"Jenny, let me look at you."
She took a step back and twirled like a ballerina. What I noticed most was that she hadn’t changed much since I’d last seen her in Hollywood, over six months earlier. She wore tight white cut-off jeans, a hot pink halter neck top, matching high-heeled shoes—Prada by the looks of them—and dangly earrings that brushed her shoulders.
"It’s so good to see you, Cat," she said as we sat.
"Likewise, Jen. My God, you’re a blast from the past. It seems so long since I left behind my life in Hollywood."
"Do you miss it?"
I thought about that before answering. "I miss my friends. I miss the energy and the vibe. And when winter comes, I’ll miss the weather."
I didn’t tell her that was as far as it went. There was so much about L.A. that I didn’t miss. The traffic, the bitchiness, the fakeness, and the dog-eat-dog attitude. She loved the place and I'd never get her to see my side.
Hollywood's a fickle town. One minute you're on your knees begging a fellow waiter to let you serve the Big Name Producer seated in his section, and the next you're hotter property than a stretch of Malibu coastline. That’s if you’re lucky.
I never struck acting gold—admittedly, I never tried too hard—but Jenny did. Big time. She got so popular that crowds mobbed her wherever she went now. She got fan mail by the truck load, and she owned a house in the Hollywood Hills. Not bad for someone who was told to go back to Texas at the end of an audition for a sitcom. We laughed about that after Jenny scored the gig of a lifetime.
Funny thing though, not many people recognize her. Not many without kids, that is. As a member of Play Group, she's huge with the under-fives and probably even more popular with the parents who use their DVDs to steal a few minutes’ peace. Play Group is the all-singing, all-dancing, chart-topping, four-member kids group that stormed the U.S. two years ago with their catchy songs, colorful outfits, and perpetually positive personalities.
The group had come to Renford as part of their nation-wide tour, and Jenny looked me up when she arrived. We ate, drank a bottle of wine, and spent most of lunch catching up on old times, mostly who was doing what and whom. When we’d exhausted that topic, Jenny leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her linked hands.
"Soooo," she said with a conspiratorial twinkle in her dark brown eyes, "is there a man in your life?"
I nodded. It felt good to nod without hesitation at that question after several long months of dating-drought. "His name's Will. He's my boss."
Her arms fell flat on the table and one side of her nose screwed upwards.
"Your boss!" She flicked her long, slick black ponytail over her shoulder. "You're screwing you're boss?" She made a sound in the back of her throat and the look of disgust turned to pity. She clasped my hands in hers and focused earnestly on my face. "Oh, Cat, is that a good idea? I mean, I know people who have affairs with their bosses—"
"We're not having an affair. Neither of us is married." I laughed because I could see how it must look. Then I stopped laughing because a relationship with your boss was still a tightrope. One wobble and you were single and unemployed.
"How old is he?"
"Thirty-five."
"Thirty-five! That's so old!" When she realized she'd said it out loud she clamped her hand over her mouth.
Good old Jenny. Nice to see she hadn't grown up in the six months since I'd last seen her. Actually, she hadn't grown up in the six years I'd known her. She still seemed like the innocent eighteen-year-old I'd met crying outside Ben and Jerry's on Santa Monica Boulevard after a failed audition. It hadn't been the audition that had set off the tears, though that hadn't helped. It was the fact she couldn't buy herself an ice cream because she had no money. As a fellow actress, I took pity on her and bought her one. We'd been friends ever since, although it was more a mentor-apprentice relationship. Even after she joined Play Group and suddenly became obscenely popular, our roles didn't change much. She still asked me for advice, and I readily gave it to her.
"I'm sorry," she sputtered, shrugging an apology, "I didn't mean he was old. I'm sure he's the perfect age for you. I mean, you're twenty-eight, aren't you? That's only…" She used her fingers and moved her lips as she counted. "Seven years. And I'm sure he doesn't look thirty-five."
In Jenny's mind, thirty-five-year-old men probably had comb-overs and listened to The Rolling Stones.
"He looks his age," I said. And Will did. He had fine lines around his eyes and mouth that crinkled when he smiled, and I found a gray hair once. But he was a hot thirty-five-year-old whose clothes I wanted to rip off every time I saw him.
"Oh." She shrugged an apology again. "Sorry." It came out as a whisper. "So he's a private investigator too, huh?"
"He owns the company."
"Cool. You've got such an exciting job, Cat. Have you caught any bad guys yet?"
"Just the one." I still had a slight bruise on my cheek from where Carl Fortune had hit me, but I'd become an expert in cover-up makeup and few people noticed it. "I'm still learning the ropes." Boy, were those ropes long, knotty, and dangling in mid-air. Most days I felt like I was going nowhere and learning zip. Will seemed to be content for me to read piles of boring manuals or tag along after him. Hopefully Faith’s presence would change all that.
"So how's the love life of a mega-star?" I asked.
She blinked at me. "Which one?"
"I'm talking about you, Jenny. How's your life going?"
She giggled at her mistake then suddenly frowned. "My love life's terrible. It's hard to have a long-term boyfriend when we're always traveling. This is our last city on a three-month tour, thank God."
"That's too bad, about the lack of men I mean."
"Not really." She smiled brightly. "I get to fuck a different one in each city."
Spoken like the Jenny I remember. She was never the brightest star in the Hollywood sky, but she was always a lot of fun. Under her influence—and that of a few cocktails—we crashed a number of A-list parties. She always ended up naked in a spare bedroom with a celebrity. I always ended up poolside chatting to his unknown friend. Not that I was complaining. I met a lot of great people that way.
"And the rest of your life? Your family? Your house?"
Her mouth sagged and she lifted one shoulder like it was weighted down with bricks. "My family's good, but my house…I think I'm going to lose it."
"Lose it? How can you lose a house? You own it. Don't you?"
"Kind of." She chewed her lip. "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I mean, I wanted to see you too, but I also wanted to ask for your help."
"Sure thing. What about?"
She sighed loudly. "I took out a loan on the advice of my manager. He said he had a hot investment tip and if I wanted in on it, he could take care of everything for me. But he wanted a lot of money and I didn't have it, so I took out a loan. He helped me with the bank, because I've never been very good at that sort of thing. There's loads of paperwork to fill in. That was a year ago and I haven't seen any of it since. Now the bank wants to take my house from me to cover the loan repayment."
Alarm bells started clanging in my head. She'd been taken for a ride. It didn't surprise me. Jenny was the perfect stooge for a scam. Rich and dumb. She used to sign up for every get-rich scheme going around Hollywood, despite my warnings.
"When I asked Frank—that's our manager—where the money was, he said I had to be patient. He said it would come, but the investment hasn't…" She snapped her fingers and looked up at the ceiling. "…aged yet."
"Matured."
She pointed a finger at me. "That's right! See, I knew you'd know about this stuff."
Oh boy. I knew nothing about money. Spending it, yeah, I could do that with my eyes closed, but making it and holding onto it were a mystery.
"Did Frank ask anyone else in the group to invest?" I asked.
"I don't think so. I didn't want to ask because Angel, his wife, is a member of
Play Group too and my closest friend. She has enough trouble at the moment."
"What kind of trouble?"
Jenny shrugged. "She just doesn’t seem herself. Nothing I can put my finger on for sure. Just…different. Anyway, I didn't want to accuse Frank of anything shifty if it was all okay."
"So what do you want me to do about it?"
"Investigate, of course. Ask him questions, check him out, kick his ass."
"Knight Investigations don't kick too many asses."
She pouted.
"I could check out his credit history and see if he's got a criminal record." I knew I could do that, because it was in chapter one of the handbook Will had given me to read. Anything from chapter two onward was still a mystery. I'd get to it—eventually.
She beamed. "You could go in disguise too. Intercept the group—"
"Infiltrate."
"It would be just like being an actress again." She clapped her hands in excitement. "You must miss the biz, Cat."
Not even a little bit. "How about I just pretend to be your friend and hang out with the group for a while."
"Oh, Cat, thanks. You're the best. I knew I could count on you." She leaned over the table and drew me into a hug. I sneezed as a cloud of perfume and hair product penetrated my nostrils. "I told the others all about you," she said, returning to her seat.
"The others?"
"In Play Group. Angel of course, and Taylor and Corey."
"They're the two guys right?"
"Yes," she said on a laugh. "Haven't you seen our show on TV? It's on every weekday at eight."
"I have to confess I haven't. I don't usually watch TV at eight in the morning." I'm not usually out of bed at eight, unless I've stayed at Will's and he's dragged me out by my ankles, and not in a kinky way. He believes in being at the office no later than nine. I believe in beauty sleep.
"So what are they like?" I asked her. "Do you all get along?"
"They're the best! We have so much fun when we're touring. I adore the guys. They're so funny, and Angel is a living doll. She's so sweet and kind." She frowned at her latté. "That's why I don't want to say anything to her about Frank. I don't want to hurt her feelings. She trusts him."
"So what sort of investment did he make for you?"
"It’s in a computer software company, DataLink. No, DataTech. No, wait, it’s DataSync. Yeah, that’s it. He said they're working on some new technology to do with shopping. I think."
My phone rang in the depths of my bag. I rummaged through the makeup, water bottle, and other junk until I found it. The screen lit up with Will's name.
"I thought you were only going for lunch," he said when I answered. His voice sounded tight, like he was holding back his grumpiness.
I had to hand it to him. Since we'd started seeing each other, he'd curbed his attitude problem. Of course, I didn't give him too many reasons to get angry. I more or less did my work, I was eager to learn, and I hadn't gone behind his back. Not lately.
I checked my watch. Holy crap! It was three o'clock already. "I'll be right back." I hung up. "Jenny, I have to go." I pecked her on the cheek. "Send me a text with Frank's details and I'll let you know the outcome of his background check."
We said our goodbyes and left together. She folded her spidery limbs into her Porsche rental and I jumped into my Civic hatch. She was dust before I'd driven out of the parking lot. I headed back to the office to face the music.
CHAPTER 2
Will wasn't waiting for me at the front door tapping his foot like I thought he'd be. Gina was. We'd known each other for years. I'd even stayed with her for a few weeks while my apartment got refurbished after Carl toasted it. She's gorgeous and wonderful but unlucky in love. She'd just broken up with boyfriend number five for the year, a rather sweet computer programmer. He wasn't her usual type—he could count past ten—but I'd liked him. I thought Gina had too.
"Where have you been?" she demanded, arms crossed under her bosom. She wore a classic white knee-length dress that offset her mocha skin beautifully and would have looked ordinary on anyone who didn't have a Marilyn Monroe figure like Gina.
"Will? Have you taken over Gina's body?"
She cracked a smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stick my nose in, but I wanted to find out who she is." She nodded at Knight's front door.
Through the glass I could see Faith working at the reception desk's computer, her shoulder bones forming two points on either side of her bowed head like goal posts.
"That's our new office manager, Faith McIntosh."
"Will finally employed someone?" She squinted at Faith. "She looks so fragile. I hope she can stand up to him."
"I doubt it. Will seems to already know her, and I don't think he'd make the same mistake twice."
"If you're a mistake, then it's the best one he's ever made."
That's why I loved Gina. She was loyal and had a heart as big as the breasts cushioning it.
"Although, you have made his life difficult, and he really didn't need the extra work load brought on by Carl leaving."
She was also brutally honest.
"So how does he know Faith?" she asked.
"Not sure, but when I find out I'll let you know."
"You'd better."
Gina loved gossip. No doubt she'd pass any information about Faith on to the waiters at Trendz Café across the road, and in turn they'd tell Larry from Pots 'n More and so on. Gossip is what made the High Street trading precinct buzz. That and the rumble of large trucks roaring down the busy thoroughfare. There'd been precious little gossip in the weeks since Carl's arrest. Although to be fair, Knight Investigations had provided its share.
Gina followed a customer into her shop and I opened the office door. Faith looked up, her lips pursed in a prim, polite smile. When she recognized me, it slipped and she returned to what she was doing.
"Hello," she said stiffly.
"Hi." I started to head past her up to Will's office but stopped. If I had to work with her, I might as well get to know her, even though she didn't appear to want to make it easy for me. "So how was your first day?"
"Fine." She tapped away at the computer. When I didn't move, she added, "Yours?"
"Busy. Very busy. I had lunch with a new client to nut out some details of her case." It wasn't a lie—Jenny was a client, now.
She nodded but didn't look convinced. "Will's in his office."
Guess that was the end of that little chat. I knocked on Will's door and entered before he said, "Come in."
He looked up from his paperwork, his dark eyes not focusing on me straight away. From experience, I knew that meant he was up to his neck in work. "Hey. You're still alive."
"Don't be sarcastic," I said lightly, "especially when I'm out getting us a new client."
"Really? Who?" He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs out under the desk. A few strands of hair fell across his forehead, and he impatiently pushed them back. Goddamn, he was sexy when he did that.
"My friend Jenny. She's invested in something shady and wants me to prove it."
"Why did she do that?"
"You mean apart from the fact she trusts everyone and functions on half a brain cell?"
"There's another reason?"
"Her manager talked her into it."
"Manager? Ah, right, she's your actress friend."
I'd told him all about Jenny earlier, but he'd obviously filed that conversation into the part of his brain labeled Blah Blah Blah. "She is. She's also one quarter of Play Group."
"Is that the new show on HBO?"
"No, they're a kids entertainment group. They're doing a series of live shows in Renford at the moment. She heard I was a P.I. and—"
"How? You only just became a P.I. this morning."
"—she asked me to look into it."
He rested his elbows on the chair arms and steepled his fingers. "How will you do that?"
It was a test to see if I was ready. Okay, I could do this. Time to prove
I'd learned something from chapter one. "I'll check out the manager's credit history, see if he has a criminal record, that sort of thing."
He nodded. "Seems like a harmless case. It's yours. I'll help if you need it of course."
I'd passed! I leaned over the desk and kissed him deeply on the lips. He made a gurgling sound then grabbed me and pulled me across the desk. Papers fluttered to the floor, but neither of us cared. We were both lost in the moment, the kiss taking over, the heat rising between us and warming me all the way to my toes.
Will could be funny that way. He seemed like such a stickler for rules and doing things right and then he'd go and mess up his workspace for a kiss.
We pulled apart before I ended up giving him a lap dance. That might have been okay when there was just the two of us in the office, but it would be kind of embarrassing if Faith caught us.
Which reminded me. "What's Faith's story?"
He bent down to pick up the scattered paperwork off the floor. "Why don't you ask her?" he said without looking up.
"Because I want to hear it from you first. How do you know her?"
He straightened and replaced the papers on his desk. His dark hair hung over his forehead, not quite meeting his eyebrows. It was sexy in a brooding kind of way and I liked it, although I'd threatened to cut it more than once. If he wanted to attract new clients, he needed a respectable short back and sides. A decent haircut and a clean shave would give him the edge over the other P.I.s of Renford. Most of the ones I'd met could have gotten parts as extras in Gorillas in the Mist.
"I don't know her very well," he said.
"Well enough to give her the job here."
He conceded the point with a tip of his head. "Look, Cat." He came round from behind his desk and placed his big hands on my shoulders. "I know this will just about kill you, but I can't tell you. I don't have that right. Let's just say Faith and I met under…unfortunate circumstances which she might not want you to know."
Great. A mystery woman. I hated mysteries.
He rubbed my shoulders with his thumbs. Maybe he thought I needed calming down. God knows why.
"Okay," I said, starting to enjoy the massage.
Eeny Meany Miny Die (Cat Sinclair Mysteries) Page 2