by Emmy Grace
“Go. Dazzle and enchant. Your public awaits.”
One young girl immediately pushes her way between two others, rips open her shirt, and thrusts her very ample bosom at him. “Sign me, Cruz. I’ll never wash it off.”
First of all, gross.
Second of all, gross.
Cruz holds up his hand. I wouldn’t know what for, but clearly these women are familiar with the way things are done. Someone puts a marker between his fingers and he uncaps it with his teeth and scrawls his name across the girl’s boobs. She throws back her head like he’s doing far, far more to her, which, of course, causes me to gag a little.
It’s when one of the other women pulls her back so someone else can step forward that I notice the way Cruz signs his name. Specifically the S.
I’ve seen that S before.
On the envelope that Serena’s stalker sent to Vilma Chance for when she mailed the figurine.
I gasp and spin around, looking for Liam. He’s standing so close behind me that I slam right into his chest. This time I don’t even get mad at his irritating ninjaness. I’m glad he isn’t far. I don’t have to hunt him down to tell him what I found out.
“Look at the S,” I tell Liam.
His brow furrows even further, so I repeat myself. I know he hears me the second time. His pale eyes flick up above my head, scan, and then drop down. They narrow, and I know he sees it.
“The envelope,” he mutters when he glances back down at me.
I smile up at him. “Bingo.”
“Looks like we found ourselves a stalker. Stay with him and the crowd. I’ll be right back.”
He squeezes my arm and turns to disappear into the shadows. My pulse is thrumming even harder and faster now. I just performed a dance scene with a stalker and possible murderer. And then he kissed me. What in the world would he be capable of if he turned his stalking toward me?
I shiver as I watch Cruz bask in the adoration of his fans. Underneath that swarthy, sexy exterior lurks a cold-blooded monster. But tonight he’s going to be stopped.
18
I keep an eye on the Swarthy Sleeze (Regina will be proud of that moniker selection) while he makes his way through the throng of fawners. I see Liam hovering at the edges of the crowd, looking intimidating. Like a hitman, or an enforcer. His legs are spread and his feet are planted, his arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes are razor sharp. He’s giving Cruz a glare that’s dark even for Liam. I don’t know what the next thing beyond a thundercloud is, but whatever it’s called, Liam Dunning is wearing it.
When the adulation starts petering out, I step up to Cruz’s right side and lay my hand on his bulging bicep. He’s practically glowing when he looks down at me. It’s my first indication that I could never be romantically involved with a celebrity of any kind. It’s clear that it takes a lot of grease to keep an ego this big lubed up. His eyes are almost hazy with the intoxication of it.
I smile up at him like I’m starstruck so as not to break the spell he’s in. “Can I borrow you for just a second? It won’t take long.”
“That’s a shame,” he replies suggestively.
I just smile wider and tug him in the direction of the green room. He comes along willingly, only looking back once at the dwindling crowd.
I don’t close the door behind us, because I know Liam will be right on our heels, following us like a specter. Seconds later, he ducks inside just as I expected he would. He closes the door and turns to stand in front of it, assuming his enforcer stance again.
Cruz looks from Liam to me. His eyes start to unglaze a little. “What’s going on?”
“Mind giving one last autograph?” I reach for a napkin from the mound that’s fanned out on one end of the table. Cruz is still holding the marker that someone handed him to sign that first woman’s boobs.
“Just the napkin?” he asks, his eyes flickering down to my chest.
“Just the napkin.”
He shrugs and scribbles his name across the napkin. He hands it back to me with his trademark half-smile. “You sure that’s all you want from me?”
“Actually, there was one more thing.” I take out my phone, which I’ve had wedged in the edge of my bra this whole time. In light of my uncanny knack for getting into trouble, I figure it’s better to have it on me at all times.
Hey, why can’t Regina give me underwear with pockets to test? That would be perfect!
Maybe I should invent it. Underwear that comes with a place to store your cell phone. And maybe your keys.
I scroll through the pictures that I took at Vilma’s until I see the one of the envelope. I enlarge it and hold it up to Cruz’s face.
“What’s this?” His tone is questioning, his expression is neutral, but he pales beneath his tan. I’m watching him closely, of course, so it’s as obvious as watching the mercury drain from the tube in a thermometer.
“You know what it is. That’s your writing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Our handwriting expert would argue that.”
“Th-this has been analyzed by an expert?”
I don’t respond since it actually hasn’t. Instead, I press my advantage while I’ve got him off-kilter. “What no handwriting expert can tell me is why. Why would you stalk your own girlfriend? I’ve racked my brain and just can’t figure it out.”
“I didn’t—”
“Oh, come on. You’re not gonna play dumb when we’ve caught you red-handed, are you?”
“I…I…”
“If you’re honest, there’s a good chance the authorities will cut you some slack.”
At least that’s what they would do in the movies. And it sounds good.
“Authorities? Look, this isn’t what you think.”
“No? Because it looks like you were mailing threatening letters to your girlfriend and that you stabbed her to death a few nights ago, just a few feet from here.”
“No no no. You’ve got this all wrong.” Cruz rubs both hands through his hair and then shakes out his fingers. “It was her. It was her all along.”
“Her? Her who?”
“Serena. She’s the one who came up with the whole thing. It was a publicity stunt.”
“You’re seriously going to blame a dead woman who can’t even defend herself? It’s not like I thought you were chivalrous or anything, but that’s low, Cruz. Even for you.”
“It’s the truth. She set it up. All of it. She even told me what to say in the letters. The whole thing was her idea.”
“You say that, but conveniently, there’s no proof.”
“She’s the one that found the figurines. She searched the Internet for obscure places that made ballerina glass. Nothing fancy or well known. When she found one, she started ordering them. There has to be a record of that somewhere.”
“Because she’d be dumb enough to write a check for her own stalking,” I retort sardonically.
“She used an account her mother set up for her, so it would be anonymous. It’s under Iris Lily. Check into it if you don’t believe me. It’ll be there. I swear.”
I glance up and over his shoulder to where Liam is still lurking by the door. He’s like a human growl. All he needs to do is bare some teeth, maybe curl his lips over his canines, and he could be in the Webster’s Dictionary definition for growl. It could just have a picture of Liam. No explanation necessary.
Impulsively, I raise my phone and snap a picture of him. It only deepens his scowl. If I weren’t trying so hard to be serious, I’d probably grin.
Cruz glances back at Liam and then rushes to add, “And I didn’t kill her. I told you my flight—”
“I checked your flight,” Liam mutters from behind him. “You could’ve gotten here in time to kill her, make your exit, and then come back later like you just arrived.”
“I told you I took a car that—”
“Yeah, you did. Or someone did. Someone with dark hair and glasses. That could’ve been anyone, though. You could’ve gotten a c
ab and come earlier and let someone else pretend to be you getting into that car.”
“Who would do that for me? Who would come all the way out here to Podunk to pretend to be me?”
“You’re an actor. You people pay for look-alikes all the time.”
“But that doesn’t mean that’s what I did. I would never have hurt Serena. Hand to God.” He actually raises his hand.
“We don’t just take people’s word for it. Have you never watched one of your own movies?” I ask.
“Look. Check the bank records. You’ll see I’m telling the truth. And since I’m telling the truth, maybe you’ll give me some more credit for not being dumb enough or crazy enough to kill my girlfriend. A publicity stunt isn’t a crime. Murder is.”
“A stunt like that is a crime if it’s reported to the police. Filing a false report alleging a felony is a felony,” Liam adds.
“I didn’t report it. She did. All I did—” He stops himself, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s fending off a headache. My head would probably be pounding, too, if I’d been in cahoots with my girlfriend to fabricate a stalker just to get some paparazzi points. “Just check. Please.”
“Why would you help her do something like that? What possible reason could you possibly have had?”
“Some of that spotlight hit me, too. And after my last couple of films…”
It’s no secret that Cruz DiSpirito was likely on his way out. A flash in the pan that fizzled out before it could catch fire.
“You people make me sick,” Liam says from his station by the door. He reminds me of a gargoyle. Just a really, really handsome one.
“I’m not exactly proud of myself, but I’m no killer.”
“Fine. We’ll look into it, but you’d better not even think about leaving town or the kind of publicity you get will be worse than proof of a penile implant.”
I see Liam’s head jerk toward me, and my cheeks sting with a blush. I don’t have a clue what would make that particular example pop into my head. Lucky Boucher’s brain is a wild and dangerous, and often humiliating place to be.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Cruz says, moving toward Liam. After a few seconds of glowering down into the movie star’s face, Liam finally moves and Cruz opens the door. Before he steps through, he looks back at me. “And I don’t have any kind of implants. Anywhere. I don’t need them.”
Cruz winks at me and disappears through the door.
I stand there watching after him, balking. His girlfriend has been brutally murdered, he’s been accused of the crime, and he’s been identified as her accomplice in a fake stalking scheme, yet he has the audacity to flirt.
That or the insanity to flirt. I’m not sure which it is.
Liam closes the door again. “Looks like you’ll be reaching out to your best friend again.”
My shoulders slump. “Do I have to? Can’t Clive help out this time? This search can be done legally.”
“Sure. If you want to wait for those wheels to turn. You know how fast Clive moves.”
I let my head fall back with a groan. “She’s so mean!”
“She’s not mean. She’s a kid.”
“Okay, fine. Mean isn’t the right word, but she’s exhausting. Do you know how many of these goofy trades I’ve had to make with her lately?”
“I do. I’m happy to say I’ve gotten to witness each and every one.” His scowl is being replaced by that lightness that I’m beginning to identify as humor. Well, Liam’s version of it anyway.
“You’re both sadists. That’s all there is to it.”
Liam shrugs. He’s not even going to deny it.
“Why don’t you do it?” I suggest. “I need a break.”
“Huh,” he grunts.
“Huh what?”
“I never took you for a coward.”
“I’m not a coward. This is not cowardice. This is fatigue. The last product I had to test gave me—”
I stop myself. I almost told Liam Dunning about my diarrhea. What in the world has gotten into me?
I blame Felonious.
I think she’s a good one to blame for pretty much everything. If she’s going to torture me, the least she can do is be my emotional patsy.
“Was what?”
“It, uh, it kept me up a lot, so I haven’t had good sleep. I’m just tired.”
I see something creep across Liam’s face that shocks me. On someone else, it wouldn’t, but on this guy it’s as foreign as knees on a snake.
It’s sympathy.
“Are you sick?”
“No, not now, but I haven’t been feeling well.”
“I’ve noticed you acting a little strange. Stranger than usual, I mean.”
Of course, he has to add that in there.
“That’s why. So won’t you do it this time?”
I give him my biggest, most “Precious Moments” eyes and raise my hands into prayer position.
“Fine. I’ll call her.”
I squeal and clap my hands. “Yay! I get a break.”
“Be warned, if I end up regretting this, you probably will, too. I never like to suffer alone.”
“Good to know,” I say lightly, but I’m not worried. At least I won’t be the one doing embarrassing things. Watching Liam be mortified will be like winning a tour of the chocolate factory with the golden ticket I found in the street.
I’ve got the golden ticket!
Great. Now I’ll be singing that for the rest of the night.
19
“What?” My mouth is hanging open so far every fly in the county could fit inside it.
He called Felonious and asked her to look into the other account Serena supposedly had. He had no more than hung up with her when she called back with the information. And, apparently, she didn’t even blackmail him into doing something awful to get it.
Liam shrugs. “Maybe she likes me.”
“Felonious doesn’t like anybody. No teenager who’s that mean likes anybody.” My eyes narrow on him. “Unless she’s got a crush on you. That’s it, isn’t it? She’s got a crush on you and she doesn’t make you do stupid things for information because all she wants in return is for you to stroke her hair and call her pretty and stare deeply into her eyes. That’s it, isn’t it?”
As is his habit, Liam just stares at me like I left my sanity at the curb a long, long, long time ago. “I didn’t say she didn’t ask me to do anything at all. I just said it wasn’t bad.”
“How not bad is ‘not bad’?”
“We can talk about it later. Right now we’ve got more important things to do. You know, murderers and stalkers and probably more trouble for you to get into.”
I shake my head to clear it of my righteous outrage. It’s not fair. Not one bit. But I’ll have to bluster and complain about it later. Liam’s right. There are more pressing matters to tend to right now. “Okay, so what did Felonious find out?”
“The transactions were there, just like Cruz said. That’s why she got right back to me.”
“Okay, so Cruz wasn’t really behind the stalking, but he still could’ve killed her.”
“It’s possible, yes.”
“But so could Trenton’s girlfriend. From what I’ve read, she’s got the psychotic ambition to go along with homicidal tendencies. Maybe we should pay him a visit and find out a little more about her. Like where she was a few nights ago, and where she is now.”
“Yeah, let’s do that. Thanks to you, I’ve got unexpected plans tonight.”
“When are you going to tell me what she’s making you do?”
“Why are you so eager to know?”
“Because. Even if it’s just a little tiny bit humiliating for you, it’ll give me sweet, sweet dreams.” I give him my cheekiest grin.
With a roll of his eyes, Liam grabs my hand. “Come on, Baby.” Even though I know he’s referring to the role I was playing earlier, it still makes my stomach squirm excitedly when he says it. “Let’s get this over with before you drive us
both crazy.”
At his truck, Liam opens the passenger door, grabs me by the waist, and hauls me up onto the seat. He closes the door without so much as a glance in my direction.
“Looks like someone’s in a hurry,” I mutter as I watch him round the hood of his vehicle. He’s so tall, his head and shoulders are well above it.
As he’s getting in, my phone bleeps with an incoming call. I answer it to Chief Sheriff Clive Sally’s slow Southern drawl.
“Got a man on the phone asking to be patched through to you,” he informs. “Ruthie, you got ’im?”
I hear Clive’s niece, Ruthie, who is also the 911 operator, answer. “Got ’im, Clive.”
After a few crackles on the line, Cruz DiSpirito’s voice comes on. “H-hello?”
“Cruz?”
“Is this Lucky?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Is something wrong?”
“Something is very wrong. I just found a knife in my suitcase. And it has blood on it.”
“How would a knife with blood on it get into your suitcase?” At my words, Liam slams on the brakes and stares over at me. I wave him onward and mouth the word “inn” to him. He does a U-turn and we roar back past the theater to the Spring Water Inn on the other side of town.
“Well, since I didn’t put it there, I’m assuming Trenton Gibb planted it.”
“Trenton? Why would you say that?”
“Because he’s the only one who’s been in my room who might’ve had reason to kill Serena.”
“Don’t touch it, Cruz! We’re on our way.” And then, “Clive, you still on the line?”
“You betcha.”
“Meet us at the inn, okay?”
“On my way.”
It’s both a pro and a con to have a town sheriff slash police chief as laid-back as Clive. It’s a good thing I like to solve crimes and don’t mind keeping busy. Otherwise, this could be a problem. I doubt Clive has solved a real crime since the turn of the century.
When we arrive at the inn, Liam and I head straight for Cruz’s room. He opens the door before we can even knock.