An
Incident Halfway to Hell
By Ian De Shils (Ernest
Shields)
Chapter 11
When Graham called confirming Paul's suspicions, he left Melva's side
and drove to the office. The preliminary audit showed Vitto had, indeed,
been draining money from both production companies. A total accounting
was yet to be made, but it appeared to be a sizable amount,--- quite possibly
in the range of ten million. Still it made no sense to Paul why Vitto would
want Melva out of the picture; she was the one who he'd preyed on
the most. The scheme was slick, so slick in fact it was hard to spot. Vitto
used cost overruns to cover the discrepancies. He padded extra days into
the shooting schedules; billing back as much as fifty grand each shoot in
expenses that didn't occur. And from what Graham determine he'd gotten away
with it for years! The totals he could pass on later, for the moment
though, the information he had was more than enough. He picked up the phone
and dialed a well-memorized number. As always, it was answered on the first
ring,
A few hours later when detective Lafayette arrived at Melva's Bel Air estate,
he found the staff confused and upset. Miss Birch rushed out taking only
a suitcase and no one knew where to reach her. They called everyone they
could think of and not even her attorney, Paul Markey knew where she was.
Lafayette knew the name Markey, in fact it was the second on his list of
interviews for the day. When O'Brian told his story about Melva Birch, it
seemed far-fetched until Anders jumped in with the same information, adding
that earlier in the day, she admitted hiring Wilson.
It still didn't jell. A beating was one thing, Martinez, however claimed
Wilson ordered a hit. When the man was found, they might have an answer,
in the meantime, Lafayette needed statements from everyone. The D.A. wanted
action, in fact he was screaming for it. Lafayette was rather ticked Anders
hadn't volunteered his suspicions during their first interview, but as the
man said, he had no proof then and no way of knowing Wilson was involved.
He left Bel Air and headed for the Birchline offices, fully convinced the
charges against Melva Birch were true. Her sudden departure cinched
it. When confronted, Paul Markey admitted knowing about Wilson, saying Melva
told him on Tuesday, but he denied knowing her present whereabouts.
“She's frightened. I advised her not to do anything rash, but it's possible
she went to Europe. She has friends there.” That lead turned out to be
wrong. Three days later Melva was detained at the Canadian border and brought
back to California for questioning. Again, Paul worked his legal magic.
Instead of jail without bond, he arranged a tethered house arrest in Bel
Air. He did after all, have friends in the right places.
Right in the middle of Melva's hectic three-day run, Paul received news
Vitto died in a freak accident on Maui, a slip while filming a lava flow.
The phone call gave no other information and that bothered Paul a great
deal. It left unanswered the question of why Vitto set up Melva in the first
place, and why he ordered a hit on O'Brian. He was missing something, but
he couldn't figure it out. His fervent hope was the cops would soon catch
Wilson, since he was the one person who could clear Melva of what would
likely be an attempted murder charge.
Two weeks later, Casey was out of the hospital. Not yet able to care of
himself, Hoot brought him home to Woodland Hills and installed him in the
third bedroom. Scotty then swapped sleeping arrangements with Casey's parents
who were staying at Casey's bungalow. Dan was grateful. Casey's place
consisted of just one room in what once was a bungalow motel. He found it
confining and the constant traffic noise from the street was wearing on
a man used to country quiet.
“It won't be for long,” he assured Scott, “As soon as Casey is up and about,
Ma and me are heading home. Spring planting is coming up and the soil hasn't
been prepped yet.”
“I'm moving on myself, in about a week.” Scotty replied, “The cops said
they don't need me for anything, so I'm gonna head up to Oregon to visit
another old Army buddy, actually there's two or three guys up there I'd
like to see. I'll be back in a few weeks though. I kind of like California
and figure on settling down here.”
“Hoot told us you had a girlfriend, is she the reason?” Mary asked.
Scott grinned,“Oh, Cathy is a terrific gal all right, absolutely
fantastic.”
“So, maybe there's wedding bells in the future?” Mary prodded
“No, not for me. Cathy wants a family. I don't know if Hoot told you or
not, but I carry a genetic heart defect. I won't pass it on.”
“There is always adoption.” Mary said
“Yeah, and there are young widows and twice orphaned children to think
about, too.”
Mary shook her head, “Life doesn't come with guarantees. No one knows
how long we're going to be on this earth. Look at Casey! Young, healthy
and with everything to live for and yet it didn't mean a thing. Anyway,
it's not how long you live, it's how you live it. Just don't sit on your
hands, Scott McDermott, and let happiness pass you by.”
Dan rolled his eyes, “I'm afraid you've got her started. Mary,--- why
don't you leave the poor guy alone?”
Scotty laughed, “Hey, I don't mind. It's been years since anyone worried
about me, anyone as nice as your lady, anyway. You're probably right, Mary,
I do look at life through the wrong end of the telescope. I'll think about
it, I promise. Okay?”
Ten days later Casey's parents left for home. Scott went north, and against
all of Hoot's many protests, Casey moved back to his bungalow to care for
his plants. The doctor warned him about possible sleep disturbances, bad
dreams, insomnia etc., yet Casey seemed impervious to it all. He
slept like a rock at Hoot's house. It was only after he moved back to his
own place he started having dreams. Now, they woke him each time he closed
his eyes, but these weren't simply dreams; they were horrible, terrifying
nightmares and always the same; each one ending with something black and
ominous oozed toward him while he remained unable to flee. The dreams left
him shaken, dripping in cold sweat and unwilling to close his eyes again
for fear of bringing on another.
Finally, after one particularly terrifying episode he got dressed and drove
to Woodland Hills. It was after two in the morning when he stood on Hoot's
porch pressing the bell. Half awake, Hoot staggered into the hall still
tying a robe around his frame as flipped on the porch light, “Good God,
Case,--- what's the matter? You're as white as a ghost.”
“Those dreams I was telling you about. I can't seem to get any sleep at
home. Can I stay here tonight?”
“Didn't I tell you it was too soon to leave? The doctor warned you about
this. Now, you're moving back here and that's it! Tomorrow, I'm bringing
over all your stuff, including those stupid plants.”
Hoot dragged him inside and put him to bed in the same room he occupied
before. An hour and a half later Hoot was up again when Casey began
to thrash and moan. He sat on the bed rubbing Casey's back, easing him out
of the nightmare. “Case, you've got to relax. You're caught up in a cycle,
the dreams are causing you to worry about having more dreams, so naturally
you dream.”
“I'm sorry, Hoot. Guess I can't sleep here either. I'll just go
home and see the doctor tomorrow, he'll give me something.”
“Yeah, sure,--- and then you can get hooked on pills like you were on
booze. You're not going anywhere. We'll work this out. Come on, let's try
my bed, I need room to stretch out.”
“You don't have to do that, I'll be okay.”
“Yes, by God you will be,--- now move your butt!” He pushed Case
out of bed and they relocated down the hall. “Half your problem is you don't
know how to get comfortable. Get rid of the B.V.D.'s.” Casey looked at
him questioningly. “You heard me,--- strip. Trying to sleep in those things
would give me nightmares, too.” Casey did as he was told. Hoot shucked
his robe and slid between the sheets as well.
“Now isn't that better?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he
grabbed Casey and pulled him into a close embrace. Startled by the move
Casey edged away, but Hoot simply snagged him back again. “Lie still,”
he ordered. He snuggled and wormed until their bodies were spooned tightly
together, and he began to pet and stroke Casey's shoulders and chest in
an intimate and rather provocative way.
Casey thought of all the times they were close in the past. The back rubs
and massages, applying each other's body make up during shoots, the wrestling
and horsing around friends do, but nothing came close to this. This went
beyond comforting, in fact it was downright sensual and no matter how he
fought the feeling, he found himself responding to it. Tapping Hoot's
encircling arm he tried to make light of it,
“You'd better cool it, Big Boy,--- you might get more than you bargained
for!”
“Oh, you think so, huh?” Hoot snuggled even closer.
“Please, Hoot,--- this is really uncomfortable for me . . .”
“Will you stop worrying about every little thing?” Hoot replied. “Didn't,
you tell me not to be self-conscious? Well, I'm not, but now all
of a sudden you're acting like a prig. Forget it, just lie still and go
to sleep.”
“I can't,--- not like this. The 'little thing' that worry's me at this
moment is the one you've got pressed against my back. If you think this
exercise in togetherness is making me feel safe and drowsy, you're wrong.
It's doing just the opposite. “
“You haven't given it a chance!” Hoot replied.
“And I'm not going to. This has ceased to be funny and it's uncomfortable
as hell for me. You're being too suggestive,--- too sexy,--- damn it,
Hoot,--- I'm gay!”
“Well,--- duh! I told you to stop worrying. If you get all horned
up we'll take care of it.”
“We'll what?” Casey gasped.
“You heard me! For Christ's sake, Case, haven't you figured it out yet?
I'm putting the make on you!”
“But,--- but.--- but you've always said you weren't sexually attracted
to men.”
“So, I lied.” Hoot's voice was light and cheerful. Casey was surrounded
by the man. From neck to ankle Hoot's warm, muscular body lay against his
back while his chest, arms and belly was being gently massaged by Hoot's
large, broad palm. Lower and lower the hand went until the fingers brushed
Casey's pubic hair. “Hell, Case, we should have done this a long time
ago.” Hoot whispered as his fingers finally made full contact with Casey's
groin. Casey tensed. He wasn't buying a word of it. Jabbing an elbow backwards
into the big man's ribs, he growled,
“Okay, that's it! You can let go of me,--- RIGHT NOW!” Sliding to the edge
of the bed he fumbled with a switch and in the dull glow of lamplight turned
to look at Hoot, “Are you telling me after all this time you've suddenly
got the hots for me?” His voice held a note of disbelief.
“Well,--- not all of a sudden, but,--- yes, I do.” Hoot replied. Gone
was the cheerful note. In it's place an indefinable sadness. “But I guess
you don't feel the same, do you? Look, I'm really sorry, Case, I got carried
away. I was just trying to let you know how much you mean to me, but I screwed
it up. Damn, I'm an idiot.”
“Well, that makes two of us, I almost believed you! I guess they
were talking about idiots when they said it takes one to know one.” Casey
shook his head. “So, tell me Hoot, how did you plan on 'taking care of
it' once you managed to get me horned up? A hand job? You must of
had something in mind, or was it your idea I'd do the work,--- you know,
like in the porn flicks,--- let the faggot gets his rocks off by doin' the
straight boy. Was that the plan?”
“Please, Case, don't talk like that,--- you know I'd never, . .
.”
“Ah, then this whole thing was only a diversion tactic!”
“It wasn't like that.” Hoot protested.
“Oh, yes it was! In fact that is exactly what it was. You were trying
to take my mind off the dreams, weren't you? You're still blaming yourself
for the shooting!”
"No, I'm not!”
“You liar! I know exactly how you think! Now you listen up. The shooting
wasn't your fault, and neither are my nightmares! I'll work this out eventually,
and I sure as hell don't need a mercy fuck to get over it!”
“A mercy fuck? God, but you can be crude sometimes. Look, I thought
if you were completely relaxed you might be able to sleep. I can't stand
seeing you so scared you can't close your eyes. God Damn it, Case, I care
about you!”
“Well, I care about you, too, but I'm a tad particular who I have sex
with.”
A pained expression crossed Hoot's face. “I see,” he said. “I never
realized you found me so repulsive.”
Casey threw his hands in the air. “I give up! You don't even know what
I'm talking about, do you? Look, my tender hearted friend, you are the most
desirable man I know. I love you, Pal, with all my heart, but that
doesn't mean I'm willing to mess around with you. It would only ruin what
we have now. You're straight! Gay sex would leave you as empty and dissatisfied
as straight sex leaves me.”
“You seem damned sure of that!”
“I am. Remember, I've been through it all.”
“Then, tell me something, Einstein” Hoot demanded, “how come I get so
fucking jealous every time you have a boyfriend? That surfer last summer
,--- I could have strangled that jerk.”
“You were jealous of Brad?”
“Out of my mind! I kept having panic attacks. It was awful; the worst fucking
summer I ever spent. All you could talk about was that jerk's upcoming
competition in Hawaii and all the time I kept hoping the bastard would
drown or get eaten by a shark.”
The confession stunned Casey. Hoot never said a word, never given a hint.
A light suddenly went on in his head illumination the fact Hoot had been
dropping hints all along, only he hadn't recognized them as such. How obvious,---
I must have been asleep, he thought. Hoot's desert hideaway so reminiscent
of the places they stayed in Mexico. The crossed swords above the fireplace;
all those enlarged pictures of him and Hoot together,--- everything, even
the color scheme,--- burgundy and white, Casey's favorite. It was a long
moment before Casey found his voice,
“When you called from Vegas, you said there was something we needed to
talk about. Is this it?”
Hoot nodded.
“How long have you been chewing on this?”
“I don't know,--- a couple of years, I guess,--- since you left Melva.
It got so damn lonely at Birchline without you, Case, I damn near went
nuts. Melva knew something was wrong but I covered by telling her I
had girlfriend troubles.”
“TWO YEARS? And you never said a word? You let me get involved with Brad;
let me run my mouth about him all last summer, and never once opened your
yap? Hootsagen Timothy Anders,--- I ought a' kick your ass!”
Casey never got around to the attempted ass kicking. He abruptly found
himself with more interesting ways to occupy his time. There were years
to make up for; things to do, places to go, mornings to awaken wrapped in
the warm arms of a man who turned out to be as superlative a lover as he
was a friend. Hoot had been on the right track of course; when one is happy,
content, satisfied and fulfilled, nightmares are about as substantial as snowballs
in hell.