The Pendleton Omens - 16. Chapter 16

First thing after breakfast, I called Julie Kent and got an office answering machine. It was after nine, but I remembered Scoot saying some industry offices didn’t open till ten.

“‘Specially in TV. They tape late, so start later. Film starts early.”

So Julie Kent might be in TV. Or not. Because as I was opening the first e-mail, the phone rang.

“Mr. Burris?”

Oh, great. Another kid.

“Yes,” I said.

“Julie Kent’s office.”

The girl sounded very awake.

“I apologize for calling at this hour,” she went on. “But since you just left a message, I figured that was all right.”

“It’s fine.”

“Then let me get Julie.”

Mr. Burris but Julie. A strange business.

“Mr. Burris,” Julie Kent said, a moment later, and I figured I had it all wrong. Maybe titles had nothing to do with age

“Yes,” I said again.

“I’m sorry to hear about Scoot.”

“Yes.”

“Is it serious?”

“Is what serious?” I asked, quietly irritated. She made it sound like he’d been hurt. “He’s probably fine,” I said. “We just don’t know where he is.”

“Oh.”

Obviously, my irritation showed, because now she sounded pissed.

“Look,” I said. “I’m sorry.” And then I had to explain the whole thing.

She listened patiently. She seemed to understand the differences between Sharon and me. She even laughed.

“You’re the first person who’s actually called me,” I finished. “And I appreciate it. I’ve gotten a lot of e-mail, and I’ve talked with a number of people I’ve phoned. But you said you might know others.”

“Who did you call?” she asked.

Now I laughed. “The list goes on and on. I’ve been contacting everyone in Scoot’s address book, and he seems to know half of LA.”

“That’s the way the business works,” she said. “That’s how everyone finds jobs.”

“Then maybe someone knows who he’s working for.”

“I’d have to check to see who you’ve called.”

“I’ve got good notes. I kind of do this for a living.”

“Kind of?”

“I’m a cop,” I admitted, waiting to see what effect that had on her. It hit people differently.

She laughed again. “Well, I suppose if I were missing, I’d want someone in my family to be a police officer.”

“I don’t really think he’s missing,” I had to remind her. “I have the worst feeling that when he turns up, he’s going to say, Dad, what are you doing here?”

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased,” she insisted. “I would be.”

“Thanks.”

“And I was just looking over our payroll,” she went on. “As I sat here. The last time Scoot worked for us was late January. The twenty-fourth through twenty-seventh. We were doing some reshoots and called him in for several days. I think we might have tried calling him afterward, but I’m not sure. Does that help?”

“Do you remember when you tried to call?”

“That’s a problem. I’m not sure we did. When we need help, we just go down our lists. Whoever answers first gets the job.”

“But he worked for you in late January?”

“Yes.”

“That’s about when his girlfriend last saw him.”

“Who?”

“A woman he’s been seeing. A nurse. Amy.”

“She must be recent. I remember an actress. Carla.”

“Then you’ve known Scoot a while.”

“I’m probably one of the first people he called in LA. One of my oldest friends was his college teacher.”

“Who?”

“Bill Norris.”

I knew the name, and as I was talking to Julie Kent, I found it on my list.

“I wrote Norris,” I told her. “He never got back to me.”

“Bill’s terrible with e-mail,” she admitted. “So am I. I get too much of it. That’s why I prefer the phone.”

“Well, thanks again for calling. And one more question, if you don’t mind. Do you know if Scoot happened to talk about any jobs he had lined up? Something that would take him out of LA, suddenly?”

“Jobs are always coming up. People are always backing out on us. That’s what makes the business so interesting. It’s not the work that’s hard. It’s the logistics.”

“So he’s said.”

“And I’m afraid I really don’t know Scoot that well. He’s a good cameraman, and we’re always happy to use him. But we have a crew we usually work with. It’s only when they’re taking other jobs that we go to our back-ups.”

“Just thought I’d ask.”

“It’s not a problem. And I’ll ask around. Maybe one of the girls in the office talked with him. They usually do.”

I laughed and wondered how old Julie Kent was. She sounded young, but Scoot was always telling me how young people in the business were.

“That’s why I gotta go to LA now, Dad. Zak says it. Everyone I talk to says it. It’s not that you can’t find work after you’re thirty. But you’ve gotta be set up first.”

“Are there any other people I should call?” I asked Julie Kent before she hung up.

Again, she said, “I’d need to check your list.”

“Is there some time you’re free? It would be much easier to go over this list with you than print it out and fax it. I’m sure you’re busy, but if you even have fifteen minutes...”

She hesitated and seemed to be checking her schedule

“If it’s important enough, I can always fit someone in,” she said, laughing.

“That’d be terrific.”

“How about two o’clock?”

“Fine.”

“You know where our office is?”

“I saw the address in Scoot’s computer.”

“I have a better idea. Give me a chance to get out of here for a half-hour.” She gave me the name of a restaurant called The Farm.

“The Farm?”

“It’s in The Grove,” she went on. “You know where that is?”

“I’ll find it.”

“Then just ask for me at the desk. I’m there all the time.”

“Thanks for calling,” I said.

“Not a problem. I look forward to meeting you.”

And I looked forward to meeting her. Especially if it meant finding Scoot. Quickly. And getting home. But just in case Julie Kent turned out not to have the answer, I went back to making my calls.