It was past nine and Costa still felt exhausted. Outside the window of his bedroom the light on Greenwich Street looked different, less bright, more diffuse. The only sound in the house was the noisy throb of the boom box of the Mexican decorators who’d spent most of the previous week painting the front of the building next door.
“You could have been killed,” she said, and he flinched at the accusation in her voice.
“Tom Black asked to see me. Alone. He didn’t wish me any harm. If he’d listened to me, he’d still be alive and we might have a clearer idea of what’s been going on.”
“And that makes it all OK?”
“Sometimes. He sounded as if he needed help.”
“And now he’s dead, too.”
The memories of those last moments on the Embarcadero were starting to flood back. “I don’t understand what happened. I’m sorry. I know you liked him.”
There was a moment’s silence on the line.
“Not really. Tom was a sad man. He hung around me for a while like a lot of men do, not that he seemed terribly convinced. I think he felt he was supposed to do that kind of thing. If Josh had told him to jump off the roof, he would have. Tom didn’t have the courage to ask for what he wanted, which makes him stand out from most so-called associate producers I’ve met.”
“Tom Black was a producer?” The job was news to him.
“Associate producer. Lukatmi put in money, didn’t they? Collect enough tokens, you get free candy.” She hesitated. “Did they have to shoot him?”
He thought about Gerald Kelly’s odd question, then said, “I didn’t see what happened. Black was a man with a gun who looked ready to use it. Just like that idiot in Rome. I tried to talk him out of it. I failed.”
“This is getting to me, Nic. I can’t wait to get the hell out of here. There are a couple of events over the weekend and then I’m gone.”
“Do you know if you’ve been paid yet?”
“What the hell does that matter?” she asked, incredulous.
“Maybe it doesn’t. Have you?”
She sighed. “Only what I got at the start. Sylvie, my agent, is foaming about it. This is partly my fault. I let Simon deal with the money stuff when it all got complicated.”
“Complicated?”
“Not enough money to pay the bills at Cinecittà. People asking for favours. Don’t take your fee now. Take it later, in installments. That kind of stuff. Normally you get it before the movie starts shooting. Not partway through. I didn’t want to know. Simon was in Rome. Sylvie was in Hollywood. Like she should care. She still gets her cut. Why’s my money important?”
“It probably isn’t.”
“Did Tom say anything about what happened?”
“Nothing useful.”
“You wouldn’t tell me, would you? Even if he did.”
This conversation always came up, in every relationship he’d had. With Emily it had been easy. She’d worked in law enforcement, too. She understood.
“No. I wouldn’t.”
“OK. I’m starting to get the picture.”
“I wish I was. When will I see you?”
“Tonight, I hope. At the premiere. Will you be working?”
“If you can call it that. Babysitting a set of glass cases. We’re irrelevant here. Come Saturday, when the exhibition goes back to Rome, we don’t even get the rent paid.”
She waited, then said, very slowly, “I thought we had an understanding. Barbados. Remember?”
There was always that gap between what was said in the spur of passion and what was felt in the cold light of day. Costa didn’t doubt his emotions there for a moment. He wanted to be with Maggie Flavier.
“Barbados,” he said. “Let me talk to Leo.”
“Do that. And another thing. An actress can’t walk down the red carpet at a movie premiere on her own.” A pause. “Do I really have to ask?”
“I’m working.”
“Two minutes of your time. That’s all it takes. Then you can go back to standing around your glass cases. Two minutes.”
He didn’t know what to say. He was trying to picture it in his head, all those images of glittering affairs on the TV, shots of the Oscars, celebrities laughing and joking … The sea of paparazzi who had been trying to capture them all along, given what they wanted, on a plate.
“If you’d prefer not to …” she began.
“There’s nothing I’d rather do in the world.”
“Really?”
“Really. I will smile for the cameras and wear a flower in my lapel. I will hold your hand, if that’s not too forward. Be my director. Tell me what to do.”
There was a low, throaty giggle on the line.
“I’d rather leave that till later, if you don’t mind. The photographers will go to town. You realise that, don’t you? We’ll be a couple, official. Privacy will be confined to the bathroom from now on, and I can’t always guarantee that.”
“I can live with it if you can.”
“You say that now …”
“Yes. I do.”
“If that’s true, you’ll be the best damn man I’ve ever known,” she said huskily. “Got to go …”
He tried to imagine her in the Brocklebank building, wondering what she would wear for the premiere. Who she might be. Herself? Or someone stolen from a wall in the Legion of Honor?
Costa walked downstairs. The small house was empty. On the table was a handwritten note, scribbled in a familiar, precise hand.
I say this as much as a friend as your commanding officer. To absent yourself on a whim last night, without informing any of us of your intentions, was stupid, selfish, and unacceptable. I do not wish to see you today. Try to amuse yourself in a way which causes no one any concern or harm.
Falcone
He read the message twice, then screwed it up into a tight ball and threw the thing into the kitchen bin. Once again there was no coffee. Costa sat down with a glass of orange juice and called Sylvie Brewster, Maggie’s agent. He had to talk his way through three assistants to reach her, and then she said, “You’re asking me to discuss the financial affairs of a client? And you’re not even an American cop with a warrant or something?”
“I’m a friend. I’m concerned.”
“Now I know who you are. You’re that one. Nic.”
“This is important. It may explain why she was attacked.”
“Whoever did that thing to Maggie deserves to be eaten alive by rats. What can I tell you, love?”
“I don’t know anything about the movie business. I don’t understand how a film can go into production, go as far as having a premiere, and still the cast haven’t all been paid. Is that normal?”
“No,” Sylvie Brewster replied, and nothing more.
“Then how did it happen?”
He heard a long groan and then the sound of someone sucking on a cigarette. “OK. You will never pass this on to another soul, right?”
“Agreed.”
“I haven’t a clue. The first thing I heard about it was when the deal was already done. I went nuts, but it was too late. They’d had some financial crisis. Tonti and that evil bastard Bonetti had set it up. They said that if I tried anything, I might be running the risk of bringing the whole damn thing crashing down. Not just no money but no movie.”
“Could they make a threat like that?”
“They thought so. Dino Bonetti broke every rule in the book. Those bastards took Maggie to one side in Rome. Leaned on her. Begged her. Next thing I know, she’s signed some papers and it’s all settled.”
“Have you seen those papers?”
“Nope. And if I didn’t love Maggie, she’d be an ex-client now. To hell with my cut. This is not the way the business is supposed to work.”