Private #1 Suspect (Private 2)

JUSTINE DROVE THE car around the lake with the Vegas-style fountain set in front of the enormous black glass building in Century City. The Monolith, as it was called, was home to Creative Talent Management, the biggest, most influential talent agency in Hollywood. And the world.

Nora Cronin sat beside Justine in the passenger seat.

Early in the year, Justine had worked for the DA’s office to help the LAPD catch a spree killer who had been terrifying the city and running the cops into the weeds.

The Schoolgirl Killer had been Lieutenant Nora Cronin’s case, but despite her initial outrage that the DA had assigned Private to work with her, she and Justine had meshed brilliantly, as if they’d worked together for years.

Nora touched up her lipstick as Justine drove into the garage, took a ticket from the machine, then cruised around the subterranean car park that consumed more square footage than the town where she was born.

“You know what’s freaky? More money passes through this building than we spend annually on national defense.”

Nora was big, built like a tank, and she had a good, hearty laugh, which she let loose now.

“You’re too funny, Justine. Actually, I can’t wait to see the inside of this place.”

“Yeah?” Justine said. “I think we’re in for a real gladiator-style face-off with an egomaniacal, money-driven jerk who may also be a killer.”

“We might not be able to pull this off. I’m just preparing you. If he says to leave, we’ve got to go.”

“Come on, Nora. A cop and a shrink are going to tag-team him. He’ll talk. He’ll beg us to listen to him.”

Nora laughed again. “What a pair you have, Justine. Anyway, this place may be the colosseum, but we only have to take down one lion. Only one. Here, take this.”

Nora reached down to the floor, picked up a file, and passed it to Justine, who stashed it in her briefcase.

“Let me do the talking,” Justine said.

“Fine,” said Nora. “I’ll be your bodyguard.”

Justine laughed. “Perfect,” she said. “I’ve always wanted one of those.”

CHAPTER 92

AN ELEVATOR TOOK Justine and Nora from the car park to the Creative Talent Management lobby, a vast, marbled space hung with imposing works of modern art. Glass-faced staircases fooled the eye and suspended disbelief, rising thirty feet through the reception area ceiling, itself made of glass.

The space was meant to impress and intimidate—and it did both of those things to Justine. She’d laughed about CTM as the black hole of greed, but now she felt the force of the place. The might of the money.

And she and Nora were on their own.

Justine gave their names to a receptionist, signed a log book, and she and Nora took seats at the periphery of the room to watch the show.

Actors practiced their lines, gesticulating in the corners; messengers came and went; groups of well-dressed people entered the agency through doors that blended so perfectly with the surrounding walls there didn’t seem to be doors at all.

Tom Cruise came through in one of those groups.

Ethan Hawke left the building.

Fifteen minutes after they had arrived, a young man floated down one of the invisible staircases. He was wearing a white linen shirt, dark pants, and a smug expression. Approaching Justine and Nora, he said, “I’m Jay Davis, Mr. Barstow’s assistant. Alan is ready to see you now.”

Justine lifted her briefcase, feeling like she was carrying a dirty bomb, thinking, I doubt Alan is ready for this.

When they entered his office, Barstow was standing with his back to the door, shouting into the mic of his headset, “I said no, you dumb prick. Lily Padgett will not do a screen test. You made the deal and if you dare to break it, we’ll sue you for breach. We’ll take everything you’ve got including the sweat on your balls. Yes. A network series. Jerry Bruckheimer. She turned him down. Do you get me now?”

Barstow clicked off the phone, turned, and saw the two women come into his large, transparent corner office. His smile was bright and cold, like winter sun on a frozen lake.

“How’s Danny?” he asked, shaking Justine’s hand. “I hope you have good news.”

Justine introduced Nora as her partner and they took seats around Barstow’s coffee table, where they had a view of a Frank Stella construction the size of a barn wall, and a panoramic view out the window of West Hollywood and Beverly Hills.