"You'd better tell us about it," said Maddox while Garrett nodded in agreement.
"You can't tell anyone. I signed a confidentiality order; and I'm breaking it just by telling you."
"Want me to flash you my badge?" asked Garrett. "And arrest you for obstruction?"
"Point taken," I said with a deep breath before pouring out the blackmail story.
~
"I'm lost for words," said Solomon. We were drinking coffee in the hotel lounge and Solomon didn't look pleased. "I leave you alone for two hours, and a corpse falls into your lap."
"Not exactly my lap," I said, grateful for the sweet, warm beverage; and even more grateful not to have a corpse in my lap. "She was in the next room."
"Knifed in the back," Solomon said, again, as if he couldn't quite believe it.
"Yep."
"You think Lauren could have done it?"
I shook my head, not to indicate no, but rather a confused I don't know. "I couldn't tell you. I saw her just as I got into the elevator downstairs. Two uniforms brought her to Garrett. She was wearing the same clothes she wore when she argued with Katya and there didn't appear to be any blood on her clothing. With all the blood spray on the wall, I would have expected to see at least, some."
"That doesn't definitely rule her out," Solomon said, echoing my private thoughts.
"Garrett and Maddox wanted to know if Katya's murder might be connected to the blackmailer."
"As far as questions go, that one is not way off base. I've been wondering the same thing."
"Me too. I don't see a feasible connection, but I can't rule that out. It's a big step, but maybe the blackmailer is sending a message." I paused, thinking. "So far, they've all paid up; so it can't be because they didn't..."
"I'm not so sure the latest blackmail notes were all paid," said Solomon. "Or at least, the next blackmail note almost certainly won't be. After all, we're here to find the blackmailer and end the demands."
"I was just looking for Katya to interview when I found her." I shook my head, almost hoping to dislodge the image of her. "I didn't have a chance to ask about her secret, or the others’."
"There's still time to find out."
I paused, the coffee cup inches from my lips, and asked in surprise, "We're still on the case?"
"Absolutely. Joe and I spoke already, and we agreed it's even more imperative now that there's been a murder. If the blackmailer turns out to be the murderer, the whole band could be in danger."
"So, we find the blackmailer, and we find the murderer?"
Solomon smiled. "That's the idea."
"What does Joe think?"
"Let's ask him," Solomon replied, raising his hand and waving to someone behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I spied Joe walking towards us. He dropped into a chair and ran a hand under his jaw while letting out a deep sigh.
"I can't believe it," he said. "I mean, if anyone asked me who in the band was most likely to be murdered, I'd have said Katya, but she's... she's dead... I can't believe it."
"Why would you pick..." I started to ask, but Joe carried on, talking over me, like he hadn't even heard me speak.
"And a knife in the back? Talk about poetic justice."
"Poetic justice?" I asked, a little louder this time. The question in my voice caught his attention.
"Yeah, she was always the one who had no problem knifing everyone else in the back. Oh, metaphorically speaking, of course. She was pretty harmless, but she had a nasty tongue."
"I saw her and Lauren having a bust-up earlier," I said. "It looked like it was getting physical."
"That's Katya. She's all bluster though. Plus, the girls have always fought."
"I thought they were supposed to be best of friends? What happened?"
"Sure, that's the story we feed everyone. Truth is, they don't get on so well anymore. Been forced together too long, I guess." Joe raised a hand, signaling to the waitress. She came over, took his order for a beer, and departed quickly. "There isn't a person anywhere who hasn't been on the receiving end of Katya in a mood."
"She's not well liked?" I continued. I figured now was as good a time as any to interview Joe, even if I didn't make clear I was doing that. He appeared so forthcoming and willing to talk. It could have been the shock, or simply delight at Katya's rapid and untimely departure from the world, for all I knew.
"Hell, no."
"If you could pick someone, anyone, as the one most likely to want Katya out of the way, whom would you chose?" I asked. Solomon rested back in his chair, watching our repartee without interrupting.
Joe laughed. "That's an easy one. Everyone!"
"Including you?" I watched Joe's reaction closely. He didn't appear at all perturbed by the question and intercepted the cold beer from the waitress before she could set it on the table. He slipped a twenty-dollar bill into her hand and took a long swig from the neck of the bottle.
"Sometimes," he admitted, "she was really hard work, but these girls make me a lot of money. It serves my best interests to keep them together, and selling albums and merchandise. Plus, I wasn't anywhere near Katya's suite at the time."
"Where were you?" Solomon asked.
"Oh, I see. Ruling me out?" laughed Joe. "Checking out my alibi. Sure. No problem. I was in the library here in the hotel when I got the call. I went upstairs just after the police got here. So, you see, I was nowhere near the crime scene."
I exchanged a glance with Solomon. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed his slightly narrowing eyes, or his curiosity, but I knew him well, and he knew that I would have something to say about that.
"Can anyone verify that?" I asked.
"I don't know. I guess. There's probably a waiter that saw me."
"We'd like to investigate this new angle to the case, along with the letters you've given us," said Solomon changing the topic after another imperceptible glance passed between us. "It might help us find the blackmailer."
This time, Joe leaned forward, looking from Solomon to me. "You think there's a chance this could be the same guy?"
"Or woman," I countered. "But yes, we're working on a theory that the two crimes may be connected."
"So Solomon said earlier. You know, I kind of hoped Katya was the blackmailer," said Joe, surprising me. He continued without any prompting, "I know I said she was a blusterer, but she was still a mean person. I wouldn't have put it past her to blackmail the other girls for money. She would have loved getting one over them."
"Could she have known any of their secrets? They didn't get along," I reminded Joe.
"They might hate each other now, but at one time, they were tight. It's possible. Katya was a mega bitch; and it wouldn’t have been the first time she cooked up a nasty scheme."
"Like what?"
"Oh, embarrassing the other girls in public, or sabotaging a costume. At their calendar shoot, she even turned up wearing something different just so she could be the center of their cover. Katya does not have any problems when it comes to trying anything to get ahead."
"Could money have been a motive for Katya? Did she have any money problems?" Solomon asked.
"You can ask the band's accountant, but no, I don't think she was struggling. Katya's motivations weren't always clear though. She liked to play games."
"We'll add Katya to our list of blackmail suspects," I told Joe, not mentioning that she was already on it, along with dozens of other people.
"Guess it'll be easy to find out if it was her. No more letters will turn up!" Joe laughed. He took a long swig and returned the empty bottle to the table, having drained it in less than a couple of minutes.
I was just about to hit him with another question, when I heard his name being screamed across the room. The three of us looked around to see Lauren, shaking and sobbing. In front of her, three photographers shoved their cameras into her face, their incessant flashes making her blink as her hands flailed in vain attempts to push them away. The more she swung at them, the more they photographed h
er.
"Jeez," growled Joe, jumping to his feet, followed by Solomon and me.
"Wait here," Solomon instructed, trailing Joe.
I watched, rooted to the spot, as Solomon pushed back the photographers, allowing Joe enough space to wrap an arm around Lauren. He guided her away from the pack as the hotel manager and several bellboys hurried towards them.
"Get them outta here!" Solomon said loudly before giving one of the photographers a shove towards the nearest pair of bellboys. "Have you no respect?" he snapped at their parting backs before following Joe and Lauren. "Let's find a private room."
"I'm so sorry," said the hotel manager, grimacing as he approached. "Mr. Carter, we have no idea how they got in. We've posted security staff on every door since you arrived, and we even doubled up our usual security procedures and officers to ensure your party wouldn't be disturbed."
"They must have got a hundred shots," wailed Lauren, mascara streaking her cheeks. "This will be in all the papers. They asked me if I killed her!"
"Hush," consoled Joe, tightening his arm around her. "Get us a room, would you?" he said to the manager.
The manager beckoned us to follow him. We left the lounge and a dozen watchful eyes before crossing a short corridor. Entering through a door he unlocked, we came into a small room outfitted with comfortable couches and a wall lined with old books. "The library is at your disposal," the kind manager told us. "I'll have complimentary drinks and refreshments sent to you forthwith."
"And I'll assign my guys to the doors," added Solomon. "No one will get past them."
I followed the manager to the door. "Is this room always locked?" I asked.
"Not always, but we've been renovating the past couple of days, so it's been out of use. Is there anything else?"
"No, thank you." He pulled the door shut behind him and I turned back to our party. I glanced at Joe, his arm wrapped around Lauren as he consoled her, wondering why he claimed to be in a room he couldn't possibly have been in.
"Thanks for getting me out of there," hiccupped Lauren before collapsing onto a couch. "I hate the paparazzi. They're... they're such vultures! And now they're going to publish photos of me looking a mess."
"Not a mess, honey. Devastated, inconsolable, at the death of someone who wasn't just a band mate, but a sister, and the paparazzi are just there to take advantage of your trauma. This is great PR for you."
Solomon and I exchanged WTF glances. As Joe spun the story, Lauren's tears subsided and her sobbing slowed to sniffs.
"You've had a hard morning," I said. "People will understand."
Lauren looked up, frowning when she saw me. "Who are you?" she asked.
Joe placed a hand on my shoulder. "This is Lexi Graves, the PI we hired. You met last night."
"Oh, right. I forgot. Hey."
"Hey," I said. "Are you okay to answer a few questions?"
"I already answered a whole bunch of questions that detective just fired at me. Hey, he was called Graves too. He gave me his card." Lauren patted her pockets, then reached for her purse, pulling it onto her lap and opening it, searching unsuccessfully.
"He's my brother and also a really great cop."
"He said I shouldn't talk about Katya with anyone."
"He didn't mean me," I told her, which was a lie. "He meant journalists and... umm... nosy people."
"Riiight," agreed Lauren. She screwed up her eyes, clearly thinking. "Am I supposed to have a lawyer? Joe, should I have a lawyer with me when I talk to the police?"
"Not yet," I said, before Joe could answer, "but call us if you like and we'll advise you. Also, we're not the police."
"So, I don't need a lawyer?"
"Is there a reason why you might need a lawyer?" Solomon asked.
"Like, no!" Lauren scoffed, batting her hand at him. "I didn't kill Katya. I told Detective Graves that, and he was all, okay. So, I'm innocent."
Joe nodded. "Then you don't need a lawyer, honey." He paused, looking worried. "All the same, if the police want to talk to you again, tell me, so I can call your lawyer."
"Okay," agreed Lauren readily, not asking Joe why. "Do I need a lawyer to talk to these people?"
"No, you don't. Joe hired us to look into the blackmail threats. We'd like to rule Katya's death out as having nothing to do with the blackmail..." I started, only to be interrupted by Lauren's squeal as she sat bolt upright.
"You mean the blackmailer killed Katya? Ohmygod, is he going to kill me too?"
"No, that's unlikely..."
"Ohmygod, ohmygod!"
"We just need to rule out..."
"It's like Scream! He's going to pick us off one-by-one! Ohmygod, Joe, he's probably already in the hotel. Get me a new suite! And I want someone to check under the bed and in the wardrobe! And I want a bodyguard and... and..."
"Breathe, Lauren, breathe," Joe repeated, taking Lauren's hand and patting it. "No one is going to hurt you," he added, glaring at me. "The investigators just need to ask you a few questions. I'll be here the whole time and then I'll assign one of the security team to look after you around the clock."
"Even when I'm sleeping? I can't have someone watch me when I'm sleeping. That's creepy."
"Whatever you want, honey. I promise you'll be safe."
"Well, okay, but I don't want to die, okay? Let’s be clear on that. I do not want to die!"
"You won't die," Joe said. A gentle incline of his head indicated I could start questioning again.
"Lauren, can you tell me what happened between you and Katya this morning?" I asked.
"Nothing. We hung out at the mall, but then it got a little crazy with all these girls following us, so we came back to the hotel. We went to our suite and I left after we got into it over some shoes. I planned to go downstairs but then Katya tried to steal my purse and we went back to the suite. She wouldn't let up so I left to see if Amelia was in her suite."
"Did you see Amelia?"
"No, she wasn't there. I called her and she said she was downstairs."
"What did you do next?"
"I hung out in Amelia's suite, waiting for her."
"Why didn't you return to your own suite?"
Lauren sighed. "Katya was in it."
"You two were having a lot of problems?"
"Not really. She was her usual mean self and I didn't want to be around her. She keeps taking my stuff."
Joe nodded. "I had to speak to Katya a few times about not borrowing the girls' things."
"She doesn't borrow, she steals!" Lauren replied, her mouth becoming a cross pout.
"Did you have an argument?"
"No, we were cool, but I can't believe I got stuck sharing a suite with her. Anyway, I waited for Amelia and thought I'd take a nap on their couch, when I heard someone yelling. It was really loud and annoying, and I figured one of our fans must’ve gotten into the hotel, so I just ignored it. Then this cop came and found me and said Katya was dead." Lauren sucked in a deep breath.
"Was anyone else with you?"
"Like... when?"
"After you left Katya?"
"Ummm... no."
"What about Shelley?"
"She wasn't in their suite either."
"Who do you think might have wanted to kill Katya?" I asked, changing my line of questioning slightly now that it was clear Lauren didn't have any alibi.
Lauren laughed. "Seriously?"
I didn't think it was a laughing matter at all, but Lauren seemed to think my question was hilarious. I waited until her giggling slowed to a splutter as she held her sides, then repeated the question.
"Pretty much everyone hated Katya," she said succinctly. "Including me."
"You threatened to kill her last night," I pointed out. "And today."
"Did I?" Lauren shrugged. "I think I must threaten to kill her once a day."
"You said you hoped she'd be stabbed to death."
"Uh, yah, look, I don't know what you're implying, but I didn't kill her, okay? Like I said, I was tak
ing a nap in Amelia and Shelley's suite." Lauren folded her arms across her chest and wrinkled her nose. I figured I had a small window of time before she got so annoyed with my questions, she refused to answer any more, probably forever.
"Do you know Katya's secret?"
"The thing she was being blackmailed about? About Russia?"
"Yes. What was worth blackmailing her for about Russia?"
"All I know is that Katya lived there until she was five or six before she came to America. She had this big story about her family escaping as refugees and making their way here to start a new life. She told this whole sad story about being an immigrant and having to learn English from watching the TV while her dirt poor parents scraped out a living, only I don't think it was all true."
"Which bit? That she came from Russia?"
"No, that was true. I just don't think her parents came here as refugees. I think they fled Russia, but only because they were powerful and later became targets for... oh I don't know! The mafia or the government or something. I just overheard something years ago about her parents betraying someone or other. Anyway, Katya's family were super rich and they brought a lot of money with them and they never had to scrape out a living."
"Is that the kind of thing she'd want to be kept quiet?"
"Wouldn't you? The press would have had a field day running the expose. It's not really the American dream when your parents are megabuck traitors, is it?"
Chapter Five
"He's lying, she's lying," I told Solomon. We were on the top floor of the hotel, sitting in Joe's suite, and far away from the overly interested glances of the other hotel guests. I couldn't blame them for their curious stares. If I knew I were staying in the same hotel as a hot girl band, and one of them had just been murdered, I would have been looking too, and not just to check out their fashions. Since our conversation in the library, Lauren had become increasingly louder until she finally dissolved into sobs. I didn't think she was that upset about losing Katya, but rather, feared she was becoming our number one suspect. Finally, Joe spirited her away to "rest."
"That so?" asked Solomon, glancing towards the door as if one of the band members might burst in at any moment.
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