And where they had more Web access. This time, she wanted to research Jonah Limpet, and it couldn’t be done in his own office. She had the feeling her every activity was monitored there, noted for future reference.
“Just as long as you don’t talk me into fencing, I’m there,” Kiko said. “I don’t want Breisi chewing my ass again about fooling around on the job.”
“Man, you made an appointment on Saturday for a private lesson with Dipak. What’re you talking about?”
He made innocent eyes. Shyster.
They weaponed up and drove to the cafe in Dawn’s car, the sun peering through the smog. Daylight. It gave her a false sense of safety, even with her Vampire Repellers ‘R’ Us kit. Every hidden corner, every manhole that hissed steam from under its cover introduced the possibility of an ambush.
Kiko slid on his shades, no doubt to fight the L.A. glare of menace. Really. It had nothing to do with being a poseur.
After parking at the curb a block down from the cafe, they entered the brightly lit place. Fishbowl screensavers animated the computer faces, and a ceiling fan danced above their heads, giving the room a sense of neutrality. A pre-work crowd lined up at the glassed-in pastry shelves, girding themselves for the morning commute. Ninety percent of them were wearing sunglasses, too.
“Are yours going to stay on?” she asked Kiko.
“Yup.”
L.A. God.
Feeling it was time to check in with Frank, Dawn pulled her shirt away from her waist. “Touch it, please.”
Kiko did, but he still had no vibey reaction. Damn.
He offered to buy Dawn’s breakfast, which was sweet since she thought he was kind of smoothing things over from last night. But then she realized that he was using the boss’s cash to pay. Hey, big spender.
All the same, she was thankful that his absence allowed her to get on a computer and Google Limpet. She’d just have to be careful Kiko didn’t get a load of what she was doing. That would be bad form.
As the hits blurbed over the screen, Dawn felt someone coming to stand behind her—the hairs on the back of her neck were an accurate alarm system.
Jumpy, she closed the window.
When she turned around, she found a young woman wearing the requisite sunglasses and a plain white baseball cap, her long red hair held back in a braid. She was holding a large coffee, dressed in pink Juicy sweats.
At first, Dawn didn’t recognize her.
The girl seemed put off. “Don’t you remember me?”
Dawn’s mental Palm Pilot was working on it.
She glanced at Kiko, who was parting the crowd with his garlic stench. He was carrying a tray with his own meal and Dawn’s bear claw plus her black-with-no-sugar coffee. Phone to his ear, he placed his java and a plate of two huge muffins and three cream puffs onto one of three open tables, this one near the window. Then he came toward Dawn with her grub.
Meanwhile, the redhead was laughing a little uncomfortably. “I guess I’m incognito without a fencing jacket on backward.”
“Ah.” It all came back to Dawn now—the starlet from Dipak’s studio. Hurrah.
Done with that social interaction, Dawn nodded and turned back to the computer. As Kiko dropped off her meal, he chatted away happily on his cell.
“My agent,” he mouthed to Dawn as she glanced at him. Then he took off to his table for some privacy.
The starlet casually took a seat next to Dawn, just like they were buddies and Dawn wasn’t getting all bristly about the assumption. Then Dawn caught the girl’s nose wrinkling, probably because she’d gotten wind of the garlic. Heh, time for her to scram.
But…no. Unfazed, the actress held her beverage, crossing her long starlet legs. “Going over to fence after this? I am.”
“Right, you’ve got some part you’re up for in the next Will Smith movie.” Dawn was fascinated by her computer, tapping in the site address for the Stunt Players Directory, looking extremely busy and hoping the starlet would get the clue.
“Fingers crossed,” she said, all chirpy.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Dipak tells me you’re real good at your job. I’d love to have your talents. I’m afraid I’m a klutz when it comes to action, and you have to be versatile these days. An adventure movie here, a drama there, a comedy after that.” She leaned closer to Dawn, her perfume overcoming the garlic and striking a note so low that it could’ve been an olfactory sigh of delight. “But listen to me talk. I’ve only had a couple of supporting roles. It’s just that the chance for this Will Smith gig is making me giddy.”
Surfing the stunt site, Dawn ate her bear claw and wished the girl would just leave.
She felt the actress lean a little closer, waiting for Dawn to answer.
Too close. Dawn coughed, subtly scooting her chair away at the same time.
“Your name’s Dawn Madison,” the starlet said, still clueless. “Dipak told me. He brags about you.”
“Good ol’ Dipak.”
“I’m Jacqueline Ashley. But you can call me Jac.” When she laughed again, it was melodic, the sound tickling the line of Dawn’s jaw.
She’d gotten too close again.
Dawn took a wild guess at what might be happening here. “Listen, my door doesn’t swing to that side, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
When Dawn faced her, she was struck by the curious furrow of the starlet’s forehead, like she didn’t understand what Dawn had just insinuated. This close, Dawn didn’t have any choice but to take in every other detail of her face: the delicate chin; the French-ingenue pout; the high, graceful cheekbones; the Nicole Kidman milk-fresh skin kept safe from the sun by that ball cap.
Okay. Jacqueline Ashley had a certain “It” that defined a movie star. Maybe it was her sparkling laugh, maybe it was her perfect smile. But “It” was there—the unexplainable, impossible chemistry of someone who was going to be loved by the camera.
Hate.
It had taken a few seconds for the girl to process what Dawn had said to her. And, whether Dawn liked it or not, the starlet’s obvious naïveté was disturbing, because she’d seen all too often what this town did to darling homecoming queens.
Why did girls like this have to come out here? They weren’t tough enough. This one was going to get skewered; she’d probably be talked into doing a porno within the year, and that was only the beginning. Her dreams would die one by one, victims of the biz.
“Don’t tell me,” Dawn said. “You got off the bus from Podunk two months ago.”
“Pahrump, Nevada.” Her cheeks had gone pink. “I don’t really know anybody here, so I’m trying to meet people. Sorry if you thought I was…you know. I’ve got a boyfriend back home, so I wasn’t hitting on you. Wow, how embarrassing.”
Dawn’s asshole quotient shot straight through the roof at the girl’s mortification.
The starl…okay…Jacqueline continued. Dawn could at least acknowledge that she had a name as a brief apology.
“My boyfriend entered a photo of me in some modeling contest because he said he wanted everyone to know how…well, pretty I am. What a boyfriend will say, right? Then Barbara Hammer, an agent over at ISM, got a hold of it and she called, wondering if I’d thought about a career out here. I’ve got a single mom, and she has a hard time making ends meet, so I came because it sounded like I’d be able to send money home to her.”
“You’ll want to be careful.” Nice, Dawn thought. Frank would’ve wanted you to be nice to this girl. “Don’t trust people unless they earn it. Nobody’s in this town to be your friend.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Can I ask what your experiences have been like? It’d help me a lot. I don’t want to pry, but…”
God, this girlie was so green. Giving in, Dawn told her about the Darrin Ryder numb nuts incident, being careful not to name names. In spite of the population, this was a small town.
“That kind of stuff happens?” Jacqueline asked. “Really?”
“That’s nothing.” Dawn
pushed the rest of her bear claw away, not hungry anymore.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I help? You look like you’re going to get sick.”
Dawn ran a hand over her hair. “I don’t have time for getting sick or small talk or…I’ve just got a lot to do.”
She was about to get up and get out of there, fueled by coffee and frustration, but then Dawn felt a hand on her arm, the touch warm and comforting, like a blanket you could burrow under during a thunderstorm. Normalcy. It sounded so nice. Before last night, she’d thought that maybe Matt Lonigan had been her best chance at it, her strongest link to the real world—a place that seemed so far away now.
“‘When the itch is inside the boot, scratching outside provides little consolation.’” Jacqueline laughed softly, with the reassuring levity of someone who hadn’t seen the worst yet. “It’s a Chinese proverb that my mom used to say to me. I think it’s got something to do with taking the time for small talk…or big talk. Opening up.”
What, was this girl Dawn’s Best Friend Forever?
Belatedly, she realized that she hadn’t shrugged off Jacqueline’s hand yet. Hadn’t thought to do it.
Instead she just sat there, the little abandoned girl inside of her kind of wanting to hear more. “Must’ve been nice, having a smart mom like that around.”
“It was.” Jacqueline smiled. “It’s sad about what happened to your mother. I would’ve been a complete wreck in your shoes, but you’ve grown up strong, haven’t you? Dipak admires that about you, too.”
“You and Dipak talk an awful lot.”
“The man’s a social butterfly. He likes to chat about his wonderful students, except when he’s telling me how bad my posture is.”
In spite of herself, Dawn grinned, but only slightly. “You’ve got good posture. You carry yourself well.”
Sad. It was just a matter of time before this decent girl became one of them.
For some reason, Jacqueline was beaming. “Was that a compliment I just heard from you?”
Dawn shrugged.
“Wow. That first day, I thought you were sort of a…”
“Bitch,” Dawn supplied. “I still am.”
“Dawn!” Kiko hopped over to her side, grabbing her good arm and demanding her attention. “Guess what?”
She took in his excitement. “Your upstairs neighbor is the devil’s handmaiden and she’s preparing you to have his child.”
“That one’s Rosemary’s Baby!” he blurted without even missing a beat. “Listen, I’ve got an audition!”
Jacqueline, who didn’t even know the guy, clapped her hands.
“When?” Dawn asked, pretty excited, too, even though she wasn’t going to go all pep squad about it.
“Monday at ten in the morning. Some kind of fantasy miniseries, so I expect lots of prosthetics and makeup.”
As she congratulated him, she wondered how the hell he was going to shoot around their PI schedule. Surely Limpet had to have contingency plans for this sort of thing.
He’d already stuck out his hand to Jacqueline. “Kiko Daniels, actor.”
“Jacqueline Ashley, actress.”
They started in with the chatter—Kiko so smitten that he was just about to drown in a shower of his own saliva and Jacqueline not seeming to realize it.
Dawn checked her watch. She and her love-struck pal needed to get going if they were going to be on time for their appointment with Robby’s old costar.
She stood. “Time,” she said to Kiko.
He looked disappointed because the conversation with his future wife was going so swimmingly. Suddenly, Dawn wondered if he’d been serious about the phrase back at the fencing studio—if he’d had some vision about her marrying him.
“Gotta go,” Dawn said to Jacqueline, rushing things along.
“Maybe I’ll see you fencing sometime?” she asked hopefully.
“Maybe.”
“Wait, wait a sec, would you?”
Dawn did, slipping her shoulder bag in place. It was heavy with her stake and gun.
Jacqueline had gotten to her feet, too, an inch or so shorter than Dawn, but a whole lot more slender. Instead of a stuntwoman’s streamlined muscles, she had a willowy grace that came with balletic limbs and natural assurance.
“I was thinking,” the girl said, “that maybe we could even meet at the studio. You’re into sabers, Dipak said, and I know I’m not that good, but if you ever need a partner to beat up on…” She laughed. “And I’m not asking you out, either.”
Dawn thought that maybe, after she found Frank, she could spare some time to keep an eye on this girl—from afar, you know.
If she didn’t, she’d have a hard time forgiving herself when Jacqueline Ashley got eaten by the Hollywood machine, and the last thing Dawn needed was more regret. Besides, a safety check didn’t have to happen more than once every two months.
She gave Jacqueline her business card. “Call, and we’ll sweat it out sometime.”
Then, with short wave, she went to the car with Kiko.
And, as they drove to the production lot, someone followed, keeping an eye on Dawn, too.
Twenty-Two
The Pain
That night, hell came to L.A.
It started around a quarter after midnight, when Dawn, Kiko, and Breisi were back at the office after a long day of interviews plus bar and hotel visits. At the very least, they weren’t getting any evidence to support the theory that Nathan had been using Robby to gather blackmail material against the more powerful players in town. This gave weight to the possibility that he might’ve been lending Robby out to further his career even more. Or was it even more personal than that?
Hell, all Dawn knew was that today’s first interview with Robby’s old costar had revealed a viper; all morning, as they’d strolled around the Universal lot, he’d sniped at his fellow child actor, seeming to revel in Robby’s misfortunes. The man was clearly taking out his own failure to succeed in the biz on Robby, but he’d confirmed what Klara Monaghan had told them about Nathan and Robby’s passes at the older costars, and he’d noted that his competitor seemed to be getting tired of his little-boy roles. He’d also given them more names to interview.
Accordingly, they’d hit a fraction of that list, plus the one they’d already developed. The highlights included a producer who’d supposedly taken Robby up on Nathan’s offers, although he wouldn’t admit to it; a childless Hollywood wife who’d brought Robby home to pretend he was her own child for one night—or so she said (and Dawn believed her, even before Kiko had taken her reading and given her the thumbs-up); and a silver-haired actor who’d been accused of hiring the child for an entirely different reason. Much to Dawn’s shock, he’d even related the nauseating details of what he’d done to the boy.
“Sick bastard,” she said, even though it was hours later in the foyer of the Limpet offices. Having just updated with The Voice himself, they were getting ready to go to the coroner’s office for a closer look at Klara. Word had it that there’d been good DNA evidence collected at the scene. Should be interesting.
But what was even more interesting was the way Jonah was treating her. Strictly professional, even deeply respectful, without any hint as to what had happened last night. Hell, she was used to the morning-after amnesia of sleeping with someone, but that wasn’t exactly the case here.
She recalled the scream of rage she’d thought she heard before he disappeared.
Maybe it was smart to give him a time-out.
Presently, Kiko was agreeing with Dawn’s assessment of the “sick bastard.”
“Wouldn’t it be great if the Marquis de Sade could travel forward in time and get a hold of that guy? Match made in hell.” Getting out of his chair, he adjusted his shoulder holster, readying himself to leave. “He and Nathan Pennybaker probably got along real well back when they were doing business. Like our fugitive friend, the perv liked watching you two women while he told us all about his ad
ventures in Neverland.”
“He didn’t like it so much when I got up in his face.” Dawn meant to scowl, but instead she yawned. “God, I couldn’t stand to hear any more of his putrid stories.”
“Yes, Dawn,” Breisi said, standing and jotting notes to herself on a clipboard. “Your interview-ending temper will go a long way in getting us more sources of information. I’m sure the word is out about your happy hands.”
Kiko laughed. “Are you kidding me? Perverts like that love a little who’s-your-daddy action. Dawn’s phone’ll be ringing off the hook.”
Speaking of phone calls, Dawn remembered that Matt Lonigan had left a message on her old voice mail an hour ago. “Call me,” he’d said. Short and sweet—just the opposite of how she usually liked her men.
“Gotta ring Lonigan,” she said, standing.
Breisi speed-walked for the door. “Let’s go.”
Instead Kiko, being a general pain in the bupkis, came over and nudged Dawn’s waist with a pointed finger, obviously intending to rib her about Lonigan. But the second he made contact with Frank’s undershirt, he hitched in a breath.
“What?” she said, on alert.
Ever since twilight had hit the horizon, Kiko had been getting stronger vibes whenever he touched the shirt, as their ritual demanded. It was almost like Frank’s consciousness was awakening with the growing darkness. Dawn didn’t like what that foretold at all.
“Scraps of last night’s vision,” Kiko said.
Breisi wandered back to them. “Do it again.”
Tentatively, Kiko laid a hand on the shirt. Who could blame him for being reluctant now that the night was at its darkest?
He jerked his hand away.
“What?” Breisi and Dawn stereoed.
“Bava. I saw Bava.”
“Jonah said that’s where he disappeared.” Dawn bent down to Kiko’s height so she could peer into his eyes.
Normal, focused. Steeped with concern for Frank.
“Jonah?”Breisi asked.
Dawn ignored the question of why she was using The Voice’s first name. “What else, Kik?”
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