Chapter #34: Something Missed

“You don’t have to do this.” Turner put his hand on the suitcase. “We don’t have to do this. It’s over. Let’s just let it be over.”

James Redfield looked at him and smiled. “Yes, Dave. It’s over, and this is how we end it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Look at me, Dave.” He dropped his eyes to the suitcase. “This is what I want, how I want it to end.”

“You’re sure?” Turner sat in the chair, defeated.

Redfield nodded his head. “This way no one will ever forget and no one will ever have to know the truth. It’s over and no one else has to suffer.”

“I can’t do this alone.” He half begged, half tried to convince himself.

“You’re not alone, Dave.” Redfield turned his face back to the darkness. “It will all just be different. We’ll all have to get used to it, but it’s for the best. You’re in control now.”

“But I don’t want to be in control.” Turner reached out and grabbed Redfield’s arm. “I don’t want it. I don’t want all the deceptions and the lies…Jamey, please.”

Jamey put his hand on Dave’s and gently pulled it from his arm. “There are no more deceptions, Dave. All the lies are gone. We don’t need to tell them anymore. We don’t need to look over our shoulders. All that died with Lucille.”

Dave was trying hard not to let his heart break. “She took my son.”

“We’ll find him. That’s my job now, and this is the best way to do it. I’ll find him and bring him back to you.”

Turner nodded his head. “Why did this all get started and how did it all become such an ungodly mess?”

“We did what we had to do to survive. It’s the name of the game in this town. We didn’t write the rules.”

“We just broke them.”

“We didn’t break any rules, Dave.” Redfield hissed at him. “We beat them at their own game. They said we couldn’t do it. They said we didn’t have the talent and they were wrong.”

He had to agree. “Then they said we’d never do it twice, and ten years later we’re still here and they aren’t.”

“And we own this town.” David could see Jamey smiling in triumph even in the dark. “People barely remember Four Stars Studios.”

“In ten years, with they remember HRT?” Dave asked.

“Of course they will.” Jamey said confidently. “It’s all up to you. You call the shots. We created a company, David Turner. Now, go. Create a legend.”

“We’re do we go from here?”

“Where do you go from here?” James Redfield turned to stare at him with a smile.

“I guess this is it then.”

“Yes. It’s been fun David, but this is what I want. The world will remember me the way I was.”

“But they can fix your face, Jamey. You will work again. We own the most powerful film company in the world.”

He shook his head. “No. Lucille was right.”

“Lucille was an idiot, an idiot and a coward.” David spit.

The fire in Redfield’s eyes ignited the room. “She gave us the out. She knew it was the only way to end it without losing it all. She sacrificed everything, everything for this. She wasn’t a coward, she was a genius and the only one smarter than her is you. Now stop acting like a frightened ten year old and get out there and make it all worth while.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” The remorse in David’s voice was finally real. “What am I going to do with out you or Lucille to keep kicking me in the rear?”

“Oh, things will be different, but whenever you need it, I’ll find a way to deliver a good swift kick now and then.”

Turner nodded his head and stood. “Well, I guess it’s my turn to go and clean up the mess.”

He heard Jamey laugh. It made him smile. He hadn’t heard a genuine laugh from the man in a long, long time. “Just where are you going to start?”

“Well, Lucille bought all these new companies. She claimed they were our future. I guess I’m going to go in the office and figure out what to do with a bunch of television stations. You’re starting a new adventure. I guess I’ll do the same.”

He walked to the door of the hospital room. “Goodbye, James Redfield, it was an honor knowing you.”

“Until we meet again, my friend, until we meet again.”

It would be the last time he ever saw James Redfield, but it wouldn’t be the last time he regretted not disappearing with him.



“Hey there gorgeous.” He beamed. “I was wondering when you’d come back to see me.”

“I’ve been a busy girl, and I knew you were tied up.” She giggled.

“I’m gonna ignore that pun.” Ian took Saxon’s hand as she leaned over and kissed him. “So, how was Disneyland?”

“We had a great time!” Saxon sighed and dumped herself into the chair beside his bed. “Ronnie had a set of ears made for everyone on Earth, but don’t tell him I told you. It’s a surprise.”

“Oh, joy. Just what I need Mickey Mouse ears with my name on them.”

“You’re in Hollywood, Ian. Disney is bound to get a portion of your soul somehow. It’s inevitable.”

“Well, I’m glad you finally got around to my name on your dance card. I was beginning to think you liked my son better than me.”

“Jealous?”

“Maybe just a little.” Ian picked up his cup and drained it. “Could I bother you to refill my water, please?”

Saxon looked around the room and then reached in her purse. “How about a Pepsi instead?”

“You smuggled me a Pepsi?” Ian’s eyes brightened as she popped open the top with a spritz and placed it within his reach.

“If you’ve got a pack a cigarettes in there, I’ll marry you.” He said lifting the can to his lips and taking a gulp of sheer heaven.

“I’ll remember that for next time.” She giggled as she popped another can from of her purse for herself.

“I think Ronnie has a little crush on you.” Ian confided.

“Aw that’s sweet.” She cooed. “The feeling is definitely mutual. He’s so much like his father, except I can swat him if he gets out of hand.”

“He wasn’t any trouble was he?”

“Oh no.” Saxon squeezed Ian’s free hand. “He was wonderful, just a fireball of energy. It wore me out trying to keep up with him.”

“I wish I could have gone with you.” Ian sighed.

“Ian, you and Ronnie will have lots of time to do things together. This was just something I thought I could do for him…and you…to keep him occupied and give Tippy and the boys a free hand today.”

“Have you heard how the clean up and repairs went?”

“I got a text from Jesse saying that everything went fine. Has no one been in to see you yet?”

“Not yet, but I figured sometime soon. The whole clan will show up eventually, hopefully with some edible food.”

“Who won lunch lotto?”

“Ronnie, eighteen bucks and he was right on the money, too. I’m still shocked he even knew what beef stroganoff was.”

Saxon laughed. “I’m surprised the cafeteria knew what beef stroganoff was.”

“Obviously they’ve heard of it. They just don’t know how to make it.” Ian turned up his Pepsi and drained it. “Got another one of these?”

“You’ve guzzled that whole can?”

“Sorry. Sugar and nicotine are rare treats. I’ve had nothing but juice and water for what three weeks now?”

“Here, have the rest of mine.” Saxon poured the dark liquid in his cup. “You’d better be careful Ian. The sugar buzz might send you into orbit.”

“Unless someone unhooks me, I won’t get very far. I’ll just be a sugar buzzed balloon.” He whined. “But, I am told if I’m a good boy they might spring me out of here in a few days.”

“So what another week?” Ian shot her a dirty look. “Well they said if you were a good boy. We both know that ain’t happenin’.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Ian slurped some more Pepsi. “So what’s kept you from my bedside vigil besides my son?”

“I’ve been busy.” Saxon giggled. “We finished casting ‘Hollow Points’ and of course Jeremy and I have been running around trying to tie up loose ends for “Quarters”.”

“So you’re in?”

“Absolutely. You’re not doing this without me. All we need is a director and one more major role. We’ve already set up a meeting with the lawyers to form the company. You know we can do that in less than an hour in somebody’s office?”

“It seems like it should be more complicated than that.” Ian drained the last of his cup. “I’ve got to talk with David Turner or someone from our legal department to make sure I’m not violating my HRT contract.”

“You can guarantee that couldn’t be solved in an afternoon in someone’s office.” She got up to rinse his cup and refill it with cold water from a sweating pitcher, putting both within his reach.

“I’m thinking that if Simon Kent and Baxter Reilly can do it on the sly, there shouldn’t be a problem with me doing it upfront and out in the open if it doesn’t create a conflict of interest. I’m certain there will be a lot more scrutiny of that sort of thing after the ‘Sebastian Manor’ debacle.”

“Speaking of which, have you decide what you are going to fill that hole with? I figure you’ve got what another week maybe two tops before dead air until September.”

“Oh, not to worry. I’ve got it covered.” Ian beamed for the second time since Saxon walked in his hospital room.

“Why Clem.” Saxon leaned in for the juicy details. “I know that look. What have you done in the corn field now?”

“Bessie, I’ve just done what comes natur’ly. I’m replacing ‘Sebastian Manor’ temporarily with ‘Sebastian Manor’”.

“Excuse me?” Saxon’s jaw dropped. “You are not seriously going to replace that tripe with reruns of the same tripe?”

“Not exactly. Wanna see?”

Saxon’s eyes lit up. “Grab that DVD player over there.” He pointed. “Don’t bring it too close. Ronnie let me borrow it and if I break it I have to by him a plasma screen and a new DVD player.”

“Smart kid.” Saxon set the player on the roll top. “What am I watching here?” She said as she expertly set everything up.

“Blake brought me a copy of the first few episodes. Have you ever heard of the website Better TV?”

“The one where they skewer everything in sight?”

“That’s the one. I signed the webmasters to a contract, gave them all the shot footage, every piece we had, turned it over to them and told them to have at it. They just had to wrap it all up by September 19.”

Saxon’s eyes popped. “Have you announced this or at least given the stations warning?”

“Nope.” Ian smiled. “Only six people are watching anyway, and I’m sure they’re all heavily medicated. It stays perfectly within all legal guidelines and at the same time sticks it to Baxter Reilly. He’s gonna have a fit!”

“What about, you know, FCC guidelines?”

“They are keeping it clean, and I have to be honest here.” Ian smirked. “This stuff is great. Logan and Will have taken a piece of absolute crap and turned it into something brilliantly hysterical.”

“It can’t possibly be a bigger bomb than the original.”

“My point exactly. Hit the start button.” Ian refilled his water cup and settled in to enjoy the disk again and gage Saxon’s reaction.

The screen stayed black, but ala ‘Star Wars’ white lettering began to scroll up the screen and a very professional man’s voice began. “And God created the heavens and the earth in six days. On the seventh he rested. On the eighth he looked around and said “What’s this crap?” And He called it…”

The opening credits for “Sebastian Manor” began to roll, causing Saxon and Ian to do the same. What followed was an irreverent bawdy double take of the plotlines. The men had chosen to highlight the stilted acting and camera angles, rearranging plots and dialogue, spoofing the original story and creating several new ones.

In several places, they chose to highlight the really horrendous original plot lulls by speeding up the tape, like someone hit the fast forward button. The 39 minutes of the first episode captured almost the first three weeks of the series. It was side splitting with a few dramatic moments as well. For the first time the story now made sense. It was now not only watch able but was addictive.

When the end credits rolled it was Ian’s turn to look like he had dined on a fat canary. “Well?”

Saxon was wiping her eyes with a silk handkerchief she snatched from her purse. Saxon grinned. “Baxter Reilly will be rolling over in his grave…”

“He’s not dead.”

“Are you kidding?” Saxon said. “The moment he sees the new tag and credits he’ll clutch his chest and keel over, and you know the man will be watching. Has anyone else seen this?”

“Just me and the five guys I have locked away in an editing room. In two weeks this hits the air…”

“And your not doing any kind of promotion?” She asked.

“We’ve deiced to just run the standard bites…I told you no one is watching this to begin with, so we’re just gonna blindside them and see what happens.”

“You aren’t afraid of affiliates thinking there is a problem?”

“We’re sort of warning them. My team is calling and sending letters letting them know that in two weeks to expect a shock and to just roll with it. Most are just relieved they don’t have nine weeks of dead air coming before Blood Kisses.”

“No promo at all?” Saxon was skeptical.

“Well not traditional promo…we’ve decided to promote it within the source. We aren’t warning the soap mags, who are filling their pages with wonderful rumors of no one knows what’s next…blah blah blah…actually causing great anticipation, we may even see rating spike the next couple of weeks of curious cats trying not be killed.”

“Nothing else?” Saxon asked.

“Not for the traditional sources, any time we get a call or a reporter drops by we just give them the lowdown on Blood Kisses completely side stepping any information on Sebastian Manor.” Ian told her.

“And if they ask point blank, you just tell them point blank…?”

“We respond as if we have no idea what they are talking about. As far as the new Manor, we are letting bloggers and You Tubers stir each other up, letting it leak that they are in charge…we’ll just see what happens.”



“What have we got?” Andy asked Balouche already on the scene.

“Jane Doe, we’ll do the usual.” Balouche lit up a Marlboro. “Take a few pictures, haul the body away and not waste anymore time.”

The junior partner stepped toward the body and crouched down. The smell was overwhelming. He should have been used to it by now, but every time the stench found a new way to turn his stomach.

“This looks pretty brutal, Balouche.”

“Probably just a hooker picking up a john hopped up on something. Got ugly, left an even uglier mess. No need to spend unnecessary tax dollars. We’ll write it up and unless something unusual pops up, we move on. Too much going on in this town to spin our wheels on a dead end.”

“I don’t see a purse or any sort of identification.”

“I doubt we’ll find anything. If we’re lucky her fingerprints will turn up a name. If not maybe someday someone will come looking for her.” He crouched down beside his partner and looked at the decaying corpse. “Not much of a face left, doubt anyone would recognize her.”

“Shame.” Andy stood. “Everyone deserves justice, especially for something this brutal.”

“Just fill out the paperwork and walk away. It’s a little more brutal than normal. Someone crushed her face in, otherwise it’s just more of the same.”

Andy sighed and stood “CSI finished up?”

Balouche nodded. “You might as well go back to the office and sharpen your pencil. I’ll take a few more notes and that’ll be it.”

A mousey man with thick glasses slipped back under the yellow tape. “You finally decide to make an appearance?” He directed toward Andy.

“Came as soon as I got the call.”

“Must have been doing something, Balouche made it here an hour ago.”

“Got here as soon as I could. Anything unusual, or is this as run of the mill as Balouche says.” Andy looked over at Balouche who had wondered away from the scene and was on his cell phone.

“This is anything but run of the mill, Andy.”

“Balouche says…”

“Screw Balouche. The victim died here, but there’s a trail of blood and chaos at least a mile long in this maze. My guess is the killer thought the woman was dead, she obviously dragged herself or crawled into this dead end. The killer came back, found her still alive and crushed her skull in with his boot.”

“What makes you say that?”

The man jerked his head, signaling Andy to follow him. They crouched down over the body again. “See here? The perp took the time to wipe his feet off with her sleeve. She was leaned up against the brick wall and then slumped over after he took his heel to her face.”

Andy looked up and around. “What’s this?” He pointed to the wall. “It looks like writing.”

“Probably just some graffiti. The blood and brain matter from her head has covered most of it.”

He bent closer and shook his head. “Newman take a closer look at this. There’s lettering written in blood.”

Newman cocked his head. “Barker, you get a good shot of this wall?” When the photographer nodded, he looked back at the body. “The index finger of her left hand looks like she dipped it in blood.”

“Was she trying to leave a message?” Andy looked at him.

Newman scrapped several places on the wall and dropped the shavings into marked plastic bags. “Don’t know if we’ll ever know for sure.”

“What are you jerk offs doing?” Balouche appeared.

“Looks like the victim tried to leave a message of some kind.” Newman continued taking samples from the wall.

“Don’t waste more time, Newman.” Balouche scolded. “The body’s been here a long while, we’re probably not the first to run across it. Some kids who watch ‘Ghost Hunters’ probably thought it was funny.”

“Peyton,” Andy tried to convince him. “Look at her finger, she definitely was trying to write something on this wall in her own blood.” Balouche rolled his eyes. “Take a look yourself.”

The senior partner bent over and glanced at the wall. “I don’t see anything that can’t be explained by normal blood patterns. As for her index finger, she probably touched herself. Stop wasting time, wrap it up.” Balouche stepped over the body and walked out of sight.

Newman looked at Andy. “The Big Kahuna has spoken, but get as many pictures as possible.”

Two men approached with a gurney and a body bag. “Can we get the body to the lab now?”

Reluctantly Andy nodded. He stared at the wall as the men busied themselves. Andy turned to look at them when he heard the plastic bag unzip. “Wait!”

The men stopped immediately. “Newman, look at the victim’s height compared to the writing on the wall.”

“What?” Newman was puzzled.

“Where was her head when the attacker crushed her skull?”

Newman pointed, “About here.”

“And where is the message she allegedly wrote?”

“Six to eight inches…” Newman turned and looked at the body. He looked back up at Andy and grinned. “Lasko, get back over here with that camera.”

When the photographer returned Andy looked at the men from the morgue. “Gentlemen, turn her over…very carefully.”

“What?” It was one of the attendants turn to question.

“We think before she died she tried to leave a message.”

“What kind of message?”

“Turn her over. Her back was to it when her skull was crushed. The final blow ran down over the message, but with any luck…”

The body was reverently and respectfully turned over. The camera flashed several times.

Newman whistled. “This chick may have gotten herself killed, but she was brilliant.”

Andy grabbed the photographer. “Do not under any circumstances put any copies of this on Balouche’s desk. Put them on disk and bring them straight to me.”

“Something up Andy?”

“Not sure, but for the third time, Balouche has just been a little too eager to gloss over a few things I feel are important. He wants me to do the paperwork. I do the paperwork, this time from my notes, not his.”

Newman took one last look as the body was placed properly in the bag and zipped up. “Three words, the last two garbled the first is pretty clear. Think there’s a connection?”

“If this were graffiti I’d say no, but positive it was written in her own blood just before she died I’d say definitely.”

“I can have a definitive answer for you on that one in a few minutes once I get back to the lab.”

“Then get back to the lab, Newman, and once again all information comes directly to me.”

“Gotcha, Andy.” Newman darted away as Andy opened his notebook and scribbled down the letters he could make out.

“Balouche maybe be trying to make everyone look the other way,” he said to himself on his way back to his car. “But as far as I’m concerned, there are too many people dropping the name Hutton before they drop dead around here.”



“I got a call from Scott Topper today.” David Turner mentioned as he put the rest of the paperwork into his attaché.

“Oh?”

“He asked for Simon Kent, fortunately he then asked for you and they transferred the call to my office.”

“I guess that slipped my mind.” Ian admitted. “Sorry, for some reason anything with the name Simon Kent attached self-deleted from my memory banks.”

“He says he’s very interested. I told him I would be speaking with you today and I’d call him back. You want to let me know what’s going on?”

“Kent’s pilot…”

“The God awful thing with the women in bras shooting up Laguna Beach?”

Ian laughed. “Actually yes. Have you by any chance seen the original script before Kent’s people got hold of it?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“That script had potential. I think if we went back to the original title and the original concept, it could be a winner.” Ian signed one more document and handed it back, where it was placed with the others.

“You actually saw something in that garbage that made you track down the original script?”

“Yes. It had this quirky maze like mystery, dump all the surgically enhanced mannequins reciting monosyllable dialogue, and I think there might be something compatible with “Hollow Points”.

“Having a Scott Tupper project on our schedule would bring another demographic to the fold.” Turner admitted. “I don’t see it, but if you do and Tupper does…”

“If it hadn’t piqued Tupper’s interest I would have just let it die. The money spent on the original pilot is wasted, but it was an in house project so I’d like to give Scott Tupper a crack at it.”

Turner nodded. “I’ll make I happen.”

“Thank you.” Ian said. “Now, along those lines, I need to find out if something that I’ve been asked to do, that I want to do is legal, as far as my contractual agreements with HRT.”

“You’re not thinking of leaving us already…”

“No…no…absolutely not. I understand my place here, and cherish it, but a couple of friends and I have found a film script. We are financing it ourselves…I’m just not sure if I can legally be a part of a production agreement while under contract to HRT.”

“These friends, are they bound contractually to any other studios?”

“No, just me…and I’ve signed the writer of the script to a retainer. It’s another Jenson Michael script.”

Turner nodded his head. “That man will be a legend in less than a year.” He sighed with a smile. “As long as you haven’t signed a deal directly with another company, you are free to do what you like. I would hope that you would give our distribution department first look rights, out of courtesy….”

“Absolutely, but I can tell you in all honesty that this isn’t anything that HRT would be interested in. In fact, even after we get this done, my guess is that it’s going to be pretty difficult to get distribution.”

“But you feel strongly enough to make the film anyway?”

“If we don’t no one will, and someone has to do this. I want it to be me. I didn’t realize how much until I got asked to be a part of it.”

“What do you have lined up?”

“It’s still very much in the ‘hey kids, let’s put on a show’ stage, but we have a script and two of the three leads and seriously that may be about as far as we get. This project is raw, raw but dynamic, I’m sure most people wouldn’t even touch it.”

“Rather risky for a novice…”

“But one I am willing to take. If I’m not getting into any legal risk with HRT, I’m free to pursue this, and I will pursue it to the end. Live or die.”

“Financing going to be a problem?”

“Ironically, I don’t think so. It won’t be an expensive film, and between the three of us committed we will literally only be risking our own bank accounts.”

“Director attached?”

“No, although Jeremy says he’ll do it if he has to to get it made.”

“Jeremy Tyson?”

“Yes.”

“He’s the committed partner?”

“Yes and Saxon Allen.”

“Ian, with people like that committed, you shouldn’t have any problem getting any one involved. They’ll be falling over themselves…”

“You’d think, but this is not your ordinary Jeremy Tyson action film and nowhere near a Saxon Allen romantic comedy. Mr. Turner this could easily be “Heaven’s Gate” only with drugs, graphic sex and an barely hopeful ending.”

Turner tapped his cane of the floor and chewed on his thoughts a moment. “The three of you believe in this project strongly enough to risk ending two brilliant careers and killing another just as it’s getting started?”

“Yes sir.”

“Okay, I’m in, too…”

“Excuse me?”

“You need a director, don’t you?”

“Well, yes…”

“I’m a director. I haven’t as much as directed a television commercial since before you were born, but I achieved a little respect.”

“Mr. Turner, I think 2 Oscars and 6 Emmys adds up to achieving just a bit more than a little respect.”

“So let me on board and you’ve gained a distribution guarantee.”

“I would love to call Jeremy and Saxon right now and say guess what my uncle’s gonna let us use his barn, but I can’t accept your offer. Mr. Turner, you don’t know the story…”

“Give me a script, and the right to back out if either of us thinks it’s something an old codger like me can’t handle.”

“I have no doubt you could handle it, I just think that maybe you wouldn’t want to.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Make the call….”

Ian took Mr. Turner’s cell phone and dialed Blake’s number. He asked Blake to make another copy of the “Quarters” script and messenger it to Mr. Turner’s home address. Mr. Turner patted Ian on the head, and told him he would speak to him in the morning. He’d be joining in with the morning power conference call, and then they would meet to discuss projects.

“I look forward to working with you my boy. It’s time for an old dog to teach a new one all the tricks…” he said as he walked out the door.

Ian heard Turner say goodnight to Ripley, who peeked his head in. “Mr. Ian, I’ll be saying goodnight as well. Noseworthy’s here, and I’ll be calling it a night.”

“Ripley…could you sit a minute?” Ian asked.

“Of course.” He took a seat next to the window.

“How’s your sister? Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you for asking.”

“Uh…Ripley…I’m going to be going home soon…I know I’ve been fighting and whining about wanting my space and privacy and I do want those things, but now that it’s going to happen I have to admit that…”

“Maybe it’s not such a good idea?”

“No…it is a good idea…I can’t continue to be a victim, but I’m swallowing my pride and admitting that I can’t do it alone…”

“Are you asking me to marry you, sir?”

Ian laughed, “Oh but that we were the marrying kind, Ripley…actually I want to hire you, full time…”

“Excuse me?”

“I know you have a good job with Kellen, and money’s not an object. I just got a massive promotion and a whopping raise. I can match his salary and benefits package, and pretty sure I can exceed it as well. We could even work it out so you could still work for him if you want. “

Ian admitted. “Basically, I want someone I trust and that I like at the house. You wouldn’t be on guard duty twenty-four hours a day, but you wouldn’t be a paid companion either. You could come and go as you please. You be more of a personal assistant, do things I can’t do either on my own or for whatever reason…”

“You mean live in the house with you?”

“Yes and Ronnie, he adores you and I trust you with him. There is plenty of room, I could hire someone to renovate so you’d have your own private quarters eventually. It would just comfort me, let me rest easy knowing that someone I trust, someone I consider a part of my family was there, watching out for me when I get stupid…”

“Mr. Ian…”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but you’re the only one I trust enough to make the offer to…”

“I’d be honored.”

“You would?”

“Yes. And quite frankly, I’ll get a little more peace of mind being there. You’re a quite little devil, emphasis on the devil part…”

“I’m sure there will be some kinks to work out…”

“Mr. Ian, about Ronnie…”

Ian leaned back on the inclined bed. “Is there going to be a problem?”

“No.” Ripley put his elbows on his knees and his hands together. “No, not at all. I just wanted to tell you that the fact that you trust me with him, that you think it’s okay for a guy like me to be around him and consider me a part of the family. I don’t know what to say.”

“Ripley, you don’t have to say anything. You’re actions have spoken so much louder than any words. I don’t expect you to be a “manny” or whatever they call it, in fact I’m not exactly sure what your duties include, except that you be there, being you making sure that we’re safe.”

“As long as I’m around, be assured nothing will ever happen to you or Ronnie that I can possibly prevent.”

“That’s all I ask. Of course, if something should happen to the cat…” Ian reached out his hand and Ripley shook it. “Now go. Go get some rest, see your sister and tomorrow we’ll start figuring it all out.”

“Thank you, Ian.” Ripley stood and walked to the door. He started to stop and say something, but Ian got the feeling he was a little emotional about it. Ripley just nodded his head and left.


“We may have a problem.”

Bruno wasn’t happy. “What sort of problem?”

“We found Ella earlier this afternoon.”

“And?”

“This may be a little difficult to just dismiss. You got a little messy, and missed something.”

Bruno laughed. “I never miss anything. Granted she was harder to squash than Mighty Mouse, but I finally managed it. She didn’t know anything, I’m certain of it.”

“Maybe, maybe not, anyway she’s dead.”

“And unidentifiable. I made sure of it. No one’s going to worry about another dead hooker.”

“Then why suddenly is everyone interested in the case?”

“What?” Balouche sat up.

“All I know for sure is, the captain walked in the office ordering Mitchell and I to turn over all evidence and then in no uncertain terms to back off.”

“For a dead Jane Doe?”

“You missed something Bruno…now this whole thing may just implode.”

“I forgot nothing!” He slammed his hand down on his desk, then looked around to make sure it didn’t attract anyone’s attention.

“Ella left a message.”

“No she didn’t…wait a minute. Her purse, I never went back and looked for the purse.”

“Not it. My guess is it’s in river or some bag lady’s shopping cart. She scrawled a message on the wall she was leaning up against.”

“I admit I thought she was gone, so I left for a few minutes and came back. I saw her smearing her blood on the cement, but she leaned against the wall. I’d have smeared it unreadable myself, but her own head managed to do that for me.”

“She was wearing a linen blouse, you asshole. It wasn’t totally readable but her blood was fresh enough to soak right in and she had enough life left in her to pull away from the wall before her own brain washed away all traces.”

“She fingered us?” Bruno was nervous.

“No, but the one readable word was enough to warrant someone else handling the case. I think they’re connecting Blue and Ella together.”

“Why?”

“Hutton, you idiot. The first word she scrawled was Hutton…”

“They’ll never identify her. She was too clean. They won’t be able to match fingerprints, I made sure that was the only way they could identify her.”

“Let’s hope so.” He took a deep breath. “We’ve covered our tracks too well, the only connection they can make is the name Hutton, they can’t connect anything else unless they make an identification.”

Bruno thought a moment and smiled. “You’re probably right.”

“I think we should back off for awhile.”

That was exactly what Bruno wanted to hear. “You’re right. Just in case, let’s do a little clean up. Call me when you think we can get together and close down the apartment.”

“Yeah, that’s best. No need to take chances. I’ll keep my eyes out here, make sure they don’t make anymore connections.”

“We’ll ditch everything from the apartment and then when the dust has settled, we’ll hit hard and fast one more time.”

“Once we get that apartment cleared out, maybe there’s a way we can use it to implicate Justyn in all this after all. He was meant to be the fall guy for the paycheck scam, I’m sure I can figure out a way for him to take the fall for everything else.”

“I have every confidence in you. You’ve been the brains so far.”

“It was your idea. I just figured out how to do it. Give me 48 hours and then we’ll meet up at the apartment.”

“You got it.” Bruno smiled as he closed his cell phone. He couldn’t help but laugh. P.T. Barnum was right. There is a sucker born every minute.

He checked to make sure no one could over hear his conversation and then made another call. “Clare? I think you’re right, dear. Go ahead and do what you think is best. You let me know when it’s time and I’ll carry it through, just like you planned.”

Bruno rolled his eyes while she chatted awhile. He finally got her off the phone, convinced she had made the plan and that was calling all the shots.

He tossed his cell phone down on his desk and propped his feet up. As he slipped his hands behind his head he sighed in happiness. “Clare, Clare, Clare…you are even dumber than Peyton Balouche.”