“…are you a cop?”
“I said before-no. If I were, that statement alone would make this entrapment, so please answer my question. Is your movie financed by mob money?”
“…Yes.”
“Licata?”
He nodded.
“Art, that mob involvement alone makes it credible that someone could target you for death. But I admit I can’t see why someone financing this film would want to have you killed. It frankly doesn’t make sense. You’re the director of the picture.”
He had a curdled kind of smile going. “You expect me to just discuss this?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to believe that someone wants to kill me?”
“Yes.”
“And that it would be easy for them to do that.”
I raised the gun, shrugged, then lowered it again.
He swallowed. “I…I see your point. You want to know if Louis Licata might have reason to be unhappy with me.”
“Right.”
“He does.”
“What is it?”
He frowned, cocked his head. “Is that what this is about? Are you Licata’s man? And you’re trying to trick me into admitting it?”
“Admitting what? I am not Licata’s man. Do I look fucking Italian? Sorry. Didn’t mean to raise my voice. Art- Artie?”
He was nodding, nodding, nodding. “Art is fine. You’re Jack. I get that. You do not look fucking Italian, I grant you. Do you know what the relationship between Mr. Licata and Miss Goodwin is?”
“Miss Goodwin-the female star of your film?”
“That’s right. This is her first starring role. And I agreed to do it for Mr. Licata, even though she isn’t much of an actress.”
“Does she have to be? I saw the Playboy layout.”
“Actually, she does. When she first read for me, she was wooden. Really lousy. But to get Louie’s backing, I had to agree to cast her. So I began working with her.”
“Oh. You’re fucking her.”
He blinked, surprised by how fast I’d caught up. Then he shrugged with his eyebrows. Nodded. “Yeah. Or I was. Fucking her, I mean. I broke it off before we started shooting. On the shoot, it would be unprofessional, plus… well, there are other concerns.”
“Such as?”
“I have my wife along. She’s an actress, too, and has a supporting role, and out of respect to her…and knowing that if Louie found out, I’d be in a jam…I broke it off with Tiff.”
“How did ‘Tiff’ take that?”
“Obviously she was pissed. But she’s behaving herself. And the important thing is, her acting has improved, gone from pure shit to barely competent, but improved.”
It was swell that he could grasp what was “the important thing.”
I asked, “Could Miss Goodwin be mad at you for dumping her? Mad enough to spill to her boyfriend that she had an affair with you?”
“I would hardly think so. Lou has a notorious temper, even for a mob guy. I can’t imagine she’d risk it.” He shrugged elaborately. “But…who knows with a crazy cunt like her?”
“Is that what she is? A crazy cunt?”
“Oh yeah. But what a bod…Listen, I could use a smoke.”
A pack of Marlboros and a lighter were on the nightstand and I nodded for him to go ahead.
As he got his cigarette going, I was thinking. Then I asked, “What about your wife? Is she a candidate for wanting you dead?”
“J.J.?” He actually laughed. “No, no, that’s crazy. She’s a grown-up. She knows I’ve fooled around from time to time, but that I always come home to her. She’s just about the most grounded, realistic woman you could ever hope to meet. She’s…like a man that way. I love the shit out of her.”
I wasted little time absorbing that romantic sentiment, and pressed on: “Whoever sent these two to kill your ass, Art, it’s not our immediate problem. We can address that, and should address that…but right now I need to stop the guy who’s planning an imminent fatal accident for you.”
He exhaled smoke; his eyes were wide, his forehead furrowed. “Am I crazy?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“I’m believing this. I’m believing you. Who are you?”
“I used to be in the same business.”
“As me?”
“As the pair sent to kill you.”
“And, what? You came over from the dark side? Now you’re a good guy? This is not a script I would buy, Mr. Reynolds.”
“Good guys and bad guys aren’t the issue.”
“What is?”
“Whether you want to hire me to stop you from dying of an accident.”
His eyes flared and nostrils too and he sat sharply up. “Insurance,” he said.
“What?”
“That’s why Licata could afford to have me killed. There’s insurance on the picture. Completion bond, it’s called. Something happens to me, insurance pays off big-time. They can salvage what I shot, and start over later, but in the meantime, the production gets paid for, top to bottom.”
I was nodding. “Okay. That may make Licata the prime suspect. But just now we don’t want to solve your murder, Art-we want to prevent it.”
Suddenly he changed his position, in a couple of senses, including scooching closer to me and sitting like an Indian on the bed, hunkered over conspiratorially. “How will you do that? Is this something you…something you’ve…”
“I have done it before. I have helped people in your situation. Never lost a patient yet. But there’s something you have to come to grips with, before you can hire me.”
His eyes flared again and he gestured with his cigarette in hand, making a smoke trail that vaguely suggested a question mark. “Haven’t you given me enough already? To come to grips with?”
“No. There’s a bigger bump yet you have to weather. Something major you have to grasp, and endorse.”
“What the fuck are you-”
“The way I can help you, right now, is to stop this.”
“Well, sure…”
“To stop this. Understand? I have to remove the problem. Cut out the cancer. Get it?”
“You mean…you have to kill the…killers.”
“Yes.” I shrugged. “Actually, I’ve already killed one of them. Earlier tonight.”
His jaw dropped. Not a figure of speech-it dropped. “What?”
“The surveillance expert. Back-up guy I mentioned? He’s already turned over the info he’s gathered on you to his partner. And as far as the partner knows, the back-up guy has gone home. Which he has. In a big way.”
His eyes were tight; his tone tentative. “You…you killed someone tonight…”
“Yes.”
“Without knowing whether I would…without my…”
“Yes. You know what they say-first one’s free.”
“My God.” He seemed about to throw up, but he handled it. Probably didn’t want to waste the Percodan.
“You all right, Art? We cool?”
