Fame Is A Killer Page 6

  I made sure to get the last word in. “In the future, from one actor to another, I would work on your performance if I were you. When you act that over the top, it’s hard to believe you’re innocent.”

  Brock’s eyes got as wide as saucers.

  While Brock was happy to see me get into my car and pull out of his driveway, he failed to realize that I had formulated a plan. I pulled onto Rose Street, which was right off of Overland Avenue, and kept my eyes on his townhome.

  A few moments later, Brock got into his car and took Overland Avenue towards Century City. I let Brock’s car get just far enough ahead of me that he wouldn’t notice me tailing him, but not too far so he could shake me.

  Brock drove a mile and a half into Century City then made a turn into the underground parking lot of a tall glass office building on Century Park West. I instantly recognized the building as home to one of the talent agencies in town.

  That confirmed his story that he was meeting with his agent but did not alleviate the suspicion I had about him possibly murdering Trent the night before. As much as I wanted to ask him more questions, I knew I wouldn’t get any answers. So, since Brock was clearly done talking to me, I moved on to question the final suspect on my list.

  Chapter Twelve

  Speaking of agencies, there were a lot of high-powered ones in Hollywood. Sleek firms with A-list clientele, chic modern office complexes, and slick hotshot agents. Walter O’Reilly, Trent’s former agent, didn’t work at one of those places. He ran a boutique agency out of an old office complex off of Sunset Boulevard that consisted of a bullpen of desks for his various assistants and one corner office for him.

  When I arrived at his agency, I lied to his red-haired twentysomething receptionist and told her I was there to talk to Walter about possibly leaving my agent and signing with Walter. The receptionist bought my lie and immediately led me back to Walter’s office.

  As I entered the doorway, Walter was talking on the phone as he sat behind his desk and stared out at the Hollywood Hills. Walter O’Reilly was a skinny man in his late fifties with white, thinning hair and stress lines all over his face. I was sure not to let the designer suit fool me. Like most agents, he was a hundred percent shark underneath. A person had to be a tough customer to be an agent in this town for over three decades, and Walter fit that bill.

  When he saw me enter his office, Walter quickly got off the phone.

  “I’m going to have to call you back,” Walter said into the phone.

  Walter then hung up and turned all his focus to me.

  “Hope Hadley. I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.

  “What can I say? Some days are full of surprises,” I replied.

  Walter went into full schmooze mode. “What’s the matter, is Larry Leibowitz not taking care of you? Are you ready for a real agent?”

  I chuckled. “Business as usual, huh?”

  Walter shrugged his shoulders. “Why wouldn’t it be? I have a business to run.”

  “True, but Trent was just murdered last night,” I said.

  “I heard. Oy vey. That’s terrible. What an awful way to go.”

  Concerned about the mode of death more than any remorse.

  “I’ll say. It’s a really sad and emotional time.”

  “My condolences.”

  Walter clearly thought Trent and I were still dating at the time of the murder. I played along.

  “Thanks.”

  “So, what can I do for you?”

  “It’s just that you were his agent,” I said.

  “Yeah, I was. As you know, a lot can change in this town in a hurry.”

  We both knew that all too well. You already know my story. It turned out Trent had done something similar to Walter as well.

  While Trent had broken up with me to be with a younger woman, he had cast Walter aside recently as well for a young hotshot agent.

  The worst part was that Walter had been with Trent his entire career. Walter had gotten him his big break. So, when Trent landed this new role as Detective Mayhem, as his agent, Walter figured he would be in for a nice payday. He was wrong.

  Walter was very subdued with his response. If I wanted to get anywhere, I needed to find a way to get a rise out of him.

  “It’s crazy to think that last night, when I was at home, Trent was being murdered across town,” I said.

  Walter looked at me like I had two heads. “That is crazy to think.”

  I became frustrated. My subtlety was getting me nowhere. I had to go with more direct questions.

  “So, what were you doing last night?” I asked.

  “I was here working late, like always.”

  “I hope you weren’t working too late.”

  “It was one of those crazy nights. I don’t think I got out of here until after eleven,” Walter said.

  “If you’re going to put in those long hours, I hope you let your secretary and the rest of your staff go home at a reasonable hour at least?” I replied.

  “Yeah. Everyone else went home at five.” Walter stopped after he said that and turned a critical eye my way. “Why do you ask?”

  “When was the last time you talked to Trent?”

  Walter sat back in his chair and scoured his mind. “I don’t know, I guess…”

  He was taking too long to come up with an answer.

  I threw one out for him. “The night he fired you and hired Joel Zuckerman as his new agent?”

  Walter gritted his teeth. “Yeah. I guess that was the last time we talked.”

  I called him out. “Why are you lying to me?”

  He gave me a puzzled look. “What are you talking about?”

  “That was two weeks ago. Just four days ago, Trent told me you were giving him the business on the phone and really ripping into him.”

  He gave me the stink eye. “What are you getting at?”

  “If you lied about that, what else are you lying about?”

  “Just who do you think you are?”

  “I’m a woman who is determined to find out the truth,” I said.

  He countered. “No, you’re an actress.”

  I wasn’t thrown off my game. “I’m going to find out who killed Trent. Now, just four days ago, you were obviously still not over the fact that Trent had tossed you aside for another agent. And, last night, you were apparently alone in the office at the time of the murder. Only, there’s no way for you to actually verify that—”

  “You’re actually going to come into my office and accuse me of murder?”

  “Like I said, you had motive. There’s no way to verify your alibi—”

  “You’re crazy. I didn’t kill him,” Walter said.

  “You say that, but you have no way to prove you’re innocent,” I replied.

  “And you have no proof that I’m guilty. Now, get out of my office. I have work to do,” Walter barked.

  I put my foot down. “I’m not done yet.”

  “Well, I’m done with you. For the last time, get out of my office,” Walter demanded.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As usual, what had seemed so promising when I first began the conversation had gone bad in a hurry. For a moment, I’d really felt like I was getting somewhere. My head was stuck so far in the clouds thinking about this case as I left that I nearly walked straight into the pushcart of a cleaning lady that was sweeping the hallway outside Walter’s talent agency. After I narrowly averted tackling the cart, I left the building, hoping that maybe getting some fresh air would clear my head.

  That wasn’t the case. As I returned to my car, I learned that my frustration was just beginning. Much to my chagrin, of all people, Detective Noble was leaning against my car door with his arms folded.

  Uh-oh. Apparently, my sleuthing hadn’t gone unnoticed by the police. I had already drawn the ire of my fellow murder suspects. I didn’t need to be on the detective’s bad side as well.

  In an effort not to panic, I tried to make light of the situation. “Dete
ctive, it’s funny seeing you again.”

  I wasn’t able to get a laugh from him. I hoped that wouldn’t be a clue of how the conversation would go.

  The detective had a steely look on his face. “There’s nothing funny about this situation. What do you think you’re doing?”

  After I’d put other people on the defensive all day, the detective had done it to me.

  It was a terribly uncomfortable place to be in. At the same time, I had no choice but to try to talk my way out of this. “I know what this looks like—”

  Detective Noble interrupted me. “What are you doing questioning the other suspects?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but he was determined to get another sentence in before I did.

  “That was a rhetorical question. I already know the answer. I’ve been watching you. Did you really think you could pull off a separate investigation of your own without me noticing?” he asked.

  “That wasn’t my intention,” I said.

  “Then just what do you think you’re doing?”

  “You wouldn’t take me off your suspect list.”

  “Because there’s plenty of suspicion surrounding you. Which, by the way, this isn’t helping,” Detective Noble replied.

  “You didn’t give me much of a choice. You refused to believe that I’m not a murderer. So, it became clear to me that the only way to prove my innocence was by finding the real killer myself,” I said.

  He wasn’t done arguing with me. “But you’re not a real detective. You just happened to play one on TV.”

  “Trust me. After filming all those episodes, I picked a few tricks up along the way.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “Let’s say for the sake of argument that you are innocent. Someone has already killed once. Who says they wouldn’t kill you too?”

  “Does that mean you finally believe I’m innocent?” I asked.

  He gave me a disappointing answer. “I was just talking for the sake of argument—”

  This time, I was the one to interrupt him. “Well, for the sake of argument, I have to do whatever is necessary to prove my innocence.”

  “Even interfering with my investigation?” he asked.

  “I told you this wasn’t my first choice.”

  “Fine. Then stop.”

  “I’ll be happy to.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

  I had one caveat. “If you take me off your suspect list.”

  Detective Noble groaned. “Let me ask you this, Ms. Hadley. Do you have a verifiable alibi all of a sudden?”

  “I was at home. Like I told you.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s the same old story with the same shaky alibi.”

  “For the last time, I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “You have to understand that I’m just doing my job,” he said.

  “And I’m just trying to keep myself out of jail for a crime I didn’t commit,” I replied.

  “Do you realize I could throw you in jail for interfering with an official police investigation?”

  I tensed up. “I hope you don’t.”

  “Naturally, you hope that I don’t,” he said.

  I tried to deflect. “Not just for me, but because it would distract you from what’s truly important. Like you said, the killer is still out there. It is important that they are brought to justice instead of you wasting time with me. Besides, hasn’t it occurred to you that two heads are better than one when investigating?”

  Detective Noble shot my suggestion down. “No.”

  I didn’t give up. “Well, it has occurred to me. Why don’t we share some information? Maybe we can crack this thing together.”

  “I’m doing just fine on my own.”

  “Really? Did you see Trent’s ex-girlfriend at the scene of the crime today? You might want to ask her what she was doing there. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t just there to create a makeshift memorial.”

  “Amy Turner was at the crime scene?”

  I nodded. “That’s not all. Did you know that Brock Lewis, Scott Harper, and Walter O’Reilly all have unverifiable alibis?”

  It would have been nice to get a thank you from the detective. I didn’t have to share that information with him.

  Instead, Noble made a snappy remark. “I’ll give you this, you have been keeping busy.”

  I tried one more time to get through to him. “Ask yourself this—why would I have done all this work and put myself in danger if I was guilty of murder?”

  He finally gave in a little bit. “You have a point. Still, I’m going to warn you one more time not to interfere with my investigation.”

  I had reached the point of diminishing returns. Continuing to argue with him wouldn’t get me anywhere. It was the equivalent of slamming my head into a brick wall repeatedly. What I needed was a way to end this conversation. One came to my mind.

  “All right. I’m done investigating,” I said.

  That was partially the truth. I was done investigating—at least for today. Tomorrow was a whole different story. I neglected to tell him that part.

  At that moment, I just wanted to get him off of my back.

  Thankfully, the detective was satisfied with my answer.

  “Good. Leave this to the professionals,” he said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After the detective had given me the business, I needed a break more than ever. As I drove home, I gave Jenna a call. With any luck, she would have dug up some dirt on some of the suspects. Anything would be a big help at that point.

  Jenna picked up the phone. “Hello.”

  “This is Hope, checking in.”

  “How are things going?” she asked.

  “You first. Please tell me you found something.”

  She sighed. “I wish I had. As far as I can tell, there isn’t a whole lot to find.”

  That was too vague for me. “What do you mean by not a whole lot?”

  “All of the suspects have been quiet on social media.”

  I groaned. “That’s disappointing.”

  “It is. At the same time, it’s really curious.”

  I scrunched my nose. “How so?”

  “They were all pretty active on their social media accounts leading up to the murder. Ever since Trent’s death, though, none of them have posted anything—not even to offer their condolences. It’s like they are all afraid of posting something that could be construed as incriminating,” Jenna said.

  That got my mind racing. “Historically speaking, which of the suspects has been the most active on social media?”

  “That one is easy—Scott Harper. He was averaging two or three posts per day before the murder occurred.”

  “That would make sense. He’s the one with the most free time on his hands.”

  “Not today, apparently,” Jenna replied.

  “Maybe that’s a clue in itself,” I speculated.

  She corrected me. “I meant, Scott hasn’t had the most free time on his hands today.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that he’s been spending a lot of time in front of his brother’s house at that makeshift memorial that Amy Turner set up.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I saw him on TV. And let me tell you, he’s not the only one. There was a real crowd starting to form out there.”

  “What was he doing out there exactly?”

  “At first, the camera got some shots of him praying. Then, things started to get interesting,” Jenna said.

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Both Scott Harper and Amy Turner were interviewed on camera together.”

  I stopped her right there.

  “Wait a minute. Amy Turner returned to Trent’s house after I questioned her?”

  “Yup. You should see this interview she and Scott Harper gave the TV reporter.”

  “I still can’t believe they were interviewed together. They hate each other,” I said.

  “You might w
ant to remind them of that,” Jenna replied.

  “That’s very interesting.”

  “That’s not all.”

  “What else do you have?”

  “Just that they stood there together and told the reporter that they wouldn’t be able to rest until Trent’s killer had been brought to justice.”

  I scoffed. “Yeah, right. What an act. It’s more like they won’t be able to rest because they are two of the guiltiest-looking suspects in this case.”

  “They seem determined to make the public believe otherwise.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I said. “Were you able to dig up anything else?”

  “I did read a little article in one of the Hollywood news sites about Brock Lewis. It turns out that with the news of Trent’s death, the studio announced that Brock has been hired as his replacement for the lead role of Detective Mayhem in that new TV series.”

  My eyes opened wide. “So, Brock got the starring role he wanted after all.”

  “Exactly,” Jenna replied.

  “The question is—was that just a lucky break for Brock, or his plan all along?”

  Jenna put the ball back in my court. “You tell me.”

  I sighed. “I’ll have to think about it. Did you dig up anything else?”

  “No. That’s it for now.”

  “Well, good work.”

  “Speaking of work, how did you do? Do you think you might know who did this?”

  I exhaled. “It’s safe to say that things could have gone better for me.”

  “Exactly how bad did things go?”

  “So bad that I’m still a suspect,” I said.

  “I just can’t believe it. I’ve known you for years. Of all the people I know, I’ve never met anyone less likely to be a killer than you,” Jenna replied.

  “Thanks for your vote of confidence, but the detective doesn’t agree. He still refuses to take me off of his suspect list.”

  “That’s crazy. But look, you’ll figure out who really did this…right?”

  I took a deep breath. “I sure hope so. The problem is, I talked to all the other suspects, and the killer is still just as much of a mystery as ever.”

  “Don’t lose hope,” Jenna said.