Free A Good-Looking Corpse by Jeff Klima Page A

be famous because you’d killed some little girl. He was practically apoplectic that you didn’t want to sign the contract he’d sent your way. He’d even sent over a call girl dressed in Chanel to get your signature on the dotted line.”
    “If you heard his story, you already know my answer, then,” I try, but Mikey shushes me.
    “That reluctance right there—that drive to not be a somebody in the very Land of Somebodies—that’s what interests me. I decided that I needed to get to know more about you. And the more I read, the more I knew I wanted to tell the story of your past, your present, and your future.”
    “Look, I get it. You’re used to getting what you want. But I’m not interested. And I won’t be.”
    “You wouldn’t be the person I wanted to make a movie about if you said ‘yes’ right away. Besides, that wouldn’t be any fun for me. So stick around, enjoy the party as much as you want—you can go crazy, there are no rules here at all. You’re my special guest and that makes you untouchable.”
    “No thanks.” I turn to leave.
    “I saw your face when you recognized Crozier,” Mikey says plainly. I stop and turn back around. “You wanted him dead.”
    “Did you bring him here for me? Is that a part of this world?”
    “Hah, no. Crozier’s been with me a few years now. He’s my most trusted…servant. You see, part of my philanthropy is extending opportunities to former inmates. Violent offenders, people who can’t get a job elsewhere. They all work for me in various positions. Crozier’s demonstrated his enormous value to me so I keep him close. He just happened to be around when your name got mentioned in the office one day and he filled me in on the details of your acquaintance.”
    “Isn’t it dangerous, keeping all these felonious men around?”
    “And women,” Mikey says soberly. “Don’t be exclusive—women kill just as easily. I think I’d be crazy to have an army of killers surrounding me if I wasn’t certain that they know I am the most dangerous asshole in the bunch.”
    “Did you kill Alan Van?” I ask again.
    “Sure,” Mikey answers with indifference. “I mean Crozier dangled him out the window by his ankles, made him beg for his life, but I ordered the drop.”
    “Why?”
    “Behold the glory of modern Rome, Tom. We are known worldwide. Our spectacle and grandeur are the envy of the civilized world. But our gods too demand sacrifice. So maybe the question isn’t why would we drop Alan, but why wouldn’t we? Hollywood has been too quiet lately. She needs to be kept on her toes—it breeds creativity.”
    “I don’t believe you,” I tell the producer. “That’s not why you did it.”
    “Why do you think, then?” he asks, smirking.
    “To meet me.”
    “You’re so arrogant, Tom. I’ll have to tell the screenwriter to color that into the background of your movie. It will explain so much. If you must strip all the theatrics from it, frankly, I was sick of his shit. And a good death will add a few million in box office receipts. Look at Heath Ledger with
The Dark Knight,
Brandon Lee with
The Crow,
Paul Walker with
Furious 7.
Alan’s sacrifice will ensure healthier returns for his last picture, which I just so happen to have produced. But, if it will ease your distended ego, I did instruct that you be called specifically for the cleanup.”
    “Why would you tell me this? You realize I’m going to go right to the police from here.”
    I watch his body to see if it tenses up—if any, this is the moment for him to pull a gun or a blade, but he stays nonchalant and just as calm as ever.
    “Good,” he says, mysteriously jocular. “Actually, I want you to. You’d be a monster if you didn’t, right? You see, I think of it as all part of my seduction. I want the rights to your story.
And I want you to agree that I am the person who deserves them
.” His expression and body language abruptly shift once more and he becomes almost giddy. “I think