Page 72 of Love, Lines, and Alibis
“I’m a perfectly functioning individual and an extraordinarily talented writer,” started Fred, and David squeezed my hand again because he intuited I was about to lose it. During my tenure atLA Misconducts, I’d been quite open with David about what I thought of Fred’s writing skills: They were nonexistent. The only thing the man was good for was taking credit from junior writers and copying the works of previous screenwriters. “Do you really want to know whose fault it is that I ran over Henry? Yours,” Fred said, referring to me.
“I don’t follow.” And I really didn’t.
“I was only in the damn building to tamper with your water heater,” Fred explained.
“It was you!”
“I knew you’d say no to the job offer because you’re a spoiled brat who doesn’t like to work away from daddy and mommy. I needed you to feel slightly uncomfortable to realize life is hard and you can’t always bank on your rich and influential parents for everything. You needed to grow up and get a real job. Nothing reminds us of that more than when everything we take for granted starts falling apart. I was going to meddle with your Wi-Fi next.”
“What kind of depraved maniac does that?”
David softly squeezed my hand again. He really wanted me to shut up. But how could I?
“Excuse the language, again. So you happened to come to the building forotherreasons and then realized Dashing Henry was also here?” David asked.
“He was on a path of destruction. I pleaded with him to make a bow and withdraw his accusation against you,” Fred said, referring this time to David, and almost implying my journalist lover was to blame. “To stop meddling around, go quietly, and let me develop the new show. He didn’t listen.”
“So you ran him over?” I asked, still confused—and sore about my heater.
“I wasn’t planning on it, but he came here looking for trouble. He was drunk on Fernet and wanted to confront David. He was hoping David would try to get rid of him in a violent fashion, maybe even punch him. He wanted to sue him for assault.”
“Assault?” asked David. “I haven’t punched anyone in my life. Not sure I even know how to do it!”
“He was set on getting you hooked for something. That’s why he drank all that awful stuff. At the latest, he wanted to get you for making him drink against his will.”
“How do you know all this, Fred?” I asked.
“Because he told me all about it when I found him here and confronted him. I tried to dissuade him from exposing himself any further. He didn’t listen, took the elevator, went to knock on David’s door, didn’t find him, and finally came back to the garage. I’d been waiting for him. Thinking.”
“Why did you care what he did? You’d already fired him.” Something wasn’t adding up.
“He was going to ruin the legacy ofLA Misconducts!” Fred made it sound as if that was enough cause for murder. “Our argument got very heated.”
“So you ran him over before he could make a fool of himself?” David had an eyebrow raised, as confused as I was.
“I’ll protect the show’s legacy at all costs!”
“I didn’t exactly ruin any legacies, so can you tell me why the hell you tried killing me this morning?” I asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Fred said, and I guess my face told him what I thought of that. “When the police started investigating, I wasn’t worried. They’re a bunch of overworked incompetent idiots who eat donuts by the dozen. We’ve covered all of it onLA Misconducts. They’re corrupt, they’re dumb, they’re lazy.”
On the one hand, I wasn’t sure he actually believed what he was saying. On the other hand, over my years in Los Angeles and working in Hollywood, I’d met so many self-centered people in the business who thought prime-time dramas were akin to documentaries, that Fred’s words didn’t surprise me that much.
“I wasn’t worried about the press either. They’re all a bunch of click-grabbing bozos. Newsrooms are notoriously understaffed. Journalists are hurried, underpaid, and exhausted. Who was going to have the time, or energy, to dig into this other than superficially?” I must have been stressed and exhausted because he was starting to sound reasonable and actually make sense. “But then there was the rumor you also had started investigating with that ex of yours,” Fred said in disgust, while David kept holding my hand. He was still taking notes on his cell phone frantically. Seriously? Did he really want to get all that crap? “And I knew I’d be doomed. If there was someone who could pull this off, it would be anLA Misconductsalumna. Your time as a writer on the show has provided you with all the necessary insight and know-how to follow the leads and unmask me.”
Okay, maybe Fred wasn’t sounding so reasonable, orsane, after all. David remained buried in his cell phone, but when he realized I was no longer talking—I guess my brain was trying to find out what to say or how to react—he took charge.
“And you planted the watch in my apartment to further incriminate me?” he said.
“Of course.” Fred looked immensely proud of himself. “The press had decided you were the killer. You were my easy way out of this, my path to my future in New York.”
“You realize that, just because they have actual winters there, New York is not like a different country without an extradition treaty, right?” I asked Fred. “The police would have eventually figured it out and arrested you. Especially once you decided I also had to go.”
“Pity they still haven’t done it,” Fred said. “Because you still have to go.”
38
Fred looked at me and David with a deranged stare, even more so than before. Cold sweat traveled down my spine. Fred took his hand to the pocket of the hideous parka he was wearing, and I realized there seemed to be something big and heavy there. Could I’ve been wrong when I’d assumed he was unarmed? Also, why had I assumed such nonsense?
