Surprise. Surprise. Peter shook his head, annoyed the cast was still staring at him. It was then he noticed the change in cast members. “Where’s Heather?”
Again, D-bag shrugged. “Dunno. She never showed up.”
Peter clenched his teeth, staring hard at the dumb ox. He’d already paid Heather half her salary for the film. “What?”
“She never showed up to work on the movie.”
“You didn’t let her go using drugs, did you?”
D-bag shook his head. “I know better than to do something stupid like that.”
Sure he did. “You check her apartment?”
“Of course, man. Three times already.” D-bag stuffed his thumbs into the front pockets of his torn, designer jeans. “You don’t suppose Rod’s run off with her, do you?”
Didn’t seem too likely, but it was getting hard to guess what went on in Rod’s head. “I don’t know what to think. If he has, his ass is going to be fucking sorry.” He was about to head upstairs when the buzzer sounded at the front door.
D-bag jumped. “Maybe that’s Rod.”
“I doubt it. Rod has a key.”
“Oh yeah. I guess I’d better go see who that is.”
No kidding. The guy was a hopeless fuck up.
Seconds later, D-bag was back with Heather in tow. Peter appraised her critically. Her eyes were glassy, her hair was uncombed and her clothes were dirty. Basically, she looked exactly the same as she had the day he’d first taken her off the street corner. Fucking teen-agers. He smiled and held out his arms to her. “Heather, honey. Where have you been?”
She ran into his embrace. “Carl! I’m so glad to see you.”
“Sure you are.” He hugged her for a moment, then gripped her by the upper arms and set her off a couple inches in front of him. “D-bag tells me you haven’t shown up for work the past few days. Where have you been?”
She glanced quickly away from him. A sure sign he was about to hear a lie.
Stiffening in his grip, she looked down at her feet. “I was just hanging out, you know, with some friends.”
“Is that right?”
She looked up at him, managing a weak smile. “Uh-huh.”
Lying little bitch. “Now why would you be hanging out with your friends when you’re supposed to be here at work?”
She went back to examining the floor. “I just hadn’t seen them in a while, you know, and I wanted to have a little fun.”
He tightened his grip on her arms. “You can have all the fun you want. After you’ve finished shooting this picture. I’ve already advanced you half your salary; and I expect to have something to show for my investment.”
“You will. I’m going to do the movie. I’m here now, aren’t I?”
He ignored her statement of the obvious. “What friends were you hanging out with? I don’t remember you having any friends.”
She started tearing up. “I have friends.”
“Sure you do, honey. You have a friend. He’s called your pimp, and I haven’t seen your lovely ass out on any street corners lately.”
Tears spilled out of her eyes in earnest. “I do, too have friends. And I’m going to be a big star someday. You’ll see.”
A red flag raised in his head. “You think you’re going to be a star from this movie?”
She lifted her chin. “I’m going to be a big star from the magazine article my reporter friend is doing on me.”
Going ballistic normally wasn’t Peter’s style, but she’d just about pushed that button. He squeezed her arms until he felt sure he was leaving bruises. “What reporter friend?”
“Her name is Jamie.”
“Fuck!” Nick’s friend the photographer. “What did you tell her about me?”
“I didn’t tell her anything except your name is Carl and you’re friends with Rod.”
He squeezed harder. “You sure about that?”
She whimpered and tried pulling away. “Carl, you’re hurting me.”
“Yes, honey, but not as much as I’m going to hurt you if you don’t get over there and make that damn movie.” He shoved her roughly in the direction of the bed. She stumbled once, falling to her knees, then got back up, running over to the bed, dropping her purse on the floor.
The buzzer at the front door rang again. Peter’s eyes remained glued to the bed where Heather sat, rubbing her arms and not bothering to undo a single button.
The buzzer rang again. “For crying out loud, D-bag, see who that is, would you?”
D-bag took two steps toward the door, stopped and turned back around. “What do you want me to do about Heather? Think maybe she should get some of those drugs she likes so much when this movie’s done? ”
He didn’t want to know anything about D-bag’s drug connections. “Go get the door, will you?”
“Sure thing.”
D-bag disappeared through the door leading to the reception area, and before Peter could think to wonder who it might be, the studio swarmed with blue uniforms and pointed shotguns.
“This is the Dade County Police,” someone yelled through a bullhorn. “Nobody move.”
Chapter 52
Nick woke up alone in his bed. It took only a moment for memories of the night before to greet him. After making love to Jamie on her sofa, he’d wanted to pick her up and carry her to her bed; spend some time savoring the feel of intimacy. Make love to her all over again. She’d sat up and put her clothes back on though, pre-occupied with the girl she was trying to help. As important as her information had been, and as much as he sympathized with her about Heather, he’d felt strangely cheated out of the afterglow. Hell, he thought dully, he should have been the one getting up and putting his pants back on. She should have been the one wanting to snuggle.
Rolling over in bed, he glanced at his bedside table, staring at the wedding photo he’d taken with Janelle when they had re-married. Already it seemed like a lifetime ago. He took the photo and stuck it inside the drawer. His grieving period was officially over. He supposed some people needed the customary one year to get on with their life following the death of their spouse. Some needed longer. But most people who lost a spouse hadn’t spent months on the brink of losing them anyhow. When looked at in that light, he had spent nearly a year grieving already. He was ready to move on.
Pushing memories of the previous night aside, he climbed out of bed. He needed to get into the office. He had a paper to get out in two days, with two possible cover stories. Both thanks to Jamie. And he had an explosive exposé to get working on for Just the Facts. Also thanks to Jamie.
Inside the shower, he turned on the water and let the spray hit him in the back. The hot water soothed him, easing the tension from his muscles, and allowed him the luxury of not thinking for a moment. His mind went blank, listening to beads of water splatter against the tile walls and glass shower door. He stood there as if time had stood still and nothing more could happen.
By the time he finished soaping up and rinsing off, however, his mind had returned to the thoughts he’d awaken with. Probably had something to do with imagining Jamie naked in the shower with him; soaping her up and doing a little more than rinsing her off.
After shaving, he emerged from the shower to a ringing phone. Grabbing a towel from a hook on the wall, he wrapped it around his waist and lifted the phone from its cradle on his bed stand. “Hello.”
“Nick, it’s Danny. What are you doing still at home?”
He glanced at the clock. Nine fifteen. He should have been at the office two hours ago. “Sorry, Danny. Just feeling a little jet lagged, I guess. What’s up?”
“Plenty. What do you want me to start with? The cop who came by here looking for you last night and told Stu to have you call as soon as you got in? Or the tip I just got that Peter Arnold was arrested this morning?
He tightened his grip on the receiver. “Don’t say another word. I’ll be right there.”
Chapter 53
Nick arrived to a loud and noisy office.
Printing presses chugged, reporters ran back and forth from their cubicles, and every third person he walked by stopped to say hello and ask for a few minutes of his time, when he could spare it. He’d made it to just outside his office door when Candi flagged him down.
She smiled apologetically. “Danny’s in there waiting for you.”
He nodded. “Thanks, Candi. That’s fine.”
He walked in and set his briefcase down on his desk. “Tell me about Peter.”
“Don’t you want to hear about Detective Sanchez’s visit first?”
“No.” He was pretty sure that subject would still be waiting for him when he had time. Instead, he flipped open his briefcase and pulled out Jamie’s photographs and notes. He knew he really should concentrate on the Earl Grayson/Mindy LePage hook up and the Storm Jackson movie first, since The Tattletale was closer to publication than Just the Facts, but that wasn’t what was eating at him now. He handed Danny Jamie’s notes and photos of Heather Sorenson. “Tell me about Peter’s arrest, and if it had anything to do with this girl.”
Danny nodded. “James told me all about the girl. I got some info for her on the girl’s parents. Did she tell you I tracked Peter down as the owner of the studio?”
“Yes. Is that what he got popped for?”
“Sure is.” Danny pointed to some fresh copy sitting on Nick’s desk. “I got your story for you right here.”
Nick picked it up, read the headline and scanned the contents. Setting it back down, he looked at Danny. “This girl, Heather, was she in the studio when they raided it?”
“Sure was. About to be put to work as Peter Arnold stood there and watched.”
Nick felt the same roiling feeling in his stomach he’d felt last night when Jamie first told him about Peter and the girl. “The guy’s an even bigger scumbag than I’ve always thought.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Danny said. “Cops pulled all the paperwork on the girls he’s been using in his movies. Turns out half of them are underage.”
“Is that right?” He wondered now if that was the real reason Janelle had been killed. Had she somehow found out about the porn studio? Or was it just about the blackmail scheme? And what, if anything, did one have to do with the other? Rod Skinner was the only common denominator he could see.
Picking Danny’s story back up from the desk, he skimmed through the details once more. He glanced back at his reporter, puzzled. “Rod wasn’t picked up in the raid?”
Danny shook his head. “Nope.”
“Why not?”
“According to Detective Sanchez, their office got an anonymous tip about the goings on at the studio. Before James called them. Seems they talked to someone who was in possession of a recording of Peter admitting he knew the girls were underage and ordering it covered up. My guess? That anonymous tipster would be your Mr. Skinner.”
An inexplicable feeling of rage swelled up in him. “Bullshit! He’s involved in all of this. I know he is. The porn studio. The blackmail. Janelle’s murder. All of it. Now he thinks he’s going to play good-citizen, anonymous tipster and walk away scot free?”
“Nick, I’m sure the cops would not let him walk if they really thought he was involved with using underage girls in those movies, or in your wife’s murder.”
“Right.” That’s why Sarge kept treating him like the suspect. He’d lost faith. A hollow feeling settled in his heart and stayed there. Drumming his fingers on his desk, he thought for a moment about the girl. Jamie would be glad to know she’d been picked up and was no longer wandering street corners. That would give him a perfect opportunity to call her. See how she was doing.
“You going to just sit there playing piano on your desk?” Danny asked.
Nick shook his head, pulling his fingers away from the wooden surface. “No.” He wanted to call Jamie. Wanted to have a replay of last night. Responsibility, however, claimed his attention. He tossed Danny the rest of Jamie’s photos. “Let’s start working on our next edition of The Tattletale. You see those pictures there?”
Danny looked them over and grinned. “James take these?”
“Yes.”
“They’re good.”
“I know. Can you grind out a couple of stories to go with them?”
“No problem. Which one you want to use for the cover?”
“The Earl Grayson/Mindy LePage hook-up.”
The grin on Danny’s face grew wider. “Thought so. That one ought to be good for at least a ten percent bump in circulation. Wonder how James found out about it, much less got these pictures.”
Nick was no longer thinking about work. He envisioned Jamie the way she looked lying naked on her couch last night. “She does have her ways about her.”
“Yeah. Those investigative skills of hers are getting pretty good,” Danny wiped his scrawny fingers through his mostly gray hair and tucked Jamie’s photos under his arm. “I’ll get the copy to you for review as soon as I’m done.”
“Thanks.”
Nick watched him leave before listening to ten voice mails, two of them from Sarge, and checking his e-mail. Though he’d checked it while at the airport waiting to come home yesterday, there were still thirty-four new ones. He should have been in the office hours ago and had replies sent out to all of them. Advertisers wanted to talk circulation numbers, and he needed to get those numbers to them if he expected to continue bringing in revenue. New markets were opening up for Just the Facts. If he didn’t jump in and take advantage of the opportunities while they were there, he might find them dried up by the time he got around to it. And the digital revolution needed his attention also. More and more readers were getting their news online, and he needed to be a part of the changing tides if he wanted to continue turning a profit.
“That’s right, old boy,” he said to himself. “Time to get back to work.” Staring at the list of e-mails on his computer screen, he deleted the spam and sent off quick responses to the rest, then hit the intercom button on his desk.
“Yes, Mr. Beck?” His secretary’s response came quickly.
“Candi, get me Sergeant Freeman on the phone, please.”
“Uh, I’d be happy to, Mr. Beck, however, she’s already here to see you.”
Good. With any luck, he’d get some further details out of her concerning the Peter Arnold bust. With any luck, she’d made some progress on Janelle’s murder when the arrest was made, and he could get that off the list of things his subconscious was busy worrying about. He hit the intercom button again. “That’s fine, Candi. Send her in.”
Sarge walked into his office, crisply dressed, nodding at him and taking a seat before he had a chance to say a word. She smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Beck.”
“Good-morning, Sergeant Freeman. What can I do for you?”
She grinned. “That’s what I like about you, Mr. Beck. You get right down to business. Don’t make me waste my time pussy-footing around.”
“So we’re on the same page.”
“We are. Tell me about your trip to New York.”
“I was interviewing a lead on a story I’m working on.”
“Is that right?” She eyed him skeptically. “Didn’t I tell you not to leave town?”
Yeah, he vaguely recalled that. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t under arrest, and I do have a business to run.”
“And I’m sure you have reporters you can send to interview people, too.”
He didn’t like being told what to do. Never had. Even when he was a kid and had no choice in the matter. “If you don’t want me leaving town, arrest me. Otherwise, you can expect me to continue living my life as usual.”
She seemed to consider this. “I see. This story you were working on have anything to do with Peter Arnold?”
He had nothing to hide, but was reluctant to give her the details of his trip anyway. As long as she continued to treat him like a suspect, he didn’t feel like being overly cooperative. “I guess you’ll have to keep reading my papers to find that out.”
The grin disappeared from her face. “When I ask you a question, Mr. Beck, I expect a straight answer.”
“Forgive me, Sergeant, but I work in a highly competitive business and I’m not in the habit of divulging my stories before they make it into print.”
“That mean more to you than finding your wife’s killer?”
“No. I fully intend to be the one printing that headline. But I don’t see how telling you about my trip to New York is going to help.”
She hardened her gaze. “I understand Peter Arnold’s son lives in New York. That who you went to interview?”
Obviously it was, but his conversation with Sutton had been off-the-record. “My source for the story I’m working on has asked to remain anonymous.”
“Of course he has.” The grin returned to her face.
Nick had to admit, he liked Sarge. She knew her business. He could even see them developing a professional friendship someday, if she could stop treating him like a suspect. “Since you keep asking about Peter,” he said, “I’m guessing you have a bit more to tell me about his arrest.”
She shook her head. “Detective Sanchez already gave your reporter, Mr. Ventura, our official statement on the matter.”
“I’ve read his story,” Nick confirmed. “I’d like to know more about your anonymous tipster. Or should I say, Rod Skinner?”
She continued to grin and shake her head. “I’m afraid our sources are also, as you say, anonymous.”
“So you’re just going to let the guy walk?” The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. “Never mind the blackmail, or the porn studio, or the fact that he’s probably involved with Janelle’s murder, right along with Peter Arnold. Just let the guy walk?”
“That’s a short fuse you’ve got where Rod Skinner is concerned, Mr. Beck.”
“Really? I suppose you think I should be raising a toast to the guy?”
Her grin disappeared once more, and her gaze narrowed in on him like a laser beam. “No one is suggesting Mr. Skinner’s a pillar of the community, but I don’t think he killed your wife.”
Gossip (Desire Never Dies) Page 22