Hollywood is an All Volunteer Army by Steven Paul Leiva Page A

“A” player, but a young, aggressive, hungry woman with a very show biz name. It was a good, politically correct, fit. She took the job, after protracted negotiations that ended by shocking the town over how much she got the Swedes to pay her. It seemed to have been worth it, though, for she started to bring Olympic back with reasonably budgeted popcorn movies starring hit TV actors doing exactly what they did best on TV. Big screen action films for small screen action actors. Big screen dumb comedies for small screen sitcom actors. It became known as the Hutton Formula.
    And the dark side? People didn’t really like her, or rather; artists didn’t like her because she had a supercilious attitude towards them, contemptuous and chilly—she thought all of them were nothing but clowns. That’s why she was most successful working with those who, if they really wanted what they wanted—as opposed to those who had much too much of what they had always wanted—had no option but to grin, bear, and bitch about her in private while they smiled, sought out, and pursued her in public. Then, of course, there was the sex. The rumors were of many, varied, and young—dangerously young on occasion. The talk was of leverage, power, and force, brutally applied on occasion. The blind eye was well-turned, though—out of a sort of strange industry courtesy.
    Was she capable of murder? Roee’s opinion was that all motion picture executives had the potential for violence, but that was just the playwright in him. Murder is probably the least effective—and certainly the most messy—way a motion picture executive has to put a crimp in the career of a creative person. How could it possibly be satisfying? Death has a tendency to desensitize a person. What joy was there for a motion picture executive in contemplating the cessation of suffering?

Chapter Seven

A Snippy Piece

    The next morning I got onto the line with the Captain, my “employee” at the LAPD. We never mention or use his name for obvious reasons. He is well placed in Internal Affairs, which makes him valuable to me, as the latitude that gives him becomes a far-reaching tool. On the secure line of The Phone, he was able to give me the details.
    â€œThe body was found just outside Nome, Alaska, in a snow drift on the Bering Sea. The drift was being moved by a snow plow clearing an area for golf.”
    â€œGolf?”
    â€œYes, it seems they play golf on the frozen sea up there. Use orange golf balls. You know, because white balls—”
    â€œYes, the obstacles to normal play are not hard to imagine.”
    â€œAnyway, they try to ricochet the balls into sunken, flagged coffee cans before losing them among built up chucks of ice. Big golf classic every March, brings in players from all over the world. This was just for locals, of course.”
    â€œWho found her?”
    â€œGuy by the name of Don Henderson of Arctic Circle Snow Removal.”
    â€œI assume that’s a business that suffers no depression up there.”
    â€œYeah. Anyway, he was plowing away when he caught sight of some color and stopped for a look-see. Was rather shocked to find the body. Knew immediately that it wasn’t a local.”
    â€œSure. Small town. He must know practically everybody.”
    â€œWell, it wasn’t that so much as she was wearing a Donna Karan evening gown and high heels. Not your typical dress for Nome, where even business people prefer the layered look and good, sensible walking shoes.”
    â€œShe wasn’t killed in Alaska.”
    â€œYeah, even the local police figured that out. They called in the Alaska State Troopers who flew the body down to Anchorage for the autopsy. No coroner or medical examiner in Nome.”
    â€œWhat was the autopsy report?”
    â€œCause of death: electrocution.”
    â€œElectrocution?”
    â€œIt gets odder.”
    â€œOkay.