“Look, if you did send an assistant who’s not on the premises, we’ll need his or her name,” I said, to cut off the feud before it became a real distraction. In my experience, family members often like to dwell on irrelevant beefs like this because it gives them an accessible target. Not that I blame them.
Russell, looking embarrassed, turned and called to Dani to come over. She and Raynie exchanged warm greetings. It was an interesting-and refreshing-change to have the ex and the current be so easy with each other.
Russell asked Dani, “Who checked in on Hayley? Was it Uma?”
Dani shook her head. “Angie.” She called out to Angela, who hurried over.
“I didn’t see Mackenzie there at the time,” said Angela. “Hayley just said they were going to hang out, maybe go to a club-”
“What club?” I asked.
Angela stuttered, “Uh, I-I’m not sure…Teddy’s?”
“Did she say when they were going? Were they going that night?” I asked.
“Sh-she didn’t say. I-I’m sorry.”
“No worries, Angie,” I said, sorry myself for having pounced on her. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“You know how to reach Mackenzie?” Bailey asked. Angie and Raynie simultaneously confirmed they did. Bailey called a uniform, gave him the information, and told him to go get a statement from Mackenzie. Then she turned back to the group to ask the usual question about any possible enemies Russell might have. She got a less-than-usual response.
“You’re kidding, right?” Ian, the manager, gave us both an incredulous look. “He’s one of the biggest directors in the world. Every actor who didn’t get a part, every writer whose project he passed on, every production company he turned down-there’s probably thousands who’d love to skewer him.”
“And who are crazy enough to do it by kidnapping his daughter?” I asked.
Ian shrugged. “It’s a town full of narcissists and sociopaths. You do the math.”
Though true, the diagnosis wasn’t helpful. At that moment Jeeves, or whatever they called their butler, entered, followed by a uniformed police officer.
“Find anything?” Bailey asked him.
“Not so far.”
“Then let’s get rolling.” Bailey turned back to Russell. “You’re going to take us to the drop site.”
At nearly midnight there was no traffic to contend with. We flew up Benedict Canyon, headed east on Mulholland Highway to Laurel Canyon, and got to Fryman Road in record time. This ransom drop was as close to a crime scene as we could get at this point, and the fact that it was in a wooded canyon meant that any evidence it might yield was disappearing by the second.
