Page 75 of One Hollywood Sunset

‘We hope so.’

‘Let me have her back,’ Freya asked, reaching for the phone. Nicholas passed it to her.

‘Sorry about that. I don’t know what’s the matter with me lately.’ She wiped at her eyes.

‘I can tell you exactly what’s the matter with you, Freya. You have too much on your mind and you need a break. I don’t know what to say about Jonny. I really don’t, I mean…’

‘I can’t talk about him. Not yet, maybe not ever. It’s too creepy and it turns my stomach and…’ She felt nauseous again.

The buzz of the intercom interrupted their conversation. Freya paused to hear Nicholas answer and establish who it was.

‘Hello,’ Nicholas greeted.

‘Nick? This is Harry, from The Hollywood Chronicle,’ the voice replied.

‘Harry, neither Freya nor I have any comment to make on anything right now. I thought we had an arrangement with you. I thought that was one of the trade offs of Freya bringing you cups of tea in the morning for the last six months.’

‘Oh, I know. I don’t want any comment on anything. I’ve just arrived here and someone’s tied something to your gate. I just wanted to make you aware of it.’

‘Emma, I’m going to have to call you back,’ Freya said, ending the call.

‘What is it, Harry?’

‘Well, it’s a wreath. And it’s got Freya’s name on it.’

‘I’m coming down to the gate. Wait there and don’t touch it.’ He ended the conversation.

‘A wreath with my name on. Well, fancy that.’ She laughed but it came out weak.

‘I’m going to call the police first and then I’m going to call Roger and we are getting CCTV out there today.’ He pulled on a pair of sneakers.

‘Wait, don’t go yet. I want to see this for myself.’ She picked up her jacket from the back of the chair and followed Nicholas down the hall.

The wreath was in the shape of a cross and it was made up of white carnations. Across it was a black ribbon with Freya’s name printed on it and R.I.P written underneath.

‘You haven’t touched this have you, Harry?’ Nicholas asked as he looked at the tribute.

‘No. I called you as soon as I saw what it was.’

‘And where are the others today? Has anyone been here before you? Has anyone photographed this?’ Nicholas continued to question.

‘I don’t know. I think everyone’s over at George Clooney’s today. There were rumours he was making a big announcement this morning.’

Freya stared at the wreath. She read her name, looked at the perfectly white flowers and the contrast between the pretty blooms and the black ribbon.

‘Just cut it down and put it in the bin,’ she stated.

‘I think we ought to let the police see it. They can check for fingerprints,’ Nicholas told her.

‘There won’t be fingerprints. There were no fingerprints on the smashed windows, the crows or the “bitch” letter. This person’s too clever to go handling things now.’

‘You’ve been having people smash your windows?! I mean, I saw the police coming and going but…’ Harry began.

‘That’s confidential, Harry. If it gets out, I’ll know who made the information public property. You get me?’ Nicholas asked.

‘Sure thing,’ Harry replied.

Freya started to untie the wreath.

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