Goodbye Natalie
Chapter Twelve: The Hungry and The Dead
Fallon Dawn left Marinello’s Beauty Shop with a fresh, clean haircut, a renewed sense of purpose, and more questions coming out than she had going in. While lounging in the salon chair and eavesdropping on the Hispanic hair-dressers, she learned that the enigmatic Frankie Valentine was romantically involved with at least two women from four-four-two Alexandria, the cardiac nurse Emma Cuenca, now deceased, and the beautician Mirna Salguero. He was also seeing the Asian bargirl, Joanie Kwan and had ties to a starlet on the Twentieth Century Fox movie studio lot. Fallon glanced at the photograph of Frankie that was lying on the passenger seat amongst other scattered bits of papers and notes, clues and leads. The messy pile reminded Fallon of the thoughts in her head, information and details blowing around like dry leaves in a wind storm. She focused on Frankie’s clear, piercing eyes. He was a nice-looking, clean-cut young man, but the death of Emma Cuenca and the way he seemed to be actively trying to remain incommunicado, was raising suspicions within her. She was determined the day wouldn’t end without making headway on the case, and while on the Fox lot she could also check up on Burl Barnes’ nephew Jake. She was familiar with all the movie lots, from her days as a neophyte actress and knew Frankie’s starlet was shooting her sitcom at Fox. In the back of her mind, she also knew time was running out on her regarding alerting Detective Bonetti of Frankie’s ties to Emma Cuenca, and her own involvement. But for the moment, negotiating the L.A. traffic and getting on the Fox lot was the priority.
She took Western Avenue to Sixth Street, Sixth to Beverly Hills and south on Robertson. As she turned west on Pico Boulevard, the butterflies began fluttering around in her belly. The same, familiar feeling she used to experience when going on auditions now overcame her. The acting bug had left a nasty bite mark on her psyche, and as she pulled up to the Fox gates, that same old queasiness of anticipation, hope and adrenaline was flooding through her like margarita mix in a blender. She could certainly use a drink right now but it was a little early in the day and she reminded herself she was also just a little bit young to be using alcohol as a crutch to prop her up through the difficult times. The same couldn’t be said for the security guard at the little guard shack that stood outside the Fox gates. The bulbous nose and rosy red complexion gave him away as a devoted drinker. Fallon silently hoped in thirty or forty years, that she wouldn’t end up like the pitiable guard; a menial job, so close to fame and fortune and success, but just outside it’s reach. She knew gaining access to the lifestyle that beckoned just beyond those gates could be so difficult and the desire, so overpowering, that reason and good intentions many times fell to the wayside in pursuit of the dream. Blinded by ambition, so many fall into the merciless, bottomless pit of failure.
As promised, Vivian Valentine had arranged lot access and Fallon asked the guard if he knew if Jake Barnes was still working there. He was friendly and compliant and checked the thick employee roster.
”No miss, no Jake Barnes listed.” Said the guard.
”Oh, I see.” Fallon was disappointed but not defeated. ”Maybe you could tell me...do you happen to recall a Jake Barnes? Do you remember where he was working? It may have been a temporary assignment, from one of the agencies.”
The guard thought for a moment. ”I really couldn’t say miss, a lot of people come through you know. Good place to start looking would be the mailroom though, they know everybody pretty much...a lot of temps start there. It’s a left just beyond the gate and about a hundred yards, you’ll see the sign. You can park right there in the outside lot and walk right on in.”
”Thank you.” Fallon was ready to pull to the lot when the guard stopped her.
”You an actress?” He said.
”Oh, no...no, I’m not..,” Fallon replied sheepishly, although the movies had brought her to L.A., they were now the furthest possible career goal she would ever entertain.
”You look a little familiar.” The guard said good-naturedly. ”Hang around in there long enough, they’ll find something for ya.” He smiled warmly and Fallon appreciated the friendly attitude but was anxious to be on her way. She parked in the dirt lot that fronted on Pico Boulevard and walked onto the Fox Studio, back into a world she left behind not so long ago. Being among the rows and rows of sets and sound stages, she couldn’t help but be impressed by the history of such a prestigious film company. All the great stars had tread through these streets and walkways and even now Fallon recognized many of the faces that passed by casually. She located the mailroom, but none of the workers could recall a Jake Barnes. Next, she wandered into a couple of the executive offices which resembled small condos and asked around. No one remembered Jake.
Fallon soon decided to locate the set of the sitcom, ”Neighbors”, where Frankie Valentine’s maybe girlfriend might be shooting. She still read the Daily Variety and recalled seeing that Melanie Morningstar had signed on as the sexy neighbor girl to the two leads. Since Melanie’s name and number were in Frankie’s address book, perhaps she might provide some clue to his whereabouts. On the Neighbors set, they told her Melanie was on break and probably in the commissary and sure enough, the pretty blond was seated in the corner, studying lines and picking at a small salad. Fallon steadied herself and approached. ”Miss Morningstar, may I have a word with you?”
When Melanie Morningstar looked up, Fallon couldn’t help but be impressed. Here was the quintessential embodiment of the Hollywood starlet, in the flesh and bigger than life. Her blue eyes were abnormally large and brilliant. Her teeth were perfect rows of flawless enamel. The lips formed a luscious gap that promised satisfying results. Melanie’s skin was slightly tanned, but not overdone. The hair was a buttery blond, styled to perfection and carefully arranged in feathered highlights to accentuate her stunning cheekbones. Her designer top was just a size too small, making her full, spectacular breasts sit proudly on display. She had long legs, slender fingers tipped with an expensive manicure and she smelled like she’d just stepped from a mountain spring that was scented with daffodils and roses. The look on her magnificent face could be described in one word, ”blank”. Behind those amazing eyes and that perfect face, was nothing.
Suddenly, Fallon Dawn hated the world. She hated her mousey brown hair, her regular nose and eyes, her too-small breasts and skinny hips. She detested her scuffed, worn Payless shoes and her fake handbag. She could feel the dirt from the Kansas cornfields under her fingernails and embedded in the fabric of her cheap skirt. She hated that she’d ever thought she deserved or wanted to be doing what Melanie Morningstar was doing now. She also hated that she had spent time and effort schlepping around from audition to audition and not getting anywhere, while Melanie could simply show up on set and in one big, glorious, hotdog eating smile, captivate and charm the producers and casting agents and have them falling all over themselves trying to sign her and give her anything she might want, simply because of the way she looked. And now, Fallon was wandering around without a clue, trying to play detective and failing miserably, simply motivated by survival instincts and trying to earn enough money to pay rent and eat. Sure, she wanted to do the right thing and help Vivian Valentine find her son, and it would be nice to track down Burl Barnes’ nephew or even assist in discovering Emma Cuenca’s killer. But right now, her mind was too filled with crushing jealousy and the overall unfairness of it all to clearly discern right and wrong and what was true purpose or egomaniacal narcissism. Melanie was still staring, Fallon took the imitative and sat down.
”Miss Morningstar...may I call you Melanie?” The blond nodded affirmatively but couldn’t manage words, Fallon wondered if perhaps a script might help. ”My name is Fallon Hunter, I’m a private detective, I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”
Melanie spoke. ”A detective! Oh my, that’s so interesting! I thought you were an actress. I was going to ask what show you were on, you look sort of familiar. I love your hair, who does it?”
In one sentence, Fallon Dawn was disarmed and her hatred for the starlet and the world melted away. ”I ah...I have a girl in Koreatown.” Fallon got down to business. ”Melanie, I’m looking for Frankie Valentine, do you happen to know where I might find him?”
”Frankie!?” Melanie seemed to be in perpetual shock. ”I haven’t seen Frankie in months. Let me see...the last time, well, that would have been at a party in the hills. Actually, it was Frankie that got me invited to the party, a bunch of Hollywood big shots. I got there early, there was a lot of drinking and partying and stuff, you understand...I guess I got carried away. I never saw Frankie after that night. You know, that’s how I got this part! I met a guy at that party and he got me this part. I know it’s not much, but it’s a start and it’s a lot of fun. I might even get my own show out of it!”
Fallon continued. ”How well did, do you know Frankie?”
Melanie thought briefly. ”Oh, Frankie and I were real close...we used to be a thing I guess you could say. Is he in any trouble?”
Fallon answered. ”I’m just looking for him. Melanie, have you ever known Frankie to be violent? Does he have a mean streak in him?”
”Oh no!” Melanie was quick with a response. ”Frankie could never hurt anyone. He’s just a sweet kid. Maybe a little confused, you know, trying to get out from under the wing of a movie legend mom, growing up in the hills and all. But Frankie is the kindest, sweetest guy I ever met.”
Fallon considered the response and immediately determined that Melanie might not be capable of lying, she wasn’t that good of an actress. ”Do you have any idea where he might be? Any place he regularly goes or an apartment or hide out?”
Melanie thought deeply. ”He just kind of disappeared after the party, I heard he hooked up with a nurse and was living in mid-Wilshire. Listen, if you see him, could you tell him...well, give him my best. I never got to thank him, I mean for the party and getting me in and all.”
”I’ll be sure to mention that if I see him.” Fallon said.
”Fallon, I wonder, would you mind doing me a favor?” Melanie asked. ”I’m studying this script, it’s for an audition for a TV movie, would you please do a read through with me while you’re here? I mean, just listen to me do a read and tell me what you think? It’s kind of a weird part, all dramatic and moody...I’m not sure I’m getting it.”
Fallon hesitated. ”I’m not really an expert on these things, I’m not sure if I’d be any real help.” Melanie insisted. ”Oh please, just listen to me go through it and tell me what it sounds like.”
”Alright.” Fallon relented.
”O.K., here goes.” Melanie closed her eyes before beginning, apparently, Fallon thought, to get into character. ”Last night, a stranger arrived unannounced. He carried with him a distinct and unforgettable scent, and a bearing one could only describe as ominous. We shared company for some time, though never spoke. He seemed familiar to me, yet I can’t recall features or remember when or where we met. In time, I grew drowsy and dozed off. He must have left while I slept, slipping away as he’d arrived, quiet and without fanfare. The only evidence of his having been there was a lingering aroma, it smelled... like death.” Melanie finished and sat silently, awaiting Fallon’s critique.
”Well, what do you think?” Said Melanie.
Fallon was at a loss for words. ”I...I like it!”
Melanie crinkled her nose. ”It’s kind of weird. I mean, who’s going to fall asleep with a stranger in the house?”
Fallon answered. ”I think that’s a metaphor.”
”Huh?” Said Melanie.
”A metaphor. I think the stranger is death, or more likely, the speaker is talking about...suicide.”
Melanie looked closer at the script, as if by scrutinizing it she might get a better understanding. ”How do you get suicide out of it?”
”Well, it’s open for interpretation and might mean something different for each reader, or audience, but to me he seems to be talking about a feeling, not an actual person. It’s as if they’re entertaining a dark thought they never allowed in before...into their consciousness. Maybe it rattled around in the back of their mind, but till now never seriously considered. Now, the line’s been blurred, or crossed and the realization is scary. It could also simply be death...but that seems too easy, I think he meant more. Then, in the morning, the feeling’s gone...and he’s himself again.
Melanie looked at Fallon, dumbfounded. ”Wow, you are really smart! I thought he was talking about an unwanted houseguest that smelled bad.”
”That might be it too.” Fallon conceded. She gave Melanie her card, this time scratching out Alan’s name and replacing it with her own. It was getting dark by the time she exited the studio. She waved to the guard and he called her over.
”I remembered something that might help you.” He said. ”The studio usually uses the London Agency for their temp workers, at least lately. They might have a listing for your friend.”
Fallon considered the idea and thanked him. She’d get on that first thing in the morning. The guard was glad to have been a help and still tried to remember where he’d seen the pretty dark-haired girl before. Later that night, seven beers into a twelve-pack while watching his favorite porn video, he still couldn’t quite place her.
Fallon walked the length of the parking lot in the waning darkness, her car was near the end and the long walk gave her time to think. Melanie Morningstar was making thousands of dollars a week for reciting a few lines and smiling pretty, and here she was, struggling and putting herself in danger, and for what? Reason, purpose and doing the right thing were wearing thin on her at the moment. As she plopped down in the seat of the dusty rental car, she compared Melanie’s life to her own. Melanie had all the things that at one time, Fallon Dawn desired. She was living the good life, and probably had a herd of boyfriends. The last kiss Fallon had was from a naked Chinese bargirl. Something in her lower gut rumbled when she thought of Joanie Kwan leaning over her this morning and she immediately remembered that Kwan was probably waiting for her back at her dank Hollywood apartment. She lit a cigarette and pulled out her car keys. Just for an instant, she visualized Kwan’s smooth nakedness and a twinge of excitement flooded through her. She shook her head briskly to erase the image and spoke aloud to herself. ”I am NOT a lesbian!”
”That’s good to know.”
Shock, fear and adrenaline swept over Fallon’s body like a flash flood ravaging a low-lying shanty town. From the backseat, cloaked in darkness, the voice of the ominous interloper rang clear and terrifying.
”Hello sweet cakes, how’s it hangin’?”
Fallon was paralyzed with fear, she couldn’t talk, she was frozen to the seat and she had just wet herself. The charade of pretending to be a grown-up and existing in the big people’s world had crashed around her like a paper umbrella in a hurricane. She could smell the intruder’s musky odor, perspiration and after-shave, just a hint of alcohol and tobacco...it mixed rancidly with cheap lilac and pine scent air freshener that came with the rental car and the perfumed hair products from the salon, the urine soaking into the seat wasn’t helping and for a moment she thought she would throw up. Her head was buzzing and the fear had her ears ringing, it took a moment to manage some degree of self-control. Fallon Dawn clung to the shreds of composure like a spider refusing to be flushed down a toilet. She eyed the shadow of the man in the rearview mirror, he was sitting motionless, calm and secure and in control of the situation. She gauged the distance to the guard shack, it was too far to make a break for and she wasn’t within easy earshot, if she was to survive the encounter, it was going to be up to her. The shadow man had addressed her with some familiarity, and it dawned on Fallon, she recognized the voice. Alan Rassmussen’s killer! The fear resurged.
”Don’t do anything stupid kid. I don’t wanna hurt ya.” He said calmly. Fallon swallowed hard and managed a few words. ”What are you doing here?”
”Now that...is a good question. Except I’m the one asking the questions here darlin’, and that’s exactly what I want to know. What are YOU doing here? Whatta ya pokin’ around the studio for?”
”I’m looking for someone.” Fallon felt the blood returning to her brain and she willed herself to think. She quickly inventoried the contents of her purse, brass knuckles, a baton, mace. She’d thrown the bag on the passenger seat and making a move in that direction might not be prudent.
”Looking for who?” Alan’s killer said.
”Some old movie star’s kid. She came into the office and I took the case, it’s just a runaway type thing.” Fallon explained.
”Passing yourself off as a P.I. ain’t a good idea sweetcakes.”
”I told her I wasn’t one, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. It’s just a two week assignment. I’m just trying to help the lady out, she just wants to find her kid is all.” Fallon was slightly defensive and it dawned on her, why was she having to justify herself to a killer? ”Why are you interested?”
”Everything you do interests me doll. For instance, you talked to the cops, what came of that?”
”They came to the office a couple of times, they ended up looking around Alan’s office a little...but nothing unusual. I didn’t say anything, if that’s what you’re getting at. They consider Alan’s death a suicide, nothing’s suspicious.”
The shadow man thought for a moment. ”Let’s keep it that way, alright sweetcakes?” He leaned forward and Fallon’s breath caught. A strong, gloved hand slid softly around her left cheek and the right hand reached over her shoulder to the front of her blouse. She could feel his breathing on her neck. Tears and panic filled Fallon’s eyes as he slowly unbuttoned the two top fasteners. Fallon clenched her jaw and bile crept into her throat. She felt a sharp, light pressure on her left nipple but couldn’t bear to look. Fear was giving way to to anger and she was determined this wasn’t going to happen...whatever it took, Fallon was going to fight. She took in a deep breath, steadied herself and opened her eyes. To her surprise and amazement, she was alone. The shadow man had slipped out of the car and in her state of fear, she didn’t even hear him go. She looked all around the outside, not a sound or movement could be detected.
Fallon gulped in several mouthfuls of air and with hands shaking uncontrollably, started up the car and swerved out of the lot. She was nearly home by the time she realized her blouse was still open and at a red light, looked down to discover three photographs stuck in her bra. One was of she and Detective Bonetti, taken through the Hollywood office window from across the street, the second was of her entering her apartment building, the third was of Alan Rassmussen’s wife and kids attending some formal function. They were all dressed up with their hair combed nicely. The implied threat was obvious. Keep quiet and the kids stay safe. Bravado and good intentions fled in the face of fear and confusion. Not one thing was making sense to her and emotions clouded her thinking. When she stormed into the apartment to find Joanie Kwan cooking up some delicious smelling dinner, candles on the little table and soft music playing in the background, Fallon lost it.
”I’m NOT A FREAKING LESBIAN!” She screamed to Kwan as she slammed the bathroom door behind her. She drew a bath and stripped off the soiled clothes. She scrubbed herself thoroughly and repeatedly submerged her face into the warm water. Visions of Melanie Morningstar played in her head and she reflected back on the look she’d recognized in the starlet’s eyes. Now she remembered where she had seen that look before...in her own eyes. It was raw ambition and hope, tempered by defeat and compromise. She wondered how many times Melanie had had to drop to her knees or bare her breasts or bend over some mid-level producer’s desk to get that sitcom part. And how much of herself had she given away in pursuit of her dreams? How much had Fallon given away herself in order to pursue her own? Was it too much? What would be left when the tally was to be counted? She was sorry she’d yelled at Kwan, but her confusion encompassed more than the complexities of the many cases she’d found herself embroiled in.
Kwan stepped into the bathroom and gathered up the pile of clothes. Without saying a word, she set them to soak in the kitchen sink, expertly tending to the stains and taking care to treat the garments with tenderness and gentility. It was the same way she attended to all aspects of her life and in dealings with people she cared about. Fallon Dawn was sobbing into a washcloth as Kwan returned to the bathroom. Kwan gently washed her back and carefully combed the tangles out of her hair. When she stood and let the silk kimono fall to the floor and slipped into the water with Fallon Dawn, not a word passed between the two. Kwan felt protective of the trembling girl, and Fallon was glad she wasn’t alone tonight. She laid back and let the warm water surround and envelope her, she tried to let what she’d seen in Melanie Morningstar’s eyes fade from her consciousness, it was too frightening to face what she’d seen there...the same that she had seen in her own reflection. The thing she kept hidden from the world, or tried to...but who was she fooling? If she could read it in Melanie’s eyes, couldn’t everyone recognize it in hers? That unmistakable ambition, like an insatiable hunger...and something else, something to be mourned...like a death. The death of innocence.
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