some meetings for me right now.”
“Please come into my office,” I said.
I showed Val Kenney to the seating area. “I’m sure Cody would have told me about you, but I haven’t had a phone for a couple of days.”
“Being without a phone. That’s hell, isn’t it?”
I laughed. First time in a while.
“So what’s your story, Val?”
She summarized her life, hitting the high points. She had rehearsed it, sure, but it wasn’t too pat. Val was from Miami; her mother still lived in the Gables. She’d gone to Boston University, graduated four years ago with a bachelor of science degree.
“I took criminology postgrad at the University of Miami,” she told me. “My mom needed me at home to help her with my brother for a while. He was a teenager, you know, out of control. Do you remember when you came to Miami and gave a lecture on crime detection?”
“I do.”
“I was in the front row.”
“Sorry. There were a lot of people there.”
“Oh, that’s okay. But you really made an impression on me, Mr. Morgan.”
“Jack.”
“Jack. So how am I doing?” she asked. “Am I still hired?”
Second time I’d laughed. I guess I must’ve missed laughter if I was counting.
“Let’s see how it goes,” I said. “Keep talking.”
Val told me she’d done a stint with Miami PD in the back office, got her master’s at night, and told her mother that she was going to move to LA one day and work for Private.
“That last part’s a lie,” I said.
She grinned. “It’s what you say on interviews, ‘I always wanted to work here.’ But damn it, I did. I do.”
“Have you moved to LA?”
“Yes. I’m a big one for bold moves.”
First time she’d looked nervous in fifteen minutes, since Dewey Arnold told me good luck like he was wishing I’d get the plague.
“When Cody answered my e-mail, I got on a plane and flew out to meet him,” Valerie continued. “Speaking of e-mail, you’ve got a lot of it. Phone calls too. Three clients resigned-I cued up their contact info on your computer. And there are about five meetings I should rebook for you, if you’re ready. Mr. Del Rio, urgent. Ms. Poole, urgent. Should I go on?”
“You know what has happened to me?”
“Yes.”
“Solving Colleen Molloy’s murder-we’re going to be working nights. Weekends. You’ve got an advanced degree. Are you sure you want to answer phones?”
“Yes. And I can do anything you need me to do. This is a dream job, Mr., ah, Jack. I’ll work my butt off. That’s a promise. You’re looking at a former scholarship student. I got into the best schools on scholarship.”
Her hands were clasped tightly together in her lap. She was leaning toward me, hopeful.
I had to smile. She was smart and she was motivated, but was she as good as her act?
“When you think I’m ready, we’ll talk about me moving up to investigation,” Val Kenney said.
I had a murder rap hanging over my head. I had to take a chance that the smart and motivated Ms. Kenney could watch my back while I did whatever I had to do to save my life.
I reached out and shook her hand again.
This time I said, “Welcome to Private.”
PART THREE
CHAPTER 64
The movie was being shot north of LA, just outside the town of Ojai, on a ranch-style property set back from a winding country lane.
Del Rio stood in the shade of an avocado grove, watching the crew set up the first shots of Shades of Green. A few yards away, Scotty leaned against the white horse fence that separated the avocado trees from the drive, the lawn, and the eccentric-looking house, maybe a hundred years old.
Right then, eight-fifteen a.m., the crew was adjusting the lights, the sound level, the camera angles, focusing on the blue Ferrari parked in front of the house.
Danny Whitman was in the driver’s seat, and his costar, sixteen-year-old Piper Winnick, was sitting beside him. The two were joking around, getting into the personalities of the characters, two young spies who’d fallen in love despite the odds, seeing as Danny’s character was marked for assassination.
Del Rio was reminded of the characters in one of those Bourne films starring Matt Damon and an actress whose name he didn’t know. Unlike the brunette in that Bourne movie, Piper Winnick was a honey blonde. She wore her shining hair shoulder length and was dressed in a yellow sundress with a straw hat shading her eyes.
Danny Whitman wore a blue polo shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap, and he was nuzzling his costar, who was fake-pushing him away, calling him “stupido,” the two of them laughing.
What Del Rio liked was how there were no other houses visible from this property, that the situation was under control. He lit a cigarette. He wasn’t hooked, but there were times when it just felt good to exhale and watch the smoke blow away in the breeze.
Del Rio watched the actors, thinking the film was pretty much guaranteed to be next summer’s blockbuster-if Danny didn’t go to jail. Or maybe the film would be even more of a box office bonanza if he did.
The director was talking now, telling the couple to take their places. They got out of the car and went into the house of many crazy additions, just as three of Danny Whitman’s handlers ambled up from the road.
Scotty left his post at the rail, came over, and stood next to Del Rio.
He said, “Of the three of them, I only like Schuster, the manager. I think he likes Danny for real. Barstow, Danny’s agent? He doesn’t like anybody. Merv Koulos. I understand him. He doesn’t try to hide that it’s all about money.”
Del Rio said, “It’s all about the money for all of them, Scotty. Just different shades of green.”
The three men came up to the investigators, Schuster saying, “You’re the guys from Private, right?”
Del Rio thought Schuster looked happy for good reason. He’d waited a long time for the cameras to roll, and today was the day.
Barstow said, “You can get something to eat if you want. The chow wagon is behind the barn.”
Del Rio said, “Thanks, but we’re good.”
He was thinking how it was great to get a softball job once in a while. Everything under control.
CHAPTER 65
FIFTY FEET AWAY from the avocado grove, the director’s assistant called, “Quiet please. Let’s have quiet.”
Someone clapped the boards, said, “Take one.” And the AD said, “Four, three, two and…action.”
The camera was focused on the front door, Danny coming out of the house followed by Piper. Danny turned
