Page 5

4

Claudia watched silently from the front door as Mason, Julia and two LAPD detectives—they’d introduced themselves as Wilson and Brooks—walked out of the house.

Claudia had been wrong. They hadn’t arrested Julia, just politely asked her to come to the station to answer further questions. Julia had agreed, but insisted that she travel separately.

“I’ll drive her,” Mason said. “We’ll meet you at the precinct.”

“Claudia,” said Julia, quietly, “call the lawyer, ask him to meet us there.” They reached Mason’s car, which looked, if possible, slightly more disreputable in the blinding sunshine.

“Oh hell no,” said Julia. She turned to Mason. “I hope you drive stick.”

The 1965 Shelby Cobra is considered by many car enthusiasts to be the most beautiful car of that decade. When Julia Mann had opened the doors of her garage, it was just one of half a dozen cars, each one under a custom cover. Even the detectives had whistled.

“They were Jonathan’s,” Julia had said, as she tweaked the covers to reveal each one. “A man from the Petersen Museum comes once a month to coo over them and keep them running, but I rarely drive them. Claudia does the driving, usually.” She looked at Mason. “Which one?” Mason had swallowed and pointed to the Shelby.

It is not a hard-and-fast rule that all paparazzi are men, nor is it set in stone that all men love cars. However, as the car pulled up in front of the Beverly Hills Police Department, the all-male pack of paparazzi swarmed forward and started taking pictures before anyone even got out of the car. Once she stepped out, however, they recognized Julia Mann instantly.

“Mrs. Mann, is it true you finally killed Tony Eckenridge?”

“Scared to go back to jail, Julia?”

“Is the longest-running feud in Hollywood over?”

Julia was taking the high road. “Do I look like a killer, gentlemen?”

“No,” replied one, “you look like my grandmother.”

Without breaking stride, Julia Mann face-palmed him as she passed, and the volley of flashes widened her smile considerably.

Even a Hollywood Realtor would have had a hard time selling the police station—mid-century oblongs, desecrated on the regular since the seventies, a very optimistic fixer-upper—and would have stuttered into silence over the interrogation room. Pale green walls, scuffed linoleum, a table that looked like a hundred heads had been slammed on it. Mason was glad she wasn’t under arrest; she felt anxious enough as it was. Julia merely sat there and practiced her impersonation of granite, which really didn’t need any work.

“Are you cold?” Mason asked, at one point.

“No, that’s just the way I look. Be quiet,” Mann had snapped back, and since then they’d sat in silence. Julia might have been thinking a mile a minute, but Mason didn’t know her well enough to be sure.

Finally, the door to the interrogation room opened, and a cop poked her head around. “Your lawyer’s here. Or maybe he’s your agent. It wasn’t very clear.”

Julia was gazing at the table and didn’t look up. “He’s both. Jesus, Larry, it took you long enough. You know how hard it is for me to remain silent.” Mason frowned; Julia had made it look easy.

“Uh…” A very deep voice. To go with the six foot four of masculine hotness that had stepped through the door, holding a briefcase and looking gravely concerned. Julia’s head whipped around.

“Who the hell are you? Where’s Larry?”

“I’m Archie Jacobson. Larry’s in the hospital, I’m afraid.” He started to sit at the table, but Julia put up her hand. Mason, privately, was totally comfortable with this guy, and hoped Larry was going to remain hospitalized. Archie Jacobson was wearing a charcoal gray suit over a white shirt and looked as corporate as they come, but Mason noticed a pair of Star Trek socks briefly appearing above his shoes and covered her smile. A secret nerd, her favorite kind.

“No.” Julia was firm.

“Yes.” Archie found his spine, ignored the lifted hand and sat down. “He had a heart attack yesterday.”

“That was yesterday. I need him today.”

“Well, the bypass surgery he’s in right now makes that challenging.”

Julia was still peevish. “I’m not your client. I’m Larry’s client. I’ve been Larry’s client since he booked my first commercial.” She turned to Mason. “Somehow, this is your fault.”

Archie flicked a glance at Mason and replied, “Larry didn’t have an arterial blockage to annoy you, Mrs. Mann. I’m Larry’s junior partner, which makes me temporarily your agent and your lawyer, because I, like Larry, am both.” He cleared his throat. “I was briefly a criminal attorney before switching to the entertainment business.”

Julia gave up. “Fine. Stay. If you suck I’ll fire you later.”

Mason sighed. She now had a better understanding of why Julia had gone to jail the first time, innocent or not. It was simply surprising the trial had lasted as long as it had.

“Can I ask a question?” she said, then continued without waiting. “Aren’t you yourself a lawyer? Why do you even need one?”

Julia snorted. “Yes, of course I’m a lawyer—I’m a kick-ass lawyer in fact—but I can’t represent myself and do a good job.” She turned to Archie. “You’re really a lawyer?” She explained to Mason, “Larry also happened to be a lawyer; many agents are.”

Archie nodded. “I am, Mrs. Mann. Being a lawyer makes me a better agent, and sometimes I spend all day fiddling with contracts. However, I am also an agent, and Larry did ask me to ask you about Cinespia.” He pulled out a notepad and pen. “Not to distract you from the business of being questioned by the police, but have you decided whether or not to do it?” He looked at Mason again, and suddenly seemed to realize he didn’t know her from Eve. “By the way, who are you?”

Julia snorted. “That’s Mason, my assistant. Back away.”

Mason asked, “Does this conversation fall under lawyer-client privilege?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m also her interim sponsor,” said Mason. “Not that she relishes that relationship.”

“You surprise me,” said the man, holding out his hand. “She seems generally so good-humored.”

Mason shook his hand and realized she could also smell a faint hint of aftershave or something…lime oil, cloves, oakmoss. Sexy. Keep your head in the game, Mason .

“I decided no to Cinespia,” replied Julia. “Big fat no.”

“Larry said to tell you that’s a mistake,” said Archie.

Mason frowned. “How did he know she was going to say no?” She held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. She always says no.”

The agent/lawyer tapped his nose. “I’m starting to think so.”

Julia said, “Actually, that’s why I killed Tony, so I could get out of the Cinespia thing by going to jail.”

“What Cinespia thing?” asked Mason. “I mean, I know that Cinespia is the outdoor movie thing, the summer thing at the cemetery, right?” All summer long, classic movies were played on Saturday evenings at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. People brought picnics and wine and dressed up and had a blast.

Archie nodded. “Yes, and they want Julia to come and present a showing of The Codex , her most famous movie and the one she won an Oscar for.”

“The one for which she won an Oscar,” corrected Julia. “Don’t end a sentence with a preposition, Mr. Jacobson. It makes you look dumber than your choice of footwear.”

Mason looked under the table. Converse high-tops, nothing dumb about that, especially not with the kind of bespoke tailored suit the lawyer was wearing everywhere else. She narrowed her eyes at Julia and made a mental note to discuss restraint of pen and tongue, another basic suggestion in recovery. Her sponsor always said, ask yourself, does it have to be said, does it have to be said by me , and does it have to be said by me now ? If you’ve gone through that process, the moment has probably passed anyway.

Archie was leaning in. “They’re going to show the movie with or without you. They want you to wear the catsuit, of course. The Academy Museum is going to loan it to you for the night. You’ll look amazing. It’s a great idea.” He turned and gave Mason a small smile. “Don’t you think?”

Mason frowned. “They want her to dress as a cat?”

There was a fractional pause. “Noooo.” Archie shook his head. “On the poster for the movie, which is almost as famous as the movie itself, she is wearing a silver catsuit while kicking a gun out of the bad guy’s hand…” He had very blue eyes, Mason noticed, blue and sparkly and currently encouraging her to search her memory banks for this image. An image she suddenly did recall.

“Wait…that’s you?” She turned and laughed at Julia, then immediately stopped laughing and covered her mouth. “I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just like discovering you were the Mona Lisa or something. Everyone knows that image.”

It was iconic. Like Marilyn holding her skirt down over the subway grate, or the shark coming up below the swimmer: Mason suddenly saw the poster in her head, saw Julia in the silver catsuit, and then…“Isn’t it cursed? Curse of The Codex , I read about it last night. Someone died on the set, lots of drama…” She ground to a halt, realizing from the look on Julia’s face that she was once again putting her boot all the way down her own throat. She kept going; might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. “Was that your husband? Was that you?”

“Me that died?” Julia raised a single eyebrow. “No, we had two deaths, a stuntwoman who died on set in an accident, and then my husband was murdered, many months after the movie was finished. Supposedly at my hand. Didn’t we already cover this?” She turned to Archie. “She’s got a lot of energy, but I’m not sure she has a pause button.”

“Maybe that’s why Tony was coming to see you? About the remake? Is that possible?” Mason thought for another second. “I’m afraid I never actually saw the movie.”

Archie’s eyes stopped sparkling, which was sad. Mason had only ever seen a lawyer this good-looking on a TV show about good-looking lawyers. It was a bummer to have disappointed the only one she’d ever met in real life.

Julia laughed. “Ask me if I care. Archie, can we get back to the present day? The police think I killed Tony.”

“And you didn’t?”

Julia shook her head. “I was blacked out. I don’t remember anything. But I’m pretty certain I didn’t.”

“Pretty certain?”

“Almost certain.”

“I’d like more certainty on that certain.”

“You won’t get it. I don’t remember anything.” She made a face. “Little flashes here and there, but nothing cohesive.” She looked at her watch. “Where the hell are the cops? Do you think they’re trying to make me sweat?”

The door opened again. Apparently, the cops had excellent timing.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” said Detective Brooks, whose red curls suggested a far more fun-loving personality than the one she actually possessed.

“Please stand, Mrs. Mann,” Detective Wilson said. “Julia Mann, we are hereby charging you with homicide in the second degree. This charge is in relation to the murder of Anthony Eckenridge on the evening of August the first at your home, 1440 Kestrel Way. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you.”

“I can afford one. He’s sitting right there,” said Julia, stretching her arms overhead. “God, this is outrageous.” She shook herself and got to her feet. “I thought I was just here for questions. What changed?”

“We got forensics back on the murder weapon. Your prints, no one else’s.”

“It’s possible I picked up the gun…” Julia frowned. “I vaguely remember something like that.”

Archie was annoyed. “Did you have to keep her waiting so long? It’s Friday. It’s going to be hard to arrange bail.”

Detective Wilson shrugged. “She’ll survive. The guy she shot and pushed into the pool…not so much.”

“I didn’t push him into the pool,” argued Julia. “The force of the bullet did that.”

Detective Brooks pulled out her handcuffs. “Turn around, please.”

For the first time, Mason saw a flicker of anxiety on Julia’s face. “You don’t need to do that.” She put her hands in her pockets.

Detective Wilson nodded. “I’m sorry, but we have to transport you downtown for booking. The press is outside; the cuffs are a requirement.”

“Bullshit,” said Archie. “She’s not a flight risk.”

Julia had gone pale. Mason watched her eyes as they scythed the handcuffs around her wrists, and she wondered what it felt like to be restrained again, after years of freedom.

Whatever she was feeling, Julia stayed calm and looked at Mason with clear eyes. “Tell Claudia to call Will and get him up to speed. I’ll be back tomorrow, assuming Mr. Jacobson earns his percentage.”

And with that she turned and allowed herself to be led from the room, pausing at the door to look over her shoulder.

“And, Mason, if I never see you again, it’s such a pity.” She waited a beat. “This could have been the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Mason just stared at her. As the door closed behind her, she turned to Archie with her eyebrows raised.

“Actresses,” he said. “They can never resist making an exit.”