“It got really gnarly. Tommy-”
“Do you remember his last name?”
She squinted for a second. “Maher. Tommy Maher.”
“What did he do?”
“They got in a big fight. Tommy got moved to the other end of the lot-”
The rapid click-clack of heels on marble told me Patricia was on her way back. Brittany’s expression told me she’d noticed that too.
“Did Tommy file a lawsuit against Russell?” The theft of a script was no little thing-especially if the script had been the star maker Brittany said it was.
“No. I don’t think-”
Patricia had the ears of an owl. As she entered the living room she said, “Don’t think what?”
“Nothing,” Brittany said. Her face had closed. We’d reached the end of this line.
I tried another tack. “Did Hayley ever talk to you about a boy named Brian?”
At this, Brittany looked puzzled. “Brian? No, I-I don’t think so.”
Patricia walked over but remained standing. “I never heard her mention the name either.” She reached down and took Brittany by the hand. “Now if you don’t mind, Brittany’s got an early call-”
I stood and pulled out a card. “Brittany, thank you. I know you and Hayley were very close at one time. If you remember anything else, will you get in touch?”
Brittany nodded. “Of course. I want to help any way I can.” She took the card and held it in front of her as though she didn’t know what to do with it. Bailey added her card to mine and gave one to Patricia too. I knew Bailey did it just to tweak her. I also knew both cards would land in the trash before we made it to the car.
“Thank you both for your time,” Bailey said.
Time flies when you’re trying to pry information out of a zombie and end-run the zombie’s keeper. It was six thirty by the time Bailey and I left the Carens’. Too late to knock on any more doors.
“Feel like a drink?” I asked.
“I feel like day-old bacon. I’d like a drink. Maybe several.”
“Brittany looked like she had several before we got there,” I said. “If I had a mother like that, I would’ve been dipping my pacifier in vodka.”
“She’s a classic Momager-”
“And a classic something else.” I thought back on Brittany’s vague expressions and floaty demeanor. “But I think it’s more than booze. That girl’s a pill head too.”
Bailey nodded. “So I guess the stories are true.”
“Sadly, some of them are.”
Bailey headed for the 101 freeway south, taking us back downtown.
