‘Jesus, is this guy for real?’ Decker asked.
‘You’re listening to him, darlin’,’ Lorraine answered, as bored as Decker.
Decker inserted another tape and leaned back, doodling on his pad as the tape whirred and scratched before the connection was made.
‘Hi, it’s Raymond.’
Lorraine and Decker looked at each other — it was the sauna and steam-bath caller, Mr Raymond Vallance.
‘Listen, I’ve just met this chick — she’s beautiful. I was having lunch and she was at the next table, man. She is stunning. She has a body you’d cream yourself over, and she’s got this blonde hair, like, man, it’s down to her waist, and she’s got to be five eight, maybe even taller. She’s cover-of-Vogue class, so I won’t be coming over.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Trudie. And she was giving me the real come-on. I mean, man, I could feel her looking at me. I’m seeing her tonight.’
They continued discussing the nubile blonde, their conversation more like that of two teenage boys than middle-aged men. That Nathan even bothered to record the entire tedious conversation was extraordinary. Decker saw that Lorraine was fast asleep, so he rewound the tape, put on some fresh coffee and inserted the next one. He would wake her if anything of interest came up. He listened to more of Nathan’s grooming arrangements and more of Vallance’s lectures about diet. Then a female voice, enquiring nervously if Mr Nathan wanted to see the dailies, to which Nathan replied that he wanted them sent over, that he would look at them in the evening. No date or time was stated, but Decker listed the calclass="underline" it suggested that Nathan did occasionally do some work and that some movie was being shot. The next call made him listen intently.
‘Harry? It’s me, and I’m pissed — you got a fucking nerve. You don’t like the dailies, well, fuck you. If you could spare a second to come on the set you’d know we got a fucking brain-dead male lead. I warned you the script sucked, but this is puerile shit and I’m walking.’
Nathan’s angry voice retorted that he didn’t give a shit if he walked or not, and there was an angry altercation between the two men that resulted in Nathan screaming that the man could sue him, but as he was broke he’d never get a cent.
Lorraine woke with a start.
‘Listen to this. Seems Nathan wasn’t the rich man we think he was.’
Decker replayed the tape.
‘You’re a piece of shit, Harry.’
‘Yeah, so tell me somethin’ new.’
‘I’m telling you straight, an’ no amount of fucking blackmail and threats will make me stay on this garbage.’
Nathan laughed. ‘You threatening me?’
‘No, but you do whatever your dirt-bag mentality wants. I am through making second-rate porno shit.’
From then on, the tape was all business, one call after another from the studio as the film was halted. The director had walked and the cast and crew were threatening to quit unless they got paid. Then came a series of calls made by Nathan as he replaced the director, raised further finances to cover the production costs, and another when he suggested that certain incriminating photographs of Julian Cole be released to the gutter press, to teach the son-of-a-bitch a lesson — that nobody messed with Harry Nathan. The astonishing thing throughout the flurry of calls was how relaxed and easy Nathan sounded as he cajoled and bullied everyone he spoke to. Last on the tape came a pitiful call from Julian Cole, the director who had walked off the set, begging Nathan not to release the photos.
‘Listen, my friend, you owed me a favour. You quit on me and caused a lot of aggravation. I warned you...’ Nathan said airily.
There was a deep intake of breath on the line and then the weeping man hissed, ‘You bastard! I’ll make you sorry.’
‘Try it. Many have before, Jules, but they’ve always failed. Screwing under-age kids’ll make headlines. You’re finished. You’ll never get a gig in this town again.’
The tape ended and Lorraine looked at Decker. ‘You ever heard of this Julian Cole?’
Decker nodded. ‘He made some movie about a whale and a mermaid — Oscar nomination years ago — but I think he’s got one hell of a habit. Disappeared, or his later movies did.’
Lorraine got up and stretched her arms above her head. ‘Maybe he could be a suspect — maybe half the callers we just listened to could be. Seems a lot of people wanted Harry Nathan dead.’
Decker agreed. ‘What a sleaze-bag. I’ll run a check on all the callers we got.’
‘Mm, yes, but first run a check on Nathan’s finances — let’s see how broke he was. Something tells me he’s the kind of man that has stashes of cash but won’t touch a cent of his own money if he can blackmail, or whatever else, to make some other poor schmuck pay up.’
Decker rewound the tape and reached for the next. By tape five they had Raymond again, still talking about his latest nubile love. The calls were as tedious as the rest, until the last one on the tape when Nathan suggested that, as Raymond’s career was going nowhere, he should do a small favour for him.
‘You must be joking, I haven’t reached that level.’
Nathan laughed. ‘I’m talking private tapes, man.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘I don’t follow, Harry,’ Raymond said, fear audible in his voice.
‘Yes, you do. You know about my wires, my little personal kicks.’
‘Jesus Christ, are you serious?’
‘‘Fraid so. I need money, and...’
‘But you wouldn’t, I mean... They’re just between you and me.’
‘They were. But, like I said, I need cash. I got a studio to run, a movie about to go down, which will cost me, so—’
‘I can’t — you know, I can’t.’
There was a long pause.
‘Harry? You still there?’
‘Yeah, man.’
‘Don’t do this to me.’
‘Then you do somethin’ for me.’
‘I can’t. Jesus Christ, I can’t. I’ve got my career to think of.’
Nathan sighed, and his voice changed. ‘What career, Raymond? You are dead meat in this town — both you and your career, if you get my meaning.’
‘I thought you were my friend,’ came the plaintive response.
‘Raymondo, nobody is my friend when I’m tight for cash, and right now I’m tight. So, friendship apart, I need you to star in Likely Ladies. And I’ll release my private films if you don’t agree to wave your flaccid dick around in it. Now, you got that?’
‘If I refuse?’
‘Then I just release the private videos.’
The call cut off, and Lorraine looked at Decker. ‘My God, all those calls we listened to — he was just waitin’ to pounce.’
Decker nodded. ‘We got another suspect, right?’
Lorraine reached for the next tape. ‘Yes, sir, we do. And now it’s understandable.’
‘What is?’
‘The acid bath. Any one of the callers we just listed wouldn’t want these tapes released, and Raymond Vallance is moving up the list.’
Decker looked at his notes. A lot of people wanted, or might have wanted, Harry Nathan dead and for good reason: blackmail.
The next tape was disappointing, but just before it ended, Decker and Lorraine pricked up their ears.
‘Cindy, it’s me.’ It was Vallance’s voice.
‘Oh, hi. Harry’s not at home.’
‘Oh, really?’ There was an artificial brightness in Vallance’s voice. ‘When would be a good time to call?’
‘Oh — I’d say if you were to call... Harry, between three and four, that would be a good time.’ As usual, Cindy’s acting wasn’t up to much, and she suddenly dropped back into more natural tones. ‘Though I’m real sick. I think I got flu.’