by G. K. Parks
Unless it’s one of them, I thought.
We ate the rest of our meal in silence. When Martin finished, he turned to face me. “Why did she hire you? The last I heard you were working on a movie, presumably hers, but you said she hired you today. It’s about the threat of a stalker, right?”
“Yes.”
“But she has a security team. Why aren’t they handling it?”
“You met them?”
He didn’t give me a precise answer, but I knew it was yes. “They appear more than capable.”
“They need help.”
His eyes darkened, and he moved to clear away the dishes. “How exactly are you supposed to help? She better not expect you to bodyguard.”
“No, only playboy millionaires hire me for that reason. I’m just supposed to identify the source of the threat.”
He finished loading the dishwasher and turned back to me. “Well, you can mark my name off your list of potential hostiles.”
“You were never on my list. I just wondered if she mentioned anything to you.”
He didn’t speak. It was hard for him to offer helpful advice when he wasn’t even supposed to confirm or deny his interactions with the starlet. Finally, he said, “She mentioned an ex who was getting a bit aggressive.”
“Lance?” I asked, and Martin nodded. “He’s at the top of my list, but he stands to lose a lot more than he can gain by going all Fatal Attraction.”
“Is that the one with the bunny?”
I snorted. “How the hell did you ever date an actress?”
“For the record, I didn’t. She was a student. Someone my mom liked. Someone mom thought was talented and could go places, but those places were behind the scenes, not up and down the catwalk. Guess Dinah surprised us all.”
“Do you know any of her designer friends? She mentioned someone from her past she recently reconnected with.” My eyes narrowed. “I’m hoping it isn’t you.”
He winced, as if he were in pain. “Please, Alex, don’t ask me these things and don’t ask why.”
“Okay, I won’t.” But I couldn’t help but think he was one of the only people on this planet who could give me answers, and her attorneys silenced him.
Eighteen
“Find out anything interesting concerning Mr. Martin’s connection to Miss Allen?” Lucien asked once the conference room cleared out.
“He’s not stalking her.”
Cross gave me a look. “He visited the set the night the flowers were sent to her trailer. She also took him on a tour, showed him wardrobe and the hair and makeup trailer. It stands to reason he possessed the knowledge necessary.” Cross’s tone remained neutral, and I wondered what his game was. “Remind me, didn’t he hire you to clear his name from a possible murder charge when a model was killed on his yacht?”
“He was innocent.” I fought to keep my voice just as flat.
Cross scoffed. “Of course, he was.”
“Martin wasn’t responsible then, and he isn’t responsible now.”
“How can you be certain?”
“He has an airtight alibi for the night the dummy was planted on set.”
“Very well.”
“Anything ever surface with the items I recovered from the club’s bathroom?”
“Fingerprints on the condom wrapper matches Lance Smoke. He was with someone in that stall, but there’s no way of knowing who. We didn’t pull any usable prints off the cocaine vial or the lipstick.” He thought for a moment. “Was that Dinah’s shade?”
“I’ve only seen her wear glossy. That was matte. But it’s possible. I didn’t see her that night.” I stood, moving to the door. Dinah expected me at her hotel in less than an hour. She had the day off from shooting and didn’t plan to go to set. I couldn’t help but think the reason she wanted me there so early was to wheedle more information out of me concerning her role and my perspective on being an FBI agent, rather than identifying her stalker. I stopped in the doorway. “Are we certain this isn’t an elaborate hoax?”
“No.” Cross looked at me. “Lancaster asked Mr. Smoke about the club. Apparently, Smoke left with two extras, went barhopping, and didn’t make it back to his hotel that night.”
“He’s Lance Smoke. He can make his own truth. Don’t you think his money and stardom might be enough to convince hotel security to alter the footage or lose the recording if he was waiting for Dinah?”
“That is not beyond the realm of possibility. However, we have nothing solid pointing to it, and when it comes to these heavy-hitters, we shouldn’t speculate. It’s bad for business.”
“The point of being a private investigator is determining things without the red-tape and required amount of evidence,” I argued.
“Perhaps that’s true in some instances but not this one.” He gave me a warning look. “Under no uncertain terms are you to confront any of the actors or film crew. Is that understood, Miss Parker?”
“Yes, sir.” I was annoyed. That was a pretty common side effect of my interactions with Lucien. And now we were back to addressing one another formally. It was his way of not so subtly reminding me who was in charge. I didn’t like it, but that was nothing new. I didn’t like the command structure in general.
* * *
When I arrived at the hotel, I parked my car and took the stairs. Looking up from the bottom, I couldn’t help but think this would make an excellent parkour course, and my thoughts went to the stuntmen and Kurt Wen. The stunt coordinator had been one of the last people to leave set that night. He could have left the dummy on the soundstage. No one would have given much thought to him wandering into any of the trailers. He was supposed to be there, and he’d been in the industry long enough to be considered a fixture.
Making a mental note to check into him, I trudged up the first set of stairs, hoping brilliance would strike. On the next platform, I hoisted myself over the railing, lowered down, and swung my legs forward before letting go. I wasn’t high enough to risk serious injury, unless I landed wrong and broke my neck, but I didn’t consider that before I dropped. I landed in a crouch on the ground.
For someone trained, it would be possible to disappear quickly, but no matter how swiftly someone moved from Dinah’s floor back to ground level, it wouldn’t be fast enough to disappear. Stepping out into the lobby or any of the other hallways would have been instantly caught on camera.
As I went up the stairs, I wondered if it was possible her stalker had gone up instead of down. Still, it would have led to the same dilemmas and issues, unless there was someplace above to hide. Before I could explore further, my phone rang. I looked down at the blocked number and hit answer.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Alex?”
“Yes.” I recognized Dinah’s voice but didn’t feel like boosting her ego by acknowledging it. “Who is this?”
“Dinah Allen,” she replied haughtily. “Where are you?”
I exited onto her floor and smiled at Ty who was positioned just outside her suite. “At the end of your hallway.”
“Well, don’t just stand there. Come inside.” She disconnected, and I wondered if she would appear in the doorway. Instead, the door opened a moment later, and Elodie stepped out, spoke to Ty, pointed at me, and crooked her finger in my direction. “Is she here yet?” Dinah’s voice traveled through the open door.
“Yes,” Elodie said, ushering me inside.
“It’s about damn time,” Dinah said. She shooed Elodie away with a wave of her hand, and the assistant gave me a look as if to say, it’s your turn, and walked out the door. “You’re late.”
I checked my watch. “Four minutes.”
“Like I said, late.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and stared her down. Until this moment, she might have acted a bit spoiled but not like a diva. This was new, and I didn’t care for it. Is this what signing on the dotted line meant? Was this the type of shit Elodie, Cherise, and Scar put up with on a regular basis? “Is something wrong?” I his
sed out.
“Shit,” she smoothed her hair with her hand, “I’m sorry. My life is out of control. I need you to do something to fix it. Tell me you’ve found something. Lucien’s been poking around in my affairs, insisting it will lead to something, but I’m not comfortable with the scrutiny. I hired you to figure this out. Not him.”
“It’s his firm,” I said, “and he’s under contract with Broadway Films. He won’t tolerate threats being made to anyone on set.”
She took a seat at the dining room table. She gestured at the chair across from her. “Please,” she waited for me to sit, “I’d like a progress report.”
“Currently, we’re working under the assumption whoever is terrorizing you is someone you know. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. Your security team is topnotch, so it’s unlikely some random crazy managed to get onto the lot multiple times and access you at the hotel.”
“Isn’t that what stalkers do? Find out everything they can and follow people?”
“Yes,” I admitted, “but protocols were in place to prevent unauthorized access. Whoever gained access to your trailer went through the front gate. It might have been a guest. We aren’t saying it’s someone on staff or a costar, but we are confident it’s someone with whom you’re close.”
“But it could be a member of the cast or crew or someone one of us invited to set.” She thought for a moment. “What do you know?”
“As usual, not much. Based on the posing of the dummy and the note left with the flowers, I believe there is a sexual component involved. That’s common in stalking cases.”
“That’s why you wanted to know about my partners and exes.”
I pulled out the copy of her phone records and placed them on the table. A few of the numbers were highlighted. Pushing them across the table, I waited for her to pick them up. “Tell me about those individuals.”
“What about the rest?”
“We’ve already ruled them out.”
“How?” She seemed genuinely curious. “I want to know how the process works, remember?”
I explained how we checked their alibis and Cross determined their locations, ruling out those too far away or otherwise occupied. Her finger stopped briefly on Martin’s number. I bit the inside of my cheek, resisting the urge to ask about him. I could, but no good would come of it.
While she spoke about her hairstylist, accountant, and personal trainer, I made several notes. “Did any of them ever exhibit an unhealthy fascination with you?”
“Two of them are gay, and the other might as well be a monk. He’s only interested in my investments, not in me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay.” That brought us back to my previous list with a few addendums. “Tell me about Scar.”
She leaned back and studied me through her lashes. “Why?”
“He’s chief of security. He protects you. Have the two of you ever had any issues?”
“No.”
“This is just a job? A paycheck? Nothing more?” She didn’t speak, so I pushed on. “If it’s just a job, is it possible he might be willing to look the other way if someone else were to pay him more?”
Her response was quick and vehement. “No. Scar is loyal. We’ve been together for years. We’re friends.”
“You ever kiss?”
“Excuse me?”
I shrugged. “A big, strong man like that whose mission in life is to protect you, that’s hot. That’s the stuff of romance novels.”
She was good. I almost missed the dart of her eyes and the secret smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth before she regained her composure. She was an actress. She knew how to keep her cool. I wondered if she could beat a polygraph or if the calm was only on the outside. “Definitely not. That would be unprofessional.”
“You can’t lie to a federal agent, former or otherwise.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but my eyes held a challenge and she gave in. “It’s only happened a few times. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Does he know that?” I asked, even though I felt certain she thought it meant something.
“Scar’s the one who insisted it was nothing.” She looked away. “Sometimes, I get the impression he just humors me.” She turned back. “What do you think?” As if remembering the reason for the conversation, she added, “He is not stalking me. It isn’t even possible. He couldn’t be in two places at once.”
“The stairs,” I said, recalling the details. “You’re positive the way it happened?”
“Yes. This psycho creep came from below. I screamed, and Scar opened the door from above. The man behind me vanished. Scar came down the steps and took me to my room.”
“When did he check the stairwell?”
“The security team did the sweep after I was locked in my room. My safety is their first priority. Catching the guy is second. That’s protocol.”
Someone could have hidden somewhere below and went higher after Scar and Dinah left the stairwell. I bit my thumbnail, a bad habit I picked up from Mark Jablonsky. “Did Scar do the check, or did he stay with you?”
“I’m not sure. I went into the bedroom to change, and when I came out, Scar was waiting. He had questions. Then he went to speak to hotel security, and someone else took over. I can’t be sure if he remained in my room the entire time, but like I said, he couldn’t be in two places at once. Honestly, Alex, Scar wouldn’t hurt me. If he wanted to, he could just come in my room whenever he felt like it. He has a key.”
I knew those things but figured he might be smart enough to blame it on someone else. He was in the protection business and worked security in Hollywood. He knew how to fix problems or make them disappear. He would know better than to get himself jammed up, especially if he was the assailant. He’d done it before with the assault charges that magically vanished.
“All right, let’s get back to basics. Who knew you were at the party?” I’d already run through the list she made and the timeline. Frankly, I didn’t think anyone could be ruled out.
“Everyone on set. Clay invited everyone.” She looked at me as if I should be offended that commoners were allowed to rub elbows with the A-listers.
We spoke in depth about the party, the security, the club, and the transportation back to the hotel. At no time were outsiders able to gain access. Even if someone followed the party back to the hotel, the security on each floor was tight. The hotel was doing its best to keep the movie stars segregated to their own floors and sections. By the time the conversation was over, I knew this wasn’t some random whack job. If Dinah Allen was being stalked, it was being done by someone working on the movie or working for her.
“If news of your stalker were to become public, what would that do to the film?”
She chuckled. “It’d probably guarantee an even bigger buzz. The press tour would focus a lot on that. It would hit more outlets because it’s a crime drama where one of the actors was the victim of a crime. It might become actual news. Social media would be alight. They might even ask us to do some PSAs about asking for help or warning signs to watch for.”
I leaned back. “Then why do you want to keep this a secret?”
“I don’t want to be known for this. I don’t want to be a joke on the late night talk shows. I don’t want any publicity or accolades to come from something sick and twisted. Whatever I get, I want to earn.”
“Is that why you’re obsessed with handing out NDAs like lollipops at the bank?”
“That’s part of it.”
“And the other part?” I pried.
“It’s because the last time this happened, we went through a lot of work to have the police reports buried. I didn’t want it to come out, especially when it looked like a hairbrained scheme my manager devised.”
“Was it?” I knew what everyone’s stance on the matter was. I just didn’t know what Dinah thought. Scar said she probably believed whatever her people told her.
; She twirled her hair absently. “The police said there was no threat. Scar conducted a threat assessment and found nothing solid, but I swear to you, someone was inside my house.” She looked away and swallowed. “I know I sound crazy. Nothing was on my security system, but I think whoever came inside erased it or bypassed it.” She looked up at me. “Do you think the same person is stalking me now?”
“Stalkers normally don’t escalate and back off only to escalate again. That being said, anything is possible.”
She studied me. “You think I made it up before. That’s how it would have played out in front of the press, but I know someone was there.”
“Were you dating Lance at the time?”
“Yes.” She thought for a moment. “Do you think it’s him?”
“I think he has producer credits and wants to do everything in his power to make this movie a huge success. But I’m unclear of his intentions toward you.”
“That would make two of us.”
Nineteen
After lunch, Dinah had a massage scheduled. As soon as the masseuse arrived, I returned to the stairwell. The hotel had more floors than I cared to count. It was probably a good thing I was used to running the stairs in my apartment building. Whoever was after Dinah wouldn’t have had much time to escape to an upper level. Scaratilli and his security team weren’t away from the stairwell more than a couple of minutes.
However, at the top, the stairwell let out onto the roof. I opened the door and looked around. There wasn’t much to see. I found a coffee can filled with sand and cigarette butts and used it to prop the door open. I wasn’t positive if it locked from the outside, but I didn’t want to find out. From the looks of the place, I suspected some of the hotel staff took their breaks up here. A few discarded bottles and snack wrappers littered the ground.
I moved to the edge of the roof and looked down, reminding myself just how much I hated heights. Stepping away from the ledge, I assessed the area. In this part of the city, the buildings were wedged tightly together. The building to the east was only five or six feet away. An easy enough leap, if someone were so inclined. At the moment, I wasn’t in the mood to jump from building to building in a single bound, but perhaps this was how the alleged stalker managed to vanish into thin air.