Scavenger hunt

Chapter 41

"Danziger residence."

Jimmy drove with one hand on the wheel, thinking.

"Danziger residence, may I help you?"

Jimmy disconnected the call. He wanted to talk to Danziger's wife, but not enough to go through the butler or whatever the hell Raymond was. He punched in the main switchboard of SLAP, then the extension for the magazine's gossip columnist.

"This is Miss Chatterbox, talkee-talkee."

"Hi, Ann, it's Jimmy." He kicked the Saab up to eighty-five and passed the silver Toyota 4x4. The kid behind the wheel was in a backward Lakers hat and toasted Jimmy with a beer. "Do you know anything-"

"I know you're in heap big trouble. Napitano has been looking for you all day."

"Yeah, I got a couple of his messages."

"He's been cursing in Italian."

"Ann, do you know anything about Michael Danziger and his wife?"

"Film producer, right? Used to be somebody?"

"Used to be head of Epic International."

"Oh, yes, I remember him now. Got canned five or six years ago. Taurus Rising finished him, if memory serves. Budgeted at eighty million and did less than five million at the box office. Sayonara, Mikey."

Jimmy could hear Ann flipping through her Rolodex. She was one of the old-school gossip columnists who preferred card files to computer directories. There were plenty of Hollywood big shots who April McCoy could have been working for, plenty of executives who could have promised a film career for Heather Grimm, but Michael Danziger was the one who had hired Walsh, the one who showed up on set halfway through the shoot. He'd been keeping an eye on the production, he had told Jimmy. Maybe. Jimmy remembered Danziger swimming against the jets in his lap pool, swimming hard and steady, his workout routine precisely calibrated. Yeah, there were plenty of suspects, but like Jane said, when your investigation stalls, start with what you have in front of you.

"Michael and Brooke Danziger," Ann must have been reading it off the card, "married twelve, no make that thirteen years ago. No children. The usual charities, Cedars-Sinai, AIDS America, Lupus, Parkinson's. I see them at parties and fund-raisers once in a while. He's a smoothie, handsome as the day is long, always shaking hands. Perrier drinker, vegetarian… Oh, this is interesting. I made a note to myself a few months ago. Seems Michael's last two-no, three charity pledges haven't been honored. I was going to run it, but I decided to wait until he had another hit. How is his new movie? My Troubled Girl, Trouble with My Girl, something like that. Can I run with my item?"

"You're going to have to keep waiting." The Saab's steering wheel vibrated in his grip, and Jimmy slowed slightly. The road was nearly empty going back to the city, but he backed off the gas. The Highway Patrol had radar units and helicopters, and he didn't want to waste another Saturday in traffic school. "What about the wife?"

"Ummmmm, Brooke's not really part of the business. I remember seeing her at the Academy Awards a few times, but she seemed a little out of place. She always sticks close to Michael. Oh, she was evidently an equestrian champion before she was married. Rode in the Rose Parade for several years-a real Dale Evans."

"Do you have a photo?"

"I smell a scoop here, Jimmy. I told you where Samantha Packard worked out, and the next thing I knew you're on TV being attacked by that jealous ass of a husband. Now you want to know about Brooke Danziger. If you're on some Hollywood wives scavenger hunt, I want an exclusive."

"You overestimate me." Jimmy checked his rearview mirror. The Toyota pickup was a silver speck in the distance. He thought of Stephanie Panagopolis miles away now, with her memories of guppies and the goose that was going to lay the golden eggs. He should have bought something from her, apricot bath gel for Jane, or a water filter. He could have put it on his expense account, see what Napitano said about that.

"What's this all about, Jimmy?"

"Just a minute, Ann, I've got another call. Hello?"

"Jimmy? Michael Danziger here. You just called the house but didn't say anything. I was wondering if there was some kind of problem?"

Jimmy hated Caller ID. He was going to have to find another way to contact Brooke Danziger. "Thanks for following up, Michael. The battery in my cell phone is running low and kept cutting out. Just wanted to ask, when is the premiere of My Girl Trouble?"

"How lovely," said Danziger. "This Friday at the Regency. I'll messenger you over some VIP passes."

"I'm cutting out here," said Jimmy, switching back to the other line. "Sorry, Ann. One last question. When you saw the Danzigers at parties, did you get any sense of trouble between them?"

"Darling, there's always trouble between man and wife in this town. What do you really want to know?"

Jimmy jerked as a green dragonfly slammed into the windshield, disintegrating, one lacy wing caught for a moment under the wiper. He thought about the professor back at the koi pond and wondered if he would have been able to identify the exact species of dragonfly in the instant before it was blown to pieces.

"Jimmy? What's going on?"

Jimmy glanced over at the accordion file-folder on the floor of the car, the worn cardboard file bulging with his notes on the Garrett Walsh story. "I'll let you know as soon as I figure it out," he said, accelerating.