Chapter 3
The drive out of L.A. was a misery even in the late morning, clogged with heavy trucks steaming their way east with their bounty fresh off the docks in Long Beach and San Pedro. Black was beginning to get a sunburn by the time he rolled into the sad collection of mobile homes grouped just off the freeway in a community laughingly named The Oasis.
Colleen's singlewide was several hundred yards from the entrance, and the downtrodden vehicles he passed gave silent testament to her fall from grace. She'd been methodically downsized from her once-lofty perch as the top gossip columnist in Los Angeles until she now earned a paltry income as a stringer for the new wave of gossip websites that had cropped up. The most popular of these had been created by her old boss, Freddie Sypes, who was also the conniver responsible for her ultimate downfall as he power-grabbed and schmoozed his way to the top of the newspaper's food chain before kicking it to the curb in favor of his current enterprise. Colleen had reciprocated by starting her own site, but lacking Freddie's financial resources, it ultimately drained her savings and went under, taking what was left of her career with it.
The smog-laden air smelled like burning oil when he shut off the engine and climbed out of the car. Colleen's mobile home seemed to sag in the middle, and looked like it had last been painted around the end of the Korean War. The screen door opened and she stepped out, and he had to admit that even with all the hardship, she'd held up well. Her bronze skin was taut from her most recent face-lift, and her augmented breasts announced themselves with unapologetic rigidity, putting the tensile strength of her emerald green blouse to the test with each careful step toward him. She had to be sixty if she was a day, but she could have easily passed for a decade or two younger, and Black told her so, noting the smile his flattery brought to all of her face but her eyes.
"Come on in, darlin'. It's not Beverly Hills, but hey, I hear that's all immigrants anyway these days," she invited, after delivering a not-so-matronly kiss to Black's cheek, leaving a faint trace of knock-off perfume on his collar.
"How've you been, Colleen?"
"You know how it is. I'm on disability - my back. The painkillers help pass the time. And I do a deal here or there. It's not the old life, but I get by. How about you?" she asked as she led him to a brown tweed couch across from an entertainment center.
"Same old. Working too hard for too little money."
"I know that story. Where are my manners? Can I get you anything to drink? Soda? Water? Something stronger?"
"Water's fine, Colleen. Thanks."
She went to the kitchen and fetched two small plastic bottles from the fridge and then sat down next to him, turning coquettishly to face him. "My friend needs someone savvy to help him out of a jam, Black."
"A friend. I see. Does this friend have a name?"
"Andrew Hunter."
Black digested the name. "The Andrew Hunter? Actor?"
"Now director and producer, babe. Times they are a changing, and all." She paused, and sat back while fishing in the cushions for the television remote control. "Yes, the Andrew Hunter. And believe me - he's got a problem. If you can do anything to solve it, he's a great guy to know."
"That's what I do, right? I'm the solutions guy. PI to the stars."
"Hmm. I wouldn't put that on your cards quite yet. Anyway, I told him that you would stop by his place whenever you had some time. He said he'd be there all day." Colleen powered on the TV and pushed play on her DVD player, and an image flickered to life: Andrew Hunter at a high profile press conference several years ago, calling for a ban on the paparazzi - a campaign he'd taken on as a cause célèbre. They listened as he laid out his case, and then she muted the sound.
"You mentioned that he had a problem?" Black nudged her.
"He does. It's a security matter. Which I told him was right up your alley."
"Security? As in...?"
"I'll let him tell you about it himself. But he's pretty agitated, I'll say that much. And when rich, powerful guys get worried, that means opportunity to little people like us."
"How do you know him?"
"You forget that in my past life I knew everyone. I always treated him fairly, and a few times I softened a story that painted him in a negative light. We still talk. Since his star started fading at the box office, he's gotten way more friendly with his remaining allies. He counts me as one. Which is where you come in. I recommended you. He wants to meet as soon as possible."
"Sure. Where does he live?" Black asked.
"Where else? Bel Air." Colleen rattled off an address and he entered it into his phone.
"Will they even let me drive up there?"
"You clean up pretty good. Just don't wear any gang paraphernalia, and you should be okay."
"I'm always representing the 'hood. Peace."
Colleen didn't say anything, the silence deafening. The pause was broken by the sound of a vehicle pulling up in front of the trailer. A car door closed, and a muscular blond man in his late thirties with longish hair and a deep tan pushed through the doorway carrying a bag of groceries.
"Black, this is Seth. Seth Avery."
Black rose as Seth placed the bag on the cheap dining room counter. The two men studied each other, and then Seth's face broke into a practiced grin, his handsome features instantly at ease as he reached a hand out to Black.
"Nice to meet you," Black said.
"Likewise. I'm sorry, Col didn't tell me she was having visitors."
"Seth's staying with me, helping patch the place up. He's a very talented director," Colleen volunteered, and Black surmised that there was more going on than a little handyman action around the trailer. None of his business, and good for her if she could pull off the cougar thing.
"Well, it's kind of you to say so. But that was a while ago. Now I'm a simple carpenter..."
Black and Seth stood facing each other like heavyweights who'd fought to a draw, and then Black held up his phone.
"I was just getting ready to hit the road." He turned to her. "Thanks for the tip, Colleen. Any wise parting words?"
She stood and moved to his side, linking her arm in his as she led him back to the door. Seth had already lost interest in him and walked into the kitchen to unpack the groceries.
"Hunter's under a lot of pressure right now, with his new movie getting ready to break. My advice would be to try to minimize the funnies with him. He's not in a very comedic mood, and he sounded, if not exactly panicky, certainly agitated. So I'd keep it professional."
"Good to know."
"Don't blow this. I don't want it to seem like I referred a loser. Hunter's an important guy, at least to what's left of my career. And I need all the friends I can get, Black."
"I won't. No wisecracks. I get it."
She escorted him to his car. Seth's big silver Dodge pickup truck was parked directly behind it.
"Let me know how it goes," she said.
"Yo. You know how I roll."
She pulled away from him and gave him a warning glare. "Black..."
"Kidding."
YOU ARE READING
Black
Mystery / ThrillerArtemus Black. Perennially down-on-his-luck Hollywood PI whose Bogie fixation is as dated as his wardrobe. With an assistant who mocks him relentlessly, an obese cat that loathes him, a romantic life that's deader than Elvis, money problems, booze...