What about Sheri? Little Ms. Sex Object. Sheri wanted Nick and also wanted Laura’s role. Was she so dumb she thought she could get it if anything happened? Nobody’s that dumb. But she was a vengeful spider. What about that? If Nick really did say he wasn’t interested, she might think getting rid of me would change his mind.
And that would also get back at Hayden Fifer. What about him? He have any reason to harm his star actress? No, he loved her. He’d wanted her for this movie. Of all the directors she’d ever worked with, he was the one she liked the best. He’d never harm a hair on her head.
The knock made her heart skip a beat. She edged to the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
Nick. Come to finish what he’d failed at earlier? Her heart kicked in so fast it threatened to choke her. Then she took herself in hand. Everything is not a movie, Laura May. And Nick does not want to slaughter you. Open this door.
When he tried to kiss her, she stepped back. “What do you want?”
“What kind of line is that, coming from my beloved?” He sprawled on the Victorian sofa and gazed up at the crystal chandelier.
“You gave up any rights to being beloved when you took up with the Lloyd person.” She flipped on the chandelier; a zillion teardrops blazed into light.
Nick blinked, rubbed his eyes, and hauled himself up straight. “I just saw the police.”
“What police?”
He gave her a look. “The woman police chief.”
“So?”
“They’re looking at the stunt double’s death as a murder.”
She backed up to a wing chair and sat, crossed her legs. “How do you know?”
“Who’d want to kill her? All she ever did was work out, or work on stunts. That’s all she ever thought about. Nothing else was ever on her mind. How could any of that turn into a reason for murder?”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, I’m worried.”
“You suggesting someone wants to kill me?”
“Laura,” he said, “the world is full of nuts.”
She recrossed her legs. “You’re not being very comforting. Why aren’t you holding my hand and saying, ‘There, there’?”
“I would, if I was sure you wouldn’t spit in my eye.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Love scenes between us lately have been only on the set.” He reached for a low vase on the table behind and eased a cigarette pack from his shirt pocket, then stretched out a leg to get his lighter from his pants pocket.
“What do you expect, you bastard? And if you’re going to smoke that, go to your own suite.”
He smiled. “That’s my girl. I’m glad to see a little fire. It means you still care.”
“I care about the air I breathe and the company I keep.”
“Well, let’s talk about that for a minute. What company have you been keeping lately?”
“What does that mean?”
“That small town cop?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. After your antics, you can’t in all good conscience expect to play the jealous suitor.”
“Come on, Laura. Stop playing to the camera.”
It was true, everything was a scene for her. Well, she had to have some way to get through the pain. They weren’t even married yet, and he couldn’t keep his pants zipped.
“I told you the thing with Sheri just happened.”
She jumped up; the shiny robe swished as she paced. “You couldn’t help yourselves. Love like yours couldn’t be denied.”
“Oh, hell, no. She’s a beautiful and determined lady. I had just enough to drink that it seemed like a good idea. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry it happened? Or sorry that now she’s got her sticky fingers clutching at you?”
“Don’t be snide, Laura. You don’t do snide convincingly.”
She stopped in front of him and crossed her arms. “I’m a damn sight more convincing than your girlfriend. She’s a lousy actress.”
“She’s not that bad.”
“She’s wood. And just barely managing to get by without cue cards.”
“My darling Laura, I’ve told you I’m sorry. I’ve groveled at your feet. What more do you want?”
An ugly bust sat on the table at the end of the sofa. She considered hurling it at him. Better not. She might miss and break it. Or not miss and break his nose. Fifer would never forgive her.
Nick was watching, waiting to see what she’d do. She turned, swirling the skirt of her robe, and tossed herself in the chair.
“One thing I could always count on, Laura,” he said.
He didn’t go on. The bastard was going to make her ask. “What?”
“Your honesty. Behind all your emoting, you’ve always been straight. With yourself, with me, with everybody.”
“Well, thank you very much. What has that got to do with your betrayal?”
“Betrayal, is it? My self-esteem just went up a notch. If you’re betrayed, I’m important.”
“Not anymore, you slime.”
He stretched both arms along the back of the sofa and crossed his ankles on the coffee table. “Have you ever done anything you regretted?”
She eyed him warily. “Yes.” Probably lots if she made a list. “So?”
“This is one of those things, Laura. It was a mistake. It was stupid. I regretted it from the moment it happened.”
“Ooohh. All this regret doesn’t keep you from letting her hang on to your arm.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Oh, really. I suppose it wasn’t her in your trailer this morning. Who was that? Somebody selling Girl Scout cookies?”
“You’re beginning to piss me off, Laura. I came to do a little more apologizing, a little more groveling, but there’s a limit. I told her there was nothing between us.”
“Maybe you should try words of one syllable.”
He leaned forward so abruptly he scared her. Her heart started doing that thing again. “Aw, Laura, come on now. Was there ever somebody in your life like that? Who got a scenario in his mind that wasn’t anywhere near reality and wouldn’t give it up?”
There was, actually. A man who swore undying love. Wanted to marry her. That he was already married never fazed him. He wouldn’t give it up, he even left his wife so they could be together. She eased one slipper off and let it dangle from her toes.
“All clear? Enough groveling? Can we have dinner now?”
“I’m tired, Nick. And there’s something I need to take care of.”
“Yeah? With a cowboy cop? What is it? Unfinished business? Sweet nostalgia? A thing for a man in uniform?”
“He doesn’t wear a uniform.”
“He does in that photo you have of him. I knew I’d seen him before. Maybe we should talk about that.”
“Talk about an old photo?” She sighed, weary, stagy. “I can’t deal with this, Nick. Just leave.”
“That the best you can do? No storming fit? Flashing eyes and flaring nostrils?”
She smiled, then pointed to the door. “Out.”
He got up and left without a backward glance. She was considering being outraged. At least he could have put up more protest.
* * *
The phone tore through the fog wrapped around his mind, collected a fistful of nerves, and jerked him awake. He grabbed the receiver to shut off the noise. “Yeah.”
“Oh, Ben, I’m so sorry. I woke you.”
He cleared his throat and tried to do the same with his mind.
“Ben?”
“Yeah, Laura. What is it?”
“I need you.”
“I’m no longer working the Bender case.”
“Please.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Just come.”
“Where are you?”
“My hotel room.” The dial tone hummed in his ear.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stared at the floor under his bare feet. My e
x-wife, who is now a Hollywood sex goddess, has just invited me to her hotel room in the middle of the night. He replaced the receiver. It couldn’t get any better than that.
He got into the shower with the idea of clearing his mind and stayed only long enough to sluice the sweat off his body. What Laura wanted teased at him while he brushed his teeth, zipped up his jeans, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. In ten minutes he had the Bronco headed for the Sunflower.
* * *
Laura wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on as if she were drowning. She kissed him; the kiss was slightly aggressive. His arms went around her automatically, his hands felt the muscles of her back under her silky robe. Her perfume filled his mind with memories. The physical responses were still there; maybe they were always there between old lovers.
She tilted her head and smiled up at him. “Oh, God, Ben, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”
“You got me here in the middle of the night to tell me that?”
“It isn’t the middle of the night. It’s only eleven. Did you ever think about me after I left?”
“Never.”
She laughed: light, pleased. “Liar.”
He smiled. “I read about you now and then, after you got famous. You did good, kid.” He let his arms drop, felt awkward, like he’d stumbled onto a movie set. Fancy hotel, subdued light, beautiful woman in slinky attire, and a rube who didn’t know what the hell he was doing here.
She stepped back and tightened the belt on her robe, then took his hand and led him to the sofa. He sat; she perched beside him, hands together on her knees, and leaned slightly toward him. A small lamp on the end table created a halo effect around her platinum hair, picking out gold highlights.
“Regrets?” she asked softly.
“Laura, what are you doing? We made a mistake a long time ago. After all the hurt, and the scraped pride and ruffled feathers, there was sadness, and then there was relief.”
“I had regrets. Lots of them. Still have sometimes.”
That tugged at desire. Irritation came along. Well well, just like old times.
“Don’t, Ben.” She barely touched his jaw. “This muscle always jumps when you get mad. Please don’t. I’m scared. I need you. I don’t have anyone else I can trust.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Don’t be a cop!” Her hands clenched. “Jesus, why can’t you just be human?”
“I was under the impression you wanted a cop. Did I get that wrong?”
Her blue eyes glistened. “I wanted a friend.”
Which made him feel like a total shit. This too was just like old times. He wondered if she was as snared in the undersurface nuances as he was. “To help, I have to ask questions. The only way I know how is as a cop. What’s the problem?”
“All business. No drinking a cup of kindness for auld lang syne.”
“What do you want from me, Laura?”
The tears filled her eyes and trailed down her face.
Oh, shit. He slid over, put his arms around her, and held her close. The cynic that he was pointed out that histrionics were her forte. The mind might twist situations with complications, or worry at them to find the hidden meanings, but the body cut to the chase, and his body responded to hers just as it always had.
He still didn’t know what she wanted from him; he still didn’t know how much he was willing to give. He didn’t know what Susan would do either, about him being here since she’d told him to keep clear.
“Laurie.” Putting both hands on her shoulders, he looked at her. With a thumb, he rubbed tears from her cheek. “Just talk to me. Okay?”
She stared back, blue eyes, wide and full of emotions he couldn’t guess at. After a second that stretched thin, she nodded. In confusion, she looked around, then went into the bedroom and came back with a handful of tissues.
“This is hard for me too.” She stood in front of him.
“Yeah.”
“What would you like to drink? Wine? I don’t know what kind they might have. Scotch? You still drink that?”
He got up, took her elbow, and steered her to the chairs at a small round table. “Sit,” he said.
Somewhat to his surprise, she did so without comment, protest, or struggle. He sat opposite her. “Now,” he said.
“Maybe somebody does want to kill me.” Her voice was low but matter-of-fact, with no overtones of great drama.
“Who?”
She got up, went to the bedroom again, and returned with a burgundy briefcase that she placed on the table, snapped open, and took out two newspapers.
With a raised eyebrow, he picked up the top one. It was a copy of the Hampstead Herald, dated two weeks ago. Page one had a photo of her getting out of a limo in front of the hotel. With a red ballpoint pen somebody had circled her name in the caption. The second paper also had her photo on the front page, but this time the focus was on Nick Logan, sitting at a picnic table near the old barn where they were shooting. Laura’s back was toward the camera. In the same red ink, a circle had been drawn on her back.
“How long have you had these?”
“The dates are on them. The first one the day after I arrived. The second one a few days later.”
“You handled them?”
“Of course I handled them. I looked through to see if there was anything else in them.”
“Was there?”
“No.”
“Where did you get them?”
“I always get the local paper on location. I told the person at the desk when I got here. He said it would be at my door every evening. I didn’t know whether I should be worried or not when I saw the first one. I mean it could be a fan. I do have fans, you know.”
“Yes.”
“And then the second one and it’s not exactly—I mean, it’s creepy.”
“Who have you told about this?”
“I don’t know. Nick. I guess my hairdresser. The makeup girl. Mostly it’s letters, you know? This kind of thing, it’s part of the game. I guess any celebrity—some are nice and some are not so nice. This feels threatening. Then—” She took a white envelope from the briefcase and slid it across the table.
He handled it carefully. Plain white, drugstore variety; Laura’s name and room number. Inside a piece of cheap typing paper with a crudely sketched gun and, in block letters, BANG.
“When did you get this?”
“This evening.”
“Anything else?”
“No. And now after Kay—” Laura shivered, crossed her arms, and clutched her elbows. “What can you do?”
“They aren’t clearly threats.” He watched her like a snake after a rabbit. She could be doing it herself, the papers, the note. Like the chief said, Laura could have arranged the accident that killed the stuntwoman. Laura should have been on the railing, Laura wasn’t. Kay Bender was. This might be reinforcement. But he didn’t know why she would.
“Ben, you’re not going to do anything?” She grabbed at his arm. “You do believe—”
“Calm down. I’m going to take care of this.” He took her hands and looked at her steadily. “I need to ask some questions. They’re going to sound like cop questions because they are cop questions. Understand? Just the facts, ma’am.”
She nodded.
“Have you hurt anybody?” He forestalled her protests. “I don’t mean minor hurt feelings. I’m talking about serious injury. The kind that could destroy someone’s life.”
“Oh, God, I hope not. Hurt feelings and irritations and that kind of thing. You know, the sort of ‘I hate her’ thing. There must be lots of those. I’ve had my share of both sides.”
“Not minor grievances, people who are just pissed. Normal people get over it after a while. The exception is a nutcase. Some guy you wouldn’t go out with, or an actor who feels he didn’t get a part because you didn’t like him. This type can put in three, four years plotting out revenge.”
“How could I know if it was something like that?”<
br />
“They don’t usually keep it to themselves. They send hate mail, make threatening phone calls.”
“Nothing but this. It feels threatening.”
Yes, it did.
She started to put her hand on the papers and he stopped her. “Don’t touch it.”
Startled, she jerked her hand back. “It’s so scary out there. You know? All those people and some of them—you never know what they are. You never know what’s coming or who’s going to jump out at you with acid or a knife.”
Yeah. A stalker who’d fastened on her. He hoped not. The thought of a psycho who mixed fantasy and reality and fed both through a sick mind scared the shit out of him. “They usually send mail too. Or try to see you.” And often the creeps believed the victim had a romantic interest in them.
“Anybody who always shows up when you’re filming? Tries to get close? Tries to talk to you? Touch you? Get past barriers? Anything like that?”
“I don’t know. I don’t pay close attention to the crowds. I need to focus on what’s coming up, otherwise my performance would be—on a level with that of Ms. Lloyd.”
Laura wasn’t so frightened that she could pass up an opportunity to throw a dig at the other actress. “Why didn’t you mention this stuff this afternoon?”
She looked at him, then got up and stalked to the bedroom. When she came back, she smacked the box of tissues on the table. “It knocked me out, if you must know. The accident—Kay and—and then seeing you and—I just—I didn’t expect it to hit me so hard and there was that other police person.”
“Yancy?”
“No. The woman.”
“The chief.”
“Anyway, you were so hard. Like you always were when you were mad. I mean, you came in angry.”
With a sour smile, he acknowledged the truth of her assessment. Old memories and old responses had come over him. He’d felt she was going to shove him into the stew pot.
“And I wanted to talk to you without all those other people. Just you.” She rested her forearms on the table and clasped her hands together. She fell silent, looking at him with wonder, then tilted her head. “We were so young.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Ben, I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t get carried away,” he said dryly.
She laughed. The laugh roused memories; it was the same delighted, life-is-so-interesting laugh she’d had when they were married. For reasons he couldn’t figure, it made him sad. Lost youth maybe, lost promises, lost chances.
Murder Take Two Page 8