“Jay Woods,” Van repeated.
“He is…he was…a regular at the gym. Ket’s gym.”
Van nodded.
“I contaminated the crime scene?” I was amazed at my own sloppiness and stupidity. How could I? “I did, didn’t I?”
He nodded. “It happens. Even on CSI.”
The dryer stopped. I was still cold with fear, and denial, and regret, but no longer shaking. The relative quiet of the room without the white noise of the dryer made me feel vulnerable. Seeing my discomfort, Van hit the button again.
Water ran across the counter and dripped onto the floor near us. Van’s camo had clogged the sink. Van ignored it. So did I.
“I’m responsible,” I said.
“For what?”
I looked up into Van’s eyes. “Jay. His death.”
“If that’s a confession, I’d keep it to myself.” Van gave me a squeeze. “Personally, I didn’t see you with a knife.”
“Don’t make light. I…I had a date with him. Two dates, actually.”
“Was one of them early this morning?”
“No.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about. You’re not the killer.”
“V,” I said, “I had two dates with him. In public. While Ket was in jail.” I pushed away from Van and stood up.
He rose with me and put his arms around me, turning me toward him. “What makes you think Ket did this?” Van took my face in his hands and forced me to look at him. “R, look at me. Ket would have had to sneak past security. Lure Jay up here from LA. Kill him in cold blood. Because you had dinner with the guy?”
“I know. It sounds crazy. Upside down. Vain of me, even.” I took a deep breath. “I’m confused. I’m upset. But you don’t understand Ket. He’s diabolical. Obsessed. Narcissistic.”
I paused, trying to order my thoughts. “Jay was a PI. The man was good with a gun.” I forced a weak smile. “He could take care of himself. That’s why I dated him. And that’s why I stopped.” I paused, trying to think of a rational reason for Jay to be in Seattle.
“What if Ket hired Jay to follow me? Someone’s been watching me.” I pointed toward the door. “Someone was watching me out there!” I put my head in my hands and took a minute to compose myself. “Someone’s been watching me all along. How else would Ket know where I am and what I’m doing all the time?”
Van nodded his agreement. “But why Jay? And why kill him? Why kill him here?”
I shook my head. “I don’t have the answers. I just don’t like the alternatives.” I paused. “If Ket didn’t kill Jay, then who did? One of us?” My voice went very soft.
Van leaned his forehead against mine. “R—”
There was a knock on the door. “Ms. Peterson. Detective White. I’d like to speak with you if you’re up to it.”
The interruption shook me back to my senses. I pulled free of Van. “I’ll be right there,” I called to the detective.
I turned back to Van. “Stay away from me. Far, far away. For your own good.” I turned on my heel and fled, pausing at the door to look back at him leaning on the counter. He turned off the tap, head bowed. Then he grabbed his soaking camo and hurled it at the wall.
I told Detective White everything I knew, including my suspicions about Ket. I went over every tiny detail I could remember. I even apologized about the crime scene.
The cops had locked down the building and were reviewing the security tapes. They hadn’t found anything or anyone.
CSI came. They took my fingerprints. And my clothes. Including my boots and my 3D moisture-wicking tee. War found me a replacement set of BDUs and promised to send Kyle out to buy me some new boots and have them delivered to the hotel. I was forced into wearing a pair of oversized flip-flops and a boxy, men’s tee, sans bra. I was out there but not loving it. My girls were like the proverbial cats fighting in a bag.
A uniform escorted me to the break room where the rest of the CTs awaited interrogation. Van was missing. I assumed he was being grilled. Peewee’s gaze landed on my bouncing bazoombas and refused to leave. I stalked off to the corner away from the others, took a seat, and crossed my arms over my chest, giving Peewee a defiant look. “Show’s over.”
He laughed and lowered his gaze to a magazine he was flipping through.
Cliff approached me. “Tough day.” He handed me a can of cola. “We could all use something stronger.” He nodded toward the soda. “But this is what we get.”
I popped open the soda without comment.
Cliff dropped into a chair next to me. “If it’s any consolation, I knew him, too.”
I looked over at him. “Too?”
“I have good ears. I heard one of the cops mention you knew the vic.”
The vic. I shuddered.
“He was a PI from LA.” Cliff stared at me.
I nodded. “I know.”
“You had a few dates?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. Jay was an okay guy.” Cliff snorted, erasing any notion he liked Jay at all.
I arched a brow.
“I’m not questioning your taste in men. Jay was my nemesis’s guy. Did a lot of work for him.”
“You have a nemesis?” I played with the condensation on my can, not looking at Cliff.
“We all do.”
I looked up at him. “Yours have a name?”
“It’s not important.” Cliff’s smile was ironic and halfheartedly limp. “Nem and I collaborated on a movie a few years back. We had our creative differences.”
“Your creative differences turned personal?”
“You could say,” Cliff said. “The movie was a flop.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“It happens.” Cliff shrugged. “And so I ask you, is it just coincidence that Jay turns up here, right when I’m about to launch another big project with blockbuster written all over it?”
“You think he was following you?” I asked, stunned that Cliff would think it was him who was being watched.
“Why not? Nem used Jay to acquire a little extra legal help in resolving our differences, if you get my drift.”
I frowned. I didn’t.
Cliff laughed again. “You’re a naive babe, but I like you. Woods was a wiretapper. He ‘overheard’ a few nasty remarks I made in private about some very powerful people. Comments I didn’t want to get out.” He shrugged again. “What can I say? I caved to protect my career.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“And you think he was here spying on you, trying to get the inside scoop on your new movie?”
Cliff smiled. “Trying to get any dirt he could.”
“But why would Nem do that?”
“To ruin me.”
I gave Cliff a penetrating look. “Jay’s dead.”
He backed off with his hands up. “I had nothing to do with that.”
I had the feeling that I wasn’t getting the full story, but I didn’t push it. I shifted the conversation. “Huff is a PI, too.”
“Yeah, but he’s my guy. Or so I thought.” Cliff took a swig of his cola. “I just gave him a large retainer to do a little work for me.”
“Don’t tell me. Let me guess—collecting dirt on your competitors?”
Cliff’s smile was rueful. He gave my arm a pat. “Cynic. One of my ex-wives has gotten greedy.”
“You have more than one?” My tone indicated that was no surprise.
Cliff grinned, ruefully, ignoring my jibe. “Too many. I gave Huff money to get me something legal that will stand up in court. Something to stave off her demands.
“When he didn’t show up this morning, I figured he was out blowing my deposit. Now I’m beginning to think he’s blown town. With my cash.”
Given what War had told me, I was inclined to think Cliff could be right. “Maybe he’s off to do a rush job,” I said, hoping he wasn’t dead like Jay.
“He’s not that eager. And neither am I.” He gave me a sly smile. “If you know a
nything, have any idea where Huff might have gone…”
I didn’t respond.
Cliff’s gaze slid over me.
I shivered. Cliff’s gaze had salacious and leer written all over it.
“You’re a pretty girl.” He reached over and covered my hand on the table. “Photogenic. Athletic. Well spoken. I could make a star out of a girl like you.” His tone added, “and a mistress.”
I thought of the flash drive I’d hidden for Huff and wondered. I tried to pull my hand free, but Cliff held it firmly in place. “I barely know Huff. I just met him at camp.”
“I understand.” He released my hand. “But if anything comes up…”
I nodded my agreement just as Van came into the room.
Chapter 13
After a brief consultation with the police, the FSC staff announced that camp would resume the next day for those who were interested. I was just cynical enough to think that shutting down would make FSC look like sissies and do major bottom-line damage. Excitement and danger were, after all, their business.
As it turned out, all of us were interested in continuing our camp experience. More out of morbid curiosity than anything else, I thought. And possibly out of a desire to learn a few extra self-defense techniques in case the killer came calling again.
War and staff were fully cooperating with the cops. They turned over all their security tapes, etc. And War promised that he was consulting with the police and his security experts to beef up security so that this could not happen again. Although he kept a surface cool, it was easy enough for the casual observer to discern that the fact that murder most foul had happened on his watch at his camp infuriated and puzzled him. He didn’t like being made a fool. My take—though exciting and adding a touch of realism, a dead body was basically bad for business.
But, as Van said with a touch of rhyme and the logic of Garp, “We’re probably the safest we can be at FSC. What are the odds of another dead body turning up at camp?”
I wondered. I also wondered if one of us was a murderer.
One good thing had resulted—the cops put out a missing person bulletin on Huff. Although whether they viewed him as a person of interest or another vic, I couldn’t say.
The bus ride back to the hotel was quiet. Speculation and gossip had been wrung to death in the break room. Now people were exhausted. I know I was. We each retreated to our own thoughts. Mine ran toward retrieving that flash drive I’d hidden for Huff. With his disappearance, and Jay’s murder…well, I don’t know, it just seemed like the drive might mean something, give some clue. Did that mean I’d told the cops about it? No.
Why?
Because they hadn’t asked. Childlike and obtuse, maybe. But there you had my logic.
I wasn’t sure the drive meant anything anyway. Once I had it back in my possession, if I got it back, then I’d decide.
Steve pushed past Van as we got off the bus and took up residence next to me. I had nothing against Steve. But I had nothing for him, either. I definitely preferred Van to him.
Steve began chattering in my ear as we entered the hotel lobby.
I nodded along to his drivel as we strode into the lobby, wondering how I could ditch him. “Holy cow!” I said on seeing the lobby.
The Cindy Lous had completely taken over. Banners, posters, pictures of jewelry, information desks, and tons of jewelry displays and flowers everywhere. Not to mention more bedazzled, bejeweled women wearing more costume jewelry than I’d seen in a lifetime. The Cindy Lous covered the sofas, the chairs, the ottomans, and filled the lobby with the buzz of female-pitched voices.
“It’s an explosion of glass beads and rhinestones in here,” I said.
Beside me Steve scowled. “I hate Cindy Lous.”
“You know them?” I asked, feeling afresh like a piece of meat as dozens of pairs of customer-calculating eyes spotted a completely unjeweled me.
“My ex is a self-centered bitch in every form of the word,” Steve said with all of the passion of love gone bad. “Even in entertaining. She loves to throw a party. But only if she’s the center of attention and walks away with free goodies and half-priced hostess gifts—candles, makeup, jewelry…” He trailed off, looking dazed. “She drove me crazy and bled me dry.”
“You could always sue for half,” I said helpfully.
Steve rolled his eyes.
Having had the pleasure of a Cindy Lou encounter earlier, Van avoided any eye contact with them. He stopped next to me and grabbed my arm. “Stick with me and I’ll get you to safety.”
Which sounded like a good plan to me.
Not to be outdone, Steve grabbed my other arm. “After a day like this, I could use a drink. Stiff one.” He smiled at me, ignoring Van on my left. “You look like you could use one, too. Buy you one?”
Steve’s tone sounded suspiciously friendly, like a drink was a prelude to a flirt or an ask-out for dinner and a date, or a quick screw if he could get it. He was a lonely, bitter divorced guy. The kind of man I wanted nothing to do with. But I’d been plotting on the entire bus ride home how to get to the ladies’ room in the bar without drawing attention to myself. And Steve had just handed me a golden opportunity.
Van’s hand scorched on my left arm. He was one hot man. Life would have been perfect if he’d been the one to ask. “Can you match him? One drink or best offer?” I whispered to him.
He leaned in and whispered into my ear, “I thought it was too dangerous to be alone with you?”
“That’s why I’m asking. Let’s make it a group encounter.”
Van arched a brow and glanced over at Steve, who still had a death grip on my arm. “Three would be a crowd. I’ll pass.”
“You have a death wish for Steve?” I whispered back to him.
Van smiled and dropped my arm. “I’ll join you with the rest of the gang for dinner. See you both in the restaurant later.”
Steve nodded to Van. “Later.”
I turned back to Steve. “Let’s ask the others to join us. We’re safer in groups.”
“No worries. The hotel’s completely safe. War notified security.” He looked smug.
I was not so confident in security’s ability to keep me safe and secure.
Van was still standing beside as he waited for the others to catch up. “Good luck,” he whispered, looking amused, then headed for the elevators and safety.
Peewee, Cliff, and Jim followed on his heels, diving through the crowd with scowls on their faces to ward off any brave jewelry ladies.
Steve smiled and, taking my arm, led me to the bar.
“What would you like?” he asked me as we settled in at a small table.
“Anything with rum, except rum and Coke,” I said, for once not in the mood for a drink that doubled as dessert. Rum was my poison of choice, but Coke ruined the flavor.
A cocktail waitress appeared, left the little napkins, and took our order.
I eyed the ladies’ room. Curses, foiled again! There was a RESTROOM CLOSED FOR CLEANING sign in the doorway. I was forced to listen to Steve complain about his ex.
“Ever been married?” he asked.
“No.”
“Smart woman. Don’t do it.” Steve scooted his chair around close to mine.
Oh, shoot, I thought. I didn’t have the strength to fend off an advance. I glanced back at the ladies’ room, hoping for an out. No such luck.
“I’ll take that under advisement if I’m ever tempted,” I said. “In the meantime I’m happily single.”
We made small talk. Our drinks arrived. I had to resist the temptation to down mine in a single gulp. Personally, I was in the mood to drown out my life.
I had the feeling Steve was working up to something, probably asking me out. I tried to steer the conversation, far away from that topic.
“Jim and Cliff seemed upset by Huff’s disappearance,” Steve said.
At last, a safe topic. “We all are.”
Steve leaned into me and spoke with a conspiratorial tone. �
�But Jim and Cliff particularly.” He looked around the room like he was scanning to see if we were being watched. Considering lunch, probably a good move. “Huff has something they want. Cliff and Jim approached me, asking me if I knew anything about it.”
I tried to look bored and nonchalant. “Do you?”
Steve laughed. “Why would I?” He paused. “They’re offering a reward. I could use a reward.”
I didn’t speak.
“I assume they approached you, too?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“You and me”—he pointed between us—“would make a good team, I think. I’d like to propose—”
“A toast, I hope,” I said, glancing again at the restroom and that damned cleaning sign. What in the world was taking the janitor so long? “’Cause I think I just mentioned I’m happily single and it’s a little early in our acquaintance for anything else.”
Steve smiled. “Funny lady. A partnership.”
I just stared at him.
“I say you and me team up, find Huff, claim that prize, and split it. Fifty-fifty.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get into that bathroom. I looked at Steve. “Excuse me,” I said. “I have to visit the ladies’ room.”
“It’s closed,” he said.
“Too damn bad.” I smiled at him. “I’ll be right back.”
I strode past the sign and right into the bathroom and…chaos in the process of being cleaned up. The room had been trashed. Tossed absolutely upside down.
A female janitor stood with her back to me. Her bucket of cleaning supplies sat on the counter by the sink.
“This place doesn’t need a janitor,” I said, absolutely stunned. “It needs a repairman. Have you called security?”
She turned around and scowled at me. “They sent me. This bathroom is closed. Don’t you read?” She picked up her broom and swooshed it at me.
I ignored her, taking in the scene with a sick feeling building in my stomach. What in the world had Huff turned over to me and asked me to hide?
The hand dryer had been pried from the wall, leaving a nice hole in its wake. Someone, probably Miss Janitor Lady, had propped the dryer up neatly against the wall by a stack of drywall bits and paint flecks of a color that matched said wall above. Toilet paper rolls had been torn apart and strewn about the room. She’d made a tidy pile of them.
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