to come clean before we discover what’s on there, establish some goodwill. That’s your strongest play, Phil.”
“Do I get immunity for what I tell you?”
Jessie hoped he was better at getting deals for his clients than himself.
“Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “We can’t agree to anything without knowing what we’re talking about. What I can promise is that if you reveal illegality to us and it involves people who have committed worse crimes than you, it could go a long way to helping your cause with the prosecutor. But it’s getting late in the day and I have plans tonight. So the longer you drag this out, the worse it will go for you.”
Reinhold nibbled at his lower lip as he pondered the offer. It took all of five seconds for him to cave.
“Okay, that drive has a list of past and present clients—mostly past, mostly male—who engaged in what I’ll describe as…indiscretions. There was a time where I would help these clients procure companionship. That file is a database of specific preferences and providers.”
Jessie wished she could have been surprised by the revelation, but with all she’d seen in her job, it somehow felt almost inevitable to her. Glancing over at Trembley, she saw that he felt much the same way.
“Are we talking prostitution?” Trembley asked matter-of-factly.
Reinhold shook his head vehemently.
“No,” he insisted. “Well, not in most cases. Maybe a few escorts now and then. But usually it was younger, aspiring actresses who wanted to get the attention of a well-known actor or director, sometimes producers. Back in my CTA days, I had access to a massive Rolodex of girls like that. We represented hundreds of actresses and had contingency deals with thousands more. All I had to do was punch specific attributes into the system to get possible contenders.”
“Contenders?” Jessie repeated, feeling the bile rise in her throat.
He nodded as if what he was describing was the most normal thing in the world.
“The database tracked all that stuff—age, ethnicity, height, weight, hair and eye color, waist and bust size, special skills. It was invaluable for casting calls. But it was also perfect for me. When a single—or married—actor said he was interested in spending time with a busty Latina in her mid-twenties with long, dark, curly hair who knew yoga, finding a bevy of options was easy. And more often than not, at least a couple were willing to go that extra mile to get noticed.”
“I’m guessing this whole thing fell apart at some point?” Trembley said.
“Not really. The senior partners at the agency were aware, but no one ever called me out for it. It dried up eventually, but that was because most of those clients died or aged out of this sort of thing. The younger generation seemed to have their own ways to connect with potential liaisons, usually via the internet. Suddenly I wasn’t so valuable to the firm. So they moved on. I think they set up their own ‘database’ independent of me. But I still get a payment from CTA every year.”
“You were blackmailing them?” Trembley asked.
“No! I didn’t have to. It was sort of an informal confidentially agreement. I go quietly and keep my mouth shut and I keep getting a check every year.”
“How much?” Jessie asked.
“Not as much as you’d think,” he replied ruefully. “I got a ‘bonus’ of a hundred thousand the year I left, then fifty grand the next. It keeps going down every year. Last December the check was for twenty-five thousand. Another few years and we’ll probably be talking four figures.”
“There aren’t going to be any more checks, Phil,” Jessie reminded him.
“Right. I forgot.”
“So some of these names are big?” she asked.
“The actors? Sure. We’re talking a few Oscar winners even.”
“No,” she said. “I’m guessing those guys are older than dirt now. I mean the agents, the ones who looked the other way, the ones who are still doing it without your help. Fingering those guys is what’s going to get you a good deal, Phil.”
“They’re not all guys,” he noted.
For the moment, Jessie set aside the idea of female agents pimping out their clients. There would be time later for mentally processing that.
“So,” she said, getting to the question she’d been working up to the whole time. “You clearly heard us tell Mrs. Portis we were looking into the death of a former client. Word travels fast in this town. You had to know who we were talking about. So what about Corinne Weatherly’s death made