When they reached his house—an impressive Colonial sitting on a nice-size lot—he was waiting for them on a rocker on his porch.
“Beautiful house,” Sophie Manning said as they came up the walk.
He rose, beaming. “Thank you! Magic money. I produced music videos for years. I’m retired now. Thankfully, music videos took off like pure gold—as long as you picked the right bands. I had a knack for picking them. Didn’t always like them myself, but I knew what other people might like, and I usually knew why, as well.”
“Good for you, sir,” Sophie said.
The man looked like a contented retiree. He was grandfatherly with snow-white hair in a small tidy Afro, a pleasant face and faded golden-brown eyes that were striking against his dark skin. He shook hands with all of them as they introduced themselves.
“The officer who interviewed you said you saw someone wearing a Blood-bone costume in the neighborhood, and you believed it was a woman. We’re trying to find out if you would elaborate on that—or perhaps tell us anything else that might have occurred to you,” Bryan said.
“Sure. Come in?” he offered.
“Thank you,” Sophie said.
The three of them followed him into his house. They entered a hallway, and then a living room with period antebellum furniture, and a wall full of golden records and awards. Sophie chatted with him; he offered them drinks and they all declined.
And then they sat down and he talked.
“Here’s the thing. I was just sitting there on my rocker on the porch, and then I saw the Blood-bone character. Coming toward me, right from Barham. Arms swinging, just as nonchalant as could be. A car would pass and someone would call out, and Blood-bone would raise an arm, click a finger as if he had a gun and wave on. No one gave him any heed. No more so than when you see a mascot in front of a nugget place...a cow telling you to eat more chicken...or, you know, any kind of a come-on.”
“Exactly. But did you see where the Blood-bone was coming from?” Bryan asked.
“Down from Barham,” Madrigal said.
“And he headed...?” Jackson asked.
“Up just around the next corner,” Madrigal said.
“And you think it was a woman?” Bryan pressed quietly.
“Well, it could have been a woman. The movement, you know. When I was speaking with the young officer, I did suggest that. If not a woman, I think it was someone—and this is going to sound strange—either older, or just the opposite. Someone who has done stunts. If you watch any of the Blood-bone movies, you’ll see that the Blood-bones are pros, actors who specialize in creatures, in movement.”
“What do you mean?” Jackson said.
Bryan turned to him to explain to the best of his ability. “‘Suit’ actors almost never appear as themselves. They are giant animals, robots or whatever kind of being or creature. Actors who specialize in characters often take on acting jobs as themselves, meaning that they take on roles like anyone else, roles in which their natural faces and bodies are shown. But they are also especially talented in the art of wearing and moving in makeup and prosthetics. Take an actor such as Doug Jones—he is a fine actor with no special makeup or effects. But he was also Billy Bones in Hocus Pocus, Abe Sapien in the Hellboy movies, a number of creatures in Pan’s Labyrinth, and I couldn’t begin to tell you just how many other films he was in as himself or as a character.”
“Doug Jones is a phenomenal actor,” Sophie said enthusiastically. “He makes everything real. In my mind, there’s such a difference, having an actor...or some obvious special effect.”
“You still need effects,” Bryan said.
“Of course. But in my mind, a lot of the old work was so much better than way too much digital manipulation,” Sophie said. She frowned as her words left her mouth and said, “That didn’t come out right. I was referring to CGI—computer-generated images. I happen to love a lot of the older work. Rick Baker—Oh, I remember when I was young and my brother let me watch his DVD of An American Werewolf in London! The work when David Naughton turned into a werewolf was phenomenal!”
Sophie definitely had Ben Madrigal’s attention; it was a good situation. If they should need the man’s help again, they would get it.
“Doug Jones is amazing. You also have men like Andy Serkis and Brian Steele. And, going back, few compare with the true master—Lon Chaney Jr!” Ben Madrigal said.
Bryan smiled; he hadn’t had this kind of talk about the movies in a long time.
Not since his parents had died.
But though the conversation was nice, Bryan wasn’t sure that they’d learned anything.
It could have been a woman.
Roberta Alan.
It could have been an older man.
Jeremy Highsmith.
It could have been any actor, one with specific training or natural talent...
“Excuse me,” he said. “I just need to make a quick call.” He headed to the hallway at the entrance to the home and dialed Angela’s number.
“I was about to call you. We’re expecting David Neal here at any minute,” Angela told him. “I’m fine, but I wanted you to know.”
“Why is he coming? I thought he’d already been interviewed.”
“He is bringing a play—an old play, specially ordered—to Marnie.”
“When you can, I would appreciate it if you could look into the professional backgrounds of Malcolm Dangerfield, Roberta Alan, Grayson Adair—and David Neal. Find out if any of them have done any creature or ‘suit’ work in the past.”
“All right. Will do.”
“We’re nearly done here. See you soon.”
He said goodbye and went in.
They were talking about the height of the person. “Ah, here’s the thing. I should have paid more attention, but then...I’ve lived in LA my whole life. I’ve seen every manner of everything walk by. I’m pretty sure the Blood-bone didn’t give a damn if he was or wasn’t seen. Although... Wow, after that poor actress was murdered at the comic con, maybe I should have paid attention. It’s just that...the character is loved. Hated. People love to hate Blood-bone. Hope I made sense with that one.”
“You did. Not to worry. There’s a Horror-palooza that starts tomorrow, and they’re banning all official Blood-bone costumes and turning away con-goers who show up as Blood-bone,” Sophie said. “But come Halloween, I can just about guarantee you there will be a lot of Blood-bones out there.”
“The show must go on,” Ben said. “And money talks. We all know that. Still, after what has happened, after everything on the news... I should have paid a lot more attention. I should have noticed height. I did notice movement, but...I couldn’t tell you if the Blood-bone was five-six or six feet even or even taller. I just couldn’t say.”
Sophie said sincerely, “Thank you so very much for your help.”
“Indeed. Young lady, you call on me anytime, you understand? And, of course, you, Special Agent Crow, and you, too, Mr. McFadden.” He smiled at Bryan suddenly. “I knew your dad—great man. Looked like a linebacker, most gentle, courteous guy you’d ever want to meet. Kind of quiet but so very kind to everyone around.”
“If you knew my mother, you’d know he didn’t get many words in edgewise,” Bryan said, smiling. “But thank you. Yeah, I think my dad was a great guy. But forgive me. He did a music video? If so, I didn’t know anything about it.”
“No, before I did music videos, I was a PA—production assistant,” he added.
“I think I knew that,” Jackson said.
“Anyway, I worked on a flick called A Strange and Deadly Darkness. Crime film, a bit on the noir side. Your dad was great.”
“I remember. It was a movie based on a Poe story about a chimp having been trained to kill. The private investigator in the film was my dad, and he worked in a dark and seedy office in NYC. Some of the killings were in Central Park.”
“Re-created right here in Hollywood,” Madrigal said.
They thanked him again and headed out.
As Bryan had suspected, he’d taken the keys and done the driving while Jackson and Sophie had discussed the merits of each of them driving.
He drove back to the station to drop Sophie off to report to Vining, and he and Jackson headed back to Marnie’s duplex.