Monkey See Monkey Murder Page 2

“I don’t smoke.” I said.

  Bobby rolled his eyes and dropped the unlit cigarette to the ground. “This is just not my day.”

  “Bobby.” Galt called to him. He rolled his eyes for me then slapped on a forced smile before turning to her. “Can you…you know….”

  “Call set? Sure, Ms. Galt. As soon as I’m done here.” Bobby turned back to me. “She’s so incompetent she probably doesn’t know a tampon from a tea bag. Gotta run.” Bobby hurried off towards the warehouse. Galt started to say something to him but Bobby blew past her and went into the set. Galt looked at her clipboard and went in behind her assistant. A couple of handlers closed the warehouse doors.

  I wandered back to my Town and Country. Yes, I drive a minivan, a forest green minivan, but I have legitimate reasons. It hauls a lot of equipment. It hauls a lot of people. Most importantly, everyone in Michigan drives a minivan. It’s a lot less conspicuous than a red Ferrari or a candy-apple red Corvette.

  I sat in the back swivel captain seat, my feet hanging out of the open side panel door. There was no air in the empty lot. The old factory the studio used rose on three sides of the trailers and trucks and cars hidden in the pocket of the structure. A makeshift, twelve-foot fence with swinging gates stood at the opening of the squared off U surrounding us. The driveway emptied out onto Winder, a side street cutting through Beaubien and running parallel to Interstate 75. The roar of the nearby freeway traffic lulled me towards drowsiness. I thumbed through my note book and added a few notations.

  Galt was either better than what Bobby gave her credit for or the entire cast and crew walked out on her. It hadn’t even been an hour since the hands closed the doors before everyone who went into the warehouse came out again. First out was Haley, feet moving quickly over the run down parking lot, a fresh cigarette in one hand and her cell pressed against her ear with the other. Somehow she still managed to flip me off as she shot past my van. Daddy Goslin was right behind her talking to some minion who was probably a personal assistant. Next came Bobby. Then some more crew. The final one out of the warehouse was Annie Galt who looked as confused as she had going in.

  I didn’t have time to take in much else. Haley had temporarily taken her phone away from her ear as she got into the back of a black town car. An older, gray haired guy held the door for her then moved around to the driver’s seat to whisk the starlet away. I slid the side door closed and moved into the driver’s seat to follow her car.

  To me, it was too early to start the drinking scene, but then again it had been a while since I was in my wet twenties and could start drinking at breakfast. The black town car hopped onto I-75 north and made it as far as Royal Oak before exiting: A whopping seven miles. The black town car eased into the lot of a convenience mart where the driver got out but the passenger stayed in. I pulled in next to it.

  Haley got out and came to the driver’s side of my van. I lowered the window. She leaned in. Her breath smelled like a steaming ashtray. “If you want to party with me, just ask,” she said.

  “I’m just doing my job.”

  “Not very well.”

  “My job is to watch you, not hide from you.”

  About then the driver came out of the store. He looked at us uncomfortably. He clutched a brown paper bag, one hand crimping the top around a bottle of something. The man cleared his throat and got in the car.

  “Looks like you already have a party friend,” I said.

  Haley smiled at me. “You think that’s for me?” She lifted her eyebrows now in full flirt mode. She leaned in closer. “Maybe Pete’s just doing his job.”

  “Buying alcohol for a minor is a misdemeanor in this state. Pete could lose his license.”

  “I’m only a minor for another six months.” Somehow she managed to get even closer. “But then again, I haven’t been a minor for a long time.” Her smile said it all. Haley Goslin turned and got back into the town car. I let it leave first. For half second I thought about just letting her go but two things stopped me from abandoning the tail. One, Peyton was paying me to keep tabs on her. Two, she was damn good looking.

  I stayed a few cars back of Pete’s. I didn’t want to spook him. Word around town was some of the drivers were getting trained by ex-Israeli commandos to protect their passengers from crazed stalkers or obsessed fans. I had no beef with Pete. Still, I didn’t need him going all Chuck Norris on me. When he turned off of Main onto Washington, I went up a block, hung a left, and parked on the west side of the city. I could hoof it from there.

  Royal Oak is a busy place any time of the day. The five o’clock whistle had blown and the streets were crowded with people leaving the office for the local watering hole. There were a bunch of choices but I counted on Haley heading for her favorite, organically prepared meal at Café Musica. I was right.

  Not one for designer foods in designer bistros, I took a stool in the window of the same small pub Haley had been at until she left with Carl Dempsey, the bartender. The place was across the street and faced the café. Haley had only been in Detroit a short time but had already carved her name in one little corner of it.

  I ordered a tall draft of Bell’s seasonal ale and settled in for the worst part of the job: the stakeout. Even if I didn’t go to the john or get caught up in the “who would replace the outgoing football coach at the University of Michigan” conversation or get chatted at by the corporate girl looking for a bad boy, I could still lose Haley because she slipped out the back or had Pete pick her up or she donned a disguise and left with a pack of adoring fans. So I nursed the beer and counted the number of red cars that passed by my window seat in either direction. South was beating North eight red cars to three when a couple of long, thin hands slipped over my eyes. I could smell nicotine on them beneath a creamy hand sanitizer.

  “Guess who,” the owner of the hands said.

  “Anne Hathaway,” I said.

  Haley playfully slapped my back. “Wrong. You’re slipping, old man.”

  “This is what thirty looks like, hon.”

  “Well, it looks pretty good to me.” She fell against me, her legs parting slightly over my knee.

  “Can I get you something, miss?” A fresh young bartender winked at Haley, picking up where his friend Dempsey had left off the night before.

  “Give me a Jaeger.” She fished her California license out of her back pocket. The guy barely glanced at it.

  “Oh, it’s cool, Miss Goslin,” he said. He added another wink as he poured the shot.

  Haley looked at me, her eyes and smile begging the question, “What are you going to do?” I tipped my head and shook it thinking, “It ain’t my license to lose.” Haley dropped the shot back like a seasoned pro. She had three more before I finished the latter half of my tall glass of beer.

  “Take me dancing,” she said. Actually, it was more like a command.

  “You don’t even know my name.”

  “I don’t need to.” She slid one of her long, skinny arms around behind my neck as she fell against me. Her free hand ran up my chest as the hand behind my neck pulled my head towards her face. Her lips fell against mine. What the hell, I wasn’t a robot. I put my hands on her pointy, narrow hips and squeezed down against them.

  “It’s Hack.” she said. Her lips were next to my ear. “You were in some Special Forces in the Navy or something and when your tour ended, you moved back home. You want to be a writer, but until then, you do private investigating.”

  I cocked my eyebrows at her. “That’s all true.”

  Haley laughed. “Bobby told me. It’s how I knew Peyton hired you.”

  “So much for being a mysterious stranger,” I said. Haley laughed and then ran her tongue through my mouth. I have to admit, I was good to go, but I didn’t. At least not then. I pushed back on her hips. She kept one hand draped over my shoulder.

  “Because of Peyton?” she asked.

  I nodded. “And I don’t want to be introduced to your daddy’s pearl-handled revolvers.”

  H
aley smiled like she understood. “You can still take me dancing,” she said.

  “I can do that.”

  Haley kissed my cheek. She pulled her phone out of her purse and made a call to Pete telling him he’d still get paid for the night but that he wasn’t needed any more.

  We went to a few clubs, did some dancing. As the night wore on, and the crowds grew larger, it became increasingly difficult for Haley to function. Everyone recognized her. Everyone wanted a picture with her or to talk to her or to add her to their Foursquare list of friends. I could tell celebrity was wearing thin. I broke into the center of a group of young women surrounding Haley and took her in my arms. Surprised, Haley looked up at me, her eyes full of questions. I kissed her on the spot and she responded. The crowd around Haley stopped chirping. A thousand pairs of eye looked at us before silently falling back. I walked her off the dance floor, my arm securely around her.

  Outside Haley stopped me. Her eyes were big and wet. She thanked me for getting her out. We went to my van and I opened the door for her. Across the lot one of the young women from the dance floor yelled out to her.

  “We love you, Haley!”

  “Sometimes I think I understand how Butch feels,” she said.

  “I think it’s time to call it a night,” I said. “Where are you staying?”

  “Well, I don’t have to go there.” Her eyes searched mine.

  “I told you—”

  “I know what you told me. But that was hours ago. Peyton’s passed out somewhere and daddy’s clipping his toenails. Don’t take me back there. I need to be away from the world.”

  I took her back to my place. At the time I lived in a one bedroom upper over a hair salon. The apartment stood all of 850 square feet. My bay window looked out over the busy two lanes of a four block village. It was quaint and quiet.

  Haley sat on the window seat watching the late night crowd twelve feet below her go in and out of restaurants, pubs, and coffee houses. I handed her a glass of wine. She smiled.

  “Isn’t this a misdemeanor, mister?” she asked.

  “I’ve already kept you out past your curfew.”

  “Ha ha.” She clinked her glass against mine and slid over. I sat next to her. Haley nestled back against me. “It’s nice here.” It might have been the lateness of the night but I swore her southern belle accent had faded.

  “It’s why I took the apartment. That and during the holidays they string a million lights over the town and light it up.”

  “A girl could get comfortable here real quick.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes. I rubbed her shoulders and she purred.

  “So I never asked,” I said. “Did you get the shot with Annie Galt at the helm?”

  “You know, it was the oddest thing. We got it in one take.”

  “Butch didn’t freak out?”

  Haley sipped her wine and shook her head. “No. In fact, I even think Butch seemed more relaxed.”

  “Maybe the trainer gave him a tranquilizer or something.”

  “Al doesn’t believe in doping. Besides, I don’t think Aggie from the Humane Society would let him.”

  “How does he do it? Train Butch, I mean.”

  Haley shrugged and leaned back against me. I took her wine glass and set it on the window sill. “When he’s working with me, Al uses a clicker and a whistle.”

  “So that’s all it takes?”

  She laughed through her nose. “And a diamond necklace.”

  “I saw him do something with his hands when the monkey wigged out.” I said. “He went like this.” I demonstrated what I’d seen: hands out, palms, down, slowly lowering them.

  “I don’t know.” Haley’s voice was getting dreamy. A long day capped by alcohol. She yawned. “Sometimes he’ll make gestures, give him food. I don’t know nothing about training a chimp, darling.” I was already falling for her lapses into the down home southern girl twang.

  I could feel her getting heavier against me. I scooped her up and carried her to my room where I laid her out on my bed. For an instant I thought I should undress her to make her more comfortable but a tabloid headline flashed in my head. She wanted to be away from the world, so she would be. I pulled the comforter over her and left her to sleep.

  For the next couple of hours I surfed the web looking up how animals were trained. I wasn’t really tired and it distracted me from thinking about Haley in the next room. One thing I learned was how dedicated most handlers are with their animals. A trainer takes in all kinds of considerations such as the animal’s history, what time of day it seems more willing to work or learn, and what it finds safe or threatening. Some animals, like chimps, have a natural aggressiveness and follow a power hierarchy. I guess I never really thought of it as something that complicated. Then again, when I was a kid, I was never able to housebreak my puppy.

  I also found out the two most common forms of training involved rewarding or punishing; give the dog a biscuit if it speaks, squirt it with water if it doesn’t. Essentially, it is a long, arduous process of repetition and change. In other words, baby steps.

  “Looking for some of my sexting shots?”

  I turned around.

  Haley stood almost completely naked in the glow of the parking lot lights flooding in through my apartment windows. The blinds cut the light in horizontal stripes that wrapped around like thin, black ribbons. She had tied the bottoms of one of my work shirts into a knot; it rested against her flat stomach, somewhere just below her barely covered breasts and above her completely naked legs. Her long slender arms were raised above her head and held her in the narrow frame of my bedroom door.

  “I don’t like sleeping alone,” she said. Haley crossed the room with all of the seductive grace of every screen siren I’d ever seen on TCM. Her arms fell around my neck as she pressed her firm, slim body against me. I raised my hands to push her back but my fingers fell on her naked flesh and I left them there long enough to let her know I wasn’t completely disinterested in her. She was only playing a teenager, I told myself.

  Afterwards, we lay in the bed with her near the wall and me near the edge. She leaned over me and grabbed for her cigarettes. She lit one then lay on her back and blew the smoke at the ceiling.

  “So you gonna blog about this?” she asked. I heard her jet smoke.

  I laughed. “I don’t blog.”

  “You should. Call it the Case Files of Hack Ward.” She laughed, coughing out smoke. I agreed with her that it sounded as poor a title as there was. “Why Hack?”

  “Hack is a name of honor,” I said.

  “For who? People with lung cancer?”

  “You’re one to ask,” I said. She looked at the end of her cigarette.

  “Yucky habit, I know. But also an occupational hazard.” She rolled over me again and dropped it in a glass of water on my night table. She kept her naked body on mine as she dug out a pack of gum. She unwrapped three small sticks and chewed like a cow. “That better?” she asked.

  “Well, you’re less likely to die from chewing gum.”

  “Oh, I’m not looking to die. I’ve got a hell of a life ahead of me.”

  “You might just be right about that.”

  We kissed and held each other but we didn’t make love a second time.

  Sleep started tugging on my eyelids. I wasn’t sure when Haley had to be on set the next day. She didn’t seem too concerned. I figured I shouldn’t be either.

  THREE

  I woke up to Haley shaking me. She wore the same jeans she had on the day before but she wore one of my college sweatshirts. The way she was going through my closest I was going to have to do a load of laundry sooner than I was used to. The sweatshirt was more than a little big on her. She had showered and pulled her long, wet hair into a pony tail using a rubber band from my morning paper.

  “We have to go. My daddy just texted me asking where I was.” She showed me the screen of her phone.

  “Can I shower?”

  “No. Come
on.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Go through a drive thru. Come on. Peyton is getting ready to close down the set.”

  I stuffed my feet into my shoes. My back was a little stiff. I stretched, forgetting I’d taken off my shirt. Haley’s eyes lit up. I grabbed my shirt and put it on and left the tails un-tucked. My head felt full of dull sleep. I must have shown it because Haley’s demeanor shifted.

  “I’m sorry, Hack. You’ve been nothing but a gentleman and here I am being a Class A crump.” She flopped down on my couch.

  “What the hell is a crump?”

  “It’s how we say the c-word where I come from.” She grinned and I laughed. “You know what? Go ahead and shower. Peyton’s not going to shut down the production.” She dug through her purse looking for her cigarettes. Haley looked up at me. “I can’t smoke in here, can I?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” I sat down next to her. “I’d rather you didn’t at all.” We looked into each other’s eyes. I wanted to kiss her but morning breath stopped me.

  She looked around the room. A sad smile spilled over her face. “I don’t even like it. It’s just this movie. When I get stressed, I start smoking. I’ve been doing it since I started doing concerts. When I wanted to get away from my folks I went off with the rats.”

  “Rats?”

  “It’s what the crew calls itself. They stay in the dark, run around behind the scenes. Those boys know how to party.”

  I must have been really tired. As she told me the story I kept imagining her being trained by rats. One of them offered her a hit from a cigarette. Next time it was two hits. Pretty soon she was bumming a full smoke for herself. In the end, she had to go through a maze to find the already lit cigarette waiting for her.

  I shook my head and stood up. “Come on. I’ll shower later.”

  “You can use the one in my trailer.” She slapped my butt playfully.

  Forty minutes later I pulled up to the security booth outside the movie lot. The usual rent-a-guard was nowhere to be seen. The fence gates were open to either side.

  The lot was a ghost town. The trailers were still there but as far as I could tell, we were the only ones at the location. I pulled up next to Haley’s trailer. Haley started to get out but I stopped her. I surprised her even more when I reached down beneath her seat and slid open a compartment where I kept a back-up 9mm in a lock-box.