Five Stories

"You had your chance..." plays again, only with distortion. Chase played the voicemail, not the scene.

"How about now?"

"Is the voicemail made from dialogue from the show?" I ask, and Chase plays something else.

"You've used many aliases. Scarlett Holmes, Ruby Westmore. Five in all," Conrad says.

"Five that you know of," Meg interjects.

"People will tell five stories about you, not realizing they're talking about the same person," Conrad says.

"Same scene?" I ask.

"Same episode, different scene. I'm trying to find the rest. The voicemail was made by someone with access to the footage," he explains.

"I'm working on my own case right now, but same time as yesterday?"

Chase agrees to meet with me at the apartment building after hours, and I hang up.

--

-Chase Kramner-

Jo is already in the lounge area setting up for another debriefing. Jenn is out with the kids getting some shopping done, and her niece is in the apartment doing something related to her job. Jenn sends me a text the moment I step into the apartment, letting me know she's stopping to get some food before she heads back. I acknowledge the message and tuck my phone into my pocket.

I'm about to head down to the lounge to meet Jo, but I need to get some lotion on my stump. I forgot to bring it this morning, and every time I do that it's two days of a burning rash I have to deal with. I sit on Emmie's couch and remove my prosthetic and then the sock. Air making direct contact immediately creates a horrid desire to scratch my skin off.

I squirt the lotion into my hand and groan in relief as I spread it over my stump.

Emmie's bedroom door opens, and she walks out completely naked. She has music playing in her ears, and she kind of dances out absentmindedly. I started dating Jenn in her mid-thirties, and that was mesmerizing. This gives me an idea of what a mid-twenties Jenn would have looked like. Same frame, but Emmie has larger, firm breasts and rounded hips. I guess having pubic hair is making a comeback, because she has a well-trimmed bush like a small leaf.

You're married. You're married. You're married.

Emmie grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge and starts working the cork out. She turns around and sees me, the cork shoots out across the apartment, knocking a canvas of herself off the wall.

"Shit," Emmie says, pulling out the earbuds and standing lower behind her cabinet island to hide her body from my line of sight. "I thought I was alone."

"I tried telling you, guess you couldn't hear me," I say, and she laughs a little. I didn't try, but she doesn't need to know that.

"You see much?" Emmie asks, and I shrug. "You mind not telling my aunt, she's an Ito, she can kill you by staring."

"Well aware," I say, and she laughs again.

"I'm going to run, and you look that way, okay?" she asks, and I nod. "Go."

I look the other way, and straight into a mirror. Her ass streaks across the apartment and her door shuts. A few moments later she walks out in a robe that is still too provocative. A thin, black, silk robe hanging off one shoulder, showing her full cleavage. The belt is loosely tied, welcoming a breeze to blow it open. It stops above the midpoint of her thighs, so when she walks past again, I can still see the bottom curve of her buttocks. Honestly, this is worse than naked. Naked can be an accident. This seems downright intentional.

"You met my aunt when you were both cops, right?" she asks from the kitchen. She's pouring the wine she had opened before and offers me a glass which I decline. Need a good head right now.

"Yeah. We met in the elevator. She was an IA investigator and hit every button to interrogate me for longer," I explain, and she asks what IA is. "Internal Affairs. She investigated other cops."

"That's right. She hated that job," she says and walks out of the kitchen and into the living room. She sits one of her chairs and sits cross legged on the cushion. Is this an Ito thing? When the women want a guy, they just scantily wear clothing and talk as if they aren't half naked? Jenn did that the first time we had sex. She came over to feed my cat and when I came back she was in short shorts and a lose fitting shirt but no underwear. "I was almost a police officer."

"Why?"

"Because my coolest aunt was," Emmie says with a grin and sips her wine. "I failed out of the LAPD academy."

"Any particular reason?" I ask.

"Fitness test. I might look fit, but I can barely lift an iPhone and I get winded walking up stairs. I'm not like Jenn, or my Navy SEAL dad for that matter. I didn't get the fitness gene," she explains. Jenn has been stupid fit for as long as I've known her. Pound for pound she's as strong as me. She got big during both pregnancies, but the moment the baby was out she was down to her pre-pregnancy weight in only a few months.

"How weird is the leg thing?" Emmie asks. I look at my stump and start putting the sock back on. "Is that something you get used to?"

"You'd be amazed what you could get used to," I say, and start clipping the prosthetic back on. "You said you worked in photography?"

"I do," she says, grinning way too much. She wants me to ask her.

"What do you photograph?" I ask.

"Myself," she says, tilting her head tauntingly.

"Does that have anything to do with why you were naked?" I ask, and her grin finds a way to get bigger. My niece-in-law is a camgirl. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Pays for my rent," she says, and finishes her wine without an ounce of regret. "In Thailand when I went to Songkran, I brought a thin white t-shirt too."

My phone chimes. It's Jo asking me to hurry up so we can get started. Detective Roland had already showed up as well.

"Need to go?" Emmie asks, and I nod. "I'm only teasing, by the way. I like that I make you uncomfortable."

"Why's that?" I ask, admitting that she does make me uncomfortable.

"I know my aunt married a good man this time."

I sometimes forget I'm my wife's second husband. Her first marriage didn't end well, hence the divorce part. Mostly he was a verbally abusive cheater. Jenn is materially low maintenance, but she's emotionally high maintenance. Her ex assaulted her self-esteem and self-worth, and I'm always trying to keep those high. She doesn't need to get a new pair of jeans. She does need me to let her know her ass looks good in them.

Emmie retreats into her bedroom and I leave the apartment and take the elevator down to the lounge on the third floor. Jo has already posted all our previous information with all the new stuff she retrieved today. I add my own portion from my examination of the scenes already filmed and our walk around the production site.

"Anything good from reinterviewing the stunt crew?" I ask.

"Once I ambushed them with proof that the markers for the mat had been screwed with, let's just say they got a little less talkative. Not guilty quiet, more like..."

"...liability?" I ask.

"...can I talk?" she asks, and I wait. "Yeah, like liability." Jo hates it when people talk over her or try to interrupt her. Even if we've come to the same conclusion. She just likes being the one to say it.

"Wait, so the mat markers were moved?" Detective Roland asks.

"They were detective," I say, and she places her hand over her mouth in frustration. Likely at herself for missing it. "It wasn't easy to notice detective, if that makes you feel better."

"Just call me Holly."

"Also, Kenneth is lying about the amount of time Meg spent in her trailer. The cameras are date time stamped. Three hours and seventeen minutes is how long we have between the second and third take. That's three hours for someone to start moving everything in place for an accident. That means screwing with the mat, screwing with her harness, and sending her the voicemail. I don't know who told her father she got it days before, but it was sent between the second and third takes."

"And we also found out one person could have made the voicemail. It's spliced together from lines of dialogue from scenes already filmed."

"That might be enough to reopen the case," Holly says, and I nod; it would probably be enough. Full support and backing of the LAPD RHD for better or worse. To Justin Fontaine, that might be worth his money. "One thing is making me scratch my head."

"Motive," Jo says, and the room nods. "Why kill her? Is her being a bitch a solid enough reason?"

"I've seen people killed for less."

"True," I say. "True only in crimes of sudden passion without forethought. This was planned and premediated down to the slightest detail. The sheer volume of things tells me more than one person, but one person is still possible given the timeline."

"Who'd have access to the film to make the voicemail?" Jo asks.

"Editor obviously. Producers, director, not many people. I'm okay with ruling out Terry Opal. Everything we got today was because of him, and he legally didn't have to give us access to any of it," I say, and watch Jo open her mouth. "I know he could just be trying to look cooperative, but again, none of it needed to happen and he's too smart to have let it happen if it was him."

"I'll talk to my LT tomorrow morning, get the case reopened. Once we do, we need to watch everyone in the production closely. See who's nervous about it."

Holly leaves for the night while Jo and I start tearing down the board again, just so we can put it back up tomorrow. If we had our own hotel room, we wouldn't need to do this part. Unfortunately, Jenn will never approve of me staying overnight alone with Jo. It's a woman thing, but I know I wouldn't be comfortable with the reverse scenario either.

--

Monday - September 21, 2020

I asked Justin Fontaine to meet with me, and he arranges for us to talk at his office. One in the Chamber Productions. He specializes in action movies. The office is located on Sunset Boulevard in a building conspicuously named Hollywood Offices. When I tell Jenn where it is, she decides she wants to tag along this time so she can see the sights. We load up the kids in the car so we can spend thirty minutes to drive less than two miles.

Jo drove her own car this time, learning from yesterday's mistake. I kiss Jenn before leaving the car with my backpack. Jenn rolls down the window so I can high-five Nathan and kiss the top of Krista's head.

"I'll get a ride back with Jo," I say, and Jenn pulls back into the nearly inert traffic and never endings horns.

"My husband and I were talking about having kids around the time we got divorced," Jo says as the car slowly creeps away.

"Still wear the ring though," I say. Jo instinctually twists the band around her finger.

"It was my fault. I let something happen, and I should've known better."

All I know is that Jo is divorced, but she's never divulged the reasons why. I've also never asked. For now, she's my employee, and I've never pushed her into topics she clearly isn't comfortable with.

"What happened?"

"It's the same reason I'm not a cop anymore," she says, and leads the way into the building. Now she's just begging me to ask those questions.

"Why did you resign?" I ask, catching the door she made no attempt to hold for me. At least hold it for a cripple.

"My deputy chief coerced me into sleeping with him," she says, turning around to look at me. She's waiting for me to reply, but I'm silent. "Nothing?"

"What could I say to that?"

"I eventually reported it, but nothing happened. I transferred to a different town, and years later he was getting appointed as the chief there. I lost my shit, publicly, and I resigned to save the only person who tried to help me."

"What about your husband?"

"He didn't care that I was coerced. According to him, I put myself in that position, which he's not entirely wrong about that. I still love him, and, I don't know, part of me still believes he'll call me back one day. Even though he's already remarried with the kids we talked about having together. You got it all, don't you?"

"How's that?" I ask.

"Two beautiful kids, a half-Asian wife, people just giving you this kind of work," she says, gesturing to the glamor around us. "You got it all."

"You want to play grievance Olympics? My mother killed herself when I was a kid. My father controlled my entire life until I didn't let him. My sister abused me, and I'm literally missing half of my leg," I say, and she crosses her arms over her chest. "I didn't hire you because you have an unblemished history. No one does."

"Then why? I was a detective for six months before I resigned. I handled two non-violent property cases. Period. Neither of great consequence."

"Everything is consequential to someone."

"That didn't answer my question," she says. "Why did you hire me when other people had real resumes?"

"Because you needed it."

"So, pity."

"Not need in the economic sense, but that's certainly a factor. I didn't think I'd miss being a detective when I retired. First year, I really didn't. We had Nathan, and I was content as the house husband. I didn't think about it for years, because the last thing I did as a cop was get my friend killed."

Jo lowers her arms and tucks her fingers into her pockets to the second knuckle.

"Jenn told me about that. And that it wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't your fault either," I say, and that hit Jo hard. I watch her choke for a second and evade my gaze. "The last person to believe that is always ourselves."

"You're the first person to say that to me," Jo says, and blink. "That it wasn't my fault." She chews on the inside of her cheek, thinking of something else she wants to ask me.

"What?"

"Nothing," she says and walks further into the building. I sigh and follow her.

We take the elevator to the third floor and follow the signs to his office. It looks like he has one wing of the floor. Seems more like the corporate offices for the company, rather than where any filming is done. There are a few rooms with cameras on tripods, likely for casting or screen tests. I see one room off to the side with a green screen taking up the back wall and several lights aimed at it.

"Mr. Kramner," I hear. I turn away from the room and see Justin stepping out of his office. "We'll talk in here."

The entire back wall of his office is a window, overlooking Sunset Boulevard. If I looked out, I'd probably still see Jenn making her way through traffic. A couch and two chairs are positioned around an expensive coffee table in the middle of the room. There is a door to a small conference room with six chairs around a table off to the side. His L-shaped desk is against the wall with the monitors mounted to the wall.

"Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the couches and chairs. He sits on the center of the couch while Jo and I take the two chairs. "What have you learned."

"Enough that RHD is considering reopening the case," I say, and he flinches back in shock.

"Really?" he asks.

"We don't think it was an accident," I say, and he places his face into the palms of his hands. "You already know the mat was misaligned. It was misaligned because someone moved its marker."

"Who?" Justin asks.

"That, we don't know. But I have a few questions to hopefully start sorting this out."

"Of course."

"Why did you say you received the voicemail days before?" I ask, and he sighs. The voicemail was sent between the takes, and his face suggests he knows that.

"I figured..." he says, starting off with the intent of not denying it. "...I don't know. Maybe you'd want the case more. Maybe, it made you look for murder instead."

If the voicemail came days before, it shows more time for premeditation.

"You had to have known I'd figure that out."

"I knew you would. It was deceptive on my part, and for that I apologize."

Jo and I look at each other and I give a slight nod.

"We heard from several people," Jo begins, and he turns to her, "That you and your daughter didn't have the best relationship."

I already deduced that just from the pictures in her condo.

"We didn't."

"Why?" I ask.

"For one thing, her stepmother was only two years older than her. Her mother and I split because of my affairs."

"Casting couch?" Jo asks.

"I'm an asshole, but I'm not a fucking asshole," he explains. "I'm not that kind of producer."

"When was the last time you spoke to her?" Jo asks.

"Almost a year ago, but not from lack of trying. She wanted to make it on her own."

"You were trying to stay in contact, but she wasn't reciprocating the effort?" Jo asks, and he nods. I really don't know where else this conversation can go.

"Well, RHD will probably take the case back in a few days, maybe a week. At that point, they'll push me out, and there isn't much I can do about that."

"You're done?" he asks, and I nod.

"This is what we can do in a few days. Better than the LA answer, right?"

"Certainly is," he admits. "You have no idea who?"

"I know it was most likely someone involved in the production. The voicemail was spliced together from dialogue already filmed for the show and put under a voice filter."

"My money is on Terry Opal then," he says, and I shake my head.

"He's the one I suspect the least." That seems to legitimately surprise him. "It's not him, but why do you think that?" Now I have plenty of things to ask.

"Terry and I got bad blood going back years. Petty Hollywood drama, but they already put us on opposite sides of the room in any award show," Justin explains.

"Then why would he hire your daughter if he hated you?" Jo asks.

"That's exactly why he hired Meg," he says, and I put the pieces together.

"You're not that kind of producer, but Terry is?" I ask, and he nods. "Was that his way of getting back at you?"

"Not so much his way of getting back at me..."

"...it was Meg's way to get back at you."

"Yeah," Justin says, lowering his head and resting with his palms against his forehead. "You're sure it's not him?"

"I can never be sure, but all the evidence we got to get the case reopened was provided by Terry," I explain.

"Who do you think?"

"I'm not going to say, because I don't want you to do anything stupid based on half-baked assumptions."

Justin raises his head and thinks for a moment. His mouth opens, but it closes after a few seconds without a word being uttered. He replies with a deep sigh, nodding in agreement it's best that I don't speculate.

"Honestly, it's more than I thought I'd get. After two PIs, I can't say I was expecting a different answer."

"We'll keep digging for as long as RHD will allow us..."

"...no, you've done plenty."

I pause and look at Jo who simply shrugs. "Okay."

--

While Justin has told us we're done, I still want to interview Kenneth Taslim again. Jo couldn't get him yesterday, but she got plenty of the guys who worked for him. It's not that the mat was moved. That was already part of the story. The markers for the mat were moved, which caused the mat to be misaligned. I want to see Kenneth's face when I ask him about that. And why he lied to me about the time period between the second and third takes.

There is something about this case that isn't sitting well with me; it was too easy. Holly said she got turned around by her superiors before she could really dig, but I don't know if I fully believe her. The PIs would've asked the same questions and followed the same trails, but no one was inclined to push hard in any direction. I want to know who doesn't want this to be examined. Why was everyone so immediate in their decision to rule this an accident? Which really begs the question if they wanted everyone to assume this was accident, why send the voicemail at all? If not for the voicemail, I doubt even Justin would believe something more sinister. I need to talk to the PIs.