She couldn’t wait.
Elizabeth knew how she was going to work that one. She was going in hard. If anything, she wanted to rattle the man’s cage for what he’d done to his ex-girlfriend.
Payback was a bitch.
“Okay, who’s after that?”
“We have Hardy Dillion, who was an understudy, and someone you’re going to want to talk to about this.”
She was staring at her partner. Elizabeth recalled the name. He was the person who would likely be taking over for Selma had she been fired.
Now…
Yeah, she was dead. That was even more convenient.
“Everyone said he was Selma’s pet. If there was someone close to her, he was it.”
Well, that worked for her.
Elizabeth told Livy everything they’d dug up on the man. She grinned when they got to the last part.
“That’s motive to kill someone.”
“Yeah, but did he have means and opportunity. That’s what the judge is going to want us to prove.”
“We will if he’s guilty.”
Her mouth to God’s ears.
“Let’s take the lead actor first. I want to rattle his cage. He’s got the rap sheet, and if you do the crime, you get first shot in when there is an interrogation.”
They headed in, and some girl was fawning over the man as he rested on a chaise.
He was bitching about being bored out of his mind, and some of the creative things she could do to keep him occupied.
Yeah, hell to the no.
This man was out of control.
“Beat it,” Elizabeth said, scaring the blonde girl out of her mind. She raced from the room without looking back.
The douchebag actually had the balls to sigh.
“I hope this won’t take long. I need to get my rest. There will be publicity tomorrow, and I want to look my best when they start talking about us.”
She stood there. “Yeah, when they take your photo in lockup, pick out some makeup to match orange jumpsuits.”
He sat up. “What?”
Elizabeth took a seat. She crossed her legs as she let the man sweat it a bit.
“You’re going to jail if you don’t cooperate. That’s going into the paper. Trust me…it won’t get a huge headline. You’ll be between the drug dealers and rapists.”
When he looked really rattled, she began.
“So, I hear you have a propensity to cut brakes, get into fights, and push people over railings.”
He stared at her. “None of that was proven, and I’m innocent.”
Elizabeth began laughing. “Oh, well, I don’t have to work on that. I have to prove that you killed Selma Roth. That other mess was some other cop’s job. Mine will be a lot easier.”
He looked horrified.
“Why would I kill her?” he asked. “I loved working with her. Selma saw the genius in me.”
“And the humility, right? That was probably her favorite part of your personality—right after your douche-y behavior and general dickiness.”
The man crossed his arms. “I didn’t hurt her.”
“Why weren’t you on stage?” she asked. “Isn’t it King Lear who carries Cordelia in after she’s dead?”
Thank God Callen clued her in. This was a little out of her element. Having a bookworm on your side was a really good thing.
“Selma switched it up. She wanted to make this production edgier. We’ve been trying to get more attention.”
Well, this would do it.
If there was one thing that the morbid crazies liked, it was watching a train derail and the causalities. This time, it was Selma Roth.
“I’m betting she didn’t think she’d become part of the production,” she stated. “Who was supposed to hang?”
“Cordelia.”
“No, pretty boy. I know that’s the person in the play, but I’m living in the real world here. You know…as in not acting? Who was the freaking actress who was supposed to be hanging there?”
“Gwendolyn Graves was supposed to be the one who ended up in the noose.”
“Why didn’t she?” Elizabeth asked.
“She said someone locked her in her room. It gets really loud back here when there’s a production going on—believe it or not—no one heard her.”
“Livy, find her. She’s up next.”
Her partner headed out.
“Now that your friend is gone, do you want to get to know each other better?” he asked, flirting his ass off. “You look really hot in that dress. I’ve seen you on the news, and it’s an improvement from what you normally wear.”
No he wasn’t.
Seriously?
Did this dick really think…?
“Have you seen the men I share a bed with, Irvin? They would pull you apart like you were nothing but some poor helpless bunny between two rabid dogs. They are like that with the mother of their children.”
He shrugged. “The door has a lock, and I can zip my lips if that’s what you want.”
It was time to talk his language.
“Want me to kick your tight wearing ass across the room until you’re a bloody pulp on the floor? I bet I can make you cry in less than two minutes. Your mascara will run, and then I’ll tell the world you’re a pussy, who got beat down by a woman in a dress and heels.”
He closed his mouth.
Finally, he did something smart. It was about damn time.
“Do you know anyone who had an issue with Selma or how she ran her show?”
He shook his head.
“None. Everyone loved her.”
She found that hard to believe. No one went through life with everyone cheering them on. There was always someone who ended up hating your guts for one reason or another.
That was the natural order in life.
“She was awesome. She was singlehandedly keeping this production going. It’s not easy to make sure we’re all paid, there’s money for programs, and promotion gets us in the media.”
She had a program in Ethan’s pocket. She’d go through it later. She wasn’t leaving a single stone unturned.
“Was she acting weird before the show?” she asked.
“Nope. I spoke to her beforehand, and she told me to rock it out, gave me a hug, and said champagne was being served afterward because some dude was in the audience.”
“Who?”
“Jackson James. Apparently, he’s this book guy, and she wanted him to be a patron of the arts. He’s probably loaded, and he’d give our troupe a decent donation. Selma was all about the money.”
She stared at him. “Really? She said that?”
“Yeah, she was going to try and get into his pockets. That’s how Selma worked. She wasn’t afraid to use sex to get what she wanted. The woman may have been old…you know, almost fifty three, but she rocked it in the sack.”
“Do you know that for a fact?” she asked.
“Nope. You hear things on the set. All I know is she had a big old boner for meeting this book guy. She was going to get all handsy post play.”
“Then it’s probably a good idea she’s dead.”
He stared at her. “Why?”
“The ‘book guy’ in question is my husband. I would have had to remove her hands if they went anywhere near his pockets. I’m territorial like that.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh, is probably right.”
The man clammed up.
It was probably a good thing she’d gotten everything out of him beforehand. A part of her wanted to go kick a corpse around.
She wasn’t shocked that people wanted to use Callen. Once he was outed, they figured it would happen, but it had only been two days.
Some snakes moved fast.
“Where do I find Gwendolyn Graves?” she asked.
“Her dressing room in at the end of the hall. Can I go home?” he asked. “I really want to crash a bit before tomorrow.”
She’d finished with him.
“Yeah, bu
t don’t leave town.”
“That’s so hot! I always wanted to be a suspect.”
“I bet you always wanted to be smart too. Yeah, it’s never happening. Get the hell out of here.”
He grabbed his bag and left.
In tights.
She shook her head and didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t imagine any of the men in her life sporting a pair, let alone wearing them outside.
As she headed down the hall, she sought out the room with Gwendolyn’s name by the door. Apparently, she was a big deal on the set.
Yeah, she didn’t care.
Elizabeth didn’t even knock when she headed into the room. Honestly, she didn’t care. She was at her max for actors and actresses.
Livy was in there, sitting beside the crying woman. There were tissues everywhere, and enough tears to fill one hell of a bucket.
Great.
They had a sobbing actress. How the hell was she supposed to know if this was real or total bullshit?
“Gwendolyn Graves?”
The woman looked up, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “I can’t believe this,” she said.
“Believe it. She’s dead.”
“What?”
“What what?” Elizabeth asked in confusion.
“I wasn’t talking about her. I was referring to how I could have been the dead woman. I was supposed to be in the rigging. What if I was killed?”
Yeah, it was all about her.
That sounded about right.
Apparently, to work in theater, you had to be selfish, self-absorbed, and egotistical.
Gwendolyn won on all three counts.
“Can we focus for a second?”
“Sure.”
“Did anyone hate Selma? Was she fighting with someone? Could there be someone on the staff who might have had it in for the woman?”
“We all loved her. She was a damn good director, and she really knew her shit.”
“No one at all?”
“She slept with people, but it was just sex—nothing more. Everyone she shared her bed with got that. It was like the unspoken rule.”
“And you? Were you one of those people who bed hopped with the boss?”
“Nah, I like dick.”
“Who was sleeping with her?”
She thought about it.
“There were rumors she was banging her production assistant—the guy who used to be an actor.”
“Who?” Livy asked.
“Hardy Dillion.”
That was all Elizabeth needed. That wasn’t the first time his name came up or the second.
“What about Irvin Avery?”
She laughed. “Honey, he couldn’t keep his dick hard with two popsicle sticks and duct tape when it came to women. The man is so gay that he’s their poster boy.”
Thus the tights.
She wasn’t shocked.
“How were the finances going?”
Gwendolyn stared blankly at her. “How should I know? All I care is that I get my paycheck. A girl has to eat.”
Yeah, and get Botox.
A facelift.
And new boobs.
That part was clear.
“Did she say anything before the performance?” Livy asked.
“Just that there was some man coming in who she was going to schmooze, that he was in our box, and to make it worth his while. I don’t get that, since I always bring my A game.”
“Jackson James?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yeah, that’s it. Is he sexy? Maybe I’ll see if I can get a donation from him, but not in the monetary sense.”
She was the only one laughing.
“Yeah, my husband, Jackson James, is sexy, and if you try to get anything out of him but the time of day, you’ll be in my morgue too. Clear?”
She closed her mouth.
What the hell was wrong with people?
Elizabeth really hated the theater. She could cross this bullshit off her bucket list. She’d rather swim naked with leaches, water moccasins, and Ebola.
Seriously.
“Go home. Stay in town.”
She grabbed her stuff and raced out.
Livy started laughing.
“That’s not funny. What if she said she wanted to bang your husband?”
“I’d kill her. It was only funny because you now technically have three husbands. One of them split in two. They’re like Gremlins. You fed him after midnight.”
She slapped her friend. “Shut it.”
“Shutting it, Director Cranky.”
They headed out and down the hall. There was an office at the end, and it had Selma’s name on the door.
“The police sequestered our suspect. They put him in there,” she offered, leading the way. “I wish I had worn more comfortable shoes.”
Elizabeth stared at her. “Did you see these death traps? They were meant to get Ethan and Callen hot and bothered. I can’t feel my freaking baby toes.”
Livy laughed. “Me either. It’s crazy the things we do to get our men off.”
She was preaching to the choir. Elizabeth had to work doubly hard since she had two men.
Or was Livy right and was that three?
“We’re too old for this,” Elizabeth stated.
“You have to up your game with three men.”
Livy almost fell when Elizabeth shoved her against the wall with her hand.
“You’re mean tonight. Someone is really bitchy, and not in that fun ‘watch her hurt a suspect’ way.”
Yeah, she got that way when men and women were trying to poach her husbands. It pissed her off.
When they entered the office, there was some nerd sitting behind the desk. He was barely one hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet.
“Hardy Dillion?”
“Yes.”
The minute she said his name, he looked like he was going to cry.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
He nodded. “Selma was my mentor. She taught me everything I know about the business, and it won’t be the same without her.”
Elizabeth sat in a chair facing him. “You were once an actor with the troupe, weren’t you?” she asked.
He laughed and leaned back in his chair as if recalling a memory. “Yes. I sucked at it. I was an understudy, and one day, I was supposed to fill in, and I froze. She told me it wasn’t my gig, but she would keep me on staff.”
“Doing?”
“I was her assistant.”
That played out with everything they’d heard about him. So far, he was being honest.
Cops liked that in a criminal.
Go figure.
“She had me do the books, call the production company, set up the flyers. I was her right hand man.”
They both listened.
“She was the core of this company. Without her, I don’t know if it’ll be able to carry on.”
“We hear you slept with her.”
He closed his mouth.
“If you lie, you take a little trip to what I call the tank. In it, I beat you down with a hardcore interrogation until either you confess to murder, or you curl into the fetal position in a corner of the room and piss yourself. Does either of those options sound appealing to you?”
He shook his head.
“Then I suggest you go with the truth.”
“Yes, we’ve been known to have a sexual relationship. Selma had a very high sex drive, and she needed that stimulation all the time. We spent a lot of time together, so naturally, it happened. You know how it is when you work with people.”
Elizabeth glanced over at Livy. “She’s my partner, and I don’t feel like jumping her.”
“That hurts. Here I wore my best dress to get you hot and bothered too,” Livy quipped. “I’ll have to try harder to up my depravity game.”
They both focused on Hardy.
“I get your point. We could have fought it, but I’m a man. I have needs too.”
Elizabeth wasn’t going there. She wa
s well aware of the needs men had. She was pretty much having sex more than most women.
“When was the last time you two worked on satiating your needs?” she asked.
“This morning. She was all amped up over what was happening tonight.”
“And that was?”
“The opening and Jackson James going to be here for the after party. She was going to pull out all the stops and seduce him.”
Livy started laughing. “You’re going to get hurt.”
“Why?” he asked. “What did I do?”
Elizabeth opted to take it out on the man. “So the woman you’re banging is talking about another man in bed, and you’re okay with that?”
“Yes.”
“That’s just wrong on all kinds of levels, Hardy. I know if I’m in bed with someone, and I’m talking about another man, that’s not a good thing. She wasn’t focused on you.”
“She didn’t need to be. It was friends with benefits. We weren’t in love. She needed a ride, and I didn’t mind her bouncing on my dick.”
Livy laughed.
They both looked over.
“Sorry, I got the visual. It was funny at the time.”
“I can’t believe she’s dead.”
“Believe it,” Elizabeth stated.
“This is horrible.”
Death was always a travesty. When someone lost their life early, it was never a good thing.
“We hear you were cuddled up to Marta Jones at one time too.”
“That’s old news. We ended amicably.”
“Who ended it?” she asked.
“I did.”
They weren’t buying that. What man gave up sex with a beautiful woman? Something was there. If it smelled off, it was off.
“Yeah, who would have hurt her?” Livy asked.
He laughed. It wasn’t a funny laugh, but one filled with sorrow and pain. It was clear this man adored her.
“All the actors, at one point or another, would have shoved her off a cliff. She was tough with them, demanding nothing but perfection. If you didn’t do your job, you were booted. She didn’t put up with any shit. The only reason she kept me around is I’m good with multitasking. I did my job, I did it well, and I would put out at the drop of a hat.”
“Were you the only one she was riding stick with?” Elizabeth asked.
“No.”
“She was big on banging the team, huh?”
He nodded.
“She had a very healthy sex life.”
“I disagree,” Elizabeth stated. “It could be what killed her. That makes it the opposite of healthy.”
Act of Blood (An FBI/Romance Thriller ~ Book 16) Page 48