Innocent Blood

Six

Danny’s hair was shiny with hair tonic and combed with a center parting, like a child movie star from the 1940s. His cheeks were florid and his eyebrows were unnaturally dark brown. He wore a white shirt and a bow tie, and his hands were demurely clasped in front of his well-pressed black shorts.

John Lester Junior was a small man with rimless glasses and small polished shoes and a dyed chestnut pompadour. He stood next to the non-denominational stained-glass window so that one side of his face was yellow and the other green.

‘I’m sure you’ll want some moments alone,’ he said.

Frank nodded, and John Lester Junior stepped neatly backward out of the chapel of rest, closing the double doors behind him without a sound. He’d make a good butler, thought Frank.

Margot stayed where she was, about eight feet away from the casket, her hands hanging by her sides, as if all the strength had drained out of them.

Frank cleared his throat. ‘He doesn’t look too much like Danny, does he?’ Margot didn’t answer. Frank stepped closer to the casket and looked down at the small, utterly still figure that used to be their son. After a while he said, ‘Look, he has scratches on his knees.’

What he actually meant was, he isn’t a waxwork after all; he’s the real Danny. For some reason, he had to be sure.

After a long, long silence, Margot approached the casket, too. She reached out and touched Danny’s lips with her fingertips. Then she bent forward and kissed him. Her tears dropped on to his sugar-pink cheeks, so that it looked as if he had been crying, too.

As they drove home, Frank said, ‘I have to ask you something. If you don’t want to do it, you only have to say so. I know that it was all my fault that Danny died, but I think that he forgives me, and I want you to hear it directly from him.’

Margot very slowly turned her head and stared at him. ‘Excuse me? What are you talking about, “directly from him”?’

‘This morning I went to The Cedars before I met George. Lieutenant Chessman introduced me to this . . . psychic detective. He’s supposed to be famous. He helps the police to look for children who go missing. He has this . . . talent, I guess you’d call it. He can see things happening after they’ve happened, even when there were no witnesses, and he can sense things that are going to happen, before they actually do.’

‘What has this to do with Danny forgiving you?’

Frank took a right turn toward their house. ‘This psychic, he can contact the dead.’

‘What?’

‘He can communicate with people who have . . . what do they call it? . . . passed over. He seems pretty sure that he can communicate with Danny.’

‘And that’s what you want us to do? Communicate with Danny, disturb him even when he’s dead, so that you can feel better about killing him?’

Frank swung into the driveway and stopped the car an inch short of the garage doors. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly what I want us to do.’

Frank spent the evening in his study, trying to finish the next episode of Pigs. Fourteen-year-old Dusty and twelve-year-old Henry were lying in bunk beds in their grandpa’s house, where their parents had been forced to move after their own house had been blown away by a tornado.

HENRY: You know what Randy Bennett said today about Ellie-Jane Kuhne?

DUSTY: What, that she’ll let you take a look at her hooters?

HENRY (sniffing loudly): That’s right. (beat) How much does she charge?

DUSTY: Fifty cents, that’s what I heard.

HENRY (sorting through a handful of sticky pennies): I have twenty-six cents. Do you think she’ll let me take a look at just one?

DUSTY: What’s the point of looking at a single hooter?

HENRY (after a moment’s thought): I don’t know. It’s better than no hooter at all.

DUSTY (kind of admits that Henry has a point): Well, I have eleven cents. Maybe if we club together she’ll let us take a look at a hooter and a half.

Frank sat back and stared at the screen. He couldn’t decide if any of this was remotely funny or not. He had intended to show it to Mo and Liz at Wednesday morning’s script meeting, but Wednesday morning seemed so long ago that maybe people’s sense of humor had changed. Maybe they would think this was tragedy now, instead of comedy. He was still staring at it when Margot came in.

‘Lynn called me.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘I told her that we went to see Danny today at the funeral home, but of course Lynn can’t even do that. Kathy was standing right next to the van when it blew up and there was almost nothing left of her.

Frank waited for what she was going to say next.

‘The thing is . . . I mentioned this psychic detective of yours, and that you’d asked me if we could arrange a séance . . .’ Another pause. ‘Lynn said that if we did . . .’

‘Go on.’

‘If we did, she would very, very much like to come. She badly needs to talk to Kathy. She doesn’t even have a body to bury.’

Frank said nothing for a moment, but then he leaned forward and pressed the delete button on his keyboard. ‘OK. I’ll arrange it.’

Police Commissioner Marvin Campbell appeared on the news at six o’clock that evening.

‘About an hour ago we received a further coded telephone call from Dar Tariki Tariqat – the terrorist group who claim to be responsible for Wednesday’s bombing at The Cedars elementary school in Hollywood.

‘They warned us that they are planning further explosions aimed at the motion picture and television industries. Specifically, they state that “the corruption of religious and political thought throughout the world by the godless moguls of American entertainment amounts to cultural imperialism of the most oppressive nature. We are committed to smashing them and all their Satanic works.”’

Commissioner Campbell was asked what he took this threat to mean.

‘I think the meaning is pretty clear. These fanatics believe that American movies and television are an evil influence in countries where women have to cover their faces and risk being stoned to death for adultery. They think that Sex and the City is an insult to Allah and that freedom of expression is a blasphemy.’

How serious did he estimate the threat to be?

‘One hundred and ten percent serious. Anybody who has no qualms about murdering innocent children will certainly be capable of committing atrocities that are similar or even worse.’

So what was he going to do to protect the entertainment industry?

‘We’re going to be vigilant. We’re not closing anything down. No studios, no theme parks, no guided tours. Entertainment is this city’s lifeblood and we’re not going to allow a bunch of psychopaths to cut off our blood supply. Security at all major studios will be intensified, both by police presence and by private security officers. There will be some delays and some inconveniences, especially at public attractions such as Disneyland, Knott’s Berry Farm and all the various studio tours. But we are absolutely determined that a whole city’s way of life will not be undermined by a rabid minority.’

Were they any closer to finding out who Dar Tariki Tariqat actually were, and making any arrests?

‘We have a number of promising leads that we’re working on right now, so I can’t say too much about this. But I’ll have to admit that we’re still no nearer to discovering exactly who these people are, or if they’re affiliated to any known terror organization such as Al Qaeda.’

You’ve already brought in Nevile Strange, the well-known psychic detective. Is this an early admission that you don’t think you’re going to be able to solve this case by conventional police procedure?

‘Not at all. The Los Angeles Police Department has the most experienced detectives and forensic specialists working round the clock and I have every confidence that they are going to hunt these terrorists down and bring them to justice. Mr Strange is a respected investigator with unusual but internationally acknowledged abilities, and I simply think I would have been failing in my duty if I hadn’t availed myself of every possible assistance, no matter how unconventional it might be.’

Frank stayed up until well past two A.M., listening to all of their favorite songs on his headphones so that he wouldn’t keep Margot awake. ‘We Have All the Time in the World’ by Louis Armstrong; ‘Easy’ by The Commodores; ‘Days Like These’ by Van Morrison. He had poured himself a large Stolichnaya but he didn’t even sip it. He didn’t feel like drinking anymore.

Eventually he took off the headphones, unbuttoned his shirt, and went through to his study so that he could sleep on the couch. Margot hadn’t told him that he wasn’t welcome back in the bedroom, but he couldn’t face the thought of lying next to her all night when she felt so bitter toward him.

He was pulling off his socks when the phone rang.

‘Frank?’

‘Who is this?’

‘Who do you think it is?’

‘Astrid? Do you have any idea what time it is?’

‘Of course I do. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve been thinking about you.’

‘I’ve been thinking about you, too.’

There was a long pause. It was so quiet in the house that he could hear Astrid breathing on the other end of the phone.

Eventually, she said, ‘I wanted to know when I could see you again.’

‘Tomorrow, if you like. I mean today. Maybe sometime in the afternoon. How does three o’clock sound?’

‘Three o’clock sounds perfect. You can come round to my apartment if you like.’

‘OK.’ He didn’t know what else to say.

Astrid hesitated, and then she said, ‘You’re worried, aren’t you, because you can’t work out who I am. Well, you needn’t worry, because it doesn’t matter.’

‘How can you say that? Of course it matters. Finding out who you are – that’s part of the whole process of getting to know you, sharing things. All I know about you so far is that your father was a television producer and your mother was a dancer and that you wanted to be a doctor in Africa.’

‘You don’t even know that. I lied.’

‘You lied? What did you do that for?’

‘Because you wanted to know all about me and I didn’t want to disappoint you. But I want you to like what you see, not what you know. You do like what you see, don’t you, Frank?’

‘Of course I do. I’m not entirely sure where I stand, that’s all.’

‘I’ll see you at three o’clock. Sleep well.’

Saturday, September 25, 10:09 A.M.

Matty was already beginning to think that bringing the North Hollywood cub scout pack on a weekend outing to Universal Studios had been a very reckless idea. It was little more than an hour since the turnstiles had opened and yet the lines of hot and impatient sightseers were winding all the way back to the parking lot. Three police cars were parked close to the entrance, and everybody who passed through the turnstiles was being frisked by police and security guards and having their bags looked into. One or two were being taken aside and questioned more closely.

The Silber brothers had already gone missing twice, and so Matty had been forced to send Irene Wallach to find them, which meant that he had been left in sole charge of eighteen overexcited small boys, most of whom seemed to be desperate to go to the bathroom every three minutes.

Even more trying, with Irene Wallach rounding up the strays, Kevin Millfield had decided to attach himself to Matty and engage him in one of his long, lugubrious conversations. Matty was sure that Kevin was going to grow up to be a professional prophet of doom, or at the very least a loss adjuster.

Kevin had tufty brown hair and very large ears that shone red in the sunlight. Matty didn’t think that he had ever seen him smile. As a cub scout, he was conscientious and thoughtful but completely incompetent at everything from tying knots to making an impromptu spit-roaster. His father owned Millfield’s Sensible Shoe Stores on Magnolia.

‘I can understand why all the major studios have tours,’ he was saying, in his mournful monotone. ‘They can make a profit out of all of their old movie sets – which are only a lot of junk, after all – and at the same time they can advertise their up-and-coming movies. But I do think that it spoils the illusion, finding out what goes on behind the scenes. Don’t you, Mr Doggett?’

‘Don’t I what, Kevin?’

‘Don’t you think that these tours make it hard to believe in movies anymore?’

‘Well, no, Kevin, not really. I think they’re very interesting, and very educational. Did you see where Joey Mendez disappeared to?’

‘I wouldn’t go to see a magic act if the magician explained how he managed to saw a lady in half and put her back together again. I mean, what would be the point? Don’t you think so, Mr Doggett?’

Matty caught sight of Joey Mendez and blew his whistle and furiously beckoned him to get back into line. ‘Where have you been? You’re supposed to stay with the group. What did I tell you? Stay with the group!’

‘I saw the Terminator over there, sir. Like, the real-life Terminator. I had to go say hasta la vista, baby.’

‘You stay with the group, OK, or else the only person who’s going to get terminated is you.’

‘He wasn’t the real Terminator,’ Kevin told Joey pedantically. ‘He was only an actor.’

‘Oh, he was only an actor?’ said Matty. ‘So what do you think Arnold Schwarzenegger used to do for a living?’

After more than twenty minutes they finally reached the pay booths and Matty bought their group ticket. He had to squeeze, gasping, to get through the turnstile, because of the size of his belly.

A security officer immediately approached him and said, ‘Have to search you, sir. Sorry.’

‘That’s OK. The only thing I’m smuggling under this shirt is a lifetime addiction to chicken-fried steak.’

‘These your boys?’ the security guard asked him as he patted Matty’s red and orange Hawaiian paunch.

‘Cubs from the Eighteenth Scout Troop. Don’t worry, they’ll only take about twenty minutes to wreck the place, then they’ll leave.’

The security guard grinned at him and slapped him on the back. ‘Have a good day, sir, and thank you for your co-operation.’

The cub scouts whooped and jumped and ran off to claim their seats on the tram. Irene Wallach came across, all spindly arms and spindly legs, with buck teeth and wiry black hair and sunglasses with white upswept frames. ‘This is the bit I like the best,’ she confessed, linking arms. ‘We can sit down and relax and we don’t have to worry about losing them.’

‘I’m getting too old for this,’ said Matty, heaving himself up into the second to back bench of the first tram car. The bench behind them immediately filled up with giggling Japanese girls and a young man in a Desert Storm shirt and mirror sunglasses who was almost twice Matty’s size.

‘Have we decided on a date for Chula Vista yet?’ asked Irene. She was wearing a loose pink blouse and Matty was disconcerted to see her left breast, as pale and as flat as a flapjack, with a raisin for a nipple.

‘Oh, you mean the cook-out? Ray suggested November twenty-third.’

‘I think we ought to concentrate on ethnic food. You know, something healthy, like stir fry, or tacos. Stay away from hot dogs and cheeseburgers and all those saturated fats.’

‘You’re not trying to make a point, are you?’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Matty! We all love you the way you are!’

‘I know. A roly-poly figure of fun. Don’t you know why fat men laugh? It’s the only thing they can do to stop themselves from crying.’

The tram jerked and began to move. A tour guide with bouncy blonde hair and improbably white teeth picked up the microphone and said, ‘Welcome to Universal Studios, ladies and gentlemen and children! Today we’re going to take you on a trip into the magical world of the movies – a ride that you’ll never, ever forget!’

Kevin turned around to Matty and said, ‘We won’t forget it because we’ll never be able to go to the movies again and think that they’re true.’

‘Kevin, for Pete’s sake, stop being so pessimistic. Besides, didn’t you tell me you’d been on this tour once before?’

‘That’s how I know how disappointed we’re all going to be.’

Saturday, September 25, 10:32 A.M.

As the tram slowly descended the slope toward the lake where Jaws would appear, Kevin said, dolefully, ‘This is the lake where the great white shark comes out of the water and sprays everybody except that it’s only rubber and nobody ever gets hurt.’

‘Thanks, Kevin,’ said Matty. ‘That’s very reassuring. That’s also spoiled the surprise for everybody else.’

But the big young man sitting right behind Matty suddenly let out a whoop, clapped his hands, and shouted, ‘Woweee! Ain’t this something!’

Matty turned around and frowned at him, but the young man clapped his hands again, and stamped his feet on the floor of the tram. The Japanese girls who were sitting beside him looked alarmed, and edged themselves as far away him as they could.

‘This is the ride to glory!’ the young man yelled. ‘This train don’t take no backsliders, this train! This is where we get to see God, in all His majesty! Yes, sir! This is going to be a ride to remember, all right!’

He stood up in his seat, his belly almost knocking Matty’s cap off, and began to sway from side to side, clapping his hands with every sway, and letting out whoop after whoop.

The guide said, ‘Sir – you at the back of the car – yes, you sir. Will you sit down, please? No standing is permitted while the tram is in motion. That’s a city ordinance.’

The young man whooped again. ‘We’re coming to the Kingdom! We’re coming to the Kingdom! This train don’t take no unholy, this train!’

‘Sit down, sir! You’ll have to sit down!’

But now the young man leaned over Matty and grinned at the cub scout pack. ‘Do you boys know where you’re headed? Do you have any idea? You’re headed for the Promised Land, that’s where you’re headed, and ain’t you the lucky ones!’

The driver brought the tram to a stop, right next to Amityville Lake. On schedule – as part of the Jaws display, the fishing pier was dragged away from its moorings, into the center of the lake, and a row of oil drums bounced across the surface as if they were being pulled by the great white shark. But the driver climbed out of his seat and came back toward the end of the car, and at the same time the guide picked up her radio-telephone and called for security.

‘Sir, I want you to step down out of the tram,’ said the driver. He was over sixty years old, with gray hair, a gray moustache and a stoop. The young man looked down at him and let out another whoop.

‘This is destiny, old man. This is the force of nature. Ain’t nothing on this earth can stand up against the force of nature.’

Matty turned around in his seat. ‘Listen, you asshole. Get off the tram and stop upsetting all of these kids.’

The young man stared at him but all Matty could see in his mirror sunglasses was his own crimson face. Out on the lake, the row of oil drums began to bounce even faster toward the shoreline, but hardly anybody on the tram was watching.

‘You want to say hello to your maker?’ the young man asked Matty.

Matty stood up so that the two of them were standing belly to belly. ‘Do you think I’m scared of you?’ Matty challenged him. ‘I served in the Gulf, and I saw scarier camels than you.’

‘Oh, really?’ the young man retorted, but this time his tone was quieter and much more reasonable. ‘So how scary do you think this is?’

He lifted his fist and opened his fingers just a little and just for an instant, but it was enough for Matty to see the switch device that he was holding in the palm of his hand and the thin wire than ran down his arm and into the sleeve of his camouflage shirt.

‘You wouldn’t,’ said Matty.

But now the driver climbed up on to the boarding step and said, ‘Come on, sir. Until you get off, this tram’s going nowhere.’

The young man ignored him. ‘See this beer gut of mine?’ he asked Matty, even more softly. ‘What do you think it’s really made of? Fat? Wrong! It’s C4 – plasticized RDX.’

Matty turned to Irene Wallach. ‘Irene, get all the kids off the tram, now.’

‘What?’ she frowned.

‘Get all the kids off the tram and do it now. Please.’

‘Unh-unh,’ said the young man in the mirror sunglasses, shaking his head. ‘Nobody’s getting off. You’re all coming with me.’

Matty shouted, ‘No!’ and made a lunge for the wire that ran down the young man’s arm, trying to wrench it free. At the same time, Jaws reared out of the lake in a blast of compressed air, its eyes staring and its teeth bared. With the exception of Kevin, all the children screamed.

Saturday, September 25, 10:34 A.M.

The blast was heard five miles away in every direction – a dull, emphatic thud. The front car of the tram was blown apart so violently that there was nothing left of it but a blackened chassis and a surreal arrangement of twisted seats. Most of the second car was burned out, and hundreds of windows were broken, all over the lot.

Jaws, the great white shark, was wrecked even more comprehensively than it had been in the movie. All of the latex was blasted away from its frame, leaving a smoking, grinning skeleton.

But the human litter was so terrible that when the first police and security officers arrived at the scene, they couldn’t understand what they were looking at. As a Times reporter was later to write, ‘They looked not like cubs, but like cherubs, shot down by anti-aircraft fire.’