Mexico Is Forever Page 10

  Late in the evening I saw a young blonde at a nearby table bobbing in Sindi’s backwash as she fixed on another fortunate. She licked the salt off her upper lip and I knew just how she felt.

  CHAPTER 19

  We went back to her motel room. She unlocked the door and flipped on the light. On her way to the bathroom she tossed her bag on the bed.

  The room had a king-size bed that faced a television on top of a three-drawer dresser. A soft armchair was next to the bed. The wall away from the front door was a small kitchenette. Refrigerator, microwave, sink. The bathroom was off to the right.

  “Got anything to drink?”

  She pointed to the mini-refrigerator. “That’s got beer and soda. There’s a coffee maker on the counter. The stuff for it’s in the cabinet above it.”

  Coffee was what I wanted. I got out a filter, inserted it, spooned in the coffee, and then poured water into the back of the machine. I flipped it on and sat down in the chair.

  Darla came out, rubbing her face with a towel. She tossed it back into the bathroom and then threw herself down spread-eagle on the bed. Slowly she rolled over on to one hip.

  “You know, I forgot how hard these shows were. You mind getting me a beer?”

  “Sure.” I got up, went to the fridge, pulled out a Budweiser, and handed it to her. “Can I have a glass?” I got her one. She had scooted up to the headboard and was sitting cross-legged.

  She popped it open and poured a tall one. “Okay, you said you thought I was in trouble and you wanted to help me. I already told you I was in trouble. You put me there.”

  “No. You told me a story about some crazy fan. There’s no crazy fan after you. It’d take more than that to make you give up everything you had in California.”

  She shrugged and licked the foam off her upper lip.

  “Why’d you tell me that story?”

  “I wanted you to feel bad and sorry for me. Maybe you wouldn’t be so helpful if somebody did come looking for me. Make you think twice. It worked, didn’t it?” After another slug she said, “Mostly I wanted to stop by and tell you how royally you had fucked up my life and how pissed off I was at you.”

  “Well, you succeeded on both counts. I got the message, and I wasn’t helpful to Bellicosi when he showed up. I came here because his story stunk, because you’re in trouble and I’m not sure you deserve it, and because I helped put you there.”

  She raised her glass to me. “Good for you. You want your conscience cleared, give me five thousand dollars and a new set of clean documents. That’ll square us.”

  “Sorry, I don’t have that kind of money. If it comes to it, I can help you lose yourself again. There are other tricks you haven’t used. I’ll teach them to you. But before we get into that, I’m not sure you have to be running. Bellicosi’s covering up something but it isn’t getting taken by his snitch.”

  “So what story did he tell you?” she asked.

  I ran through it for her. She was shaking her head at the end. “What a crock of shit. There isn’t a true word in that whole story.”

  “I’ll believe that. Why don’t you tell me your story?”

  She mulled that one over. “I’m not so sure I should do that. I know I was set up but you might not believe me. I mean, everybody’s always being set up, right?” She laughed. “Like, when was the last time anybody just stood up and said, ‘You’re right, I did it and I’m not sorry.’”

  G. Gordon Liddy was the answer, but that was for another time.

  “Why don’t you hire me to work for you? That way everything you tell me is confidential. You get the same protection that any client has.”

  “You’re a real piece of work, Haggerty. One minute you’re hunting me down like a dog, going through my life like it’s your dirty laundry. You didn’t give a shit about me. I was just something to take apart, so you got the answers for your client and fuck the consequences. Well, these are the consequences. How do you like ’em? I think they suck. The next minute you’re ready to turn around and work for me. For how long? Till you get a better offer? Excuse me, but you’re not the most trustworthy dude I’ve ever met, and let me tell you, I’ve known some pretty shitty specimens.”

  “No doubt about it. You’re right. My clients wanted to know who you were. When they bought my services, they got my best effort, period. I didn’t owe you a thing. You were the job, plain and simple. You hire me, you get my best effort. Nothing less. I’d be as resourceful trying to hide you or help you as I was tracking you down. You could do worse, you know.”

  She shook her head. “I guess so. You’ve found me, what, three times already. Just tell me this. Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I won’t double-cross a client. I don’t make any claims for a great code of ethics. It’s just bad for business. I’m a businessman. I like what I do and I’m good at it. I don’t want to fuck that up. It’s not pretty, but I’m not a beautician. So what’ll it be, you want to hire me or not?”

  “What have I got to lose? You walk out of here and somebody else hires you. You’ll be right back helping break the door down. At least this way I know where you are. How much do you cost?”

  “Give me a dollar.”

  “That can’t be your rate. Look, I pay my way,” she snapped.

  “Just give me a fuckin’ dollar and leave it at that, okay?”

  She slid off the side of the bed, went to her bag, and came over with a bill in her hand. She was folding it down the middle.

  I reached for it. She waved it at me and backed away.

  “Not so fast. What does this get me? If I know anything, it’s that you get what you pay for. So?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “You get the same thing any client does. You get my best effort on your behalf. I’ve decided that you’re a one-dollar client. Why don’t you leave it at that?”

  “That’s it, a dollar? You aren’t thinking of taking it out in trade?” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

  I shook my head. “No. I’m trying to give it up for Lent.”

  “You don’t fool me. You’re not a good guy, you’re just a guilty one.” She fanned the dollar against her chin. “But I guess you’re all I’ve got.”

  She handed me the dollar. I folded it up and stuck it in a pocket. “Like I said, why don’t you tell me your story?”

  I swung the chair around and put my feet on the bed. “You want to toss me one of those pillows?” She climbed back on the bed, leaned over, and tossed me one. She sat against the headboard with the other pillow in her lap. I slid mine behind me, leaned back, put my hands on my chest, and listened.

  As she spoke she slowly stroked the pillow in her lap.

  We’re never too old for teddy bears.

  “Okay. It all started when I got busted for drugs. I’m telling you the truth.” She held up a hand for emphasis. “I don’t use them. I sure don’t deal them. Somebody planted them on me. Those cops knew exactly where to go. Somebody set me up.”

  “Okay, who set you up?”

  “I don’t know. Believe me, I’ve thought about it.”

  “What about another actress, a competitor? This sure took you out of circulation.”

  “No way. I mean, we’ll get bitchy with each other, but this is way beyond that. Besides, I didn’t leave town because of the bust. That’s just what started things.

  “The next day, I’m at home, trying to figure what to do. I mean, anybody in trouble with the law is definitely not wanted on the set. Things are tense enough as it is without giving the law another reason to close you down. So I’m figuring I’ll get a straight lawyer, you know, not one that represents any of the distributors. Somebody from the real world.

  “Anyway, there’s a knock on the door. I’m not too keen on letting anybody else in. So I left the chain on when I opened the door. The guy says, ‘Ms. Sorenson, I want to talk to you about the trouble you’re in. I think I can help you.’ I figure, great, somebody at the station leaked it to vice. Now everybo
dy knows. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. He laughed at me. It was not a nice sound. So he says, ‘Possession with intent to distribute is serious business. Somebody in your line of work isn’t going to find a sympathetic jury. We’re not talking about a slap on the wrists here, we’re talking serious time.’ He says he can help me beat the rap. That he can fix it so they’ll drop the charges, but he needs me to do something for him.

  “What the hell. I’m in deep shit already so I let him in. He says he wants me to do a video for him. He won’t tell me what it is or anything else that I don’t need to know. Just that I’m not to leave town. He’s not sure when he’ll need me, but I have to be able to go with him whenever he shows up. If I do this, he can get the charges dropped. I’d be back working in less than a month. I mean, what do I have to lose, so I say sure. I’ve heard of deals like this before. Some of the girls get approached to shoot private videos. You know, the favorite fantasies of some rich guy. Sometimes the guy gets in and wants to perform with you, sometimes they just want to watch. The money is good, like ten grand a pop, and that’s it. You’re in and out in a day. Some old fart’s happy stroking away to his own fantasy. Maybe it’s the police commissioner wants me to spank him before I sit on his face. That could get the charges dropped.

  “Anyway, the guy wants to take some Polaroids of me. Said he needed them for some special costumes. Naked of course. So he takes a frontal, then my backside. That’s it. He’s gone.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I put together this other identity. I learned how to do it from another girl. She always had one on hand, in case she ever had to split in a hurry. So I had Sarabeth Timmons and had a whole set of papers for her. I started setting aside money too. I figured if this guy was conning me, I still had to face charges and I might not want to do that. Or I might not like his deal and decide not to do it. I may not look it, but I’m really a pretty cautious person. My mother told me never to talk to strangers.” She unleashed a big grin. I found myself smiling back at her.

  “About three weeks later he came back. No calls, no warning, nothing. Just bang bang on the door. Let’s go. We’ve got a plane to catch. So I told him I wasn’t ready to go. I had to pack. So he said do it. I said where are we going? I’ve got to know what to take. He says we’re going to Mexico. That got me interested. That’s money. If this is a commercial shoot, it’s got to have a good director, somebody I know. I mean, nobody shoots out of town. Location shots are the parking lot outside the apartment. He says there’s no director yet. We’re going down to do the set-up shots and the director’ll handle the sex scenes back here. So I ask him who did the script. He didn’t know who. How am I supposed to dress for the setups if I don’t know what the story is? I asked him who else was in the cast. I was expecting to hear some names I knew, like Jeanna Fine or Racquel Darrian. He gave me names I’d never heard of. He was getting real antsy, telling me to hurry up, we had a plane to catch. I started to get a bad feeling about this. I asked him if we’d have a makeup girl or would we be doing that ourselves. He didn’t even know that. This guy didn’t know what he was doing. So I asked him how long we’d be gone. I needed to know how many outfits to take. He exploded and said ‘Don’t worry about it. We’ve got to go now. You want off the hook on the drug charge, this is it. We go to Mexico and shoot there or it’s no deal. What’ll it be?’

  “I was looking at him and I’m saying to myself, If I go with this guy to Mexico it’s forever. He doesn’t care how many outfits I need ’cause I’m not coming back.

  “I told him I had to get some makeup and I’d be ready. So I went back to the bathroom and got some stuff together in a bag. I tossed it into a suitcase and got together my new identity and all the cash I’d saved from work. I told him I needed some help with the suitcase. When he came in, I stepped back and let him try to lock it. As soon as he did it, he turned to me and I sprayed him right in the eyes with some hairspray. Then I kicked him in the balls as hard as I could and ran.”

  I chuckled. “Nice work. How’d you get out of town?”

  “I took a cab to the airport and booked a flight to Seattle. I checked in but didn’t take it. Then I left one of my credit cards in the bathroom at the airport. I figured that if somebody turned it in it’d look like it fell out of my purse while I was doing my face. If they used it, it’d just create a second false trail to check out. That would buy me some extra time. I took a bus from the airport to the train station and caught a train to Phoenix. There I paid cash for a ticket and flew east as Sarabeth Timmons.”

  “The guy who offered you this deal, what name did he use?”

  “He never gave me one. He said the less I knew the better for me. The less I knew the better for him.”

  “What’d he look like?”

  “Nice-looking guy. Good tan, blondish hair, you know the way the sun will turn light brown hair into blond. He was tall, taller than you. Say six two or three. Nice body, I guess. He wasn’t fat. I couldn’t really tell. He always had his clothes on.”

  “Eyes?”

  “Brown, I think.”

  “Any scars, identifying marks, tattoos?”

  “Yeah, he had a little scar, like a whitish line in his upper lip, out near the end. He was cute actually, looked kind of like Scott Glenn.”

  “So he was clean shaven?” She nodded yes. “Glasses?” Got a no. Whoever he was, he sure wasn’t Bellicosi.

  I checked my watch. It was getting late. “Tomorrow I’m going to call a friend of mine, ask him to talk with you, see if he can help you. There’s something seriously screwy going on around here. Who set you up to be busted? Why? What was the trip to Mexico really all about? How does Bellicosi tie into this?” Of course, that was assuming she had been telling me the truth. I’d sooner bet on a three-legged racehorse. “Don’t go to work tomorrow. In fact, don’t go back to work until I tell you you can.”

  “And how am I supposed to earn money?”

  “You’ve got some saved up, I’m sure. Look, I found you because I knew where to look. I knew what you did for a living. Bellicosi or this other guy also knows what you do. I have to check with my office. If Bellicosi got Ellen Piersall’s file, he’ll talk to her, get a description of you, and be here on the streets looking for you by tomorrow. Believe it.”

  “All right. I’ll take a couple of days off. You’ve made your point.”

  She yawned and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. I stood up and stretched out my stiff back. “What’s your number here?”

  She read the phone number off the machine.

  “I’ll make my calls tomorrow. If I can set things up I’ll pick you up and take you to meet a friend of mine.”

  “Who?”

  “A lawyer, name of Walter Reuther O’Neil. I want him to hear your story.”

  “Why not stay here for the night? Make your calls in the morning and then we can go meet this guy. Save you a lot of driving, won’t it?”

  There wasn’t a hint of interest in the offer, which was fine by me, and she was right about saving me plenty of driving time. But I didn’t need the complications or the confusion. I handled my life okay as long as I kept it very simple. No need to tax the system.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll be going. I’ll call you first thing in the morning. So don’t go out for anything.”

  “I’ve got to go out to eat. What time is first thing?”

  “After nine A.M.”

  “Okay. I’ll be back here by nine.”

  “Fine. Lock up after I leave.”

  “Jesus, I’m a big girl. I know how to take care of myself.”

  “I’m sure you do.” I let myself out and stood there until I heard the dead bolt click.

  At five A.M. I sat bolt upright in bed. I had been dreaming about myself and a woman. We were sitting together in a bar, talking. At first she was Sarabeth Timmons. I ordered another round of drinks. As the bartender set hers down she reached up, peeled back her forehead, tore off her face,
and used it to wipe off the bar top. Now she was Darla Jean Sorenson. I sat there staring at her. She ordered another drink. When it arrived, she tore off her face again to clean the bar. I raised my drink to my lips but dropped it when I looked up into her face and saw Sam staring back at me.

  CHAPTER 20

  At nine I called Kelly from my car phone. The first thing I did was ask her to call Ellen Piersall and strongly recommend that she not talk to Bellicosi and why. Then I asked her if Bellicosi had taken the file.

  “No, Leo. He never came back. We didn’t hear a thing.”

  “If he comes back do it exactly as I described. If he wants to see me, tell him I won’t be in the office and you have no idea where I am.”

  “Got it. You ducking this guy?”

  “Big time. There’s a decidedly rancid air about him. Make him show you papers for everything he wants to do. If he doesn’t have them, show him the door. And don’t give him any information about us.”

  “So treat him like a first date.”

  “Amen.”

  Bellicosi’s no-show was very strange. Maybe they had trouble getting a judge to sign an order. Then again, maybe he wasn’t who he said he was and he hadn’t even tried. Or he was who he said he was and he didn’t want anyone to know he was out here. That was the most intriguing possibility.

  I called Walter O’Neil’s office and waited on the line as I was shifted from reception to his secretary to Walter himself.

  “Leo, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, Walt, yourself?”

  “As ever. What’s up?”

  “I have an enormously tricky situation I want to run by you. I have a client who claims she was set up in a phony bust. That’s the easy part. After that it’s strictly twilight zone material.”

  “How so?”

  “I get a visit from a guy says he’s in the L.A. D.A.’s office. He doesn’t say anything about a bust. He says she’s an informant who booked with a payment and never gave up the information.”