Page 134 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Soaked to the Bone

“Do you think he knew his father was keeping money meant for
him?”
“Oh, now, Lieutenant: I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.
Timmy wouldn’t hurt a flea. All he wanted was a little recognition
from his father. Okay, I’m giving my opinion again. You’ll have to
find out for yourself.”
“I shall. He is waiting in the master bedroom. Let’s go.”

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Facing Tim at this point, particularly in my role as Miss Fix-it for
the police, was a daunting prospect. With or without his medication
his mood was unpredictable, ranging from sullen and monosyllabic to
manic and babbling. So I generally kept away from him, and the
repulsion was mutual. Was he interested in the opposite sex? I had
wondered, given his father’s roving eye and wandering hands, but
never saw any evidence of it until Fern Grotteau showed up. That
would-be starlet, plucked out of who-knows-what figurative chorus
line by G.F. in his ceaseless search for new talent—that is, anyone
not knowing enough to distrust him—was slated for the female lead
in this new movie, the one whose name was being batted about by
the studio’s Snappy Title Department like a shuttlecock. Tim, as if
under the strings of an invisible puppeteer, suddenly started shaping
up, showing up, cleaning up. The situation probably would have had
a tragic outcome, had Fish not been terminally removed from it:
Fern’s heart broken either by G.F. and his promises of stardom or by
Tim and his inevitable relapse into psychosis.
Well, it’s a spirit-crushing place, this city of dreams. The same
thing will take you to success and then lead you to crash and burn:
blind ambition. Blind to your own limitations as well as those of the
people upon whom you depend, you push, push, push until the
gamble with fate pays off, and the rewards provide insulation against
anything and anyone for the rest of your life—or, as in most cases,
until you lose and nothing is there, no inner resources or external
support system, to keep you from a very bruising fall. Taking your
knocks early on, lowering your expectations and developing a cynical
shell can keep you in the game at a low level—it worked for me. I
didn’t get the impression that Fern would do as well. She evidently

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