“You might find the information you’re looking there,” he had concluded as he raised the barricade and waved him in.
Before he left headquarters, he had retrieved an updated report and found Natalie was presumed to be in Northern California last night. The report stated she was believed to have been abducted and raped. Someone had been shot but it didn’t appear to be her. Good detective work by the Lassen County Sheriff had produced a photo of the three suspects and two of their first names. The third suspect was Tony Alonso. On a hunch, Caesar had run a report on Tony’s credit card but there had been no usage for the last several days.
He walked into the plush studio office, flashed his badge and a smile, and asked if could speak to someone about an actress who had recently done some work there. He was shown to an overstuffed avocado colored leather couch, offered a cup of coffee, which he declined, and asked if he would kindly wait. During the twenty minute wait between the offer of coffee from the perky receptionist and the appearance of a middle aged woman, which seemed excessive, he shifted position repeatedly on the couch, and glanced around the reception area at the billboard posters of the films produced through the studio and the black and white headshots of the household names he had seen many times on the silver screen..
When the woman at last appeared, he was greeted by a face that had been snipped and tucked so many times the pores on its tan cheeks stretched into tiny ellipses. These mutated pocked tracks gave the appearance of tiny ants on a forced march to her ears. She invited him into her comfortable office and took a seat behind a large mahogany desk.
“Detective Garcia, why, may I inquire, are you asking about Ms. Beaumont?” she asked.
If it wasn’t for the smoker’s gravel in her throat, Caesar would have thought the drawl from her Alabama upbringing would have sounded sexy.
“Indications are she’s been abducted and I’m tracking down leads,” he responded and waited for an offer to take a seat. It didn’t come. “And your name please?”
“My name?” The way she emphasized “my” implied “How dare you?” or “Is this really necessary?” She leaned back in her chair, placed her left forearm atop her head and glared at him.
Not to be intimidated, he had dealt with prima donnas before, he forged on. “Yes, ma’am, for my report.”
“Well, if you must know, Adelaide Masters-Leigh,” she replied, with a sigh. “Masters-Leigh is hyphenated. What leads?”
Her impertinence wasn’t lost on Caesar, but he pressed on. “A friend of hers said she was shooting a scene here a few days ago with Ansell Parker and he verified it with me last night.”
“You spoke with Ansell, but he’s—?”
“On location,” Caesar said and finished her sentence. “Yes, he very politely returned my call from Europe. Nice man. I was hoping to speak to anyone who was on the set during their scene the other day. I suspect someone there may have been the inside man, so to speak, and set up the abduction.”
“I can’t believe that would happen here, detective,” she said and switched her tone to condescending. “We’re such family here at Xandar.”
Yeah, the Adam’s family, he thought, but said, “I have a photo of the three suspects. I know the full identity of one, but I’m hoping to put a last name with the other men.”
“I see,” she said. “We don’t need, or rather I should say, want any problems from the police.”
She paused for a moment, and then continued, “Ansell Pa’ker is shooting a movie here, but as you’ve already astutely stated, he’s now in Europe on location. Most of the crew’s with him.”
Something in the way she said “Parker” without so much as a touch of her tongue on the “r” solidified in the detective’s mind she really was everything she purported to be—a Hollywood snob.
“If I gave you the impression the studio was somehow involved, I apologize. I know Mr. Parker knows nothing about this, he barely even remembers Ms. Beaumont. But his name and this studio were mentioned in the perpetration of this alleged crime, so I must follow up on it every way I can.”
Caesar reached into his notebook and pulled out two pictures. He first laid Natalie’s photo in front of her on the desk and then held the photo of the three men taken from the security tape level with her eyes. “I’m only trying to find out if someone here recognizes any of these men.”
“Beautiful girl.” Adelaide leaned forward in the desk chair and looked at the picture of Natalie. Then, with her attention on the second photo held by the detective, she squinted, and picked up a pair of glasses. “That’s a poor quality photograph. I can’t say I recognize any of these men.”
He felt that may well be the truth but his instinct said absolute honesty wasn’t Ms. Masters-Leigh’s forte. “Is there anyone around who would know people on the set?” he asked. With great effort, he tried not to reveal the exasperation about to spill out.
“Well there might be one,” she said and looked up from the second photo. She reached for her computer, made a couple of clicks with the mouse, and then picked up the telephone receiver. “Yes, could you come to my office, da’ling, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Adelaide put the receiver into its cradle leaned back in her desk chair, and shot Caesar a smug look. “Could I order you coffee while we wait?”
“No, thank you,” he said and then pointed to one of the two side chairs. “May I?”
“Pa’don me, detective. Where are my manne’s? Of course, please take a seat.”
“How long will it be?” he asked as he sat across from the executive and kept both feet on the carpet.
“Only a few minutes, he’s just across the lot.”
“I see, and who is he?”
“Salvador Sliman; you know the name?”
“Yes, director, right?”
“He’s one of the assistant directors on Mr. Pa’ker’s film. I believe he was on the set with Ansell a few days ago. ”
“And he isn’t on location?”
“No, I believe he goes over the first of the week.”
The door opened and Salvador Sliman walked in.
_____
©
Jearl Rugh 2012
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