I sighed.
“Look,” Clete said, “I’m trying to help you by telling you all this early. I had a fight with him last night. I didn’t hurt him much—I certainly didn’t kill him, as everybody saw—but I did have a fight.”
“What was the argument over?”
“He said she had a thing for younger men.”
I shook my head, puzzled. It was common knowledge that Brenda Conrad had a constant parade lining up at her door—not to mention the fact that if it were a male star sleeping with younger women, no one would bat an eyelash.
“I know, I know,” Clete said, holding up his hand. “Fish in a barrel. But he was being obnoxious, and I got mad, and I let him have it.”
“Were you drinking?”
“Everybody was drinking.”
“Was he hurt?”
“No, hell no. He didn’t even bleed.”
“Did he hit you back?”
“No. He just got off the barstool, and then he left, swearing under his breath. It was really nothing, Harvey. But it’ll get talk.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “It sure will.”
Outside in the hall, the reporters were kicking down the doors again.
“Look,” I said, “I don’t want you to talk to those guys. Just stay here and make no comments. I’m sure the studio will be sending out lawyers on the next plane. Wait until they talk to you.”
He nodded, taking a long pull from his glass.
“Oh, one other thing,” I said, getting up to leave. “Greenblatt has sent for Perkins.”
“What?”
“That’s right.”
“Perkins is murder.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Does Mann know about this?”
“I told him.”
“And what’d he say?”
“Mann never heard of Perkins before.”
“Jesus, nothing like an intelligent, knowledgeable producer.” Clete shook his head. “Everybody in Hollywood is afraid of Perkins. I meaneverybody.”
“I know, but that’s what Greenblatt’s done.”
“He must be out of his fucking mind,” Clete said, and drank some more vodka.
* * *
Brenda Conrad was two doors down from Clete and one door down from McDougall. There were reporters outside her door, too, but unlike Williams, she wasn’t alone inside. She had her ten-year-old daughter, Lisa, and Lisa’s governess, a woman named Mrs. Maloney, who was English and wore black all the time. There was also some young suntanned kid wearing Levi’s and a University of Arizona Athletic Department sweatshirt. He was obviously Brenda’s latest “friend.”
