Chapter Seven
The Motives
Mr. Green, Mrs. Peacock and The Butler
Sara watched Warrick escort Angela down the hall, and put her in the waiting room. As she watched Angela swish down the hall, Sara could swear that the tote bag hanging off her shoulder moved.
"Mr. Wayne," Sara got the red haired actors attention, "would you follow me please?" Sara stepped into the interrogation room doorway and held out her arm, directing the actor to take a seat.
Wayne stepped past her, stopping just inside the doorway looking around the room with a sneer on his face. Only after Sara politely cleared her throat did he sit in the chair she indicated. Sara settled herself in opposite him and glanced at her notes. When she looked up a moment later, Wayne was staring at her. Sara felt dissected.
"You portray the butler, is that correct?"
"Yes, that's correct. And, I know what you're going to say, everyone says it." He let out an exaggerated sigh, "No, there wasn't a butler in the game. It was an additive Fred found necessary."
"Ok," Sara said amused. "Now that we've got that out of the way…tell me about your role."
"I escort the guests in, advise them on the setting, who John Boddy - that was Fred's character- is and why the other characters are here. Then I just fade into the background, serving drinks once in a while," he sounded as if he'd said it a thousand times.
"What was your relationship with the victim?" Sara asked, keeping her amusement well hidden.
Wayne huffed out a bitter laugh. "He was a double-crossing, two faced SOB."
Tell me how you really feel, Sara thought to herself, but said; "He double-cross you?"
The right side of Wayne's lips twitched in the beginnings of a sneer. "Yeah, he sure did."
"Tell me about it," Sara prodded.
--
Kenneth Ashcraft settled himself onto the break room sofa with a grunt. From the counter, Nick turned around at the noise, giving the round actor the once over before turning back and finished pouring the coffee. "I have to apologize for having to talk in here…" Nick waved one hand, indicating the break room "All the offices and interrogation rooms are taken, we'll have to make do." As he spoke he made his way over to the couch and handed Kenneth a cardboard cup of hot coffee. The cup slipped in the actor's sweaty hands, waves of the hot coffee sloshed over the rim and onto Ashcraft's hands, making him curse softly under his breath.
"Ok, hold on, hold on." Nick stepped back up to the break room counter and grabbed a handful of napkins. He returned to the couch where Ashcraft sat with his hand held up and away from himself, hovering in mid air, and handed the napkins over. "Here ya go." Nick picked up the manila folder he'd left on the table earlier, and pulled a chair away from the table, maneuvering it directly in front of the actor. They might be in the break room, but he was going to make this as interrogation-like as he could manage.
"Thanks," Kenneth took the napkins and dabbed up the spilled coffee on the back of his hand. "I'm not usually such a klutz, but I'm a little nervous."
Nick offered him a calming smile, "If you're innocent, there's no reason to be nervous."
"Oh I am, I am. I didn't kill him." Ken protested, his watery eyes glistening and he dabbed at his sweaty head with the coffee stained napkins bunched in his hand.
"Tell me about the play." Nick began.
"What would you like to know?" Kenneth asked, eager to help in any way.
"Tell me how you got involved."
"Well…" Kenneth began and took a sip of coffee while he thought of where to begin. "I met Freddie in a bar one night,"
Oh God thought Nick.
"He was crying in his beer -so to speak- and telling me about this wonderful idea he had for a show, said it was going to blow the roof off of the industry…but that much like all great ideas, it'd never see the light of day."
"Why's that?" Nick asked when it seemed as if Kenneth wasn't going to explain any further.
"Money. Or lack thereof that is. Freddie couldn't find any backers."
"Were you in a position to help him out?"
"Well…" he sipped his coffee again, "as a matter of fact, yes. I'd just received a tidy sum from my job…a bonus if you will… I have no family, so, yes, I had the money to offer him."
Nick sat back in his chair unbelieving "You gave a guy you met in a bar enough money to finance a show like this?"
"Well, I'd been looking for something you see….I hadn't been too proud of my life, with no kids, I'd been wondering who was going to remember me after I'm gone."
A thought occurred to Nick, and he flipped through the file in his hands, he found the actors birth date and did the math quickly in his head. Kenneth turned 45 last year. Mid life crisis Nick thought.
"It's not at all like you're thinking. I didn't write him a check then and there. I saw this as opportunity knocking, and believe you me, I answered the door! But I still had my lawyers and accountants; go over it all, and everything seemed to beon the up and up."
"Seemed?" Nick asked, picking up on the past tense of the word.
--
The break room door was closed, and Catherine stared at it for a moment before deciding she'd better not interrupt whatever might be going on in there. She instead filled the two ceramic mugs in her hands at the water fountain, and made her way back to her office.
"Nice décor you've got here," Patty Martinelli told her as she took the mug Catherine offered.
Cath sighed unhappily as she made her way around her desk and moved the collection of duck statues off the desk and onto the credenza behind her. "They're not mine." She said, turning back around to face the actress.
Patty cocked an eyebrow. "You didn't strike me at the fowl fan type."
Catherine smiled at that briefly and sipped her water. She sized Patty up as she swallowed, and had just picked a place to begin when Patty beat her to it.
"I didn't kill him. I hated him, but I didn't kill him."
"You hated him enough to spit on him." Catherine said, relaying the information she'd learned from Grissom.
Patty nodded, a bit sad. "I regret that. If I'd known he was dead, I wouldn't have done that."
Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "You spit on him thinking he was alive?"
The actress' head tilted, "I told you, I hated him."
"Ok," despite herself, Catherine liked the woman, and was enjoying the straightforwardness of the conversation. "Tell me why."
"He killed my sister." Patty said plainly.
Catherine reached for the pen lying on her desk, and held it poised over the notepad. "What was your sisters name?"
"Lucy, Lucy Swan."
Catherine jotted the name down, "How'd she die?"
"Car accident. She ran into a telephone pole."
Catherine set the pen down. "If it was an accident-"
Patty interrupted her. "She'd just had an abortion, at some cheap clinic, the autopsy said she'd been bleeding internally, lost consciousness and crashed."
"What's Fred got to do with that?" Catherine asked.
"It was his baby."
--
Wayne Wayne took a slow, irritated breath. Sara got the impression that he felt it unnecessary to explain anything to her.
"I have a script," he waited a moment for Sara to be impressed, and when she showed no emotion at all, save for a raised eyebrow urging him to continue, he did. "It's a movie script on the life of King George III. Did you know that he once greeted an oak tree as if it was King Frederick William of Prussia? I wrote an extraordinary scene where he -well I would be playing the King- actually shakes hands with a branch…"
"Can we get to the double-cross part please?" Sara interrupted before Wayne went on a tangent.
He squared his shoulders, obviously offended. "Of course. Forgive me." He lifted his chin a bit, an air of pride around him, "I approached Fred with the script -which he said he loved- and he said he'd rustle up the financing. But then I never heard another word about it."
"Until…"
"Until I heard him discussing the part with Teddy. My part, in my movie. He was steeling my script, the one I'd worked on for years, poured my blood and sweat into it. It was mine." His voice grew more quiet as he spoke, and his eyes left hers as he stared at his hands. Sara realized he was ashamed and embarrassed for misplacing his trust.
"And now that he's dead, the script is all yours again."
Wayne looked up from his hands and met her eyes again. "Yes. Yes, that's true."
--
"Well…" Kenneth used the wad of napkins to dab at his head again. "Freddie seemed to have misjudged how much it would cost to launch the production….He kept flying to LA, and Burton's demands were a bit excessive, not to mention Angela's room service costs – the girl likes champagne, the expensive kind."
"Your money was running out." Nick finished the thought.
Kenneth nodded emphatically. "And there was none coming in. I'd quit my job…That's when Freddie gave me the part of Mr. Green. Said I was perfect for it, and it'd help cut down on costs, not having to pay another actors salary."
"What about the ticket sales? Surely money was coming in then?"
Kenneth nodded solemnly, "I thought about that, and checked with the hotel's accounting department. They assured me the checks had been cut, even showed me copies of the canceled checks…."
"Fred cashed them, and didn't tell you." Nick finished for him.
"Right."
"So, you're partner who was embezzling, is now dead." Nick concluded.
Kenneth nodded sadly, and mopped his head again.
--
Catherine sucked in her breath. "And you blamed Fred for your sisters death."
Patty nodded, "He killed her as sure as if he'd reached in and ripped out her heart - which he kind of did."
"Lucy loved him?" Catherine guessed.
"She sure did. That girl was working for a Nevada congressman in DC. She met Fred," Patty almost choked on the name, "one trip out when the congressman was running for re-election last year. They had a fling." Patty shrugged, as if that's all she'd thought it had been, just a fling. "Next thing I know, Lucy's quit her job, moved back to Vegas. Couple months later, she's pregnant, and Fred no longer wants anything to do with her."
"And so, the abortion." Catherine prompted.
Patty nodded. "She'd depleted her savings supporting him while he wrote this idiotic play, she had no insurance, she had to go to that place for it."
"About the play," Catherine began "why on Earth did you sign on to work with Fred?"
The actress shook her head, "I didn't know he had anything to do with it. The audition, and then when I signed the contract, it was Kenneth there, and he never mentioned a partner."
"Kenneth," Catherine flipped through her notes.
"Mr. Green…the bald guy. He's the financial backer."
Catherine lifted her chin, remembering the actor. Yes, of course.
"By the time I knew Fred was involved, I'd already signed the contract. I was stuck with having to look at Freddie's smug face every day."
Thank you for all the reviews, Bo, Ash, Svadilfari, rojaji, aboxforpandora and witchbsword your comments were very heartwarming.
