Breakdown

Chapter 20

Just as I was leaving my office, my phone pinged an incoming text.

Seconds later, I was giving the details to a soft-spoken young man.

He said, “That’s unbelievably tragic. Zelda was a beautiful person.”

“You knew her well?”

“Not really but she was one of the few people on the set who treated me like a human being. Which I didn’t deserve, I was an utter pain in the ass, never wanted to act in the first place. My parents were kid actors, neither made it beyond commercials so they tried to live through me. When the show ended I stood up for myself and began taking my studies seriously.”

“Interesting rebellion.”

He laughed. “They still have their fantasy that I’m going to be Leonardo and buy them a mansion. Unfortunately for them, I’m a theoretical physics major. Anyway, Zelda was a cool person, said nice things when I came roaring through pulling ollies — flipping my board no-hands. Basically being a show-off dick. It drove everyone else up the wall but she seemed to enjoy it. She went psychotic, huh? I suppose I can see that.”

“You noticed signs.”

“I mean she had problems. Though I never observed anything extreme. Sometimes she’d get really hyper and go off on crazy shit about God or Jesus. But that’s actors, they’re always vulnerable to nonintellectual stuff. I grew up with that, learned to tune it out and tuned Zelda out. To me, she was a hot older chick who didn’t ignore me. That’s kind of perfect when you’re fifteen.”

“Did you ever meet Ovid, her son?”

“She brought him once in a while, he’d just sit and play by himself, I really wasn’t paying attention. Why?”

“We can’t locate him.”

“Maybe he’s with his dad.”

“Who’s that?”

“The only man I ever saw her with was an older dude, he’d come onto the set, have discussions with her, seemed pretty intense.”

“Short, white-haired, kind of Asian-looking?”

“That’s him.”

“Her psychiatrist.”

“Oh really,” said Justin Levine. “I heard she had a shrink. That would explain intense discussions.”

At eight p.m. Milo called. “I keep amassing good deeds, got something for you on Zina Rutherford. Not LAPD, Sheriff’s, she lived in West Hollywood. One of the old-timers remembered the detective who worked it, guy named Otis Ott the Second, they call him Double O. I left a message for him, asking if he’d talk to you. Just got his email: ‘Yeah, why not.’ Here’s his info.”

“Big Guy, I really appreciate it.”

“That’s why I did it.”