“I do not believe a word you are saying!” Iris snapped.
“You’re entitled to believe whatever you want,” Phil said, before turning toward Violet. “What matters to me is what Violet thinks.”
“I don’t know . . .” Violet whispered.
“And your peace offering is a dossier on Hal Greenwood?” Poppy asked, confused.
“Look, I know you’ve been investigating Greenwood,” Phil said.
“Of course you know! You have been spying on us!” Iris exclaimed.
“True, but I also know Greenwood’s got an airtight alibi for the Danika Delgado murder.”
Matt shrugged. “So what? He could have hired someone to do his dirty work, a thug from Cobra perhaps, someone like you to shut her up before word got out that he was harassing her.”
“Okay, I deserved that, but you’re wrong. I would never do something so vile, and that’s not the kind of company I work for either. Once we compiled this file on Greenwood, we dropped him as a client.”
“Why? What’s in there?” Poppy asked, pointing to the dossier on the coffee table.
“There is a lot of truth to the rumors out there about him. He’s scum and not worth our time,” Phil said. “There is stuff in there that dates all the way back to his childhood. It’s a complete picture of the man, and it’s not pretty. And having worked for the guy, I’m now convinced even if he didn’t commit the murder, he’s somehow connected to it.”
There was a long silence.
He was echoing Poppy’s own suspicions.
Phil was done, but he made no move to leave.
Poppy finally decided to take charge of getting him out. “Thank you, Phil. We’ll look it over.”
Phil took a step toward Violet and said quickly, “I texted you my new number, Violet. Feel free to use it . . . But I understand if you decide to leave things where they are.”
Violet’s lip quivered. She didn’t know what to make of him, if he was being sincere, not sure she could ever trust him again. She simply managed to croak out, “Okay.”
That was all he was going to get at this point.
“Thanks for your time,” he mumbled, and then headed out the door.
Poppy walked over and picked up the dossier and began untying the string to open it. Phil McKellan had a gut feeling about Hal Greenwood, and so did Poppy, and for what it was worth, so did Byron Savage. Hopefully whatever was in this envelope would finally provide some answers.
Chapter 44
When it became clear that Poppy and her Desert Flowers team would be working late poring over the information in the dossier Phil McKellan had left behind, Poppy put in a call to Sam to check up on him and make sure he was taken care of until she was able to get home.
“There is some cold chicken in the fridge, and enough veggies in the crisper to make yourself a salad, and there might be some cookies in the pantry, hopefully not too stale.”
“I’ll wait up for you,” Sam said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. There is no telling how long I’m going to be stuck here.”
“Any wine left?”
“You should not be drinking.”
“They say red wine is good for the heart.”
“I’m never sure if it’s the doctors saying that or the wine industry,” Poppy said. “If you must, just one glass.”
“That’s no fun.”
“And don’t forget to take your sleeping pill.”
“Yes, dear,” Sam cracked.
“What was that?” Poppy snorted.
“What?”
“Dear? You’ve been at my house one day and already we’re acting like an old married couple.”
“I know, it’s kind of fun, isn’t it?” Sam joked.
“And don’t overexert yourself. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“I’ll try not to get too excited lying on your couch watching Anderson Cooper tell me what’s going on in the world.”
“Good-bye, sweetheart,” Poppy said, grinning.
“Later, pumpkin.”
Poppy laughed as she ended the call.
In order to give the team an energy boost, Iris had offered to make a Starbucks run before they closed for the day.
“How thoughtful, thank you, Iris,” Violet cooed.
“I am a thoughtful person, Violet,” Iris said before scooting out the door.
Poppy knew Iris was more interested in getting out of the claustrophobic office and into some fresh air than doing a selfless act and treating everyone to shots of espresso to keep them awake. That left Poppy, Violet, Matt, and Wyatt to sift through the pages in the dossier.
The first batch of pages mostly contained information about Hal Greenwood that they already knew, past lawsuits and depositions both as plaintiff and defendant. Greenwood had a litigious nature and enough money to drag things out in a court for years until he usually won or got a settlement. There were a lot of disgruntled screenwriters who sued when he stole their ideas, and directors he fired who were supposed to get final cut on their films according to their contracts, and then there were the flood of NDAs, non-disclosure agreements signed by hundreds of actresses, assistants, masseuses, and cocktail waitresses over his long thirty-five-year career, almost too many to count.
Poppy rifled through stacks of pages, choosing to focus on Greenwood’s earlier years, before he hit it big, to see if there might be something about him they had missed, a key event that could provide a clue to how he evolved into the monster he ultimately became. That’s when she spotted a name that stood out to her.
Harold Lawson.
That’s the name Hal went by during his first few years in Hollywood. It made sense. Hal was short for Harold. But why Lawson? Why not Greenwood? She delved a little deeper into the file, turning up a hometown newspaper article from the time when local boy done good Harold Lawson, now Hal Greenwood, was producing his first independent feature film in the late 1980s. According to the article, Lawson was Hal’s father’s name. Greenwood was his mother’s maiden name. Why did he feel the need to change it? Did Hal Greenwood strike him as more of a Hollywood
