“Now he’s one man I certainly wouldn’t kick out of my bed,” Sandra breathed, nudging Gena. “Would you?”
Gena snorted. “Sure, if you like his type. It wouldn’t be a problem for me. I wouldn’t allow him in my bed to begin with. Personally, I’ve always thought he was an arrogant prick,” she said bluntly, not caring he was still within earshot. “Now give me a real actor. I’ll take the likes of Robert Redford, Johnny Depp or Blake Anderson over the likes of Colin Masters. Now those men, they have real staying power.”
They both turned to face David Collins’ petite blonde secretary, when she called, “Detective Evans and Detective Barton? Mr. Collins will see you now.” Smiling sweetly at them, she led them into David Collins’ office.
***
Stephanie knocked on Leigh’s hotel room, waiting for him to answer. She had it all planned. She’d tell him the truth – their marriage was a colossal mistake and it was over. She flashed Leigh a wide smile, hiding her nervousness when he answered the door, a bath towel wrapped securely around his waist.
He moved forward, leaning towards her to kiss her. Not wanting to lead him on any further, she automatically stepped around him and into the room. He frowned, surprised by her cold reaction.
“Where are your bags?” he asked, poking his head out into the hallway, and then turning to look back at her.
“They’re at Jesse’s,” she responded coolly, “and that’s where they’re going to stay.”
Leigh closed the hotel room door, leaning back against it, confused. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Stephanie chewed her bottom lip agitatedly, blurting out, “Leigh, we need to talk.”
“I thought we were,” he said slowly, not sure where Stephanie was leading their conversation.
“I mean about us,” she added, flicking her eyes over his half-naked form with disinterest. She suddenly realized she felt nothing. No spark, no zip. There was no attraction, no stirrings, nothing to indicate she’d ever felt anything for him. Instead, she felt an overwhelming sadness. She’d let this man believe she loved him, when all he’d been was a brief escape for her own loneliness.
“What about us Stephanie?” Leigh asked cautiously, trying to remain calm. He didn’t like the cool detachment he could feel radiating from her. She wasn’t looking at him as a loving wife, but instead as a distant and polite stranger.
She’d changed, he suddenly realized. He’d felt the difference in her at the funeral. She’d been more distant than usual, but he’d shrugged it off, assuming it was grief. Now he knew differently.
“This isn’t working,” she said bluntly, meeting his stunned gazed head on.
He wondered if he’d misheard her. “What?”
“You and I. Us, Leigh, we’re not working.” She pointed to them both. Pacing the room, she added brutally, “This just isn’t working for me.”
Seeing his stunned expression, she tried another tactic, softening her tone. “This was a huge mistake. I should never have married you. I wasn’t ready for it but I felt pressured. You pressured me. You kept insisting we get married.” She turned away from him, uneasily shifting when his shock turned into anger.
“Hang on one damn minute, Stephanie. You were there too. You married me remember; ‘til death do us part,” he snapped, struggling to control his temper, fury beginning to claw at his insides.
“’Til death do us part is seriously overrated, trust me,” Stephanie flung out, bitterness laced in her voice. Facing him, she snapped, “And I should know.”
***
Jase Devlin knocked on Cynthia Mallory’s door, gingerly holding a bag of hot bagels in one hand. He frowned when she didn’t answer, and knocked again. Still not getting a response, he sat the bagels on the apartment’s off-white staircase railing and picked up the lone flowerpot sitting by her apartment door.
He dug his fingers into the pot mixture, sifting them through the rich dirt, for her spare key. Cursing when he found it, he reminded himself to lecture her about the perils of leaving keys in such obvious places. Unlocking the door, he opened it, calling her name, “Cynthia? Babe, are you in here?”
***
“Detective, I’d like to apologize for my executive, Myles. He was only doing his job. If he’d known the circumstances...” David Collins’ voice trailed off. Removing his spectacles he held them up to the light, checking for smears.
“Mr. Collins, if he had bothered to call us back, after the many messages we left him, he would have known what we were calling about,” Sandra answered, a bite in her voice.
“Yes, yes. As I said, I do apologize for all of this,” David Collins said, indicating with a sweep of his hand for them to sit down. “Now Detectives, please tell me what you’d like to know. We, at Callendor, are deeply shocked at the tragic loss of Ms. Mathers. She was a fine actress. In fact, she was one of our brightest stars. Naturally, we want to do everything we can to help out the fine folks at the L.A.P.D.”
Gena shot Sandra a warning glare, when she snorted. Smiling politely at Callendor’s President, she wondered if he’d even known Carolyn at all. Had he even met her, or was he merely a figurehead for the studio?
“Tell me, how many people knew Carolyn Mathers was coming back to L.A?” Gena asked.
“As I told you over the phone Detective Evans, only my secretary and I knew.”
“Yes, yes you did and it’s something I have a big problem with Mr. Collins. Despite what you’ve already told me, someone else knew. Someone knew well enough for her to disappear.” Gena gave Sandra a sideward glance, before her eyes shifted back to David Collins.
Leaning forward in her chair, her steely expression pinned David Collins to the spot. Lowering her voice, she spoke quickly. “This is what we do know, so far. Carolyn Mathers flew first class from Nice to L.A with a two-hour stopover in London. American Airlines confirmed that she not only boarded the flight to London, but she also made her connecting flight back to L.A. They’ve also confirmed she checked in and picked up her bags as soon as she arrived in L.A. While waiting for her car, the car that this studio arranged to pick her up from the airport with, she disappeared.”
Flustered, David Collins responded angrily. “Now see here Detective, what exactly are you suggesting? If you think Callendor or I had something to do with this Ms Mathers –”
Gena picked up the file she’d placed on the desk when they’d first entered David Collins’ office. Interrupting his outburst, she said in a hardened tone, “We can also tell you this. Carolyn Mathers intended on negotiating her comeback contract with you. She arrived in L.A on May 3rd with that very intention.”
Pausing for effect, she pulled Carolyn Mathers’ crime scene photos out of the blue manila folder. Dropping them in front of David Collins, she punctuated each word with a new crime scene photo, as she continued, “She was found five days later, on May 8th by some tourists, near the Hollywood sign. Her battered, bruised and tortured body is one snapshot those poor tourists will never forget.”
Shaking her head angrily, her eyes darkening in turmoil, she said fiercely, “This means her killer had her for at least four days, maybe four and a half, before he killed her.”
“Sweet, Mother of God,” David Collins breathed, unable to tear his eyes off the crime scene photos, his ruddy complexion paling in both shock and undisguised horror.
“I just assumed she’d backed out of our agreement. It was only verbalized. The contract hadn’t been signed yet.” He gulped, finally tearing his eyes away from the crime scene photos. “She was mighty nervous about coming back to the States. She was concerned for her safety, which is why she insisted on keeping everything quiet.”
His eyes strayed back to the photos and he pushed them away, waving his hand at them. “Please can you put them away?” he pleaded in anguish.
Gena picked up the photos, silently putting them back in the folder, assessing David Collins’ shaken appearance with a grim smile.
David Collins looked at both Gena and Sand
ra with sadness. “That poor girl, after everything she went through last time.” He shook his head. “You know she was stalked and attacked four years ago? She almost died. They never found her attacker. After her attack, she quit acting. It was just too much, especially with what happened to her while she was in university.”
He shook his head again. “That poor, poor girl, after everything she went through,” he repeated, his voice hoarse with unchecked emotion.
Gena asked in surprise, “University? What happened at university?”
David Collins sighed deeply. “I can’t tell you much, only what she told me. All I know is someone was murdered during her first year in university. It happened right on campus. I got the feeling she was close to whoever it was.”
Sighing again, his voice tinged with regret, he added, “I wish I could tell you more.”
Gena and Sandra exchanged a long look, before Sandra spoke. “You mentioned your secretary was the only other person who knew Carolyn Mathers was returning to L.A?”
David Collins nodded. “Yes, Barbara Madden. She arranged for the driver to pick up Carolyn. Unfortunately she is no longer with us. She quit a couple of days ago without any explanation. She simply did not bother showing up to work. It’s caused all sorts of chaos,” he said absentmindedly. Sorrowfully, he repeatedly softly to himself, “That poor girl. After everything for this to happen to her, it’s just awful.”
“We’re going to need to talk to Barbara Madden. We’d appreciate it if you could provide us with her contact details,” Gena said, smiling grimly.
***
Leigh grabbed Stephanie’s arm, twisting her around to face him. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t just toss me aside like I don’t mean anything to you, as if marrying me meant nothing to you,” he said angrily, gripping her arm tightly.
“Leigh, let go of my arm,” she said, trying to jerk free of him.
“You’re my wife and you’ll stay my wife, until I say otherwise,” he spat at her, his face darkened with rage.
She broke away, staring at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. She didn’t like what she saw. “Just who the hell do you think you are? You honestly can’t think I’m going to stand for you telling me what I can and cannot do?” she spat back, stalking past him.
He grabbed her waist, spinning her back around. She glared at him, her eyes blazing with fury. His fury matched hers. He slapped her hard. She staggered backwards, regaining her balance before he hit her again, this time with his fist. The force of it sent her sprawling backwards, onto the bed. He followed her, launching himself at her. He clawed at her clothes, one hand closing around her throat.
She grabbed his hand, digging her nails into it, fighting to free herself from his grip. Waves of blackness welcomed her and she fought to control it. Reaching behind her, she stretched out her hand, fumbling for the nearest object.
Her hand gripped the phone. Lifting it above her head, she swung it with all her strength, bringing it hard down onto his head. He slumped unconscious against her and she pushed him off. Staggering off the bed she fell to her knees, gasping for air. Touching her throat gingerly, she stared in muted shock at Leigh’s unconscious body. Rising slowly to her feet, still gasping for air, she backed out of the room.
***
Stepping inside Cynthia’s apartment, the strong aroma of bleach hit Jase’s nostrils first, before he picked up an even stronger metallic odor. It was one he recognized well from his 13 years in Homicide.
Pulling out his gun, he did a quick surveillance of the living room. Carefully and slowly, he did a sweep of each room until he was standing in front of the last room at the end of the hallway. Opening the door, his heartbeat was rapid, unsure of what he would find inside. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the bloodied and battered body confronting him, nor for the woman he recognized only too well.
Dropping to his knees beside the bed, he checked for a pulse, knowing even as he did so, he would not find one. Pulling out his cell, he dialed 911. “This is an emergency. I’d like to report a murder.”
Chapter Sixteen
“I’m going to kill him,” Jesse growled, adding from between gritted teeth, “Slowly and painfully.”
“No, you won’t,” Ben said calmly. The only indication Ben felt the same fury Jesse openly displayed was within the dangerous glint of his icy blue eyes.
“Why the hell am I not?” Jesse growled again, gently pressing a cold compress to Stephanie’s cheek.
“Because, Jesse, I’m going to,” Ben said unevenly, his grip on Stephanie’s hand tightening. “It won’t be slowly either. It will be fast. The bastard won’t even see me coming.”
Stephanie reached over and took the cold compress from Jesse, holding it lightly against her cheek. She winced at the feel of the compress, icy cold, against her bruised skin.
“Ben, Jesse you’re not going to do anything,” she admonished, annoyed at the tremble she could hear in her voice. “Beside this isn’t the first time some jerk’s hit me. I just didn’t expect Leigh to be like this. God damn, I sure know how to pick them, don’t I?”
Ben and Jesse exchanged concerned glances with each other; both were unaware, until now, that this wasn’t the first time Stephanie had been abused by someone. The thought made both shift uncomfortably.
“Babe, come sit down on the couch,” Ben said, tucking his arm around her waist and guiding her to the velvet red loveseat, sitting down beside her.
Jesse moved to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a shot of Bourbon and swallowing it down in one gulp. Refilling the glass, he moved towards the couch, lowering himself down into a squat in front of Stephanie.
“Drink this,” he insisted.
She shook her head. “You know I don’t like to drink alcohol. Not since Dominic -” she broke off, her voice barely a whisper.
“You didn’t seem to have a problem a couple of nights ago,” Jesse reminded her dryly, his lips quirking.
Stephanie shot him a filthy look, a stubborn glint in her eyes. It was one Jesse recognized well. He tried another tactic.
“What about just this once, Stephanie? I think if Dominic were here he would insist on it,” he coaxed, smiling in remembrance of the man who had been his best friend since childhood. “In fact, I believe he would have forced it down your throat if you’d said no.”
Stephanie laughed huskily, her laughter turning to a wince when she touched her split lip.
“Please, drink it Steph. Please, for us?” Ben whispered, resting his forehead against hers.
She nodded, taking the glass from Jesse, tossing back the Bourbon with one deep gulp. She gasped, feeling the fiery liquid slid smoothly down her throat.
“You know that’s 50-year-old Bourbon you just tossed back, champ,” Ben teased.
Stephanie touched her neck gingerly. She could still feel Leigh’s hand around her throat. She felt like her throat was closing up and she gasped for air. Her struggling had excited him. He’d got off on trying to dominate her; he’d been turned on by her struggles. It was a side of him she’d never expected and one she didn’t plan on seeing again. His excitement disturbed her.
She’d felt so helpless and hated herself for it. She hated Leigh for leaving her so exposed. She hated him for exposing her weaknesses to her friends; hated him for leaving her so defenseless. She may have been able to forgive his hitting her but she would never, for as long as she lived, forgive him for exposing her vulnerability.
Jesse watched Stephanie touch her throat. His lips tightened into a snarl and a muscle in his cheek flexed. He’d kill Leigh if he ever went near Stephanie again. Noticing her tremble, he contemplated killing him anyway.
Touching her knee, he said quietly, “I think we should call Gena. We should ask her to press charges against Leigh.”
Stephanie shook her head. “No. No charges.”
“Stephanie, we can’t just let him get away with what he did to you,” Ben exclaimed.
Jesse voic
ed his own opinion. “Babe, Ben is right. I saw the state you were in when you came home. The bastard deserves to be lynched for what he tried to do to you.”
His eyes narrowed in pleasure at the thought, Stephanie noticed, and she touched Jesse’s arm. “Please, Jess, promise me you won’t do anything foolish.”
She looked from him to Ben, adding quickly, “You too Ben. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to either of you. You’re my whole world now. The only family I have left.”
Ben wrapped his arms tighter around Stephanie, knowing instinctively she was thinking of Angel. He loved her. The knowledge took him by surprise, the impact of his feelings hitting him in full force. But then, hadn’t he always? In some form or another, he’d always loved her.
They’d first met when he was working at The Whisky, bar-tending and fitting in gigs whenever he could. He’d been so unsure about his music, not confident whether it was a career path or nothing more than a fading dream. In her first year of university, unsure of where she was going, what she was doing, or who she wanted to be, Stephanie had only known she wanted to make a difference through the power of words.
One night she’d appeared at his gig, stayed for the whole show and approached him afterwards to sing his praises. She’d been so passionate about his music, maybe even more than he’d been. The next night she’d returned, this time with her friends Gena, Lyn and Angel. After the show he’d joined them, drinking and talking until the club closed. They’d stumbled back to his one-bedroom apartment in Hollywood and stayed up all night, drinking cheap tequila and arguing over their favorite bands.
He’d become her friend first, taking it slowly, before he’d eventually become her lover. It was only after they’d started sleeping together that he’d found out about the nightmares keeping her awake at night, nightmares she refused to talk about. He’d been so sure he could keep them at bay, so sure he would be able to break through the invisible walls she kept around herself. He’d been so sure of it, all because he loved her.
Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella) Page 12