Chapter 25
“I’m sorry, Ms. Van Damm is not in right now,” the lovely, young, caramel-skinned Chrissy Teigen look-alike said from behind the reception desk at Hal Greenwood Productions located in a high-rise in Century City.
Matt flashed her a warm smile, planted his hands on top of the reception desk, and leaned forward. “Could you please check again, because we just saw her car in her reserved space down in the parking garage?”
Chrissy’s own smile tightened and she spoke in a clipped, irritated tone. “I don’t need to check again. She’s not here.”
“When do you expect her back?” Poppy asked, arms folded.
Chrissy hesitated, not sure how to respond. Then, she shrugged and just seemed to make things up as she went along. “She has back-to-back meetings at a couple of different studios, Universal and Disney, way in the Valley, so she probably won’t even be back in the office today. She’ll probably just go home from there.”
“I see,” Matt said, nodding before turning to Poppy. “I say we take our chances and wait here on the off chance she does drive back to the office, what do you say?”
Poppy plopped down on the expensive leather couch in the waiting area. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”
Matt joined her, and they both sat staring at poor Chrissy, who was now at a loss as to how to get rid of them. Her phone chirped, she adjusted the headset she was wearing, and cleared her throat. “Hal Greenwood Productions, how may I direct your call?”
Poppy and Matt exchanged triumphant glances. They were not going to be summarily dismissed, not when they were reasonably certain Chrissy was lying and Greta Van Damm was at this very moment back there hiding from them in her office.
Matt called over to the receptionist once she had transferred the call. “Do you happen to have any water handy?”
“No,” Chrissy said flatly, obviously having been instructed not to encourage these two to stick around for any extended length of time.
Matt flashed her another winning smile. Poppy could tell Chrissy, or whatever her real name was, was attracted to Matt, but she was fighting hard to maintain a sense of professionalism and to follow her orders from the higher-ups. Another phone call came through, which Chrissy answered. “Yes, Ms. Van—” Chrissy’s eyes widened slightly as she stopped herself from announcing the caller’s name. Poppy and Matt both perked up, assuming it was Greta calling from somewhere in the building. “Yes, what can I do for you?” Chrissy asked stiffly.
Poppy hoped that Chrissy was not one of the thousands of aspiring actresses working similar jobs in Los Angeles waiting for their big break to arrive because this pretty girl’s acting skills were wanting.
Chrissy eyed Poppy and Matt nervously as she spoke to the caller. “Uh-huh . . . That’s what I told them, but . . .” Chrissy lowered her voice to a whisper and mumbled into her mouthpiece, “. . . they won’t leave. Should I call security?” Chrissy darted her eyes back and forth as she listened to her instructions. “Okay, I’ll tell them.” She ended the call and then addressed Poppy and Matt. “That was Ms. Van Damm. . . .”
“We never would’ve guessed,” Poppy cracked.
The sarcasm flew right over Chrissy’s head. “Anyway,” she said breathlessly, “she told me to tell you that she will not be coming back to the office today after her meetings so there is no point in waiting around for her.”
“Did you tell her just how important it is for us to speak to her?” Poppy huffed.
Chrissy nodded. “Yes. But I’m afraid she’s very busy. You might want to try calling tomorrow.”
Matt and Poppy had started to stand up when the elevator dinged, the door opened, and Hal Greenwood blew into the reception area, clutching a Starbucks cup, berating a wiry, young male assistant who chased behind him. “You’re a useless moron, do you know that? I asked for sugar-free vanilla in my latte, this is regular vanilla. I’m not an idiot, I can taste the difference.”
“I asked for sugar-free vanilla, the mistake must have happened on their end. . . .”
Hal hurled his cup at the male assistant, drenching his blue oxford shirt with hot coffee. The assistant had to bite down on his tongue to keep from yelping in pain. The cup bounced off the floor, splashing the rest of the contents all over the area rug. “Clean that up!” he barked at the assistant.
Chrissy Teigen sat upright, panicked, checking to make sure her desk was spotless, and then croaked, “Good afternoon, Mr. Greenwood, I hope you had a nice lunch.”
He stopped, his ugly demeanor instantly melting away, and broke into a wolfish grin as he looked his receptionist up and down. “Why are you wearing that outfit, Julia? Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”
Julia—the receptionist had a real name.
Before she could even respond, Hal was behind her and massaging her neck with his thick, pudgy, hairy-knuckled paws. She fought not to cringe at his touch.
Poppy could not help but audibly sigh with disgust.
Hal immediately glanced up to see where the sound was coming from. His face flushed with anger at the sight of Poppy and Matt. “What the hell are you two doing here?”
Matt jumped to his feet, never one to be intimidated. “Actually, we’re here to see—”
“Forget it! I don’t care! I want you two out of here!” Hal bellowed before spinning Julia around in her rolling chair and shouting down at her as she quite literally shrunk in her seat. “Why did you let them in here?”
“I d-d-didn’t,” she stammered. “They wouldn’t leave and—”
“The last thing I need is a couple of private eyes poking around my business trying to dig up dirt on me or my people!” Hal pointed a fat finger at the phone on her desk. “Call security! If they don’t leave voluntarily right now, I want them thrown out!”
“Yes, sir,” Julia cried, her hands shaking as she frantically searched for the right number to press on her phone.
“We just want to talk to you and Greta about Lulu,” Poppy said calmly.
Hal appeared genuinely perplexed. “Who?”
“You don’t remember her name?” Poppy scoffed.
“Lucy?” Hal asked, sweat slowly forming on his furrowed brow.
“Lulu,” Matt reiterated. “She was an extra on the set of Palm Springs Weekend.”
“I don’t know any Lulu!” Hal screamed before whirling back around to Julia again. “Did you call security yet? What’s taking so long?”
“I-I am working on it,” Julia said unsteadily, finally finding the correct button on her phone.
Hal barreled toward the door leading from the reception area to the production offices. When he tried the handle, it was locked.
“What are you waiting for, buzz me in! What the hell’s wrong with you?” Hal shouted at the frazzled receptionist whom he had been shamelessly flirting with just two minutes earlier.
“I-I was calling security, wait, I will—” Julia murmured, her trembling hands finally managing to press the button to open the door.
“What? You can’t do two things at once?” Hal barked.
Mercifully there was a buzz indicating the door was unlocked and Hal shoved it open and bustled into the back, the door slamming shut behind him.
Julia, who was now near tears, spoke in a jittery voice into her mouthpiece. “Yes, this is Julia on twelve. I need security up here immediately.”
Poppy climbed to her feet and joined Matt. “You can relax, Julia. We’re leaving.”
Matt called for the elevator, which was already on the twelfth floor, and he and Poppy casually stepped inside. As the doors closed, Matt called out to Julia, “If you’re not getting any combat pay for this war zone, I’d seriously consider finding a new job.”
It was the best advice he could have given anyone working at Hal Greenwood Productions, especially an attractive young woman with admirable physical assets.
Poppy and Matt rode the elevator down to the parking garage where they spotted Greta Van Damm’s car still parked in her reserved space. There was an empty visitor parking space at the end of the same row. Matt went to bring around his rental car and claim it so they could watch to see if and when Greta Van Damm believed they had finally gone and that it was safe to come down to her car and drive home unaccosted.
It was a long wait.
Matt slurped what was left of his Big Gulp and was now chewing on the ice. Poppy sat patiently in the passenger’s seat, her bones tired, dreading the two-hour drive back to Palm Springs they would have to endure after finally confronting Greta Van Damm.
Three hours later, when seven o’clock rolled around, and there was still no sign of Greta, Matt suggested they hang it up and head home. But Poppy insisted they give it a little more time, and her instinct paid off. At seven forty-five, the parking garage elevator doors opened, and they spotted Greta Van Damm, phone clamped to her ear, a large Marc Jacobs crossbody bag flung around her shoulder, march straight for her car in her assigned space. Poppy and Matt immediately jumped out of the rental, a Ford Fusion, and hurried over to intercept her. Greta heard the rapid clicking of heels, sensing them coming up behind her, and spun around, almost striking a defensive posture. She groaned and lowered her guard when she saw Poppy and Matt.
“You two just won’t give up, will you?” Greta sighed. “What can you possibly hope to gain by stalking me?”
“We had a very interesting conversation with Lulu Hopkins,” Poppy said sharply.
This got Greta’s attention. She appeared to steel herself for what was about to come next. “I’m sorry, who?” Greta asked lamely, her performance even more lackluster than the receptionist Julia’s.
“The extra who I saw you pay off with a big wad of cash,” Poppy said, taking a step closer. “Or are you going to deny that even happened?”
Greta’s nervous eyes flicked back and forth between Poppy and Matt. She was obviously agitated, then took a deep breath and exhaled. “Lulu should not be talking to anyone. She signed a legally binding NDA.”
“How many other women out there have signed similar NDAs for Hal Greenwood Productions?” Matt asked.
Poppy could feel her anger rising and she could no longer keep her thoughts bottled up inside of her. “The idea of these NDAs designed to cover up Hal Greenwood’s sexual misconduct is grotesque. But what I find even more insidious, more revolting, Greta, is your blatant complicity to protect a predator.”
Greta’s mouth dropped open in shock. “How dare you!”
“Am I mistaken?” Poppy spit out. “Are you saying you did not turn a blind eye to your boss’s abhorrent behavior, that you did not play a critical role in covering it all up for the sake of the company’s profit margin?”
“I-I don’t have to stand here and take this,” Greta sputtered as she fumbled in her bag for her car remote while hurrying toward her car.
Poppy and Matt did not chase after her, but stood in place, watching her run off, as Matt called out to her, “Did you do the same with Danika?”
Greta had just retrieved her remote and unlocked her Lexus when she stopped cold, stared at the ground a few moments, and then slowly turned back around to face Poppy and Matt. “Hal and I had nothing, repeat nothing, to do with that poor girl’s murder, and if you dare to suggest otherwise, we will sue you for defamation.”
“Okay, maybe you are innocent, but how can you be so sure about Hal? Were you with him on set at the time Danika was murdered?” Poppy asked.
Greta hesitated as she apparently went over the timetable in her mind, quickly realizing she could not vouch for her boss’s whereabouts, and managed to squeak out a resigned, “No.”
There was an icy silence.
Greta took a step toward them. “Look, I know Hal has his problems, and he’s many things, a jerk, a bully, a misogynist, but a killer? That’s ridiculous. I have to go.”
Greta was so rattled she dropped her car remote and had to bend over and pick it up off the ground, trembling even worse than the poor receptionist’s shaky hands back up on the twelfth floor. She glanced back at Poppy and Matt one more time, her eyes filled with fright, and then slid behind the wheel of her car and shut the door. The Lexus roared to life, the front and rear lights popping on, and Greta hastily backed out of the parking space to make a fast getaway. But her nerves obviously got the best of her, and she hit the gas a little too hard and banged right into the back of a BMW 750 parked directly across from her, smashing out both taillights.
Matt turned to Poppy and shook his head, grinning. “Looks like these car accidents are becoming an epidemic.”