Private #1 Suspect (Private 2) - Page 58

This time I said, “Welcome to Private.”

PART THREE

CUT TO THE CHASE

CHAPTER 64

THE MOVIE WAS being shot north of LA, just outside the town of Ojai, on a ranch-sty

le property set back from a winding country lane.

Del Rio stood in the shade of an avocado grove, watching the crew set up the first shots of Shades of Green. A few yards away, Scotty leaned against the white horse fence that separated the avocado trees from the drive, the lawn, and the eccentric-looking house, maybe a hundred years old.

Right then, eight-fifteen a.m., the crew was adjusting the lights, the sound level, the camera angles, focusing on the blue Ferrari parked in front of the house.

Danny Whitman was in the driver’s seat, and his costar, sixteen-year-old Piper Winnick, was sitting beside him. The two were joking around, getting into the personalities of the characters, two young spies who’d fallen in love despite the odds, seeing as Danny’s character was marked for assassination.

Del Rio was reminded of the characters in one of those Bourne films starring Matt Damon and an actress whose name he didn’t know. Unlike the brunette in that Bourne movie, Piper Winnick was a honey blonde. She wore her shining hair shoulder length and was dressed in a yellow sundress with a straw hat shading her eyes.

Danny Whitman wore a blue polo shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap, and he was nuzzling his costar, who was fake-pushing him away, calling him “stupido,” the two of them laughing.

What Del Rio liked was how there were no other houses visible from this property, that the situation was under control. He lit a cigarette. He wasn’t hooked, but there were times when it just felt good to exhale and watch the smoke blow away in the breeze.

Del Rio watched the actors, thinking the film was pretty much guaranteed to be next summer’s blockbuster—if Danny didn’t go to jail. Or maybe the film would be even more of a box office bonanza if he did.

The director was talking now, telling the couple to take their places. They got out of the car and went into the house of many crazy additions, just as three of Danny Whitman’s handlers ambled up from the road.

Scotty left his post at the rail, came over, and stood next to Del Rio.

He said, “Of the three of them, I only like Schuster, the manager. I think he likes Danny for real. Barstow, Danny’s agent? He doesn’t like anybody. Merv Koulos. I understand him. He doesn’t try to hide that it’s all about money.”

Del Rio said, “It’s all about the money for all of them, Scotty. Just different shades of green.”

The three men came up to the investigators, Schuster saying, “You’re the guys from Private, right?”

Del Rio thought Schuster looked happy for good reason. He’d waited a long time for the cameras to roll, and today was the day.

Barstow said, “You can get something to eat if you want. The chow wagon is behind the barn.”

Del Rio said, “Thanks, but we’re good.”

He was thinking how it was great to get a softball job once in a while. Everything under control.

CHAPTER 65

FIFTY FEET AWAY from the avocado grove, the director’s assistant called, “Quiet please. Let’s have quiet.”

Someone clapped the boards, said, “Take one.” And the AD said, “Four, three, two and…action.”

The camera was focused on the front door, Danny coming out of the house followed by Piper. Danny turned to Piper, saying, “You gotta understand, that guy is crazy.”

“Cheesecake. I mean fruitcake,” Piper said in an Italian-accented voice.

They got into the car, Whitman saying, “Try to keep it straight, okay?”

Winnick said, “I know; cheesecake is girly pictures and fruitcake is cuckoo. And keep my head down.”

The star said to his movie girlfriend, “I’m fruitcake to let you come with me. If anything happens to you, Gia—”

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