‘She told me she was flying to Milan,’ Lucky said.
‘No, no, she cancelled out Italy,’ Lina said, ‘which kind of pissed me off, ’cause we always go there together. Y’ know, run riot on the runways, ’ave a wild time.’
‘Hmmm . . . I wonder what she’s up to,’ Lucky mused. ‘Maybe I should give her a call.’
‘Could be she’s got herself a secret boyfriend,’ Lina said. ‘Although if she ’as, I’m pissed she didn’t confide in me.’
‘Does she tell you everything?’ Lucky asked, amused.
‘Usually. Only I guess she didn’t want me knowing about this one.’
‘I was under the impression that Brigette had given up on dating for a while – at least, that’s what she told me last time we spoke.’
‘Well, yes. Then she had that ’orrible experience in New York.’
‘What horrible experience?’
‘Uh-oh,’ Lina said, clapping a hand over her mouth. ‘I’m givin’ away secrets.’
‘Too late now, keep going.’
‘Some jerk slipped a pill in her drink – y’ know, one of those date rape drugs. And Brig is under the impression that the bastard might’ve raped her. I promised not to tell anyone – especially you – ’cause Brig says she always ’as to run to you to get ’er out of trouble.’
‘When did this happen?’ Lucky asked, frowning.
‘A coupla months ago,’ Lina said. ‘She was furious, but she got over it. Me – I would’ve chopped off ’is ding-dong with a blunt knife!’
Lucky couldn’t help smiling. ‘Lina, Lina, you’re my kind of girl.’
Lina grinned back. ‘That’s what Brig always says.’
‘So who is this guy?’ Lucky asked.
‘Some Italian arsehole we ’ad dinner with. I mean ’e was an attractive bloke – I would ’ave given ’im one in a flash. It beats me why ’e ’ad t’ do it.’
‘Men are a problem for Brigette. She’s always had bad luck with them,’ Lucky said. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard things.’
‘Yeah. Brutal,’ Lina said. ‘Thought I’d met every prick in town until I ’eard her war stories.’
‘What are you doing in LA?’ Lucky asked.
‘Actually, I’m leaving tomorrow, going to Milan for fashion week. I came out here to meet with Charlie Dollar for his new film.’
‘Charlie’s a good guy,’ Lucky said. ‘You’ll love him.’
‘I know,’ Lina said, with a secretive smirk.
‘You do?’
‘Well,’ Lina said. ‘I know ’e’s great in the sack. I’ve already ’ad ’im.’
‘I advise you not to advertise,’ Lucky said drily. ‘Charlie has a very steady relationship with Dahlia.’
‘Guess I’m not being exactly discreet,’ Lina admitted. ‘It’s just that it was sooo exciting. Me mum loves him.’
‘Here comes Venus,’ Lucky said. ‘Have you two met?’
‘No. I’ve met Cooper, though,’ Lina said, refraining from adding that she’d had him, too. Somehow she didn’t think Lucky would appreciate the information, even though it had been way before he married the blonde superstar.
‘Venus,’ Lucky said, ‘this is Lina. She’s a good friend of Brigette’s.’
‘Of course I know who Lina is,’ Venus said. ‘Watched you kick ass in Paris at the Chanel show. You killed ’em on the catwalk. Loved it!’
‘Thanks,’ Lina said, quite intimidated for once.
‘Oh, and this is Price Washington,’ Venus added, as Lucky drifted off. ‘He’s been dying to meet you all night.’
‘’Ello, Price,’ Lina said, giving him the lowering-of-the-eyes look. Sexy and demure. An unbeatable combination.
‘Hey—’ Price said, checking her out and liking what he saw. ‘Noticed your African safari in Vogue last month. Those were some pictures.’
‘What were you doing reading Vogue?’ she teased.
‘One of my girlfriends left it at the house.’
‘One of your girlfriends?’ she said, flirting outrageously. ‘’Ow many d’you ’ave?’
‘A guy’s gotta go for variety, huh?’
‘Oh, so that’s what you’re into?’
‘Could be.’
‘Lordy, Lordy,’ Venus said, fanning herself with her hand. ‘Lust is in the air. I’m tracking down my husband. See you all later.’
* * *
Somehow or other, Max Steele found himself deep in conversation with Price Washington’s girlfriend, Krissie. He was unamused at getting trapped.
‘So, you see,’ Krissie said, huge breasts jiggling with indignation, ‘after I did the Playboy shoot, I thought it was all going to happen. Everybody told me it would. I mean, if you do the full spread, you expect results – right?’
‘Right,’ he said, searching for an escape.
‘Now I’ve got this agent who tells me I have to be seen. He chose this dress for me ’cause he wanted everyone to notice me tonight. But Price is not being very nice to me. He should be nicer to me, wouldn’t you say?’ Max nodded. ‘And I know you’re a very important agent, ’cause someone told me. So I hope you don’t mind me coming up and talking to you, but I need a new agent, and I think you’d be the man for me.’
‘Have you had any film experience?’ he asked, still looking around for someone to rescue him.
‘No, except I did do a kind of . . . Well, it was really soft core. And if Traci Lords can make it in legit movies, anybody can, don’t you think?’
‘Traci Lords is a passable actress,’ Max said. ‘She did pornos when she was a teenager. After that she studied her craft and now she’s not bad.’
‘I can study my craft, too,’ Krissie said excitedly, forty-inch double Ds heaving with emotion.
Christ! Max thought. Where’s Lina when I need her?
* * *
Lina was sharing a joint with Price Washington on the terrace. And although he was black and a star and very sexy, she couldn’t help wondering what had happened to Steven Berkeley – him being one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen, black or white. And he was nice with it: he hadn’t even come on to her, although she’d certainly given him every opportunity.
She was dying to ask Brigette more about him, but who knew where Brigette had run off to, the secretive little brat? Lina hated being left out. If Brigette had a boyfriend, she wanted to know about it, and how.
In the meantime, here she was in LA, surrounded by eligible black men – and that was quite unusual, because she usually only came across white dudes. White, rich and horny. The story of Lina, supermodel.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like men of colour, it was simply that she never got to meet any. There were a couple of gorgeous black models she often ran into on the circuit – both gay. And she’d briefly dated rapper Big TMF, who’d treated her like some hot little honey on a star trip. Thank you, no. Especially when all he’d wanted her to do was go down on him while he listened to his own CDs! What a cheek!
‘So, Lina,’ Price said, taking a healthy drag on the joint before handing it back to her, ‘how long are you in LA?’
‘Only a few more hours,’ she said.
‘Goin’ to spend them with me?’ he said, giving her the heavy-lidded sexy stare for which he was famous.
‘You don’t believe in wastin’ time, do you?’ she said archly.
‘My mama taught me a moment wasted is a moment lost.’
Another city. Another night. And he might have been in with a chance. But LA was getting too crowded. Lina wanted to go back to her hotel and think about Steven. And she also had to let Max down. Gently, of course. After all, he was her agent.
‘Sorry,’ she said to Price, with a dazzling smile. ‘Me dance card is full.’
* * *
Lina’s story about Brigette had worried Lucky. Basically Brigette was sweet and vulnerable, not the kind of girl to get caught up in the whole modelling scene of parties, drugs and money. Fortunately she’d made it to the top fast, like lightning in f
act. And that had saved her from the seamier side of the business. Lucky knew all about the predatory men who preyed on gorgeous young girls with endless ambition; the agents who pursued them with phoney promises; and the designers who used them until they were finished.
Brigette had yearned for a career, something she could achieve on her own and, like an answered prayer, it had come to her, for if Brigette had nothing except her vast inheritance, it would have destroyed her. As it was, Lucky could weep when she thought of all the things Brigette had suffered through.
Early in the morning, she decided she’d call Brigette’s agent and find out exactly where she was and who she was with. If Brigette needed any kind of help, she’d be there.
Glancing across the room, she observed Alex talking with Pia. This one was lasting longer than the others, perhaps because she was a smart girl, a lawyer.
Why are you thinking about Alex, she asked herself, when you should be getting home to Lennie and your children?
Ah . . . domesticity. She loved and adored her family, but sometimes the thought of freedom was so damn tempting!
Maybe Alex was the wise one. No family. No ties. Only his work – about which he was passionate – and the occasional lover.
Ah, yes, but Alex would never feel the whispered kiss of a child, a baby’s soft warm cuddle, or hear a little voice calling, ‘Daddy, I love you,’ in the middle of the night.
She took another look at him. Damn! He was whispering in Pia’s ear.
Wasn’t it about time he traded her in?
* * *
‘Good night, Steven,’ Venus said, kissing him on both cheeks. ‘I hope you’re glad you came.’
Carioca was asleep in his arms, her innocent little face pressed tightly against his shoulder. ‘Somebody had a great time,’ he said, with a trace of a smile.
‘Good,’ Venus said. ‘We want to see more of you.’
‘You will,’ he said, thinking of Brigette’s friend with the appalling dress and crazy accent. There was something about her . . .
‘We’ll call you next week,’ Venus said. ‘I’ll set something up with Lucky and Lennie.’
He nodded. ‘I’d like that.’
* * *
And so the party wound down, and everyone went home. Venus grinned at Cooper and said, ‘It was a huge success.’
Cooper agreed, and they went upstairs and made love under the stars in the Jacuzzi on their bedroom terrace.
And somewhere in a far-off tree, a paparazzo, balancing precariously on a high branch, took unbelievably intimate pictures with his telephoto lens.
And the caterers left.
And most of the security left.
And soon it would be just another balmy day in Hollywood.
Book Three
*
Two Months Later
Chapter Fifty-One
Teddy had left it too late to run. Too freakin’ late. The last few weeks had been his worst nightmare come true, starting with two detectives turning up at the house, questioning him about the jeep – with Mila skulking upstairs in his bedroom, frightened to come down in case they recognized her from the computer likeness.
They’d questioned him for ten minutes before Irena had appeared, bundled into a long brown robe, her face scrubbed of makeup. ‘What going on?’ she demanded, glaring at everyone in a most unfriendly way.
For once, Teddy was thrilled to see her.
‘We’re investigating an incident involving a jeep with several of the same licence-plate numbers as the jeep registered to this address,’ Detective Johnson said.
Irena pulled herself up to her full five feet six inches. ‘Do you realize whose house this is?’ she asked imperiously.
‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ the second detective, a heavy-set Hispanic man, enquired, ‘who are you?’
‘Who am I?’ Irena said, putting on a good show of indignation. ‘I am Mr Price Washington’s personal assistant, and I am sure Mr Washington’s lawyer would be most disturbed if he knew you were speaking to Mr Washington’s son without him present. You must leave immediately.’
Teddy was impressed. Irena could kick it good.
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Detective Johnson replied, recognizing a pain in the ass when it stared him in the face. He was well aware that dealing with so-called celebrities was always trouble, and this uptight woman was definitely on protection duty. ‘Hopefully we won’t need to bother you again.’
‘What was that about?’ Irena asked, as soon as the two detectives had left.
Teddy shrugged, attempting to appear unconcerned, although inside he was shaking. ‘Dunno. Somethin’ about a jeep involved in a robbery.’
‘There are thousands of jeeps in Los Angeles,’ Irena said crossly. ‘Why they come here?’
Teddy shrugged again and turned away. He didn’t want her to see his face, which probably had ‘Guilty’ written all over it. ‘Beats me,’ he said.
‘Where’s Mila?’ Irena snapped.
‘Haven’t seen her,’ Teddy lied.
‘Do not answer the door again,’ Irena said sternly. ‘It is my job to look after this house. My job, not yours.’ She shot him a suspicious look. ‘You have something to hide, Teddy?’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ he mumbled.
Once rid of Irena, Teddy raced upstairs where he and Mila conferred way into the night.
‘Whatever happens,’ Mila insisted, her pointed face agitated and angry, ‘deny everything. Understand, Teddy? Or, I promise you, you’ll regret it big time.’
A week later the same two detectives were back. This time they requested to see the jeep.
Once again, Irena stonewalled them.
‘How about we come back with a search warrant?’ Detective Johnson said, with a weary sigh. He’d spent too much time and energy on this case. All he wanted to do was solve it so he could get the Santangelo woman off his back. She was bugging the shit out of him, completely unaware of the many other homicides that needed solving.
‘Yes,’ Irena said, glaring at him. ‘Perhaps that’s what you should do.’
‘If that’s what the miserable witch wants,’ Detective Johnson muttered to his partner as the two men returned to their car, ‘that’s what she’ll get.’
The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that the jumpy black kid they’d talked to a week ago looked a lot like the artist’s rendition of one of the suspects. That, combined with the jeep having some of the same numbers, was giving him cause to think they may have hit pay dirt.
Twenty-four hours later they returned with a warrant to inspect the jeep.
Irena, who on principle detested the police, almost panicked. Price was in Vegas and she didn’t wish to bother him with such nonsense, so she made the two detectives wait at the door while she contacted Price’s lawyer, who yelled at her for not alerting him the first time they’d come to the house.
‘Podonki!’ she snapped, reverting to her mother tongue as she slammed down the phone. Police. Lawyers. All figures of authority made her sick. They thought they could march in anywhere and do whatever they wanted. But not in Price Washington’s house they couldn’t. Not while she was there to protect him.
The detectives with their precious warrant were out of luck, because Teddy was not home, so the jeep wasn’t there.
‘When will he be back?’ the Hispanic detective asked.
‘I not know,’ she said, guarding the front door like a sentinel.
‘We’ll wait,’ Detective Johnson said.
‘Outside,’ she said.
‘What was your name again?’ he said.
‘Irena Kopistani,’ she said. And felt fear, because if anyone discovered her true identity it was quite possible she would be deported, considering she’d entered the country under an assumed identity.
‘Miss Kopistano,’ Detective Johnson said, mispronouncing her name, ‘do either of these people look familiar to you?’ He held up the two computer-generated photographs.
Irena’s stom
ach flipped. The girl in the photo resembled Mila. And the boy could certainly be Teddy.
‘No,’ she said, staring straight ahead.
‘No?’ Detective Johnson said, observing that her pinched face had flushed a dull red. ‘Doesn’t the boy look like that kid we spoke to the other day?’
‘No,’ Irena repeated.
‘That boy was Price Washington’s son, right?’
She nodded, reluctant to tell them anything.
‘Does he have a white girlfriend?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘A white girlfriend,’ Detective Johnson repeated, wondering what kind of bee she had up her ass, because she was definitely suffering an attack of the guilts.
‘No,’ Irena said flatly.
‘Where are you from, Miss Koposta?’
Her face was stony. ‘Do I have to answer your questions?’
Oh, yeah, she definitely had something to hide. ‘It’s up to you,’ he answered mildly, playing good cop.
She threw him a filthy look. ‘By law do I have to answer them?’
Detective Johnson’s gut feeling told him he’d come across a vein of gold. He’d got a search warrant for the jeep, now he was turning around and getting one for the house. Pronto. This old bag knew more than she was saying.
Forty-eight hours later they were back with a warrant to search the house.
This time the surly housekeeper couldn’t stop them. She got on the phone to Price Washington’s lawyer again, but it was too late: they were all over the house, concentrating on Teddy’s room. And when they picked up his mattress and discovered the many press clippings about the murder and Mary Lou Berkeley Detective Johnson knew for sure that this was it. They had suspect number one. And his experience told him that, once Teddy Washington was in custody, the boy would give it up within the first few hours, and they would have the name of his partner in crime.
* * *
‘Who’s the girl?’ Detective Johnson asked, waving the computer likeness of Mila in front of Teddy’s face.
‘Dunno,’ he mumbled, terrified, because when Price found out he’d been arrested and hauled down to the police station, his life would turn to pure garbage.
Dangerous Kiss Page 24