Goodbye Natalie

Chapter Eleven: The Little Voice

     For well over an hour, Attorney Barnes recounted what he knew of his long lost nephew, Jake, to Fallon Dawn. It seemed to bring a pleasant serenity to him when he recalled memories of family and simpler times. He was the youngest of five brothers, raised by a single mother in a small Missouri town. All the brothers had gone their separate ways years ago. The last time he’d seen Jake was at a family reunion some twenty years earlier, he must’ve been about three years old at the time. Burl Barnes later learned his brother had divorced and Jake went with the mother, who remarried. The stepfather turned out to be a tyrant and the boy and mother endured constant physical and psychological abuse; they lived the next several years in fear and degradation. Besides his own terror, Jake witnessed his mother subjected to unspeakable torture and humiliations that left emotional scars that likely would never heal. Jake had run away in his early teens, not to be heard from again until he showed up at the law office, many years later. It was common knowledge within the family that Burl Barnes had become an attorney in L.A.; Jake had simply looked up his name in the phone book and come by the office. He was a grown man now and apparently coping with life. It was good for both uncle and nephew to have someone of familial blood to bond with.

     Jake had struck up an acquaintance with Alan Rassmussen in passing, but Burl didn’t know why Alan would have had a file on him nor why it would have been hidden or who might’ve taken it. He asked Fallon if she had told the police about it and she assured him she planned on doing so. In the meantime, they agreed to keep their conversation confidential, she didn’t see the need to bring him into the intrigue any more than necessary. He was still trying to cope with the trauma of losing his office partner and friend. They agreed also, to change all the office locks. For the moment, Fallon decided against confiding in Barnes that Alan’s suicide had actually been murder and how she was being blackmailed into keeping quiet. Barnes had been planning a trip back home anyway and she convinced him that sooner, rather than later was the opportune time. Having the gentle, trusting Barnes out of harm’s way suited Fallon’s purposes. That way, she wouldn’t have to worry about him and she would have free reign of the office.

     The last that Attorney Barnes had heard of Jake, he’d landed a temporary job at Twentieth Century Fox movie studios on Pico Boulevard. He hadn’t heard from him in quite awhile, which wasn’t unusual, and he assumed he was doing well. With recent events, however, now he was concerned. Fallon again stepped to the plate and convinced Barnes that she would look in on him and keep Burl appraised of developments. She booked a late flight out of L.A.X. and arranged for a car to pick Barnes up in plenty of time. He seemed happy and content about getting out of L.A. and going back home for awhile. Fallon envied his ability to be able to pick up at a moment’s notice and just leave everything behind. What a lovely feeling it must be to show up unannounced at an old familiar place where everybody is glad to see you and no one is concerned with why it’s been so long or how dirty your laundry is or what kind of skeletons you’re hiding; no one is trying to cheat you or rob you or fuck you or kill you...just open arms and a warm bed. Fallon Dawn thought about her lonely little Hollywood apartment, and remembered Joanie Kwan. She shook the thought from her head.

     It was nearly noon by the time Fallon slowly drove by four-four-two Alexandria. She scribbled down the phone number on the for rent sign on the side of the building and drove the four blocks to Normandie and Sixth. She found a parking spot on the street and gratefully slipped out of the sun and heat into the air-conditioned darkness of the Dragon Lady bar. Masumi Na was behind the bar, chatting to a lone customer. Her face lit up when she recognized Fallon Dawn. ”Ou-an Ratmuffin! Beeg Howiewood detecive gul!”

     Fallon Dawn considered trying to straighten Ma Na out on the name, but her previous attempt had failed and she realized that forever more, at the Dragon Lady, she would be Alan Rassmussen. Ma Na greeted her with a welcoming smile.

     ”You on beeg case now, huh Ou-an?” Fallon glanced at the customer at the far end of the bar. ”Ma Na, it’s probably best we keep the detective girl thing low key.”

     ”Oh yeah...” Ma Na spoke conspiratorially. ”You no worry, he old man, he no heer so gud.”

     Fallon Dawn filled Ma Na in on the kidnap attempt on Joanie Kwan outside of the Dragon Lady the previous night, and described Mudcat to her. She recognized the culprit and recalled seeing him in the bar a few times. Ma Na promised to call her immediately should he or Frankie Valentine show up. They agreed that under the circumstances, Joanie wouldn’t be coming to work for the time being. Fallon borrowed the telephone and a yellow pages and began making a series of phone calls. First, she dialed the manager’s office at four-four-two Alexandria, posing as a credit card company, she was able to obtain Mirna Salguero’s place of employment, Marinello’s Beauty Shop. From the yellow pages she discovered Marinello’s to be a mere seven or so blocks away, on Western Avenue. Next, she called Marinello’s, confirmed Mirna was working as a stylist, and booked the next available appointment. She then called her own salon and cancelled her previous appointment, and while doing so she was silently praying that Marinello’s wasn’t a butcher shop and wisely decided to settle for a minor trim and shampoo.

     As she made her calls, Ma Na stood by in rapt attention, supplying pen and paper, a cold drink and ash tray. She efficiently lit a cigarette for Fallon and remained obediently near, should her assistance be required. At the close proximity, Fallon Dawn could notice the slightest hint of crow’s feet beginning to etch into the corner’s of Ma Na’s eyes, the only trace of imperfection in the otherwise flawless exterior of the delicate beauty. She wondered, not for the first time, how old Ma Na was and how she maintained such a perfect body and positive attitude. As natural attractiveness went, Masumi Na was easily a nine or better and she was obviously bright...yet, her life had lead to her serving drinks in bra and panties, and Fallon concluded, likely the occasional prostitution services. Still, outwardly at least, she appeared to be happy. She tried to read what was behind the glimmering, onyx eyes besides the raw sexuality that seemed to be constantly flowing just beneath the surface of the pale skin. What was it that she sensed there? How was Ma Na similarly perceiving herself? At ten to twenty years her junior, Fallon was performing a man’s occupation, or at least trying to. They both knew inherently that Ma Na’s life experience was worlds beyond the younger girl’s, yet, it was the ingenue with the opportunity, simply because of where she was born. Fallon felt a kinship with the bargirl, they were both trying to make it in a big, cruel world and Fallon promised to herself that very moment that if there was ever anything she could do for Na Ma to help her in any way, it was a done deal.

     Rummaging through her purse, she retrieved Vivian Valentine’s phone number and dialed. After several long rings Fallon was surprised when the aged movie star answered herself, with the familiar, commanding voice of a seasoned diva. She was careful to not let any details slip out, but assured the grand dame that progress was being made and she was pursuing all leads to find her missing son. When Vivian Valentine extended the offer to be of assistance in any capacity, Fallon Dawn seized the opportunity.

     ”There is one thing Ms. Valentine.” Fallon said. ”Do you have any connections at the Twentieth Century Fox studio?” There was a brief silence on the line.

     ”My dear, I’m not one normally given to bouts of braggadocio, however, it is a simple statement of fact that I, and a very few others, single-handedly are responsible for the existence of Fox Studios. Without my movies, Fox would have gone bankrupt years ago.” She then proceeded to list a series of notable feature films, some of which Fallon had watched in black and white reruns, some, several times over the years. It reminded her of the brilliant star Vivian Valentine used to be and saddened her that someone who had attained the highest peak of fame, success, wealth and notoriety now lived in isolation and loneliness with nothing but her fading memories to comfort her.

     ”...and the frivolous drivel they write now-a-days! Talent-less pin-up tarts eager to show their plastic privates and sleeping with anyone who might be able to assist them in getting a tampon commercial. In my day you had to be able to act! You had to have talent to get the parts! Well, you still had to sleep around, but when the cameras rolled...you bloody well better have some talent!”

     ”Ms. Valentine.”

     ”...that’s what sustains. That’s what they come to see! You can’t fake talent! Either you’ve got it or you don’t. The screen doesn’t lie. The story, the scenery, the dialogue and make-up may seduce and deceive, but when you’re thirty feet tall on the screen...that kind of nakedness exposes your soul. It separates the wanna-be’s from the remarkable. You have to be born with that kind of magnetism, it’s a gift from the Gods. One taken back cruelly, without warning, like a thief in the dark of night.”

     Fallon politely and self-consciously waited for Vivian to regain her composure. ”What were you asking again now dear?”

     ”Well, I was wondering...hoping actually, could you get me into Fox Studios? There are some leads I’d like to follow up.” In fact, there were at least two. From Frankie Valentine’s address book she’d noticed the name of a moderately well-known starlet who Fallon knew to be working on a television series that was filming on the Fox lot. Also, she was hoping to trace the lead on Jake Barnes, with any luck perhaps he was still working there.

     Vivian let Fallon know that it would not be a problem and if she did encounter any difficulty getting past the gate, have whomever dared stand in the way to call her.

     ”And Fallon...” Vivian Valentine spoke sincere and solemnly. ”Find my boy. Whatever you need, you can come to me...just find my son.” The haughty, self-confident actress persona had vanished, on the other end of the line was just a concerned, vulnerable, elderly mother looking for her child.

     ”Yes ma’am, I will.” Fallon answered more determinately than she felt. When she hung up, the look on Masumi Na’s face showed she was sufficiently impressed that not only was Fallon Dawn a big Hollywood detective girl, but deserved respect for the company she kept, which, in Ma Na’s eyes meant, by association, she as well deserved respect for knowing Fallon. Ma Na could read the concern and worry on Fallon Dawn’s face, which was also well deserved. She knew she was in over her head and her mind and emotions were being pulled in thirteen directions. She was in danger of losing a stalwart bearing, a path once guided by solid reasoning and principles was being corroded by the temporary convenience of lies and deceit. The little girl weaned on sugar and spice and everything nice had gotten herself embroiled in a world filled with murder, prostitution and blackmail. How far off course she veered would ultimately determine the type of person she would become and the sort of life she would live.

     ”You no worry Ou-an, ebrey ting gonna be o.k.”

     Fallon gloomily eyed the ever optimistic Masumi Na. ”Are you sure Ma Na? How can I know that? Nothing is ever certain, especially the future.”

     ”Listen what?”

     ”Leetle boice inside you head.”

     ”You mean, little voice?”

     ”But I just booked an appointment with her not twenty minutes ago.”

     The receptionist was conciliatory. ”I’m so sorry, if you don’t mind waiting a few moments, someone else will be with you. The other girls are really very good, you won’t be disappointed.”

     ”It’s not that...” Fallon was put off a bit, even if she’d decided to scratch the alibi plan, she’d already cancelled her other hair appointment and she had meant to at least get a look at Mirna Salguero, maybe even glean some information from her since she lived at the building where a brutal murder had occurred. Perhaps in the back of her mind, Fallon hoped she might be of some assistance in tracking down Emma’s killer. She still had the girl’s face imprinted vividly in her memory and harbored guilt for denying knowledge of the freshly executed Emma to Detective Bonetti.

     She took a seat and waited for a stylist. She’d go ahead and get a shampoo and trim, an hour or so of quiet time and pampering would give her time to think. Shortly, she was escorted to an open chair and a friendly, brown-skinned girl expertly massaged a lightly scented shampoo into her scalp. The warm water and refreshing fragrances soothed her and soon she was drifting off into her own thoughts. The ambient chatter of the salon girls and customers faded away into the background. The clatter and buzzing of scissors and clippers was familiar and reassuring. This was a place where serious problems gave way to idle, juicy gossip and Fallon Dawn’s stylist was knee-deep in some apparently fabulous tale with the neighboring beautician. Fallon’s Spanish was limited, but she managed to pick up a few coherent words here and there. The machine gun fire dialogue was peppered with ”esperate’s” and ”bruja’s” and ”oh no mommie’s”...and when the conversation topic suddenly became apparent, Fallon’s ears perked up like a lost puppy hearing it’s master’s voice in the distance. The little voice in her head was tugging at her ear.

     ”Excuse me, you mentioned the name ”Mirna”...were you referring to Mirna Salguero by any chance?”

     The vociferous haircutters were apparently willing to share their gossip, even with a stranger. ”Si senora.” Fallon inquired further.

     ”Do you happen to know where Mirna went? Or why she left?”

     The girls furtively looked around, as if to make certain no one was eaves- dropping, which was ironic in that it was their enthusiastic loquaciousness that had prompted the inquiry. ”Si senora, she left with her lover!” Both beauticians smiled broadly and knowingly.

     ”Oh, I see.” Fallon Dawn immediately got the picture. A midday liaison that might or might not preclude her return. The girls returned to their chatter, no less animatedly.

     ”...que no, el hombre Frankie es muy bonito, no?” ”Si! Es hombre muy macho!”

     Fallon spun in her chair, once again interrupting the conversation. ”Did you say Frankie?”

     ”Si senora, por que?” The pair were intrigued by Fallon’s interest.

     Fallon reached for and retrieved her purse, producing the photo Vivian Valentine had supplied of her missing son. Is this him? Is this Frankie?”

     Both girls studied the picture intently. ”Si senora, es Frankie!” The little voice in Fallon Dawn’s head was talking to her again. And this time, it was screaming.

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