Marcia Clark - Killer Ambition

“Do you know where you saw her? Maybe she came here?”

This time her answer was immediate. “No.”

It was the quickest, most definitive answer we’d had yet. I had a feeling I knew why. “Where else might you have seen her?”

Brittany opened her mouth, then gave a sidelong glance at her mother. I took the hint.

“Patricia, you really don’t need to stay,” I said as diplomatically as I could. “Besides, you both could wind up testifying, and if that happens, you being here now could pose a problem for me in court.”

My standard-and true-advisory to all witnesses. Defense attorneys loved to thrash witnesses for having heard each other’s version of events because they could claim the witnesses had altered each other’s memories. Of course, that really wasn’t a concern here. We weren’t talking about eyewitness descriptions of a robbery suspect. But I didn’t have to tell Patricia that. The truth was that Brittany would be a lot more forthcoming if we were alone.

“Testifying?” Patricia’s eyes widened. “To what? It’s perfectly obvious Brittany doesn’t have any information that could be of use to you.” Her eyebrows dipped into what would’ve been a frown if her face hadn’t been frozen by megadoses of Botox.

She looked angry enough to throw us out. I didn’t want her to end the interview, so I reassured her. “I’m not saying I intend to put either one of you on the stand-we don’t even have a case yet. But I always have to prepare for the possibility. And interviewing witnesses separately is standard practice.”

Mother Caren cooled off a few degrees, but not enough to capitulate. “I’m sorry to hear that, but Brittany doesn’t do interviews alone.” She turned to Brittany and patted her hand. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Ms. Caren, this is a criminal investigation, not a movie promo for Allure magazine. It is inappropriate to have you here while we talk to Brittany,” I said, keeping my voice as low and level as I could.

Patricia Caren narrowed her eyes at me. “You can either talk to her with me here or not at all. Your choice.”

Mommy Dearest ruled this roost with an iron hand. That’s why Brittany had been so certain she hadn’t seen Hayley at the house. She probably never brought anyone here if she could help it. It didn’t matter that she was legally an adult, or that she had paid for everything and everyone in this house. Brittany was mommy’s prize pony and mommy was going to keep her in the race. I’d have to capitulate for now. I sat back and Bailey took over.

“Do you happen to know whether Russell had any enemies?” Bailey asked. “Anyone who held a grudge against him?”

We knew that Brian was our kidnapper, but we didn’t know whether he was in league with someone else. Since Warden Patricia wouldn’t leave, and she-like Brittany-had known Russell for a long time, Bailey had wisely decided to use the opportunity to grill her too.

Patricia gave a bark of a laugh. “Anyone who held a grudge? There’re probably thousands. Every actor-”

I’d heard this litany enough to repeat it in my sleep. I shook my head. “We’re talking about something out of the norm. Very few actors or producers are going to do something as crazy as kidnap his daughter just because he didn’t hire them or buy their script.”

Patricia gave me an incredulous look. “You don’t know much about this town, do you?”

I knew enough to say I was sick of hearing about “this town.” And all the people in it. Besides, I’d lived here long enough to know that although there were vampires in the industry, there were a heck of a lot of smart, talented people who were just decent, hardworking folks.

At that moment the bouncer came in and announced that the script had been delivered. Should he sign for it?

Looking annoyed, Patricia sighed and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

Brittany had been leaning on the arm of the sofa, staring off, but I noticed that when she’d heard the bouncer mention a script, her brow had furrowed.

“You okay, Brittany?” I asked. A thought of some kind? Was it possible?

Brittany nodded. “Yeah. You got me thinking about Hayley…and the script…it reminded me. Back before Russell was a big director, when he was a co-producer on my show. It was when he’d just sold his first film script, Wonderland Warriors- you’ve heard of it, right?”

“Maybe,” I said. The name was somewhat familiar.

“It was huge. Wonderland Warriors was what made Russell. Tommy said Russell stole that script from him.”

“Tommy? Who’s that?” Bailey asked.

“He was a writer on Circle of Friends. ” Brittany peered at us hazily. “You’ve heard of Circle, right?”

We both nodded. “Of course,” I said, eager to get her to refocus on this Tommy guy. “So Tommy said Russell stole the script for Wonderland Warriors ?”

Brittany nodded. “Yeah. Tommy always wrote by hand on a legal pad. He was kinda strange. But I always thought he was a pretty good writer.” She started to drift off again, so I quickly reeled her back in.

“What happened when Tommy accused Russell of stealing his script?”

“It got really gnarly. Tommy-”

“Do you remember his last name?”

She squinted for a second. “Maher. Tommy Maher.”

“What did he do?”

“They got in a big fight. Tommy got moved to the other end of the lot-”

The rapid click-clack of heels on marble told me Patricia was on her way back. Brittany’s expression told me she’d noticed that too.

“Did Tommy file a lawsuit against Russell?” The theft of a script was no little thing-especially if the script had been the star maker Brittany said it was.

“No. I don’t think-”

Patricia had the ears of an owl. As she entered the living room she said, “Don’t think what?”

“Nothing,” Brittany said. Her face had closed. We’d reached the end of this line.

I tried another tack. “Did Hayley ever talk to you about a boy named Brian?”

At this, Brittany looked puzzled. “Brian? No, I-I don’t think so.”

Patricia walked over but remained standing. “I never heard her mention the name either.” She reached down and took Brittany by the hand. “Now if you don’t mind, Brittany’s got an early call-”

I stood and pulled out a card. “Brittany, thank you. I know you and Hayley were very close at one time. If you remember anything else, will you get in touch?”

Brittany nodded. “Of course. I want to help any way I can.” She took the card and held it in front of her as though she didn’t know what to do with it. Bailey added her card to mine and gave one to Patricia too. I knew Bailey did it just to tweak her. I also knew both cards would land in the trash before we made it to the car.

“Thank you both for your time,” Bailey said.

Time flies when you’re trying to pry information out of a zombie and end-run the zombie’s keeper. It was six thirty by the time Bailey and I left the Carens’. Too late to knock on any more doors.

“Feel like a drink?” I asked.

“I feel like day-old bacon. I’d like a drink. Maybe several.”

“Brittany looked like she had several before we got there,” I said. “If I had a mother like that, I would’ve been dipping my pacifier in vodka.”

“She’s a classic Momager-”

“And a classic something else.” I thought back on Brittany’s vague expressions and floaty demeanor. “But I think it’s more than booze. That girl’s a pill head too.”

Bailey nodded. “So I guess the stories are true.”

“Sadly, some of them are.”

Bailey headed for the 101 freeway south, taking us back downtown.