The Movie-Town Murders (The Art of Murder 5)

“Did your granddaughter have any enemies?”

Ono said impatiently, “Everyone has enemies.”

Okay, well, maybe so. Jason probably had enemies—he certainly had a homicidal stalker. Sam had enemies.

“Did your granddaughter name names? Was there a specific person she thought might wish her harm?”

Ono hesitated. “Not that I recall.”

Maybe he was trying to recall, or maybe he was hedging. Sometimes a hesitation was just a hesitation.

Jason changed tack. “Tell me about Georgette. What was she like?”

“Hardworking. Dedicated. Passionate about her work.”

That was a glowing performance review but not exactly illuminating. Hopefully, Professor Ono’s friends and colleagues would be able to offer a little more insight.

Ono turned away to pour himself another brandy. Over his shoulder, he said, “As hard as it is to believe, I’m convinced my granddaughter’s murder had something to do with that film club she belonged to.”

This was new information. Either Ono hadn’t previously shared this theory—because it was an afterthought?—or the investigating detectives gave it no credence. The former was the more likely scenario. Ono had been stewing for six months.

“A film club? Something affiliated with the college?”

“No. A kind of…I’m not sure what you’d call it. A social club. A supper club for collectors of rare films.”

Assuming Ono was referring to 35mm and not VHS rarities like a Disney Black Diamond edition of Aladdin (which at most might bring in something in the $300 range), rare films did go for a lot of money. And whenever a lot of money was involved, the likelihood of crime, including violent crime, increased exponentially. Still.

“And this an actual school organization or a private get-together?”

“Private. Invitation only. My understanding is they met monthly for dinner and would then watch a film from a member’s collection.”

“Gotcha. Who else is in this social club? Other instructors? Students? Did Georgette mention any names?”

Again, Ono hesitated. “No.”

It was always concerning when the complainant chose to withhold information, but they weren’t through here. He would give Ono time to rethink and then circle back.

“Do you know where the movie nights are held? Do they rent an on-campus theater for their screenings?”

“I don’t believe there’s any connection to the college. I think they meet at someone’s home. I don’t know whose. They might move around.” Ono sat down heavily across from Jason. He stared into his brandy glass. “I didn’t pay attention. That’s the truth. I should have listened to her. But.”

Jason tilted his head, listening for what Ono wasn’t saying. “But what?”

Ono said wearily, “It was always extremes with Georgette. Everything was wonderful or everything was terrible. There was no in-between. She never had an ordinary day. She could be…tiring.”

“You didn’t take her concerns seriously?”

Ono said again, “I didn’t pay attention. The last time we spoke I was upset to learn she’d resumed her relationship with that bastard she worked with. He was a member of that group. I’m sure of it. In fact, I think he’s the one who got her involved with those fanatics.”

The bastard Georgette worked with would be Balthasar Bardolf, a fellow professor and archivist at the UCLA Film and Television Archive. Film archivists were the librarians of the film and television industry. Their number-one job was to scan or digitize original recordings into a digital medium in order to preserve them for future generations. UCLA’s archive was the second largest in the country (only the Library of Congress was larger), which meant Bardolf’s was a prestigious gig. It made sense he might be a member of the kind of cinephile clique Ono was talking about.

“How long have you known Bardolf?”

“I never met him.” Ono threw back his brandy in one eyebrow-raising gulp. He glared at Jason. “I didn’t need to meet him. I know everything I need to know about him.”

As a wise man once said, uh-huh.

Ono must have read Jason’s thoughts because he added, “He was a bad influence on her.”

“How so?”

“He encouraged her worst tendencies.”

What did that mean? Bardolf egged on her poor spending habits or introduced her to kinky sex?

“Meaning?”

Ono said testily, “I’m not going to do your job for you, Agent. Do your due diligence, and you’ll soon understand my antipathy for that bastard.”

“Do you have reason to believe Bardolf might have wanted to harm your granddaughter?”

Interestingly, when Ono was about to prevaricate, his gaze bored in on Jason’s.

“They fought all the time. I believe he was physically abusive. And they were competing for tenure.”

Jason studied Ono’s lined face. “Did your granddaughter accuse Bardolf of physical abuse?” If so, it wasn’t anywhere in the files Jason had skimmed.

“Not in so many words.”

No. The relevant word was the word not spoken. Nope.

“Aside from Bardolf, did Georgette ever mention anyone you think might be connected to this film club?”

Ono gave a harsh laugh. “I’m sure you’re already aware of Eli Humphrey. He’s another one of these shady film-collector characters. Georgette reported him to the FBI for being involved in film piracy and bootlegging.”

Actually, Georgette had reported Humphrey to LAPD’s Art Theft Detail. Detective Gil Hickok, who’d headed up ATD for the last twenty years, had contacted the FBI. But both teams had agreed there was insufficient evidence to charge Humphrey with anything beyond being a fanatical movie collector, and in this town, that was practically a requirement for citizenship.

Jason said, “This film club doesn’t sound like the most congenial get-together, but what do you think would drive another member to harm Georgette?”

Ono’s dark eyes lit up. “The last time I spoke to Georgette, she told me she’d discovered the existence of a valuable old movie previously believed to be lost. I’m sure she feared someone in the club was after that film.”

Jason began, “Did Georgette actually say she feared—”

“Yes! She said, and I quote: ‘Any one of those guys would murder me to get their hands on that film.’”

Okay, maybe yes, maybe no. Georgette could have meant it literally, but it did sound a bit hyperbolic, like: My wife will kill me if I forget to pick up milk.

Granted, some wives did kill when their spouses forgot to pick up milk. People could be unpredictable.

“What was the film?”