by Joanna Wayne
But he’d learn to control it as soon as Alexis was arrested and convicted of Lena’s death. No way was he going to let the cops pin that on him.
He was Scotty Jeffery Hayden, genius director. And that would all die with him.
The good thing tonight was that Bronco had fought right along with him. Bronco was a giant, all muscles, no fat. And loyal to the core.
Scott dragged himself to the bathroom. He’d slipped into the depths of fatigue where every step took effort and the sharp boundaries of his intellect blurred into foggy edges of madness.
Melinda Ryan. Sexy, young seductress who hadn’t had a clue about the way she affected men. When she’d come to that first audition, she’d been too nervous to look him in the eye. But he’d watched her every move.
Her acting skills were abysmal, but he knew then he’d have to find a way to see her again. And again. And again.
Scott stepped out of his clothes and crossed the room naked. He opened the drawer next to his bed and took out the black negligee. She’d worn it for him at the second audition when he’d requested she perform in costume.
He could see her now, crossing the stage in the slinky gown, her hips swaying, her lips red and full, her eyes a mix of sapphire and midnight. She’d been the image of innocence and purity with the body of a temptress.
She hadn’t been able to portray fear that day, but insecurity? Yes. She’d embraced that completely.
But not fear.
Next time she auditioned for him, she would.
And he might just invite the wealthy young cowboy she’d run off with along for the show. As soon as he found them. It was only a matter of time.
Chapter Twelve
Alexis woke to the jarring glare of beams of light sweeping across her walls. She jumped up and rushed to the window for a better look. A truck stopped in the driveway, just behind a sports car.
Jackson Phelps and Meghan Sinclair were already here and it was still dark out. What kind of nuts conducted business this time of the morning?
She glanced at the clock. Five minutes before six. Tague hadn’t woken her as promised. That had probably been Tague’s plan all alone. Even now, she suspected he didn’t fully believe her. Who could blame him?
She padded to the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind her so that she wouldn’t disturb Tommy.
She splashed some water on her face and then reluctantly stared into the mirror. The swelling had gone down around her right eye, but the flesh was still a canvas of purple and blue tints. It would have looked better concealed by makeup but there was no time. She didn’t want to miss a word of what the P.I.s had to say.
She pulled on a pair of dark blue Bermuda shorts and a white cotton shirt that she tied at the waist. She finger-combed her mussed hair as she slipped into her sandals. A quick swipe of lip gloss and she decided that would have to do.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, joining the group of three in the kitchen.”
“You’re not late,” Jackson said. “I just got here myself. Had a devil of a time finding this place. I’m surprised the wildlife can make it this far back into the sticks.”
“I guess I should have given better directions,” Tague said. “Did you have trouble getting here, too, Meghan?”
“No, but I’ve been here before. I drove out one day with Durk,” she explained when they all stared at her in surprise.
“My brother mentioned the two of you were friends when he recommended you for this job,” Tague said.
“It was a long time ago.” Meghan turned and introduced herself to Alexis.
“Thanks for coming out this morning,” Alexis said. “Though I don’t usually consider it morning when the stars are still out.”
“I spent the night in Austin last night and I’m an early riser,” Meghan said. “Unfortunately, I usually collapse by ten. But last night I stayed up and watched part of one of your films.”
“Which one?”
“Valley of the Fangs.”
“You brave soul. No wonder you only made it through part of the movie. But I don’t know how you found it. I thought all copies had been burned or at least banned from human consumption.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“No, it was worse.” They both laughed.
Alexis was pretty sure she was going to like Meghan. She wasn’t wearing any makeup either, but she was stunning. Tall and willowy, with thick auburn curls cascading past her shoulders that brought out the deep green of her eyes. A spatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose only added to her natural beauty.
Tague handed Alexis a mug of steaming coffee.
“Thanks.” She took a sip, craving the taste and the caffeine. “I thought you were going to wake me so that I wouldn’t have to set the alarm and risk waking Tommy.”
“I was about to wake you when Meghan showed up. Then I got involved in a conversation. But you didn’t miss anything.”
“Good.”
“We can talk over breakfast,” Tague said. “If anyone needs to wash up first, there are two bathrooms off the hall. The first door to the right and the fourth door to the left.”
Both Meghan and Jackson took him up on the offer. Alexis sipped her coffee and tried to convince her body it was awake. “Breakfast smells wonderful. Anything I can help with?”
“It’s all ready,” he said. “Buffet style.”
“So what’s this about Meghan and your brother Durk?” Alexis asked. “Were they an item once?”
“That’s the impression I get. Neither has offered details.”
“She’s a ten, that’s for sure, and seems to have a personality to go with the looks,” Alexis said.
“All I care about right now is that she has brains and is good at her job.”
Minutes later they were all seated at the kitchen table with plates of food in front of them. This time the food did not claim priority, perhaps because the first topic of conversation was the bloody murders in Alexis’s apartment.
“I’ll get my hands on a copy of that police report,” Jackson said. “When we have all the facts and the identities of the victims, we can get a better idea of what
really took place.”
“Have you had any luck in discovering why Lena Fox’s suicide was upgraded to murder?” Tague asked.
“Not yet, but I’m working on it. I’ve made contact with Lena’s older sister Gabrielle and I think she may agree to meet with me. I get the impression she’s not too fond of Scott. I’m also checking the backgrounds of everyone who works at the Hayden house in any capacity.”
“That’s a quite a few people,” Alexis said.
Jackson broke his biscuit in half and used it to sop up some gravy. “You could run a five-star hotel with fewer staff. You probably know some of them, Alexis.”
“Scott had a high turnover rate, but I imagine a few like his bodyguard Bronco and his head housekeeper are still with him.”
Meghan choked on her coffee. “His bodyguard is named Bronco?”
“That’s all I ever heard him called,” Alexis said. “But it could be because he’s the size of a car.”
“I’ll try to stay on his good side,” Jackson said. “Did any of the household or garden staff have issues with Lena when you lived there?”
“Most of them did at one time or another. Lena was high-maintenance. She was a perfectionist—except when she was under the influence of cocaine. In the end, that was most of the time.”
“A perfectionist in what way?” Tague asked. “Her own appearance? The house? Her work?”
“All of the above, but in the end, her primary focus was on anything involving Scott. She’d insist that every detail of the preparations be precisely orchestrated on the nights Scott was expected to have dinner at home. She gave the staf
f directions for every aspect of the meal, right down to the fragrance of the candles and the glasses for serving her chosen aperitif.”
“The staff must have loved that,” Meghan said.
“Fortunately for them, Scott only ate at home a couple of nights a week.”
Meghan toyed with the handle of her coffee mug. “I’m not certain I have the timelines for your life in the Malibu house quite accurate, Alexis. How about starting with your first meeting with Scott and telling us how things progressed from there.”
Alexis went over everything again, from the first audition to the night Tommy was born. And then on to the night she escaped the burning house with Tommy and never went back.
“How did Scott react to his son’s birth?” Jackson asked. “Was he jubilant, detached or somewhere in between?”
“He was ecstatic. He strutted around the birthing room with Tommy in his arms as if a king had been born.”
“I thought I read that Tommy was born at home,” Meghan said.
“He was, with specially selected and exorbitantly paid doctors and nurses in attendance to ensure that no one knew that Lena had not given birth to their son. Nothing could mar the perfect birth of the Grand Director’s first son.”
“How about Lena? Was she excited?”
“She was for a few days. After that she went back to the drugs. That hurt, considering I’d given up so much to give her the son that a mere nine months before she’d wanted so badly. I actually took care of Tommy the night he was born and every night thereafter. Not that I didn’t love every minute of it.”
“Tell me about the birthing room,” Meghan said.
“It was just that. A birthing center similar to what you’d find in a hospital, except that it was located in a private wing on the third floor of the house.”
“That must have set him back a few mil,” Jackson said.
“Money was never an issue with Scott.”
“It seems strange for a man who was so proud of having a son to dangle him from a balcony mere months later,” Meghan said.
“That was one of the things that never quite added up,” Alexis admitted. “Having a son to carry on the family name and bloodline was like an obsession for Scott. He admitted once that was why he’d married Lena Fox.”
“Was Lena royalty?” Jackson asked.
“No, but before she became an emaciated addict, she was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world. Men around the globe wrote begging for her hand in marriage. A few of them were royalty. Scott was convinced that with his intellect and talents and her beauty, their son would be the ultimate tribute to his immortality.”
“I still don’t get why he’d try to kill him,” Jackson said. “Was he disappointed in Tommy or Lena?”
“Something happened between the time Tommy was born and the night I tried to protect Tommy with the saber. It seemed to me that Scott began to resent Tommy. It was as if having a son no longer mattered. Scott never said that out loud, but it was the impression I got.”
Jackson wiped a spot of gravy from the front of his shirt. “I’ve seen that before with powerful men. Their sons usually grow up to hate them.”
“But with Scott’s growing use of cocaine and his violent mood swings, I was afraid Tommy might not live to grow up.”
“I meet the famed director for the first time tomorrow,” Meghan said.
“I can’t believe he’s agreed to talk to a private investigator,” Alexis said.
“He didn’t. I pulled some strings with an agent friend and she got me an audition with him. I’m trying out for the part of a goddess. Think I can pull that off?”
“I’m sure you can, but be careful,” Alexis warned. “I did that once and look where it got me.”
“But I ain’t birthin’ no babies, Miss Scarlet.”
The mood grew somber once more as they moved into the complexities of the case and the evidence they’d need to keep Alexis out of jail.
They talked of Scott and Lena at length before Meghan threw out the first surprise of the day.
“I had to dig deep and go back a long way, but I located an arrest record for Scott. Not surprisingly, it was for violence against a woman.”
“Was that for abusing one of his wives?” Tague asked.
“No. The complaint was filed by a college girlfriend. But unlike Scott’s first two wives, she seems willing to talk to me.”
“It’s easy to understand why wives one and two aren’t squealing on him,” Jackson said. “They both draw huge monthly alimony payments, far more than the court ordered. You can bet those payments go with the stipulation that they keep their mouths shut about any of his shortcomings.”
Alexis pushed her plate back and leaned forward. “What’s the woman’s name?”
“Betty Cross, but she was Betty Folse at the time. It was in Illinois, long before Scott had moved to Hollywood or started directing. When I asked her about the complaint she’d filed with the police, she went silent for a few minutes. Then she said, ‘Come talk to me.’”
“Sounds promising,” Tague said. “I just wish the incident was more recent.”
“It’s a place to start,” Meghan said. “If we can establish that Mr. Marvelous has been known to fly into a rage at any time in his past, it will make Alexis’s claims more credible.”
“Like I say, monsters don’t just pop up overnight,” Jackson said. “I’m happy to report that I didn’t find any police rap sheets for Alexandra Beretha Cousteau.”
“Who?” Tague asked.
“The birth name of our Alexis here.”
Alexis nodded. “That’s me.”
“That’s a mouthful,” Tague said. “I’ll stick with Alexis.”
“I also managed to get my hands on copies of your medical files from your alleged emotional breakdown. Two of the three doctors who first examined you found no evidence of psychoses. Scott immediately dismissed their services.”
“Scott never told me that. He told me all the doctors agreed that I was a risk to Tommy’s safety and threatened me with the possibility of never again being able to spend unsupervised time with him.”
“The guy’s a bastard,” Jackson said. “I can’t wait to take him down, but it may take more than a week to dismantle a legend.”
Tague stood and retrieved the coffeepot. Once he’d filled everyone’s cup, he walked over to Alexis and rested his hands on the back of her chair.
“If you’ve learned that much in less than twenty-four hours, I don’t see why there would be a problem in finishing this in a week.”
“That’s desk work,” Meghan said. “All we’ve done is get our hands on someone else’s paperwork. Field work is a lot more time-consuming.”
“Maybe I can help with that,” Tague said. “Where does Betty Cross live?”
“In a rural area in southern Illinois,” Meghan said. “I’ve booked a flight into Chicago this afternoon. I’ll rent a car when I get there and drive the rest of the way.”
“I’m going with you,” Tague said. “And don’t worry about the flight. If I can’t get a company plane on this short notice, I’ll charter a flight to fly to the nearest airport to the Crosses’ house.”
“What about Alexis?” Jackson asked. “Do you need me to stay with her?”
“I’m going with them,” Alexis said.
“She and Tommy can stay on the plane with the pilot,” Tague agreed.
Alexis excused herself from the group when she heard Tommy’s cries. The trip to see Betty Cross offered only a tinge of hope, but it was more than she’d had before. And the medical reports would prove she wasn’t the mental case Scott had made her out to be.
But she wouldn’t be twiddling her thumbs during the interview with Betty Cross. It was her future and Tommy’s she was fighting
for. She might not get to call all the shots but she was calling this one.
* * *
THE CORNSTALKS WERE well over knee-high and flourishing as they drove the back roads to keep an appointment with Betty Cross. Tommy was in one of his more playful moods and doing a great job of entertaining Meghan Sinclair.
“He is so cute,” Meghan proclaimed. “Is he always this happy?”
“Most of the time,” Tague said.
“But he can throw a noteworthy tantrum if the situation calls for it,” Alexis added.
“Can’t we all?” Meghan said.
“He’s just turned two,” Alexis explained.
“The terrible twos,” Meghan said. “It will get worse.”
Alexis shifted so that she could see into the backseat. “Do you have children?”
“No, but I have two young nephews and I remember well when they went through the scream-and-kick-and-hold-your-breath phase.”
“Is that why you’re still single?”
“No. I’m just waiting for the right man, one who isn’t afraid of commitment.”
“There’s the Cross house,” Tague announced, interrupting the conversation just as it was getting interesting.
Alexis’s anxiety level climbed. Tague had reluctantly agreed to her talking to Betty Cross with one stipulation: she couldn’t take Tommy in with her. If Betty Cross was even vaguely aware of the kidnapping, she might suspect Tommy of being Scott’s kidnapped son and immediately call 911.
Tague killed the engine and Meghan climbed from the backseat of the rented car.
“Okay, you two,” Tague said. “Tommy and I will be back at that last café we passed having ice cream. Call me when you’re ready to be picked up.”
“Maybe I should stay with Tommy after all,” Alexis offered. “You know I’m a terrible actress. Suppose I blow the whole thing?”
Tague reached over and squeezed her hand. “You won’t. You’re the one who knows Scott best. You should be the one to talk to Betty. Now scoot, you two Hollywood reporters looking for a scoop. And good luck.”