Purview of Flashbulbs (Alexis Parker Book 15)

by G. K. Parks

  I put my phone down and looked at the spot next to me. Martin never came to bed. After listening for the sound of his voice, I decided to see if he was still here. At this point, I wouldn’t put it past him to sneak out in the middle of the night again.

  With the exception of the table lamp, the lights were off. He was seated sideways on the couch with my files strewn in front of him. The closet door was open, and I couldn’t help but feel his actions were a total invasion of my trust and privacy. He’d made a sizable dent in the bottle of scotch, but he didn’t appear inebriated. His green eyes looked sharp as he sorted through the paperwork. His anger and irritation had been replaced by a quiet brooding.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I asked, realizing he was searching for something.

  “Didn’t you pull Dinah’s phone records?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are they? What did you do with them?” It sounded like an accusation.

  I wasn’t used to that tone. “Why?”

  His eyes found mine. “I need to see something.”

  “They’re at the office.”

  “Oh.” He examined each piece of paper before placing it back in the folder, as if I might be lying. “Could you get them?”

  “Now?”

  “No, tomorrow. Bring them home with you, okay?”

  An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. In all the time I’d known Martin, I had never been suspicious of him. But something was going on, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could ignore it. He said it was business. That he couldn’t talk about it. But he was snooping through my files in the middle of the night. That wasn’t normal.

  “Why do you want to see them?” When he didn’t answer immediately, I nudged him. “Hey, talk to me.”

  “I’m looking for a number. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It sure as hell seems like one.” I crossed the room and picked up the stack of glossy photographs. “Did you look through these yet?”

  “Yep.” He put my files back in the box and crossed to the kitchenette. “This stack I’ve met. These I haven’t.”

  One of the piles contained all the men on Dinah’s security team, her personal trainer, stylist, Kurt, Neil, Lance, and Jett. I snorted. Martin had gone to the lot. Of course, he saw them.

  “Did you see any of them earlier tonight?”

  He glanced up at me. “You know who I saw. That guy Scar, Ty, and that other one.” He pointed at a third member of the detail. “You were there.”

  “But not this guy?” I held up the photograph of Jett.

  “No.” He wrapped his arms around my waist, oblivious to the fact I was miffed about his snooping. “What happened tonight at the hotel? You told me someone was killed and the killer is stalking Dinah. Why would you think he’d target me?”

  “You’ve been hanging around Dinah a lot.”

  “I’ve met with her twice. Briefly. It doesn’t make sense I’d be a target. Are you positive you’re not in any danger?”

  “No more than usual. Honestly, you’re scaring me, James. You have to tell me what is going on.”

  The use of his first name hit my point home. He scooted closer, and I turned to face him. He was practically trembling, and I put a hand against his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath my palm. I didn’t know what was going on, but for the briefest moment, I was terrified of what he was going to say.

  He must have seen the fear in my eyes because his thumb stroked over my cheek, and he offered a calming smile. “This has nothing to do with you or your case. It has everything to do with Dinah and our shared history.”

  “Why did seeing her today upset you?”

  “Seeing Dinah didn’t upset me. The situation did.”

  “Me being there?”

  “No, sweetheart. I wanted to tell her precisely who you are to me and get her damn stipulations removed, but you didn’t want me to say anything. Maybe if we tell her, she won’t care if you know what’s going on, and then I can tell you everything and clean up the mess I’ve made.”

  “It’s not a good idea to broadcast our relationship, particularly under these circumstances.” We were getting sidetracked from the issue. “So what set you off? Should I be worried that you ordered a hit on whoever you were talking to on the phone?”

  “Damn, now you know why I was looking for a phone number,” he teased, continuing to skirt around the issue, but I didn’t give up that easily. “It’s complicated. She has contacts, connections, that I require.”

  Even though I didn’t understand the intricacies, I already figured that’s why he wanted access to her phone records. Before I could ask for an elaboration, my phone rang. “Now what?” I grabbed it off the counter, expecting a call from Renner. Instead, it was the precinct. Officers brought in the driver of the green SUV. They picked him up on his way home from work, and he had a very different version of events. The arresting officer wanted me to come down for questioning. Didn’t anyone sleep anymore? “I have to go.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Sure.”

  He released me. “I’m going to get some sleep. I’ll see you later. Don’t forget the phone records.”

  Thirty-one

  The man who I spotted outside the hotel, who I chased into the parking garage, and who almost ran me over with his SUV, was not Jett Trevino. In fact, he had no ties or connections to Broadway Films or Dinah Allen. He wasn’t involved. He hadn’t even been at the hotel when the fire alarm went off. He was just some guy who went to grab a quick bite.

  According to what he told the officer, he was at one of the nearby restaurants where his roommate was a cook. He ate in the kitchen with the staff, several of whom had already verified his alibi. On his way back to his car, he realized someone was following him. He claimed to have felt threatened. I’m not sure the officer believed it, but the guy said he thought I was a mugger or carjacker. So he ran to his car and drove away. He would have called the police, but he was on his way to work and didn’t have time.

  His SUV was indeed green, not blue. He was just a local who worked at a bar across town. He’d been slinging beers during Dinah’s club foray, and he’d been at work at the time the stalker made the threatening phone call. Since he couldn’t be across town at a bar and inside the hotel gym at the same time, I knew he wasn’t our guy.

  When the police first brought him in, he wanted to press charges against me, but the officer talked him out of it. If he pressed charges, I would press charges, and it would all come out in the wash. Instead, we called it a draw. I promised to stay away from him and not sneak up on people, and he promised not to run over the next person he thought was trying to jack his SUV.

  By the time the situation was sorted, it was nearly five a.m. Bennett Renner remained on Jett’s tail. As of his latest social media update, Lance, Jett, and several women were cruising around town in the back of the limo. They even stopped to take some creepy selfies at a cemetery. Hollywood really was full of weirdos. From a few of the other posted photos, it appeared Lance didn’t have a destination in mind, and I wasn’t positive I wanted to know what he and his entourage were doing in the chauffeured car. On the plus side, they were far away from Dinah.

  Once I was free to go, I let myself into my office and looked around. Dinah’s call logs were in my drawer. Martin had no right to ask me to do this. It was a breach of professional ethics, even if I wasn’t entirely sure private eyes had any ethical guidelines. But I did. Why couldn’t he just ask her for the number?

  I skimmed through the list again. Every other call was to or from Elodie. The next most frequent number was her agent, followed closely by her manager. Martin was the fourth most frequent caller, at least over the course of the last two and a half weeks. I went down the list, but no one stuck out. Jett never phoned, but a few calls came from Lance. I needed to get to the lot and check out the SUVs. Whoever killed Reaper had to be a member of the production team, and everything pointed to Jett. We just had to prove it.<
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  It was early, but a few of the grips and stagehands were already hard at work, readying the backlot. Since Cross Security was in charge, the guards on duty allowed me access to anything and everything. Broadway Films was a different story. They didn’t want anyone poking around, particularly since it might jeopardize their film or an actor’s credibility, but as far as I was concerned, murder trumped everything else. If we didn’t stop Dinah’s stalker soon, the death toll would rise. It was just a matter of time.

  I surveyed the rows of vehicles. A third of the lot was already filled, and since Jett was riding around town with Lance, there was a decent chance his rental might still be here. I grabbed the flashlight out of my trunk, made sure I had an extra magazine in my jacket pocket, and began at one end of the lot. As I walked up and down, checking for damage, more people arrived.

  Hitting the radio, I requested to be informed when Lance and his entourage showed up. The last thing we needed to do was spook the stalker. On a set like this, he might feel the need to act, and someone could get hurt. I finished examining the final row of vehicles, finding no signs of recent accidents. I thoroughly checked the two blue SUVs, but I didn’t know if either belonged to Jett. Another thought shot through my brain; what if he wasn’t our guy?

  Jett Trevino had no criminal history. No one ever filed any official complaints against him. For all intents and purposes, he was clean. His student loans were in the hundreds of thousands, and he put up with a lot of shit from Lance and the studio for the opportunity to be here. If he was willing to deal with that on a daily basis, why risk it all over a twisted obsession? Jett had the access, the opportunity, and fit the physical description, but something didn’t fit. Maybe I was wrong. Obsession was an overpowering force that could make a man do anything.

  After requesting someone keep an eye on the incoming cars for any signs of front-end damage, I set off for the trailers. It was time someone did some digging. The trailers were considered private property, and Cross Security had been forbidden from entering or searching them. It was one of the first things Lucien had wanted to do after the Dinah dummy was planted, but the studio said no. Their legal team had been up in arms, particularly when they feared the actors’ individual representatives would sue the studio. Cross might have wanted to look around, but he deferred to the studio’s wishes on the matter, believing it was more important to keep the client happy. I had no such qualms, but it would still be best not to get caught. Lance Smoke was vindictive enough to press charges and have me arrested for B&E, and given who he was, even my friends in the department wouldn’t be able to sweep it under the rug.

  Glancing around, I waited for one of Gemma’s assistants to finish prepping her trailer and head for the soundstage before I approached Lance’s trailer. Slipping my lock picks out of my back pocket, I set to work. A few seconds later, I pushed the door open, knocking as I entered.

  “Hello?” I called out. No one answered, so I closed the door behind me.

  I didn’t flip on the lights for fear it might attract attention, so I used my flashlight to look around. The fridge was filled with expensive, imported water. Lance had a video game system and large-screen TV with a fancy massage chair in the main room. In the corner was a weight bench and assorted free weights. He also had a punching bag and jump rope. The bedroom had enough lube and condoms to make me think he was personally responsible for soaring stock prices.

  “Eww, gross.” I slammed a drawer shut when I found a large collection of women’s underwear. Maybe Lance had a fetish or liked to cross-dress, but more than likely, those were trophies from his conquests. I cringed and checked the closet and the tiny desk.

  I found a phone number and several receipts for flower deliveries. I wrote down the number and the order details and snuck out of the trailer. I closed the door behind me and went down the three steps. I was halfway to Dinah’s trailer when the front gate alerted me to Lance’s arrival. Not a moment too soon, I thought.

  I continued to Dinah’s trailer and let myself inside using my lock picks. The overwhelming scent of flowery perfume filled my nostrils, and I practically gagged. I knew that smell. Martin said it was Samantha’s perfume, but that was a lie. Hitting the light switch, I took a step back at the sight in front of me. The entire trailer was filled with flowers. Purplish, nearly black, roses that stunk to high heaven.

  Who the hell did this? Carefully, I took another step back. I had inadvertently stumbled into what might be a crime scene. I had to make sure not to contaminate the evidence. I went outside, scanning the doorframe and the exterior of the trailer for signs of who might have been here. The pavement and metal steps didn’t allow for shoe impressions, and no footprints were visible. The door didn’t appear to be tampered with. I had just picked the lock, and even that was undetectable.

  I wore my hair in a braid, but I tucked it into the back of my jacket anyway. Then I donned a pair of gloves, wishing I had a breathing apparatus before venturing back into the trailer. Roses were among the most fragrant flowers. Aside from allergies, the smell occasionally made me nauseous. It was probably a psychosomatic response, a residual effect from one too many funerals.

  After taking a deep breath, I cautiously entered the trailer. The flowers were in vases. There had to be over a hundred in the tiny trailer, making the air practically unbreathable. I scanned the various vases for an attached card but didn’t see one. My head pounded, and the room started to spin. My stomach churned, but I pushed forward. I stumbled into the bedroom, finding even more flowers. A quick glance into the bathroom assured me the trailer was empty. Whoever did this was gone.

  When could this have even happened? I exited the trailer. My eyes felt puffy and had started to water. It wasn’t even six a.m., but it was going to be a bitch of a day. I hit the radio, relaying what I’d found. Then I dialed Lucien and left an update on his voicemail. I closed the door to the trailer and headed for the front gate. I made it to the dumpster before I heaved, hoping we wouldn’t need to search it later for evidence.

  “Alex?” a concerned voice asked. “Hangover?” A hand held out a tissue, and I took it and wiped my mouth.

  When I pulled my head out of the dumpster, I looked up at Elodie. “Not quite. Have you been inside Dinah’s trailer today?”

  “I was going to head that way after I got everything together. I just have to stop in at the writers’ room to make sure they didn’t change anything since last night, and then I was going to stop at crafty and have them get to work on her breakfast.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

  “Just stay away from the trailer.”

  Elodie put her hands on her hips and stared down at me. “You can’t tell me that. I work for Dinah. I have responsibilities, duties, that I can’t neglect.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “Dinah received another flower delivery. Security is on its way to investigate. Until then, no one goes in or out.”

  “More flowers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Shit.” She sniffed in my direction, probably catching a whiff. “How many more flowers?”

  “A lot. You can probably smell them on me.” I couldn’t smell anything but those terrible things. Most women liked the smell of flowers. Early in our relationship, Martin would regularly send bouquets. I always kept them segregated in the corner. Eventually, he realized I hated them and stopped sending them, replacing his gifts with silk flowers, if the occasion required flowers, or wine and other treats. “Excuse me.” I stepped past her and went to speak to the two members of the Cross Security team who were making their way through the parked trailers.

  “Parker,” one of them said, glancing at the trailer, “when did this happen?”

  “You tell me. You were keeping watch. Do we have surveillance footage?”

  “I already have people working on it,” he said while the other security guard went to the trailer and checked for signs of a break-in. “Did you go inside?”

  I told him what I saw. “Have you c
ontacted Dinah Allen’s security chief?”

  “He’s been notified. We’re to seal off the area until he and Cross have a chance to confer.”

  I turned around to make sure Elodie wasn’t planning on rushing the trailer, but she had wandered off in the direction of the soundstage. “Dinah’s assistant was adamant about having everything ready for Dinah’s arrival, but I told her the trailer was off limits. However, I wouldn’t put it past her to try to clear the place out. Make sure she stays away.”

  “Dinah’s assistant? Tall, black hair in a pixie cut?”

  “That’s her,” I said.

  “She just came through security, not even five minutes ago. She’s a sweet kid. Brings us snacks from craft services whenever she has to run errands. I’m sure she won’t cause problems.”

  I gave him a skeptical look. Maybe I was just in a bitchy mood. “Here’s the thing,” I narrowed my eyes, my thoughts racing, “there are over a hundred flowers inside the trailer. It would have taken time to get them inside. Someone had to carry them in. With the way the trailers are situated, a car or delivery van couldn’t pull up to the door. It could get close but not close enough. Only golf carts are small enough to zip between the trailers. You had to have seen something.”

  The guard exhaled. “Do you see that?” he pointed to the backlot. “Workers have been here all night moving those sets around. They couldn’t get the pieces in through the front because it was too narrow, so they had to open up the side gate where the fence slides. Our view’s been obstructed most of the night.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Anyone could have bypassed the gate. I wondered if his head was next on Cross’s chopping block. “I need a list of everyone who left set and returned during Dinah’s absence, and I need it now.” With any luck, the stalker might have gone out the front even if he snuck in through the side.