The Pendleton Omens - 21. Chapter 21

Actually, it was from Julie Kent’s assistant. “Mr. Burris?” she asked formally.

“Yes.”

“Julie Kent’s office.”

“Somehow, I knew that.”

It didn’t even throw her. She went right on.

“Julie would like to talk with you.”

“I hope its good news.”

She ignored me. “I’ll put her through.”

I could have been talking to a robot. Either she was well-trained or had no sense of humor.

“Mr. Burris?” Julie Kent soon asked.

“Call me Don.”

I was in a pretty good mood. Talking with Noah helped. Speaking with Sharon helped more. But having a plane reservation home helped most of all.

“I was wondering if you’re free for lunch?” Julie Kent asked.

And I tried to remember if she had a sense of humor. Our meeting had been entirely business.

“I am,” I said. “Has something turned up?”

“It may have. I’ve had some of my assistants asking around. And we’ve been shooting for the past couple of days. So I’ve seen some of the people who know Scoot.”

“Have any of them seen him?”

“Not exactly. But we think we know where he might be. There’s been a possible sighting.”

“Great. Where? Can I call him? His cell phone still isn’t taking messages. I checked a couple hours ago. But do you have a number where I can reach him?”

I stopped, listening to myself going on. Then I laughed.

“I’m sorry. I don’t even need to talk with him right now,” I told Julie Kent. “I just want to confirm that he’s okay.”

She laughed, too. So I guessed she wasn’t as stiff as she’d seemed.

“Well, it’s kind of complicated,” she explained. “That’s why I asked about lunch.”

“Is he all right?” Her tone seemed suddenly strained.

“I really don’t know, Mr. Burris. I told you, we think we know where he is. And it’ll be easier to explain in person.”

“Sure,” I said. “When?”

“Noon?

“Where? The same place as before? If it’s simpler, I can come to your office...”

“No, I know a restaurant in Silverlake. We’re shooting near it today.”

“What’s the address?”

“It’s called Gio’s. On Hyperion.”

“I’ll find it.”

“It’s easy. Noon?”

“Fine.”

“And this should be a lot simpler than you think.”

I had no idea what she meant. But I didn’t care. If Scoot was off somewhere shooting, then he was fine. I could even go home tonight.

I thought about changing my reservation, but it seemed too soon. Instead, I called Amy and set up dinner. I figured I’d wait and tell Sharon after I’d seen Julie Kent.

Amy was excited. “Where is he?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet. She said it’s kind of complicated. But I should know more after lunch.”

“Who’s she?”

“Oh, a woman Scoot’s worked for. She runs a production company.”

“What’s her name?”

I told her.

“The same one you had lunch with the other day?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve still never heard of her. But I haven’t heard of a lot of Scoot’s friends. Or the people he works with.”

“He probably doesn’t know many medical people, either,” I joked.

“I’m just so glad he’s all right,” she went on. “I was pretty sure. But I can’t wait to see him.”

“That should be soon.”

I found directions to the restaurant on Mapquest and printed them out. Along the way, I discovered where the Silver Lake I’d heard about in the bars actually was, and that it wasn’t a lake at all. It was a community built around what looked like a man-made reservoir, and it was sometimes spelled Silverlake. I also happened to glance at my clothes in the full-length bathroom mirror and couldn’t face going out in them again. The computer said it was 78 and was going to be endlessly warm. I found Scoot’s cleanest jeans, a decent T-shirt, and decided his loafers without socks didn’t look too bad. I was at the restaurant early, by eleven thirty, so I walked around looking for a bar.

It didn’t take long to find one, but I couldn’t tell if it was what I wanted. I asked the bartender for that. He laughed and whipped off four names I doubted I’d ever use. I was mainly curious.

The hostess in Gio’s asked me to wait until Julie Kent arrived. She was a couple minutes late but didn’t explain, and I didn’t ask.

“Mr. Burris?” she said.

“Ms. Kent.”

“Julie.”

“Don.”

She smiled. “You said that on the phone. I forgot.”

She looked at my T-shirt and smiled.

“What happened to the cop clothes?”

“I didn’t bring enough,” I lied. “And I can’t find an iron in Scoot’s apartment.”

Another lie. There was one in his kitchen, in a upper cabinet. But the iron didn’t look like it had been used since Carla left.

The hostess led us to a table and introduced our waiter. Julie Kent ordered a vodka martini on the rocks with an olive, Grey Goose preferred. It’s what she’d been drinking the other day. I ordered iced tea.

“Now about Scoot?” I asked.

Julie Kent got out a list of names. There was only a single column, but it ran on for two pages typed. And there were handwritten notes.

“Your assistants have been busy.”

“I told you, they like Scoot. They were happy to take the time.”

“What did you find?”

“We think he’s in Peru.”

“What?” I laughed.

“Up in the mountains. There’s an Italian producer who’s filming this epic about Incas, and it’s gone way out of control. It’s over budget and is almost literally killing off its crews. As fast as they can fly guys in, they quit. The problem is that in order to use the location they wanted, they’re a hundred miles from nowhere. That means the crew is sleeping in tents. And apparently it goes down to ten below at night.”

“Ten below zero?”

“Below freezing.”

“That wouldn’t hurt Scoot.”

“It may be why he’s stayed. And the money’s not bad, either. Of course, if I know this producer, it’s all paid in lire.”

“Up in the Andes?”

“There’s nothing to spend it on anyway.”

I just laughed.

“In any case,” she went on, showing me the list again, “these are some of the people we think Scoot’s working with. And these are the numbers we’ve chased down for their phones.”

Those were the notes, which were in different pens and handwritings.

“That hardly matters,” I said. “If he’s up in the mountains, it doesn’t matter how many cell phones there are.”

“I know. But we figured the more numbers we gave you, the better chance you’d have of getting through. And some of these guys have satellite phones. They’re hot on technology. It’s expensive, but they simply write it off.”

Like lunch. Which reminded me.

“I’m paying for this one,” I said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your trouble.”

“You still might not reach him.”

“It doesn’t matter. I have something to show his mother. I can go home.”

“We have no idea when he’s coming back, either,” she went on. “They’ve been shooting for almost a year. Everything that could happen has, including a small earthquake.”

“An earthquake? That’s funny. Considering where you all live.”

“Did you feel the one this morning?” she asked.

“There was a quake?”

“Near five-fifteen. It woke me up.”

And I slept right through it.

“How big?” I asked. “Was anybody hurt?”

“No,” she said smiling. “It was just a little one. And it must’ve been east of me if you didn’t feel it.”

“Or I was lucky.”

“Most of them are nothing to worry about. We have about thirty a day. But most are below three-oh, so you can’t feel them. This morning’s was three-two.”

“Thirty a day? Suddenly, I feel a lot less safe.”

“No, these are good quakes. If the ground wasn’t constantly moving, everything would jam. Then you have the killers.”

“If they can just wait another day,” I joked.

She smiled. Then she looked at the papers again, double checking several of the names. Then she frowned. “I thought there was another page.”

I looked at what she had. “That’s what you came in with.”

“I’m sure that Dru handed me three. I must have dropped one.”

“These should be enough. With all the numbers, I’m bound to get through...”

“No, I know what happened.” She clearly wasn’t listening to me. “I left it on the counter in the kitchen. Just as I was leaving, Dru called with another name, and I added it to the last page. Then I must have left it there. We can pick it up after lunch.”

“It really isn’t a problem. If none of these work, I’ll call you again.”

“It’s not out of the way.”

“You don’t have to do anything more,” I assured her.

“I know that.” She smiled at me. “But I hate being disorganized.”

Over the rest of lunch, we talked about the film and the producer. I’d heard of several of his movies but hadn’t seen any.

“He makes them all over the world,” Julie Kent explained. “That’s their attraction. The locations. But they’re made for release in Europe and don’t play well in the States.

“Is there a language problem?

“No, that can be easily handled. It’s really a question of scale. These are monsters, three or four hours long. Some have been split for TV, but they don’t make as much in those sales. Even in theaters, distributors can make more with shorter films. Things that can be shown more often and not strain the teenage mind.”

“Kids aren’t that stupid.”

“That’s not the point. Some of these movies are. They’re heavy on scenery, light on women’s costumes, and factor in the three hours, they don’t sell well.”

“This one’s about the Incas?”

“Yes.”

“Not heavily dressed anyway.”

She smiled. “From what I hear, they’ve rebuilt all of Machu Picchu. The whole lost city.”

“Did they do it twice? If there was an earthquake?”

We laughed.

“When do they hope to finish?” I asked.

“It was supposed to be released at Christmas. Now they’re shooting for late summer. But it may be Thanksgiving.”

“When would Scoot get home?”

“Well, if they have to stop filming by early May, you could see him soon after. If they do reshoots, I bet they do them as inserts on a sound stage in Rome.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I told her.

She smiled again. “It doesn’t matter. You should see Scoot by late spring.”

“That’s terrific. I’m sure he’ll have some great stories. He always does.”

After we finished lunch, she let me pay. Then I followed her out. The valet went for her car.

“It’s less than a mile,” she said.

“To what?”

“My house. For the rest of the list.”

“You really don’t have to bother.”

“We’re shooting on Kenilworth, near the reservoir. So I’m going that way. I’ve been working from home this morning. It was so nice to avoid traffic.”

“If it’s honestly no trouble...”

“I’d feel better about it.”

The valet brought a Mercedes. I was expecting the Porsche, but it seemed that this time, she was driving something more conservative. Still, it was beautiful.

“I’m parked on the street,” I had to admit.

“I’ll wait.”

Then I followed Julie Kent up a series of winding streets, soon having no idea where I was going. The streets got even narrower as we headed uphill, and at one point I thought I saw the reservoir. After another series of twists, the Mercedes pulled into a terraced driveway as an electric garage door opened. Julie Kent signaled me to park on the street.

“Won’t I get hit?” I called to her. There was barely room for another car.

“People are used to it. They have to drive carefully. They know how dangerous these roads can be.”

“All Scoot needs is to come home and find that his dad’s wrecked his car.”

She laughed at that, then headed toward the house. I just stared at it.

“You can come in,” she said.

“If you don’t mind. I don’t get much chance to see anything like this.”

The house was steel and glass, more impressive for being built on top of and into a hill. We walked up a path to the front door then went into what seemed like one large room, mostly wood and stainless steel. It was the kitchen. The ceiling was fifteen feet high. Huge windows overlooked a narrow pool that seemed to drop off the hillside.

“It’s hard fitting any kind of pool into the hills,’ she explained. “But I was able to squeeze in that.”

“The view’s amazing.”

“It’s why I bought the house, really. It didn’t look anything like this then. It was an old Craftsman cottage. Little by little, I added on and tore down until none of the original was left.”

“You can’t tell you did it piece by piece.”

“I have a great architect.”

And a hell of a lot of money, I wanted to add.

Julie Kent handed me the missing page from the kitchen counter, then said, “You keep staring at the pool.”

“I wondered if it’s heated.”

“Solar power, actually. The panels are on the roof.” She pointed to the roof on the part of the house that elled around the pool. I couldn’t see the roof, but it seemed like a fine location for panels. There’d never be a shortage of sun.

“The second floor is for guests,” she explained. “Downstairs is the pool house.”

She opened the door to the patio, and I followed her out. I knelt to feel the water, and it was comfortably warm. She walked to the end of the pool, and I followed again. The water stopped, but something in the way the concrete was poured made it seem like the water went over. Beyond the pool was a steep drop into the canyon.

“Where’s the reservoir?” I asked. “I expected to see it.”

“It’s in the other direction. We’re facing east.”

She’d gone into the pool house and came out with what looked like a butterfly net on a eight-foot pole. She used it to fish some leaves from the water.

“If you don’t catch them, they clog the filter.”

The problems of the rich. Well out of my concern.

I looked down the canyon again, then turned to study the house from the far end of the yard. As I did, I noticed that Julie Kent had left the double doors to the pool house open. And inside the pool house was Scoot.