44

KARISSA AND THE MOVIE

The film reaches the final scenes as Blair Kendrick’s story moves into the present day. The setting is a quiet almond farm in Wasco, California, where the former actress has come to live in her twilight years. In a montage of short vignettes, we see the Webster family conspiring with Blair to attract the attention of a film producer in Hollywood—a woman named Karissa Glover.

In a voice-over, the Blair character declares, “After doing a lot of research about producers in Hollywood, I knew Karissa was the one who could tell the truth about what had happened. If we could get her into my house on South Harvard Boulevard, I believed that she would become interested in it. Our hints could not be overt, but I knew she was smart enough to eventually figure out the path she needed to take. Then, when we were finally face-to-face, I could give her my journals and tell her the whole thing. The absolutely wonderful truth about this story.”

Actors portraying Karissa Glover and Marcello Storm are standing next to Blair’s bed in her room at the farm, holding her hands.

“But, unfortunately, she had to learn all the nasty parts first.”

Blair had not shifted her position under the sheet that covered her raised knees and chest, although relating the tale of how she had killed Buddy Franco had taken a lot out of her. The woman continued to wheeze as she spoke to Karissa. “I’ve been waiting … for you. I’ve wanted to meet you … for so long. There is so much … I have to say to you.”

“And I look forward to it. But maybe you should rest now, Blair.”

Blair shook her head. “Franco … he … wasn’t the only one …”

“You don’t have to talk,” Karissa insisted. “I’ll read the journals. You need to—”

“I also killed … Eldon Hirsch …” She squeezed both of their hands tightly.

Karissa had figured that was so, but the revelation was still startling. “Hush now. Save your strength.”

But the floodgates were open. “And there … were … others … I—”

A muffled scream and scuffling in the stairwell interrupted her.

Gregory started. “What the—?”

Karissa and Marcello turned to see Barry Doon burst into the room holding Carol Webster, one hand over her mouth, and the other holding a semiautomatic pistol that was pointing at her head.

“Hey, mister,” Gregory began, “Please don’t—”

“Shut up!” Doon shoved Carol into the room and into her husband’s arms. “Get in there with them.” He remained in the doorway, his bald head soaked in sweat, his gun trained on everyone and no one. Karissa and Marcello remained frozen by the bed. Gregory held Carol, and with Serena they moved so that their backs were against the wall. Blair kept silent, her eyes boring holes through the intruder.

“You!” Karissa snapped with venom.

“So, this is where she’s been hiding all this time,” Doon said. “Tonino and I knew that if we kept tabs on missy there”—he indicated Karissa—“that she’d lead us to her eventually.” He addressed Karissa. “You sure don’t know how to lose a tail.” Then, to both her and Marcello, he barked, “Let me see your hands.”

Together they raised their arms.

“Stand over there with them, your backs against the wall.”

The couple joined Gregory, Carol, and Serena.

“This all ends here.” He laughed and addressed Karissa. “You just don’t take a hint as easily as we thought you would, even when I shot at you on your front porch and missed on purpose.”

He shook his head, and then his free hand dipped into a pocket. He pulled out a colorful, wrinkled business card and threw it on the floor, where it landed faceup. Karissa was horrified to see that it was from the gold and rare coin collector shop, with Seymour’s cartoon caricature.

“Once we knew you had some of the coins, my orders changed from scaring you away from making your stupid movie to keeping tabs on you to maybe lead us to this woman. Your talk with the Trundys clinched it,” the man snarled. “I’d sure hate to be the police detective whose job it is to figure this one out! Six bodies in an upstairs bedroom, nothing stolen. Two Hollywood film producers, a couple of nut farmers, some dame, and an old bag who everyone thought was dead for decades.”

“Mr. Doon—” Karissa started.

“Shut up!” He glared at her. “There’s nothing you can say that’s going to change anything. When I’m done with you, I’ll go back and take care of the Trundys.”

“Wait.”

Blair had spoken in a quiet, tentative voice.

Doon was surprised to hear her speak. “Did you say something?”

“Wait,” she repeated. “Come … here …”

“What?”

“I want … to … tell you … a secret …”

“I don’t care to know one.”

“About … coins?”

Doon’s eyes narrowed. “You still have them? Where are they?”

“Come … closer …”

He kept the gun trained on the other five people standing against the wall. “You people don’t move. Keep your hands up. If any one of you so much as flinches, I’ll shoot. I can’t guarantee which one of you I’ll hit, but someone will go down. Do you understand?”

No one said a word.

“Do you understand?”

They all nodded and spoke together. “Yes.” “Yes, sir.” “Uh huh.”

Doon walked further into the room, still aiming the pistol at them. Slowly, he moved sideways toward the bed. When he reached it, he kept his eyes on the quintet as he spoke to Blair. “Okay, talk, lady. I’m here.”

“Please … come … closer,” Blair whispered, barely able to speak.

Doon awkwardly leaned over so that his ear was nearer her face. “Okay, tell me.”

Blair’s arm, which had been hidden beneath the sheet, moved and emerged into view. Her shaking hand held a Smith & Wesson revolver—but her age and weak condition slowed her timing, spoiling the surprise.

Doon snapped his left hand around Blair’s wrist and thrust her arm away from him. “What the—?”

Her finger squeezed the trigger and the deafening retort elicited cries of fright from the captives standing against the wall. The round perforated the ceiling, causing bits of plaster to sprinkle over Doon and Blair. She attempted to force her arm toward him, but his strength was too much for her. The gun fell away from her hand, slid over the bed, and dropped to the floor.

“You bitch!” Reflexively, he brought his own gun-wielding right hand over and struck her, prompting Marcello to instinctively leap forward, grab Doon’s gun arm, and force it upward so that his pistol also pointed at the ceiling. Marcello then quickly wrapped his sinewy left arm around Doon’s neck and applied intense pressure. Doon writhed and struggled, attempting to backkick Marcello’s leg and knee.

The others stood frozen, unable to fathom what was unfolding before them. Karissa, however, looked down and saw that Blair’s weapon was inches away from her feet. Without hesitation, she stooped, picked it up, and pointed it at Doon. She then moved closer and rammed the barrel against the studio fixer’s temple.

“Drop your goddamned gun, Doon!” she growled.

Marcello’s arm tightened around the man’s throat. “Do it or I’ll break your fucking neck!”

“Or I’ll blow your brains out,” added Karissa.

The struggle didn’t last long. Doon let go of his semiautomatic, allowing it to fall to the floor. Gregory came to life and rushed to pick it up. Marcello jerked Doon away from Blair’s bed, knocking over the guest chairs, and pulled him toward the door.

“You have a place where we can keep this bastard on ice?” Marcello asked.

“I have just the spot,” Gregory answered. “The cold storage freezer. Come on, let’s get him downstairs.” He turned back to Blair and Karissa. “You were right, Blair.” To Karissa: “She wanted to be armed in case you guys were followed here. She’s one smart lady.” He nodded at his family. “Carol, Serena, are you all right?”

“I think so,” Carol answered.

“Yeah,” Serena replied with a swallow.

“Better go call the police, and they should bring an ambulance, too. Tell them we’ve had a home intruder who tried to kill us.”

Carol gathered her wits and left the room. Serena followed, saying, “I’ll go, too—I think I need to throw up.”

Marcello eyed Karissa, who was still holding the Smith & Wesson. “Are you all right?”

“God. I don’t know.” She was trembling. “I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry. I knew he was following me. I thought I’d lost him. I was stupid.”

“No, no,” her partner said. “Your quick thinking just now saved us. Come on, Gregory.”

The men strong-armed Doon out to the stairs, leaving Karissa alone with Blair. She righted a chair, set the gun on it, and moved closer to the bed to take the woman’s still-quivering hand.

“What about you? God, Blair, are you okay?”

Blair’s breathing was terribly strained, but she managed to emit a quiet little laugh. “Now you’re … the femme fatale.”

Karissa smiled but shook her head. “No, I’m not. Try to take it easy. Help is on the way.”

“No use. I’m … dying,” she whispered.

“The ambulance will be here soon.”

Blair gently squeezed Karissa’s hand. “Don’t worry … about me. My time … is up. Finally.”

“Don’t say that.”

They were quiet for a moment, save for the pronounced wheezing. Then, Blair said, “I … must tell you … about my granddaughter. Don’t stop me or I may not … finish.”

Karissa nodded. “All right. I was going to ask if you ever found out what happened to her.”

The woman closed her eyes. After a beat, she spoke slowly and softly, barely getting the words out. “After Franco … I went back … to Costa Rica. I hired a private detective in LA … to help Ray find her. She was placed in an orphanage … in Las Vegas. We learned she was … adopted. To a loving home.”

“Did you ever see her? How long have you been back in the States?”

Blair started to gasp for air.

“Oh, Jesus,” Karissa muttered. She heard faint sirens approaching the farm.

“I came back … in ’91 … when Ray became ill. Carol and Gregory … were already here, so I … came to stay and work with them. It was a quiet … anonymous life. But I knew all about my … granddaughter and kept tabs on her. The girl’s family lived … in a town upstate. She grew up and … made a life of her own.”

Karissa smiled. “Oh, that’s good. What’s her name?”

The woman managed to answer, “Her name was … Julia.”

Karissa blinked. She felt as if she’d been punched in the chest. “Julia?”

“Does that name … mean anything to you?” Blair prompted gently.

Karissa swallowed, unable to find her voice.

Blair added, “Her adoptive parents … renamed the little girl. They thought it might be … better for her, so she wouldn’t have any … traumatic psychological attachments to the name … Julia.” Then the woman spoke ever so faintly, “I once gave her … a birthday present … a doll …”

Karissa closed her eyes as they welled. “… with the name ‘Julia’ sewn into her dress. Oh my God … her parents renamed the little girl—”

Blair squeezed her hand again. “—Karissa.”

Looking at her grandmother through tears, Karissa bent down, embraced the woman, and held her tightly until Blair Kendrick died in her arms—just as the police and paramedic vehicles pulled up to the house.