Then I clicked on one photo, and my heart lurched. It looked just like the “perfect house” I’d picked out one year in L.A. Glass walled second story patio, sliding glass doors, indoor metal staircase … it went on and on.
“I like his work,” I admitted. “I like it a lot.”
“He’s got that perfect flavor,” Vicki added. “So-Cal, but not.”
“Exactly,” I agreed as I looked over at her. “You think we’ll always be glancing back at L.A. in the rearview?”
“In some ways,” she sighed. “It defined us and made us who we are. It’s our foundation, and we’ll grow from that. In a lot of ways we already have.”
“That’s true,” I realized.
“We wouldn’t fit in at Sanchez now,” she chuckled as she referred to the entertainment firm where we met.
“No, we wouldn’t,” I replied.
“Sometimes,” she began, “I think about my office out there, and my day to day life, and I know I don’t belong there. It doesn’t fit anymore. I do miss some of my friends, though.”
“I never met any of them,” I told her with a frown.
“We weren’t close enough then,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “Once we get this place built, we’ll have a big housewarming party. Invite all of our L.A. friends out for the weekend. Take them out to the Red Rocks. They’ll love it.”
“Yeah,” I said as I thought about the handful of guys I used to go to bars with.
Some of them I’d gone to law school with at UCLA, and others I met later along the way. Most had become pretentious douchebags who spent their lives in an endless stream of casual sex, one upping each other on the ladder to success, and bragging about how much money we were all making.
And yes, we were raking in quite a bit of cash in those days.
There’s not as much coming in anymore. There’s definitely money in Sedona, and we’ve certainly cornered our share of the market, but it’s different here. I doubted most of those guys would understand my life now.
Just then, AJ came back in, and her arms were full with two takeout cartons of coffee cups.
“Let me help you.” Vicki jumped in and took one carton.
“Thanks,” AJ sighed.
“You could have called us to help bring them in,” I suggested.
“I got it,” AJ chuckled, “I knew you guys were working hard.”
I laughed. “Not as hard as we should have been.”
Vicki took the coffee cups back to the conference room, and the guys cheered. I heard her asking about their progress, and AJ handed me an envelope with cash and my bank card.
“I even found the rare ATM with tens so it will be even,” she said.
“Thanks,” I replied with a smile. “I didn’t want to deal with writing checks for all of these guys. Quick cash contract labor is easier for the books.”
“So, what did you guys find when I was out?” she asked as she sat down beside me.
“Jerry blackmailed Ollie with some dirty secrets,” I told her.
“Ollie … run-off-to-Phoenix-and-bankrupt-the-company Ollie?” she asked and furrowed her brow.
“That’s the one.” I nodded. “Jerry apparently borrowed a lot of money from Allen Wagenshutz--”
“To pay for that Krishna’s Curse film,” she interrupted.“It’s a piece of crap. Did you watch that?”
“No,” I said, “Leila told me I should.”
“She told me that, too,” AJ replied before her face scrunched up in disgust. “God, it was awful. It had to do with this couple who searched for a hidden treasure in the Himalayas, and all kinds of tragedy befalls them along the way. The film was two and a half hours.”
“Jesus,” I whistled. “After two and a half hours, do they find the treasure?”
“Yeah,” AJ groaned, “but the treasure’s not what they think. It’s actually a backward curse. It gives them eternal life, but it makes them wooden figurines. So, they spend all eternity as these wooden knick knacks on the mantle, watching their loved ones.”
“That’s horrible,” I remarked. “Who would want to watch that?”
“And the story’s the better part of the movie,” she added. “The production is horrible. Jerry tried to pass off the Red Rocks as the Himalayas. Just terrible.”
“Well,” I chuckled, “that’s why it didn’t make any money. So, Jerry couldn’t pay it back, and Allen threatened to kill him over it.”
“That sounds about right,” AJ mused as she tilted her head. “Leila said the budget for the movie was two and a half million. She said he had a mysterious benefactor for a lot of the films he kept quiet.”
“Really?” I replied. “So, Allen Wagenshutz was bankrolling Steele Productions, and then Jerry got in over his head.”
“So, he started treading water,” AJ concluded, “and things got worse and worse.”
“Then Ollie comes along,” I continued, “and Jerry’s desperate and blackmails him, and that buys him some time. So, Ollie bankrupts the Wrights, and then kills himself over the guilt.”
“But this still doesn’t explain who murdered Jerry, though,” AJ pointed out.
“And that’s really the only question we’re after,” I sighed. “There won’t be any secrets left in this town after we’re done.”
Just then, dinner delivery from down the street arrived, and Vicki signed for it. Then I went into the conference room and signaled for a break.
“How are we doing guys?” I asked as they all took off their headphones. “Are we finding anything?”
“Not much,” my dad grumbled. “This stuff is shit.”
I laughed. “I don’t know how many times I’ve heard that in regards to Jerry Steele this week.”
Everyone laughed, and Vicki brought in the food.
“So,” I went on, “we’re going to take a break. I know it’s getting late and we appreciate all your help. We’ve got a little something