Neil McMahon - L.A. Mental

L.A. Mental

A Thriller

Neil McMahon

www.harpercollins.com

To Carl Lennertz, who has carried me for a thousand pages

I can feel the heat closing in, feel them out there making their moves, setting up their devil doll stool pigeons...

W ILLIAM S. B URROUGHS

Contents

Los Angeles Times , February 2

Bizarre Rampage Leaves Judge in Critical Condition

Police were summoned to the Santa Monica home of municipal court judge Allen Berthold by neighbors late last night. Reports of shouting and breaking glass led them to expect a crime in progress, but it now appears that Berthold was alone through the entire incident.

According to a source who spoke on condition of anonymity, Berthold had damaged his house extensively, throwing furniture through windows and streaking the walls with his own blood. It looked like hed been running around trying to bash his brains out, the source said. He was unconscious when police arrived, and they have refused to speculate as to a possible cause. He was taken to Cedars-Sinai hospital and is listed in stable but critical condition.

Los Angeles Times , March 5

Accused Celeb Heiress in Pool Accident

One of the decades most sensational murder cases took a twist last night when Pamela Dutton, a onetime Miss California and widow of wealthy philanthropist Clifford Dutton, was found in a coma in the pool of her Beverly Hills condo.

In 2006, less than two years after their May-December marriage (Mr. Dutton was eighty-three, his wife, thirty-six), she was accused of murdering him by pushing him off their yacht. After a highly publicized trial, she was acquitted and the death ruled accidental, leaving her more than $200 million. The verdict was bitterly contested by prosecutors and by Mr. Duttons family. This acrimony was recently renewed when she announced her engagement to investment banking magnate Warren DeKampe.

No official details have been released, but private sources say that alcohol and drugs dont appear to be factors.

Pasadena Star-News , April 7

CalTech Tragedy Saddens, Disturbs

CalTech graduate student Peter Janacek died last night in an apparent suicide by running onto the westbound Foothill Freeway. He was struck by several vehicles before traffic could stop, and pronounced dead at the scene.

Janacek, twenty-six, was a doctoral candidate in astrophysics. Friends describe him as a talented student, cheerful and well-adjusted. He had followed his usual evening routine of going to work in one of the schools labs, although no one has reported seeing him during the last hours before his death.

T o anyone paying close attention, the city of Los Angeles seemed to be going insane.

This was not just the usual everyday madness, but people erupting in destructive rampages, all directed at themselves. Over the past year, almost forty such incidents had made the front pages and nightly newscasts, with many more that had not.

Gunnar Kelso sat working at his laptopcopying and pasting online news clips to update the file that he kept of the incidents. It was evening, and he was very much alone in an old log hunting lodge in the mountains outside L.A. His makeshift office was arranged, with a careful appearance of carelessness, to suggest his former life. The bookshelves were stacked with scientific texts and journals, the desk scattered with computer printouts of complex equations and modular graphics. A text in German on the physics of magnetic resonance lay open to his left.

Kelso paused a moment in regret at the third clip, the CalTech student. That had been a mistake.

P erfume, Gerald Wainwright thoughtmaybe that was what was getting to him, prickling his sinuses and making his head feel like a balloon was blowing up inside.

The party was like a thousand other glossy Hollywood events hed been toa plush house in Beverly Hills stuffed with young actors, hangers-on, and a sprinkling of local celebrities and players. A few, like Wainwright, had the money to back up their stature here.

As the vibrant lovelies came around flirting, he basked in their fragrance, imagining how the warm aura would exude from their skin when they were wearing only that and jewelry. But tonight, it seemed hed had too much of a good thing. He felt euphoric but unsettled. He put down his drink, eased his way out of the crowded room, and stepped through a sliding glass door onto a patio. The night air was cool and fresh from the April breeze, and he walked into it gratefully, letting it wash over his face and into his lungs.

Hiding from the girls, Gerald? a womans voice said from the doorway.

He swung around to look back. The partys hostess, Cynthia Trask, was coming outside to join him.

Not from you, Wainwright said, although his smile was guarded. She was damned attractive, in her late thirties, but with a cold edge. She made him uneasy, not just because of herself but because of what she embodiedthe partys other atmosphere besides the perfume, a subtle undercurrent that the physical senses couldnt pick up but that was just as present.

In a word, Parallax, an organization that bonded together all the people here tonight.

All except Wainwright. So far.

Cynthia closed the door behind her, muting the chatter and laughter from inside.

The decisions been made, she said. Youre in. Now you start to find out what Parallax really is. But we need a commitment from you. She moved closer to him as she spoke.

What are we talking? he said.

You sign on to the film as executive producer. Make the important things happen. And a good faith buy-incall it twenty million for now.

Wainwrights eyebrows rose. Thats a little on the steep side.

This is not a buy-sell arrangement. You and Parallax open up to each other. Power like you never imaginedlearn to use it, and youll get anything you want. In return, you help us with our work. Everyone gains.

Wainwright shoved his hands in his front pockets and stepped away from her, shaking his head. Hed been to a few of these Parallax events by now, sizing up the people while they did the same with him. But he was cynical by nature, and more so from his years in the film industry; the secretive allure that captivated the others had not taken hold on him.

Not twenty million bucks worth, that was for sure. The sheer brazenness of it pissed him off, and the irritation in his head joined in to tap the mean streak that was never far below the surface.

Cynthia, Ive got a problem with this. I just cant take any of it seriously. All this hinting about how youre somehow tied in with the power of the universe. You know what I see? A bunch of people blowing smoke up their own ass. And your film projectnobodys ever heard of Parallax Productions. Its like kids making a home movie. You think Im going to touch it, you cant be serious.

He expected her to lash back with cold anger, but instead she smiledslowly and, somehow, disturbingly.

But I am serious, Gerry, she said, and I have a feeling that youre going to be happy to help us kids make our little movie. In fact, the price just went up.

Hollywood Insider , April 28

Category: Movie Biz (110 of 744)

Producer Wainwright announces stunner. Hell head dark horse Parallax deal with rumored $24 mil investment.

T he shrill chirp of my cell phone rousted me out of a dream, a familiar kind that had started in childhood and still came around every so often. Id be trying to runwhether toward or away from something, I was never surebut my feet weighed a ton and my body felt like it was struggling through glue. These dreams seemed to last a very long time, and while they werent exactly nightmares, once or twice a year was plenty.