Happenings in Hollywood

Later that night.

I’m about to turn in for bed when my phone suddenly buzzes a couple times in rapid succession.

I turn over to the nightstand and pick up the phone, the sudden bright light stinging my eyes. It’s a series of long messages from Sean Corolla. I’ve been waiting for this for a while. I flick on the light switch, and begin reading through what he’s got.

Damn, glad to hear all the craziness kind of worked out in the end. I’m surprised the TV appearance interviews haven’t started rolling in for you already. Let me know if you ever need a good agent, I got one or two that will do right you.

Then, I read the next paragraph, and this is what really catches my attention.

I ran the video footage from the Playboy Party by the top two private investigators you recommended. Bad news. Neither was able to come up with any new hits on the guys in attendance. The problem is the same thing you and I ran into—everybody’s masked when they enter the chamber, and the music plus the weird background stuff they played distorts the voices enough that we can’t get any hard matches.

But still, they both came to the same initial conclusion that you and I did. Guy in the leopard mask is Eric Simonds. It might hold in a court of law, but it’s sketchy. The other thing, one of them managed to pin down a girls that was there. Sorina Romanescu, the fifteen year old. I haven’t reached out or anything yet, thought you would like to know first.

Oh, and Ella Sue says hi! She wouldn’t stop worrying about you when we first saw the news in Colombia, but we’ve been busy shooting the movie. Photography will wrap up next week if nothing cocks up!

I take a second to think about this message that I’ve just received. Sean and I have been pursuing the happenings at the Playboy Party behind the scenes, trying to keep a low profile. So far, however, we haven’t had any major breakthroughs. The people in charge of security have done an astounding job at keeping everything under wraps.

Our biggest lead is the one piece of information that we discovered that night: that Eric Simonds was involved with the girls. We thought that would be enough to get us somewhere. Track down Eric’s close friends and verify that they were there too, and then chase down their friends, and keep going from there, but instead… It’s been dead end after dead end.

Pity that they couldn’t get us any other names, I text back to Sean. But it’s good to know that they agree with our analysis on leopard mask guy and one of them found Sorina. Did you tell them what I thought about gorilla mask? And the theory with the drinks?

The reply from Sean comes a second later: Yup. I let them know after they handed in their reports. They were surprised by your ideas, they thought it was plausible, kinda smart actually, but they still weren’t totally convinced by the evidence.

I shake my head, disappointed. Looks like the two PIs that Sean approached couldn’t put together the facts the same way that I did. They couldn’t pull the necessary evidence together. They failed my test.

Well shit, I text. Where does that leave us?

I could ask another of the PIs that you gave me, Sean writes.

No, two’s enough. They get less reliable as we go down the list, and the risk that someone tips off somebody in the wrong circle grows, I write. Maybe there’s something we can do with Eric Simonds. We could try baiting him into a trap…

I don’t know about that, man, Sean writes. Seems like something actually out of a movie, not something that we know how to do, you feel?

There’s no reason we shouldn’t at least try, I write.

We could go to the police and turn over what we’ve got, he writes. Then we won’t have to worry about this anymore. At the least, we shouldn’t be investigating this on our own.

Remember what J told me? I write. Big name journalists have tried doing this by the book. There must be a mole in the police ranks. We can’t afford to blow this lead that we’ve got. But that gives me an idea. Maybe I should reach out to her again?

I’ve got a bad feeling about that, Sean writes.

Why?

Rumour in Hollywood is that Bob and Eric are going after you, Sean writes. They’ve been trying to get all the dirt that they can. Talk is, they’ve been talking to some journalists, trying to figure out a way to take you down.

I’ll stay away from all news-types for the moment then, I write. I pause. Frustrating news to discover. But weren’t you just telling me to get myself an agent and run the late night show circuit?

Kind of a different ball game that they play, Sean writes. Then: Still a bad idea though. Scratch what I said. I’ve got no agents that would be a big help to you and you shouldn’t even think of getting one.

That’s a cheery attitude, I text. Glad to hear you’ve got my back.

Always, bro, Sean writes. Anyways, Ella Sue and I are about to step out for dinner. Let me know what you’re cooking up, and I’ll try to help how I can.

With that, Sean’s account goes from online to off. I rub my eyes and turn off the lights, sitting in the darkness for a good couple minutes, simply thinking.

I’ve got confirmation that Bob and Eric Simonds are coming after me. That’s not a surprise. It’s also not really a worry. Markus Najbreit might not be the cleanest person, but Claude Ashworth? They’re not going to get a lick of anything bad to say about me. Not in the past that Mr. Samuels gave me, at least—my more recent activities, well… if they want to come after me for protecting Scarlet’s life, they’re more than welcome to try.

Then, there’s the bigger question about the evidence we’ve gathered on the pedos. What can we do with it? What sticks in my head is the fear in Eric’s eyes when I told him that I had gotten Lucia’s interview on my phone. That tells me there must be a chink in the armour somewhere. All I have to do, then, is figure out how I can open it.