Greg Herren - Murder in the Rue Ursulines

Freddy said, “How would you know where Glynis’s house is?”

“I interviewed her there earlier today.”

“You’re absolutely certain?” Loren said grimly. “You’re sure?”

I thought back, and nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.” The room was silent.

“So you’re saying you saw Freddy coming out of Glynis’s house during the time she might have been murdered?”

A headache was starting to form behind my right eye.

“That’s not possible.” Freddy shook his head. “I was here all afternoon. Jillian and I spent the afternoon with the children, and, around five, we came over here to the carriage house, to review scripts. We’ve been here ever since.”

“When did you get here, Loren?”

“After they called me-around seven, wasn’t it?” He looked over at them.

Her face tight, Jillian nodded.

“Are you sure, Chanse?” Loren asked again. “Are you absolutely certain it was Freddy you saw? Think, Chanse. Are you positive it was Freddy you saw?”

I opened my mouth, and shut it again. My burger was churning in my stomach, and I felt like I was going to throw up any minute. Also, I was beginning to doubt myself. Loren was a damned good attorney, and that’s the role he was playing-he was cross-examining me. I closed my eyes and thought back. “Yes, I’m certain.” But now I wasn’t quite as certain as I had been.

“How far away were you?” Loren asked.

It was like being on a witness stand-which is something I’ve never enjoyed. A good lawyer can make you doubt yourself, twist your words to make it seem as if you were saying something other than what you meant. I swallowed and estimated the distance. “About twenty yards, maybe. I was under a street light, and when he walked under the streetlight just down from the house, I saw his face clearly. It wasn’t foggy yet, and yes, it was dark already, but I got a pretty damned good look at his face. And my eyes are good-I just had an examination a few weeks ago. They’re twenty-twenty.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just someone who looked like Freddy?”.

“How many people look like a movie star?” I replied, raising my eyebrows. “Like Freddy Bliss?”

Freddy shook his head. “I’m telling you, it wasn’t me. It couldn’t have been.” His voice was shaky.

I stared at him. There was no point in arguing with him-he wasn’t going to change his story.

And he was an actor. He fooled people for a living.

Who would believe me over Freddy Bliss? And Jillian Long?

After all, I was just a gay private eye no one had ever heard of…

Loren went on. “You may have seen someone- ” he emphasized the word, “come out of the victim’s-Glynis’s-house right around the time she may have been murdered.”

And I was in her house a few hours earlier. I handled the murder weapon.

I was starting to feel really sick to my stomach. “I saw Freddy.” I insisted.

“You were mistaken.” Jillian said, her voice rising. “You couldn’t have seen Freddy. He was here with me.” She crossed her arms.

“I know what I saw,” I replied.

“God fucking damn it!” Jillian exploded, lighting yet another cigarette. “I’m not going to argue with you.” She shook her head. “I know you’re wrong.”

I opened my mouth to make a sharp retort, but Loren cut me off.

“Jillian, if Chanse thinks he saw Freddy coming out of Glynis’s home, you’re not going to talk him out of it-and you shouldn’t even try. He’s a witness in a murder case.“ His tone was gently rebuking, implying that there could be legal ramifications. But I also noticed and bristled inwardly at the use of the word thinks

“Fine, fine.” Jillian turned to Freddy, and stroked the side of his face. She turned back to look at me. “You know, the great irony of all this is that in death, Glynis is going to get what she always wanted-to be a huge star. She’ll be a much bigger star in death than she was when she was alive.” She sighed. “It’s so wrong.” She covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

I’d seen her do that in Life in a Northern Town. She got an Oscar nomination for that movie.

“Get him out of here.” She said between sobs. “I don’t ever want to see his face again.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It was quite a performance.

“Come on, Chanse, I’ll walk you out.” Loren opened the door.

Once we were outside the brick wall, standing on the sidewalk, Loren lit a cigarette of his own. “Christ, what a fucking mess this is turning into.” He exhaled, leaning back against the brick wall. “Well, I’m sure their million-dollar-a-year attorneys will soon be flying in and bumping me off this case. It can’t come soon enough.” He looked at me. “I recommend when you get home you unplug your landline.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“They’re releasing that statement in time for the ten o’clock news locally, and its going to break nationwide at the same time.” He shook his head. “When they talk to the police, they’re going to have to tell them about the e-mails and hiring you.” He made a face. “Leaks happen, Chanse. That’s going to get out-everyone in the world is going to be calling you once that story breaks. I don’t know if the news about Glynis has broken yet. Every reporter in the country is going to want ‘your story’ after that statement is released, and they’re going to be relentless, Chanse. And when they find out you’re a material witness?” He shook his head. “Do you have any idea what this is going to do to your life?”

I still felt like throwing up. “I can handle it.”

“Then do me a favor. Just hide out and get a lawyer. You know the cops are going to want to talk to you. For tonight, just hide the fuck out. For God’s sake, get yourself a good lawyer before you talk to them.”

“A lawyer? What the hell do I need a lawyer for?” I could feel my mind starting to slide down that dark path again, and I took some deep breaths. Imagine you’re on a beach, with the waves gently rolling to shore, and the sun is baking your skin while you lie on a towel.

Loren stepped closer to me and lowered his voice. “Chanse, you’re walking on dangerous ground right now. This is going to be bigger than the fucking O. J. Simpson case, Robert Blake, and Phil Specter fucking combined! Hell, I don’t know if I can handle this shit myself. Jillian wasn’t kidding when she said there was going to be a media circus. When she and Freddy got together, her ‘stealing’ him from Glynis was major news. Glynis was even on the cover of Vanity Fair, as the ‘wronged wife.’ Now, someone’s killed her. You may or may not have seen Freddy Bliss coming out of her house around the time she was killed. You also worked for Freddy and Jillian-and you know all about the e-mails. Hell, you were the one who found out where they came from. Yeah, you fucking need a lawyer. You needed a lawyer about an hour ago-and do not under any circumstances talk to the police without your lawyer. And I know Casanova and Tujague are your friends-but you can’t even trust them. Do you understand me?”

“I-“ I stared at him. I really hadn’t put that much thought into it. The concept that I would be a news story had never occurred to me. I’d killed two people, and both times it was maybe three paragraphs buried deep inside the pages of the newspaper. With a sinking feeling, I remembered Kato Kaelin.

Could my life bear that kind of scrutiny?

“People are going to offer you money for your story,” he went on. “That’s got Jillian and Freddy scared as hell. Sure, you signed a confidentiality agreement, and I hired you…the e-mail thing was bad enough, but you’re now a material witness in a major murder case.”