28
TEDDY AND SALLY drove to work together on her first day, and as soon as they left the house something yellow appeared in his rearview mirror and stayed there. Not too close, but always within sight. It appeared to be an older model muscle car, but he never got a good enough look to nail the type.
The yellow disappeared as Teddy turned into the main gate at Centurion and got a salute from the captain in charge. He paused to say good morning to the man.
“How you doing, Billy?” the captain asked.
“Not bad, Jerry.”
“You hear about our bit of bother on Friday?”
“Nope.”
“Somebody in a souped-up Porsche was drag racing with himself on the lot, and nearly blew my gate away. I called the cops, but I hear the guy got away with it.”
“They didn’t catch him?”
“They caught the car, but the guy had reported it stolen. It had a license plate that said DAX. That ring a bell?”
“Dax Baxter?”
“That’s what I hear. I know a cop named Rivera who runs the stolen vehicle unit at the Beverly Hills PD.”
“That’s very interesting, Jerry,” Teddy said. “Gotta go to work.” Teddy drove to the Barrington bungalow, parked his car, and escorted Sally into the building. “Right that way, sweetheart,” he said, giving her a little push on the tush. “Knock ’em dead.”
Sally pushed her way through the glass doors and disappeared into executive-office land.
• • •
CARLOS RIVERA SPOKE to his buddy Jerry at the gate, was given a pass, and found his way to the executive office building, where the studio’s top brass worked.
Ben Bacchetti didn’t keep him waiting long. He shook his guest’s hand and motioned him to a chair across his desk. “What can I do for the Beverly Hills Police Department this morning, Sergeant?”
“I appreciate your taking the time to see me, Mr. Bacchetti. I just have a few questions. I understand that you had lunch on your lot last Friday with a Mr. Dax Baxter.”
“That is correct,” Ben replied. “It was a pretty brief lunch. Turned out that Mr. Baxter and I really didn’t have anything to say to each other.”
“Do you remember what sort of mood Mr. Baxter was in when he left your lunch?”
“Actually, it was I who left the lunch, but I guess I would say that Baxter was in a foul mood.”
“What did he say to indicate that?”
“He didn’t say anything. I showed him where to exit, then I left the room. A minute later I heard a car door outside slam shut, just about as hard as anybody could slam a car door, then there was a roaring noise and some rubber burned.”
“Did you actually see the car depart?”
“No, I just heard it. I expect just about everybody on the lot heard it.”
“But you think it was Baxter?”
“I can’t think of anybody who works here who would leave the lot in that manner.”
“How well do you know Mr. Baxter, Mr. Bacchetti?”
“I had never met him before Friday, but his reputation preceded him.”
“And what is his reputation?”
“You want rumors? I learned by watching Dragnet reruns as a kid that the cops want only the facts.”
“Let’s call it background information.”
“All right. I hear the guy is a gold-plated asshole who doesn’t give a damn for anybody but himself, and I’m told he has a stable of ex-wives who can confirm that.”
“Do you know the names of any of his ex-wives?”
“Nobody on our lot. Google him.”
Rivera stood up. “Thank you, Mr. Bacchetti,” he said. “I’m grateful for your time.”
Ben stood up and shook his hand. “Always glad to help. Tell me, did Baxter hurt anybody?”
“By some miracle, nobody. He reported his car stolen, weaseling out of any action we could take, in the absence of witnesses who could place him in the car.”
Ben began walking his guest to the door. “There is something else,” he said, “and I have this from a good source. One of our employees took some time off and went to Santa Fe, where he worked briefly on a Baxter film on location there. Baxter, who’s apparently pretty paranoid, somehow got the impression that our man was there to do him harm, and he called in a professional from L.A. to rid him of the menace.”
“Do you mean to eliminate him?”
“I don’t know what his intentions were, but the pro attacked our man, who defended himself and put the man in the hospital.”
“So there’s some unresolved animus there?”
“I don’t know. I just mention it as background, as you put it.”
“May I have your employee’s name?”
“Billy Barnett. He works as a producer in the Barrington unit on our lot. Would you like to speak to him?”
“Thank you, sir, yes.”
Ben opened his office door and spoke to his secretary. “Marsha, would you call Billy and see if he has time to speak to Sergeant Rivera, here? He’ll need directions to the bungalow.”
• • •
RIVERA PARKED HIS CAR and walked into a bungalow with the name “Barrington” on a placard outside. A moment later he found himself sitting across the desk of a man, apparently in his fifties, but fit-looking.
“Ben Bacchetti’s secretary called,” Barnett said. “What can I do for you?”
“I spoke with Mr. Bacchetti for a few minutes about events following his lunch with a Mr. Dax Baxter last Friday.”
“Yes, the gate guard captain told me about that. Apparently Mr. Baxter departed the lot in something of a hurry.”
“That is my information,” Rivera said. “Mr. Bacchetti also told me about an encounter you had with an associate of Mr. Baxter’s in Santa Fe that resulted in the man’s being hospitalized.”
“Mr. Bacchetti told you that?”
“Yes.”
“I believe I have some recollection of such an event. Is the fellow bringing charges against me?”
“Oh, no, sir, nothing like that. I asked Mr. Bacchetti for background information on Mr. Baxter, and he told me that story.”
“Ah.”
“During your time in Santa Fe, did you spend any time with Mr. Baxter?”
“Very little,” Teddy replied. “Mr. Baxter’s wife caused the death of my wife, Betsy, in an accident. He seemed to believe that I bore a grudge because of that and had come there to harm him in some way.”
“And how did he get that impression?”
“His paranoia whispered it in his ear, I expect. I had no such intention and told him so.”
“But he didn’t believe you?”
“Apparently not. I was at Mr. Baxter’s house at a wrap party, and the man approached me outside, holding a knife. He introduced himself by trying to kick me in the head.”
“And what was the nature of the injury that put him in the hospital?”
“A knife wound to the back of a leg, his right, I believe, that required surgery to repair.”
“Was it your intention to wound him in such a manner?”
“If I’d been trying to kill him, he would be dead,” Teddy replied calmly. “Now, if you don’t have any more questions, Sergeant, I don’t think I should incriminate myself further.” He smiled a little.
Rivera got to his feet and handed the man his business card. “Sounds like self-defense to me, Mr. Barnett. If you should come across any other relevant information about Mr. Baxter, I’d appreciate a call, and don’t worry about incriminating yourself.”
• • •
THEY SHOOK HANDS, and the policeman left. Teddy looked at the card and saw that the sergeant’s assignment was to the vehicle theft unit, which puzzled him.