Murder à la Mode

by G. A. McKevett

  He handed her the bag. Through the clear plastic, she could see that it was a handwritten note. On it was scrawled, in a rough but decidedly feminine hand, “I’ll come as soon as he’s asleep. Your room. Be there and be ready. I’m not kidding, Lance. We’d better not have a repeat of last time.”

  She shook her head and laid it back down on the bed. “Not the most romantic rendezvous appointment ever made.”

  Dirk picked up the last paper bag from the bed and held it close to his chest for a moment, as he gave Savannah a strange, almost sad, look.

  “What’s that?” she asked, dreading his answer.

  “I don’t know if you want to see this one. In fact, I’m pretty sure you don’t want to.”

  “Do I need to?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I guess that depends on how much you want to know about why he killed her. I don’t think it was just because of the sexual harassment, not after finding this anyway.”

  Savannah knew she was going to have to look inside the bag. She had never been one to run from the truth. One of the rules she lived by was: “Turn on the light and look the monster in the face. Then you’ll know what you’re up against and how to fight.”

  Only a fool fought in the dark against an unknown foe.

  “Open it up,” she said.

  He took out a pair of surgical gloves, opened the bag, and reached inside. He pulled out a pink plastic bag that had a logo on the front that she recognized as belonging to an all-female spa in Hollywood. A spa that catered to the rich and famous ladies of Los Angeles.

  Savannah had seen their commercials many times on Tess’s romance channel. Apparently, this bag and its contents had once been hers.

  As he lifted an item from inside the pink bag, she saw that it was a commercially produced video tape. And judging from the bad art on the cover, it had been cheaply produced.

  The picture on the front was grainy, but clear enough for her to see more than she wanted to. “A porn flick,” she said softly.

  “Yeah. Afraid so. An old one. Probably made about ten years ago.”

  There were two young men on the cover, locked in a passionate embrace. And even though the dark-haired man was young, his haircut dated, his muscles not nearly so defined or his facial features so chiseled, it was undoubtedly Lance Roman.

  The cover credits listed him as “Rod Romano.”

  “Lance Roman is gay?” she said, more to herself than to him. “This guy that all the women are panting over, is gay?”

  “I don’t know.” Dirk quickly put the video back into its pink bag and returned it to the evidence sack. “I doubt it. Ryan and John were the ones who found this, and they don’t seem to think so, you know, from what they’ve seen and heard from him. They said sometimes the guys in these films are straight or bi. They’re just doing it for the dough.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Lance was a little evasive about what he was doing when Tess ‘discovered’ him. I can see why. Wonder how many of these are out there?”

  “Probably not many, or somebody would have blown the whistle on him a long time ago. I have a feeling this might be one of the only ones around.”

  “And Tess had it?”

  “That’s what I figure. I have a feeling we’re going to be able to lift one of her prints off either the bag, the cover, or the video itself.”

  “You’re right about one thing,” Savannah said. “This makes his motive much stronger. It’s one thing for her to offer him some publicity, a role every now and then for sexual favors. It’s quite another if she was holding this thing over his head. Having this made public would have destroyed his career overnight.”

  “Sure it would have. It would’ve been splashed all over the tabloids for a week, ‘Macho Muscleman Is Gay Porn Star,’ and then he never would have gotten another ‘romance’ gig again.”

  “And his disapproving dairy father would have found out.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s not important. What’s important is that you’ve got everything you need there to nail him for Tess. How about Carisa and Brandy?”

  Dirk got a nasty grin on his face. “Oh, I figure a few hours of chatting with me in the sweat box tonight, and he’ll tell me all about why they had to go, too. By dawn, we should have all the answers.”

  “Are you going to go get him now?”

  “Yeah. I don’t suppose you want to come along?”

  “No, I don’t suppose so. This is one time you don’t have to share your candy with me.”

  He gathered the stuff off the bed and headed for the door. “You did good work on this case, Van. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  She nodded, then turned her back to him and stared out the window at the far corner of the complex. At the round tower.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  He left, quietly shutting the door behind him.

  She continued to watch at the window. She watched as Dirk walked across the courtyard to the tower.

  She waited for four minutes…she counted each one…as he went inside.

  And she saw him come out again with Lance in cuffs and lead him over to the stable.

  Three minutes later, she saw Dirk drive away.

  In the dark, she couldn’t see into the backseat of the Buick, but she knew Lance would be there, cuffed to the door handle. That was Dirk’s style.

  And she knew it was going to be a very long night for both men. Dirk wasn’t kidding when he had called the interrogation room a “sweat box.” The two of them would be wringing wet by the time Dirk had all the answers he wanted out of his suspect—and probably a confession, too, considering how much evidence he had against Lance.

  She thought of the women Lance had hurt and decided, This is a good thing. Justice will be done, and justice is a good thing.

  Oh yeah? Then why does it feel so bad?

  Chapter

  19

  Savannah had seriously considered going home that evening. Tammy had offered to drive her. But it was the middle of the night, and both of them were exhausted, so they decided to go ahead and stay, then leave the next morning as soon as they woke.

  Although they hadn’t seen hide or hair of Alex, Roxy, Mary, or the crew, they didn’t need a formal announcement to know that Man of My Dreams was officially headed for the sewer treatment plant.

  When Savannah had crawled into bed, she’d assumed it would be difficult to fall asleep, considering the events of the past few hours. But instead, she was dead to the world in a matter of minutes. And though her head was still working overtime with strange, disturbing dreams, she was deeply under when a frantic pounding on the door jarred her awake.

  “Savannah!” she could hear someone yelling in the hallway. “Please, help! Sava-a-annah!”

  She stumbled to the door, nearly tripping over her nightgown’s hem and jerked the door open just as a new volley of pounding began.

  “What?” she said, trying to shake herself awake. “Who? What?”

  “Savannah! Help!” It was Mary, standing there in her pajamas, tears rolling down her face, shaking violently. “It’s Roxy!” she said between sobs. “She’s hurt, and I think she’s dead!”

  Savannah rushed out into the hallway with her. “Where?” she said, her pulse pounding in her ears. “What happened?”

  “The cellar! She’s at the bottom of the steps! I think Leonard pushed her!”

  Savannah was already running toward the main staircase. Mary hurried to keep up with her.

  “Leonard?” Savannah asked as they reached the landing between floors. “Leonard the cameraman?” But what about Lance? she thought. Dirk just arrested Lance. What the hell’s going on around here?

  “Yes, Leonard,” Mary was saying. “I was in the kitchen getting a drink of water, and I heard a noise from down in the cellar, like a big thud. Then the door flew open, and he came running out. He went into the hallway, and I think he was headed for the back of the house.”

  They reached the fi
rst floor, and Savannah motioned for Mary to stay back as she looked down the hall.

  That was when she instinctively reached for her gun beneath her arm and realized she had left the Beretta on her nightstand next to her bed. Ordinarily, grabbing it would have been second nature, but she had been sleeping so soundly that she hadn’t been thinking straight.

  “Wait,” she told Mary. When she saw no one in the corridor, she said, “Okay, follow me and stay close. How do you know it was Roxy?”

  “I wanted to know why he’d come running out of there like that. I opened the door and looked down. I saw her lying there at the foot of the stairs.”

  “How bad is she?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I didn’t go down there. But she wasn’t moving.”

  Not moving, Savannah thought. Not moving is never a good sign.

  They had reached the kitchen, and as she had before, Savannah held Mary back until she checked the room.

  All was clear.

  They raced to the cellar door. Savannah reached it first and flung it open.

  It was completely dark and she couldn’t see a thing.

  Feeling the wall to her right, she located the light switch and flipped it on. The dim overhead bulb came to life, but did little to illuminate the stairs.

  But there was enough light, just enough for Savannah to be confused.

  “Mary,” she said, staring down into the shadows. “Mary, there’s nobody”—

  Suddenly, she was flying forward, downward. And the cellar stairs and floor were coming up to meet her.

  She heard a woman scream and vaguely realized it was her. Then she hit. One step halfway down, then another, and another. As though in slow motion she tumbled, feeling her body twisting and turning as one after the other of the sharp edges drove into her.

  She tried to grab. Anything. But there was no handrail. Nothing.

  The floor hit her with sickening force that knocked the breath out of her lungs.

  A horrible pain shot through her leg and foot—a pain that seemed like white fireworks exploding inside her skull.

  She could hear a voice, but it seemed like miles away, getting farther all the time. And she knew what that meant. She was about to faint.

  And if she fainted—

  Stay here! she told herself. Stay awake or you’ll die!

  Even in her dazed state, she knew that she hadn’t fallen. Mary had pushed her.

  Even in the dim light of the dank cellar, she could see Mary coming down the stairs. And she knew she wasn’t coming down to help her.

  “Why?” she asked. The word came out more like a bleat than speech. Her leg was hurting so badly she could hardly bear the pain. It had to be broken.

  Mary stood over her, looking down on her. But said nothing.

  Then she left her and walked over to the wall.

  Savannah heard a jangling that sounded like the rattle of rusty chains.

  “Why?” she asked again. “Mary, why do you want to hurt me? I thought we were friends.”

  “Don’t you say that!” the woman screamed. Her voice was high and shrill. She sounded absolutely crazy. “You were my friend. You were my favorite. I didn’t think you would do it. Not you! I thought you were safe!”

  There was more rattling at the wall, and Savannah could hear her huffing and puffing as she pulled at something.

  “Do what?” Savannah said, struggling to sit up. She reached down to her ankle and could feel that it was already starting to swell. It felt like someone was stabbing at it with a steak knife. “What did I do to you?”

  “You went to the round tower tonight with him! I thought you were the one person who wouldn’t betray me. I never thought he’d even give you a second look, you being fat and old.”

  Fat and old? Well!

  Ordinarily, Savannah would have been incensed, but at the moment she had bigger concerns than being verbally assaulted. Something told her that Mary wasn’t messing with the stuff on the wall for her own amusement.

  This was deadly business.

  Desperately, Savannah looked around her for a weapon. Anything at all. But like the handrail, there were no weapons—there was absolutely nothing within her reach.

  Again, she cursed herself for forgetting her gun.

  “But I didn’t betray you, Mary,” she said, trying to sound sweet and conciliatory, not scared to death and furious. “What do you think I did?”

  “I know what you did. I saw you go into the round tower. I know you were up there with Lance. And I know what the two of you were doing, too.”

  “Doing? We were talking, Mary. We talked for a while. That was all.”

  “Don’t lie to me!” Mary screamed, again, sounding as if she were very nearly unhinged. “Don’t insult me with your lies! I know why you went up there. I saw the way you were dressed. You were up there a long time. I know. I watched you from my window.”

  There was a loud racket as something came loose from the wall and clattered to the floor.

  Mary leaned over to pick it up. “I watched and I saw your friends hiding there in the bushes, waiting for you to come out. To come out and tell them all about what you and Lance were doing up there in the tower.”

  She walked back to Savannah, lugging something that was large, long, and heavy.

  Savannah struggled to get to her feet, but her wounded leg wouldn’t hold her. It buckled and caused her another rush of agony.

  She scooted across the floor as best she could on her bottom, until her back was against a wall. Unfortunately, the wall was bare.

  Where’s a good ol’ mace when you need one? she thought. Or even a bow and arrow? Hell, right now I’d settle for a rock.

  “Mary, I swear to you on my life that I didn’t have sex with Lance. We didn’t even kiss up there in the tower. I promise! We just talked about the case. About who had killed Tess and—”

  “Well, now you know, don’t you?” Mary stepped out of the shadows, and Savannah could see what she was holding. It was a six-foot-long Viking battle axe.

  The thing looked so big that one good blow with it could probably cut a body in half.

  Her body, if she didn’t think of a way out of this. And quickly!

  “You killed Tess?” she said. “I can understand that, Mary. Tess was an awful person. I’m sure if you killed her you had a really good reason. I’d never hold that against you.”

  “You don’t know what she was doing to Lance. How she was making his life miserable! She was making him…do things with her. Awful things. And he didn’t want to. He hated her. He told me so himself. Lance and I are very close. He tells me everything.”

  “Did he help you kill her, Mary?”

  “No, he didn’t know about it until I told him. I brought him down here”—she motioned with one hand toward the freezer—“and showed him. I wanted him to see what I’d done for him. How much I loved him. I wanted him to know that, thanks to me, he wouldn’t ever have to worry about her again. And I told him where she kept that terrible tape in her house in Brentwood. I gave him the combination to the safe, so that he could go and get it that night.”

  “Which night? The night you said he went to his apartment?”

  Mary nodded.

  Tears were still streaming down her face. For just a moment, Savannah felt a pang of sympathy for her. She was obviously deranged.

  But that didn’t make her any less dangerous.

  It made her more so.

  “But why the other girls, Mary? Why did you try to kill Carisa and Brandy?”

  “Because they were saying awful lies. They said they’d had hot, sexy afternoons with Lance, that he kissed them and did things with them. And he didn’t. I know because I watched them, too, from the tower. He loved me! Me, not them! He knew they were just trying to win a contest. I didn’t care about any of that stuff. I just wanted Lance for himself. But now the cops have arrested him! I saw them take him away in handcuffs. That’s probably your fault, too!”

  She lifted t
he heavy axe and raised it over Savannah’s head. The look on her face was nearly as terrifying as the giant blade.

  Savannah held up her hands, knowing that if Mary struck with that deadly thing, her hands would be no protection at all.

  “Mary, please, don’t!” she said. “Wait a minute. You can still have Lance. You can tell the police that he’s innocent, and he’ll be so grateful to you. I know he already loves you, but just think how much more he’ll love you when he hears what you did for him!”

  “But I’d have to go to prison.”

  “Maybe for a little while. But he will owe you so much. He can write to you all the time, call you, and come visit you in prison. You’ll get out early on good behavior, and he’ll be waiting for you as soon as you’re released. It could work out, Mary. Think about it. This could be great!”

  She watched the woman’s eyes, watched the inner struggle registering there. Mary wanted to believe the lies. Desperately.

  But not as desperately as Savannah wanted her to.

  The axe was still posed over Savannah’s head, and she could see Mary’s arm starting to tremble from the strain.

  “Put it down for a minute, Mary,” she said. “I can’t walk. I’m not going anywhere. Put it down and rest for a minute while we talk about this.”

  “I think you’re lying to me about Lance. You’re just saying that stuff so that I won’t kill you.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Savannah saw a movement. Someone was standing at the base of the steps. Someone who was moving closer and closer to them, sneaking up behind Mary.

  It was Tammy.

  She had Savannah’s Beretta in her hand. And she was pointing it straight at Mary’s back.

  “Wait,” Savannah said. “Just wait a minute.”

  She didn’t dare look at Tammy. But she hoped she would understand.

  “Wait for what?” Mary said. “I’ve waited too long already. If I’d taken care of you earlier, you wouldn’t have been in that tower, in bed with my man, turning him against me.”

  “We really weren’t in bed together, Mary. I promise you. He told me he had feelings for another woman. Now I know he was talking about you.”