the computers and phone records. They filled a couple of empty file boxes with all the material that could even be remotely relevant to their case, then looked around one more time. After agreeing their work there was done, they grabbed the boxes and headed out. Bronx and Johnson were on loan from West Hollywood station, so that was where they were headed to question Miss Longo. It was only a sixteen-minute drive if they took Laurel Canyon, and impossible to miss since it was smacked up against the lauded Red Building of the pacific Design Center. Neither Dillon nor Lou could understand what all the fuss was about with the garish monstrosity of architecture, and they knew that would offend a lot of people if they ever admitted it. It was an extremely trendy part of town with some of the best restaurants within walking distance. Lou was looking forward to introducing Dillon to Millions of Milkshakes, which was just at the end of the block. Lou had a lot of pals at West Hollywood too, some of which had gone through the academy with her. It was always fun to be there and see what whacky stuff the colorful residents were doing. Upon their arrival, they walked into a what Lou referred to as a Tom-Cat fight. Dillon didn’t understand why Lou called it that and not a simple cat fight, but when the one lady ripped off the others wig, which prompted her to yell in her actual voice, Dillon understood that they were not biologically women. For the next ten minutes, he fixated on trying to understand how the men could walk so well in heels while Lou made the rounds saying hello and checking in with the Watch Commander. They were assigned a spot to work where they dropped off their boxes then headed to the interrogation room to deal with their charming pugilist.

“I ain’t talkin’ to you bitch!” Miss Longo pointed and bobbed her head from side to side for emphasis.

“Then talk to me.” Dillon instructed. “She’ll just sit and watch.”

“You like it when they watch, poppi?” Longo slinked back in her chair and attempted to look sexy.

Dillon resisted the urge to gag. “Let’s talk about your boss for a bit.”

“You know Jerry is gonna be pissed if he gets back and I ain’t there!” She sat back up, thankfully hiking her top back up as she did. “You can’t just bust in and go all Storm Trooper like that!”

“What is it you do for Jerry, exactly?” Dillon kept his questions focused.

“Whatever he wants, you know what I’m sayin’ poppi?” She licked her lips, but it reminded Lou of a bulldog cleaning his mouth after he ate.

“Do you answer phones? File? Take dictation? What?” Dillon was losing patience already. He wanted a shower in a bad way. “You bet I took his dic...”

“Okay, that’s enough of the flirty cutie whatever it is you think you’re doing right now.” Dillon slapped her file on the table. “Let’s start all over and let’s start with your real name, Rosita.” He began at the top of her file and started working down. “You’re a long way from Washington Heights, mija. Not enough porn for you back in New York? Or were you looking for a change of scenery from Central Booking?”

“Screw you!” She spat at him.

“No thanks. What exactly was your job description, Rosita?”

“My name is Mia!” She spat at him again.

“Okay, I’m done.” Dillon looked to Lou and gave her a forced smile. “Have Bronx book her on the assault, add a count for spitting at me and let’s get those milkshakes.” He stood up from the table.

“So I answered phones!” Ms. Longo answered reluctantly. “I kept track of his calendar, picked up his dry cleaning, brought him lunch, coffee, whatever he wanted.”

“Then why weren’t you answering the phones today, Mia?” Dillon leaned over the table. “Get a little distracted checking your Facebook or something?”

“I had a headache!” She huffed.

“What about yesterday?” Dillon found it hard to believe that she didn’t wonder why her boss hadn’t shown up for two days.

“I had the day off to do a shoot out in Chatsworth.” She whined. “What is Jerry being a little bitch about me getting a job behind his back? Is that what this is all about? Am I being punked?”

“Do you make the Terrenea reservations for him?” Dillon ignored her question.

“What the hell is this all about?” She scowled.

“He’s dead.” Lou blurted it out. It was harsh, it was cold, but she was sick of this piece of work’s attitude.

“Nuh uh, you lyin’!” Longo cracked a grin. “Okay who put you guys up to this? ‘Aight, you bitches had your fun now cut the shit. I wanna go home.”

“She’s not lying, Mia. Jerry’s dead. Now, what can you tell us about it?” Dillon measured her reaction carefully. She sat there for a long time as if re-running his words in her head, translating them to Spanish, then back again until they finally hit home. She began to sob.

What they could glean from Miss Longo, in between the sobbing hysteria, was that there were a lot of people that called and screamed at Gerald Griffen every day. He had about a dozen adult film actors under his management and any one of them, or one of the producers that were sick of dealing with them, was calling every day with some problem or another. He was also the cheapest man she had ever met, refusing to pay one second more that her nine to five salary and a ten dollar a week gas allowance for her running his errands. He didn’t even trust her with a business credit card and instead would reimburse her for any expenses after she produced the receipts. As far as Mrs. Griffen went, Dillon was happy that he hadn’t taken Lou’s bet. Belinda Griffen, formerly known as Belinda Wilde, had once been the darling of Spank Me productions. Poor old Jerry had fallen hard for Belinda, and she was the only person in the world that could pry Jerry’s wallet open. Once she did, Miss Longo said that she would strip it bare. Belinda was a gold digger and the second Jerry put the brakes on her spending habits was the minute she threw him out of her bed. Their prenup had Jerry in a tighter spot because if he divorced her for reasons other than an extra-marital affair before their tenth anniversary, she got eighty percent of everything. Miss Longo said that Belinda insisted on the clause so that Jerry wouldn’t just toss her aside for a younger version after a few years. It was a smart move on her part and explained the Terrenea arrangement. It also explained Mrs. Griffen’s bizarre refusal to cut her vacation short.