Napitano waved to the red leather sofas facing a flat-screen television and the one-kilo tin of black Iranian caviar within its nest of crushed ice. He poured champagne for all of them.
Rollo slipped a DVD out of his jacket and into the player.
"This movie should be a most useful addition to this article on the late Garrett Walsh that you've been spending so much time on, Jimmy." Napitano sipped his champagne. "I trust it will be finished sometime in the foreseeable future?"
"Depends on how far you can see."
Rollo ignored the champagne Napitano had poured and pulled a can of Mountain Dew out of the small refrigerator built into the wall. "Hammerlock's not finished, but I think you guys are really going to like it. I've watched it about twelve times, and I still don't know where Walsh was going. I was supposed to get a copy of his script notes today from my source at the archives, but B.K. is paranoid."
Jimmy sat down on the couch. He really was interested, not just in seeing a rough cut by a master filmmaker but because Walsh had been having an affair with the good wife while he was making the movie. Maybe there was something in the footage that would give him a sense of who she was.
"Here we go," said Rollo as the movie started, no titles, no credits at all, just a close-up of Mick Packard's face, blood trickling from his nose. He looked almost the same as he did on tonight's newscast. "Packard is really good in this, Jimmy. I was surprised."
Hammerlock was the story of a clinically depressed, tough cop, played by Mick Packard, who is manipulated by a shy, seemingly ineffectual killer, sent down blind alleys, chasing his tail in pursuit. The rough cut had major continuity problems-the transitions between scenes were often jumpy and awkward-but Packard was utterly convincing as the desperate cop, gobbling pills, slapping around suspects, a strong man unraveling, trying to cover his fear with bravado, talking out his troubles only with his sister.
The cop's best lead was a beautiful woman, a waitress who had heard the killer's gloating voice after he killed his fourth victim, even saw his retreating back when she looked out her window. The waitress and the cop had real chemistry-the actress was Victoria Lanois, and like Walsh, she never did such good work again, but she was the perfect mixture of strength and vulnerability in Hammerlock, the attraction between her and Packard's character made even more powerful by never being consummated. An hour and a half into the movie, drunk and desperate, the cop stops by her house with a droopy bouquet of flowers and finds her dead in the kitchen, the TV blaring.
The scene didn't work; it was too graphic, particularly for a character the viewer had come to love. Multiple shotgun blasts had blown her head to pieces. Walsh let the camera drift across the blood-sprayed walls, finally coming to rest on her shattered skull.
Jimmy shook his head. Walsh had an ugly imagination.
"Oh my," said Napitano as the screen went to gray.
"That's it?" said Jimmy.
"That's it," said Rollo. "The last act was never shot. I checked three earlier versions of the screenplay, but they're completely different. The cop is more of a straight-arrow type, and the waitress doesn't die-the cop uses her for bait."
"Was there much of a change in the waitress character from the earlier drafts?" said Jimmy, wondering if Walsh's deepening affair with the good wife during filming had been reflected in the female lead.
"Not really." Rollo got up, ejected the DVD, and slipped the case into his jacket. "She was a blonde up until the second rewrite, but that's-"
"You're sure about that? She wasn't a brunette in the first draft?" said Jimmy.
"I'm sure. I remember thinking it was a weird decision. Blondes usually get a rise from the suits, and the-"
"I want to look at every version of the screenplay you've got," said Jimmy.
"The scene of the waitress taking a shower-that was new too," said Rollo, thinking. "I checked the production notes. It was one of the last things Walsh shot. Gratuitous, maybe, but that blue tile with the mermaids looking over her shoulder as she's washing her hair-it was kind of hot."
Jimmy nodded. The scene was hot, but it was more than that: It was loving and appreciative too, almost too intimate. He was sorry that Sugar Brimley hadn't been able to get them into Walsh's old beach house. If the new owners hadn't remodeled, Jimmy was certain, absolutely certain, that the bathroom would have had a blue tile shower with decorative mermaids.
Chapter 38
"I already left three messages with his service," said Jimmy. "Do you have any idea when he's coming in to the office?"
"Felix the Cat better not show his face. That twitch blew off two gangbang scenes yesterday and didn't even bother calling, so if he thinks he's still got a job here, he's out of his fucking mind."
"It's really important I talk to him."
"If you got the clap, I have a list of preferred providers." The Intimate Ecstasy Productions talent wrangler's voice hardened. "If you got the bug, you didn't get it on one of our movies, so forget suing-"
Jimmy clicked off his cell phone.
"Still can't find Felix?" said Rollo.
Jimmy chewed his lip. Felix had been scared at the porn shoot, but he didn't talk like he was ready to run. Now he was AWOL. "I wanted to ask him some more questions. I'm still trying to locate Stephanie, the agent's secretary."
Rollo dropped the VW van into first gear, the engine whining as they drove up the winding road toward the crest of Orange Hill. "He must have gone underground again."
"Maybe."
"What's that mean?" Rollo glanced over at him. "Should I be scared?"
Jimmy didn't answer.
Rollo edged away from Jimmy, as though that would help.
It was an overcast morning, the sun not making much headway against the haze.
"Screening the rough cut of Hammerlock for Nino was the smartest thing I ever did." Rollo pushed back his glasses. "I just wanted to bring something special to the party-I didn't expect Nino to bankroll a documentary about the last days of Garrett Walsh. How cool is that?" He hunched over the wheel, trying to see through the dirty windshield. "First time I ever made a movie without having to move a load of laptops." He glanced at Jimmy. "I can still upgrade that crappy Trinitron of yours. It's not like I'm retired."
"That's a comfort."
"I got a question, and I want you to take your time answering. Ready?" Rollo took a deep breath. "You think I should bleach my hair?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
"Oh, yeah."
"What if I got a sports car? Gerardo says he can make me a deal on a slightly warm Porsche. Can't you see me in a red turbocharged nine twenty-eight?"
"I see you on the way to hairplugsville, grinding the gears all the way."
"I need help, man. You see those women at Nino's on Saturday night? I was in play a couple times, but as soon as the pussy saw my wheels, good-bye, Rollo. Winning the scavenger hunt helped, but that was last month. You're good with women. I still don't know how you nailed Jane Holt."