Off Script by L.L. Bartlett

Author:L.L. Bartlett [Bartlett, L.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781940801339
Publisher: Polaris Press

8

With Wally momentarily satisfied by a quick stop at a Jack in the Box, they headed for Dietrich’s house in Topanga Canyon. The driveway was new concrete, not more than a few months old, but already it was cracked in several places as it wound around the writer’s house. The house was an A-frame, reminiscent of a Swiss chalet, precariously perched on the side of the canyon wall, well hidden by tinder-dry trees and brush.

Howard stopped the car alongside a blue Pinto which was parked next to a freshly waxed BMW in the driveway. He looked around, surveying the area. The grass was overgrown and a brushfire hazard. “Do you think we ought to cite this guy for not clearing the place up?”

“Why bother? It’s probably a rental. But we should probably ask the fire department to come and take a look so they can issue a citation,” Wally said, and opened his door. “How are we going to play this?”

“You can be charming and handsome, and I’ll play the heavy.”

“Perfect casting,” Wally agreed.

They headed up the driveway to the heavy front door and knocked. A few moments later, it was thrown open by a pretty young blonde woman dressed in a pink halter top and jeans.

“Hi. You must be the cops, right? I’m Lucy Pearson, Steve Dietrich’s secretary. Come on in,” she said before Howard could even get his identification out of his pocket. Shrugging, the detectives followed her through the tastefully decorated house to the veranda overlooking the canyon.

Dietrich stood against the railing with a drink in one hand, looking every inch the stereotyped Hollywood writer from the movies, and very comfortable in the role. “Gentlemen,” he said, and exchanged pleasantries before settling down to the business at hand. “What can I do for you?” he offered.

“As you know,” Wally started, “we’re investigating the murders that happened at Monarch Studios last week.”

“So Sergeant Howard explained on the phone, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with me. Surely I’m not a suspect. I’ve got an iron-clad alibi. At the time of the murders, I was in San Francisco trying to drum up backing for my next project. In fact, I didn’t get back until late last night.”

“That’s not why we’re here. We’re not sure how this ties in, but we were wondering what you knew about the missing scripts taken from the Script Department at Monarch Studios.”

“Yes, Irene mentioned that to me several days before this tragedy.” He shook his head. “Poor Irene. She always made sure my revisions were done in a timely manner. It’s a loss to all the production teams; she’ll certainly be missed.”

“We can appreciate that,” Wally continued, “but we were wondering why your script, Dagger’s Heart, is so important—why would anyone want to break into the Script Department to steal copies of it?”

“Who knows why anyone does anything these days?” he said, a bit too glibly for Howard’s liking.

“It’s occurred to us, Mr. Dietrich,” Howard started, his words slow and deliberate, “that those murders may have been a smoke-screen to cover up something else.

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