Gossip (Desire Never Dies)

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Gossip (Desire Never Dies) Page 5

by Clara Grace Walker


  “He’s come a long way since then,” Nick observed.

  Danny shut off the engine and gave Nick a questioning look. “You sure you want to leave it parked here?”

  Nick shrugged. “It’s insured. If somebody wants to steal it, more power to them.”

  “I thought you loved this car,” Jamie said, getting out and slamming the door behind her.

  He said nothing. He was more worried about her than the car.

  Making his way to the steel front door, painted in peeling shades of black and brown, he rang the buzzer. A two-hundred-fifty pound piece of muscle answered their call. He had dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, a goatee, a mustache and two arms filled with tattoos; half of them naked women. Nick swore the man growled when he pulled open the door.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “We’re here to see Mr. Skinner.”

  The guy chuckled. “Ain’t nobody calls Rod Mr. Skinner. What’s it about?”

  “It’s a personal matter.”

  “Oh yeah?” The muscle stared hard at Nick. “Personal or not, you don’t tell me what business you got with Rod, you don’t get in the front door.” He looked past Nick then, and past Danny, his gaze settling on Jamie. “She here for a screen test?”

  Nick’s first impulse was to slug the guy. “No. She’s-”

  “Yes,” Jamie interrupted. “That’s right. I’m here for a screen test. May we please come in?”

  He laughed, and Nick didn’t like the sound of it. If Muscle Guy touched a hair on her head, he was going to punch his second guy in one month. He grabbed Jamie by the arm, whispering into her ear. “I don’t think this is a very good idea.”

  She waved his concern away with her hand. “You want in or not?”

  She was already heading through the door, and Nick had no choice but to follow.

  A barren area greeted them. Mustard yellow walls met black tile flooring in a small room Nick guessed had served as a reception area at one time. Muscle Guy led them through another door that, once opened, revealed what appeared to be a movie studio. Bright lights shone down on a red, heart-shaped bed. Surrounding the bed, a backdrop of pink velvet curtains wound three quarters of the way around. Other props had been stashed along the back wall: an assortment of chairs, tables and sofas, background screens, whips, chains, blankets and rolling wardrobes of skimpy clothing. A few feet away, darkened make-up tables sat empty, half-used cosmetics spilling out. Music beat out over some sort of loudspeaker system. A steady, pounding beat that made Nick think instantly of the few porn films he’d seen in college. Looking around, he saw no sign of Rod. Muscle Guy, however, suddenly grabbed hold of Jamie’s arm. “Get on the bed,” he said. “I’ll see if Rod wants me to do the screen test with you.”

  Nick jumped in front of Jamie. “She’s not going anywhere.” If he was about to get his ass handed to him, so be it. “And unless your boss wants an exposé on your sleazy little operation appearing in next week’s edition of Just the Facts, you’ll take your hands off her. Now.”

  The mention of the news magazine brought instant recognition to the man’s eyes. “Reporters.” He snorted. “You think you scare me?”

  “Hard to say if you’re that smart or not.”

  A moment passed, heavy and stagnant with the expectation of chaos about to explode. Muscle Guy’s heavy, meaty fist reared back. Nick readied himself to duck. As he sucked in a deep breath, the unmistakably cocky voice of Rod Skinner interrupted the fray.

  “Nicholas Beck. My man. What brings you to this side of town?”

  Muscle Guy’s fist dropped and Nick exhaled.

  The meaty fist motioned toward Jamie. “They’re reporters. But the girl says she’s here for a screen test.”

  Rod looked Jamie over, his gaze traveling head-to-toe. He grinned and shook his head. “I highly doubt that. Go check on yesterday’s edits for me, D-bag. I’ll take care of this.”

  D-bag. How appropriate. Short for Dirtbag, maybe? The guy practically pouted, casting his gaze to the floor and shuffling up a set of stairs hidden by a door behind the sex bed.

  Rod watched the guy close the door behind him and waited until the sounds of his footsteps trailed off to nonexistent. The look on his face turned from friendly to annoyed. “What the hell are you doing here? Or does she really want to do a screen test?” He looked back to Jamie, the cocky grin reappearing on his face. “Because, believe me, babe, I’ll be more than happy to put you on film doing the dirty deed with me.”

  Rod’s pathetic come on produced an instant irritation in Nick.

  She grimaced. “That would be the day Hell froze over.”

  “She looks a little like Janelle,” Rod said.

  That irritated Nick even more.

  “You know, babe, you and I should go out for old time’s sake. It’d be like banging Nick’s wife all over again.”

  Shock rooted Nick to the floor. “You’re lying.”

  Danny put a hand on his shoulder. “Careful, man. He’s just trying to get your goat.”

  Rod chuckled and slithered over to Jamie, his arm poised to slide around her waist.

  She slapped his hand away with a loud smack. “Touch me and I’ll bust your balls.”

  “If I were you, I’d believe her,” Nick warned. “Your crotch wouldn’t be the first one her knee’s found.”

  Rod only chuckled again, as though he found the exchange amusing. “She may look like Janelle, but she sounds like dear, sweet Maggie.” He stepped away from Jamie, holding his hands up in front of him. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll keep my hands to myself. But believe me, you have no idea what a good time you’re passing up. My prowess is legendary.”

  “I’ll risk it.”

  Same old Rod, Nick thought. Never met a good-looking woman he didn’t want to jump into bed with. And just as full of conceit as ever. He was tired of wasting time with the man’s bullshit antics, however. “Let’s get down to business, Rod. Tell me what you know about Janelle’s murder and I’ll tell you just how badly I’m going to kick your ass.”

  “Whoa! Buddy, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  The man looked and sounded incredulous, and it only pissed Nick off more. “I want to know what you had to do with Janelle’s murder.”

  Rod pulled a cell phone from a holster on his belt. “I didn’t have anything to do with her murder and if you take one step closer, I’m going to have D-bag come back down here for you to talk to. What do you think, Nick? Want to try and kick D-bag’s ass?”

  “You lying asshole.”

  “That’s right. I have lied on occasion, and a lot of folks think I’m an ass, but that doesn’t mean I had anything to do with Janelle’s murder.”

  He’d hit a sore spot where Rod’s reputation was concerned. Nick recognized the defensiveness in the man’s tone. But that wasn’t the information he was looking for. He took a deep breath. “I know you had something to do with Janelle’s death.”

  “Oh really? And how do you know that? Did you get a psychic vision or something?”

  “What I got was a phone call telling me if I wanted to find out who killed Janelle, I should talk to you.”

  “From whom?”

  “I don’t know from whom.” Nick turned to Danny. “Who’d the call come from?”

  Danny shrugged. “She didn’t give her name.”

  “Right.” Danny had told him that before they left. Stress was getting to him. “Get anything off Caller ID?”

  “Blocked. Tried Star 69, too. Nothing there either.”

  Turning back to Rod, looking at the man’s smug face, anger rose in the back of Nick’s throat. “Whatever the woman’s name was, it doesn’t matter. I just want to know what you had to do with Janelle’s death.”

  “And I already told you. Nothing. Janelle and I had a great relationship. I was as sad to learn about her death as everyone else.”

  “What do you mean you and Janelle had a great relationship? You barely knew her.”

&
nbsp; Rod laughed. “Not true, my man. I knew your wife pretty damn well. If you know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean, and it’s not true.” A sick feeling worked its way into Nick’s gut. He felt his companions’ eyes on him, both thinking the same thing. Had his wife slept with this pariah of humanity? “Janelle would never let a womanizing piece of slime like you touch her.”

  Rod’s eyes gleamed, his laughter pealing through the studio. “I hate to break it to you, my man, but your wife and I were very close.”

  He heard himself telling Sarge how fine his marriage had been. Remembered the long months Janelle had spent sleeping in the guest room. “Bullshit.”

  “No. Not bullshit. And I can prove it. You of all people should remember my little movie collection.”

  An explicit movie of Rod and Taralynn Clarke crept into Nick’s thoughts. Pictures he’d printed in The Tattletale two years ago. This meeting was going from bad to worse. “Janelle would never sleep with you. She loved me.” He said it and felt like a liar. They hadn’t been together since he’d told her he wanted children.

  “Maybe she did, and maybe she didn’t, pal. All I know is I have some very hot footage of your wife and I doing the horizontal shuffle.”

  Jamie pushed her way in between the two men. “Why are you doing this to him?” Anger flashed hot in the sound of her voice. Nick thought again of her response to his kiss. Desire to hold her seeped into him. He wanted her, and probably, he shouldn’t.

  “Calm down, babe,” Rod cackled. “I’m not trying to hurt the man. I’m only trying to help.”

  “By insinuating you had an affair with his wife?”

  “By giving him the opportunity to keep anyone else from finding out about it, actually.”

  An image of Rod and Janelle lying in bed together pushed its way into Nick’s thoughts. He thought about the pole in Rod’s bedroom, the one he’d tied Taralynn Clarke to in the film he’d seen. He saw Janelle tied up instead of Taralynn. He hated seeing it. He shook his head, pushing the image away. “You’re lying.”

  “Not this time, buddy.”

  Jamie took hold of Nick’s hand. “Why don’t you spit it out, Skinner? What kind of scam are you trying to run?”

  “No scam, babe. Just the facts, as your friend’s more scholarly publication would say. I have a rather provocative sex film starring the lovely Janelle, and I have every intention of selling it to the highest bidder.”

  “That’s blackmail,” Nick charged. “I’ll have you thrown in jail for this.”

  The cocky grin never left Rod’s face. “Blackmail? You misunderstand, my man. I’m merely offering the movie for sale. I’m just being a nice guy and offering it to you first. If you don’t want to buy it, fine. Maybe someone else will.”

  He glared at Rod. Jamie’s hand circled over his and kept him from doing more. “You really are a slimy-ass jerk.”

  “Come now, Nick. You’re a newspaper guy. I’m not doing anything you don’t do on a daily basis. You buy films and photos for your paper all the time without bothering to get the permission of the movie stars and politicians you’re exposing to ridicule. You certainly never asked my permission before you printed pictures of me in your paper, including the ones with Taralynn that basically ruined my life.”

  “You ruined your own life.” He sounded defensive, but couldn’t help himself. “And the pictures I print are of celebrities and public personalities. Janelle was not a public personality.”

  “Maybe not in life.” Rod laughed. “But in death she’s become very public indeed. Just ask Peter Arnold.”

  That did it. Red haze swam in front of Nick’s face and his fist connected with Rod’s jaw before the guy could get his cell phone to his ear. Rod yelped. His cell phone dropped from his hand, clattering to the floor. Seconds later, Nick heard the clunk of D-bag starting down the stairs.

  Danny pulled him back. “We’d better go.”

  He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay and finish what he’d started. Make Rod pay for whatever part he’d played in this sordid affair. Kick D-bag’s ass, too. That boneheaded piece of muscle didn’t scare him. But Danny had already taken off like a shot, Jamie following close behind. Nick knew he needed to save this fight for another day. He turned and followed. Glancing back as he reached the door, he saw Rod sitting on the sex bed, hand cradling his jaw.

  “This isn’t over, Skinner,” he shouted back at him.

  “No shit. You’d better come up with fifty grand, or I’ll be selling that movie to Peter Arnold.” He finished the threat as D-bag appeared at the bottom of the stairs and the door closed behind him.

  Danny was already in the front seat of the Caddy, engine running, when Nick reached it. He opened the door nearest him, the rear driver’s side, and they were off down the street. His heart pounded hard in his ears. Confusion fogged his brain. He couldn’t get the thought of Janelle and Rod out of his mind. Was that what the anonymous caller wanted him to find out? Could it possibly be true?

  Jamie’s hand slid over his as he sank deeper into the back seat beside her. Her touch softened him. In the angry squall his life had become, she was his life preserver. If Danny weren’t here, he’d be tempted to take her home and cling to her like he was drowning.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Danny and I will get to the bottom of this. If there is a sex tape, we’ll find it.”

  Wrapping his fingers around her soft skin, he stared down at their encircled hands, using the image to chase away uglier ones. “Thank you, Jamie. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too.”

  She said it like she meant it, but then pulled her hand away. He couldn’t quite read her. Could never figure out what she was thinking. She kept herself like a closed book, never letting anyone read more than the marketing blurb. If he were to stock her on the shelf of a bookstore, she’d be filed as a mystery.

  Chapter 12

  Regina looked over her appearance in the ladies’ room mirror. As usual, she felt dissatisfied. She was attractive, but nothing more. Not a blonde bombshell like Darla.

  Her hair, long and thick, had a nice wave to it, but the color was a nondescript, mousy brown. Dying it blonde hadn’t worked for her. Just made her look cheap. So she’d dyed it back. Her eyes were brown, too. But not dark and mysterious or wide and round like Darla’s. Just brown. Somewhat small with thin, short lashes that required fake eyelashes to make anyone take notice. And to top it off, she had freckles. Just a light smattering across the bridge of her nose and down her arms and shoulders. Still, they were freckles. And she wished she didn’t have them. She looked too much like her mother. Nothing to really recommend her but large breasts, long legs and a healthy appetite for sex.

  Finished with her self-appraisal, she washed her hands in the sink. In the ME’s office down the hall sat her project for the evening, Rex Kaladja, Dade County Medical Examiner. He was a tall, thin man with a sweep of dark hair and bright blue eyes. Curiously, despite being a person with a position of authority, he walked with a shuffle, casting his eyes downward, as if he were insecure or something. Regina found that fascinating. Most men with any power at all made sure people around them knew about it. Liked to flaunt it, the same way she liked to flaunt her body. She figured him for an easy mark.

  Working herself into his office had proven delightfully easy. She’d watched him leave his job around five thirty and followed him to a bar a few blocks down the road. A small tavern with a bar, a jukebox, a few tables and not much more. It was the kind of place where people were regulars; where the bartender would know everyone by face, name and preferred drink. The kind of place she normally didn’t go to. The place had been quiet and smelled of smoke, despite an absence of smokers.

  Rex had sat on a stool at the end of the bar farthest from the door. He’d failed to take notice of her during the three blocks she’d followed him, walking about ten or fifteen feet behind. He’d been busy greeting the middle-aged woman tending bar when she’d stepped inside. The
whole episode had stood in quiet testament to her less-than-knockout looks. A prettier girl would have gotten his attention. But then, a prettier girl wouldn’t have been able to stand outside his office and follow him down the street unnoticed. She understood now why Peter had hired her for this job. When it came right down to it, she really was perfect.

  Rex had begun nursing a bottle of Budweiser when she made her move on him. Confidently, she had taken the stool next to him and smiled. That was when he had finally seen her. First looking surprised, and then skimming his gaze to the cleavage popping out of her low-cut halter top.

  She’d held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Carole.” Peter told her to give a fake name, and the only one that came to mind was her mother’s.

  Taking her hand, he’d kissed it instead of shaking. “And I’m Rex. Nice to meet you Carole.”

  What a gentleman. She’d liked him from the moment he’d greeted her.

  They’d made small talk for less than half an hour before she finally got him onto the subject she wanted. His work. By the time he’d finished his second beer, she’d talked him into a tour of the morgue. It was nearly Halloween, she’d explained, describing the turn on it would provide. And she got her kicks in freaky ways. He’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker.

  Smoothing shiny pink gloss over her lips, Regina appraised herself again in the bathroom mirror. Less critically this time. She had full, pouty lips. Kissable lips. Darla had always envied that about her. And her body was killer. Her hair wasn’t all that bad either. Just needed a few highlights, she decided. She’d schedule an appointment at the salon tomorrow.

  Right now, however, she had an ME to bed down. She found him waiting in his office, sitting on his leather chair, naked from the waist down. Staring at the hardened shaft he showed off, she smiled, licking her lips. He reminded her of a nice, ripe banana. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’d be ready when I returned.”

  He smiled back at her like he was about to get laid for the first time. “Ready, willing and able.”

 

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