Born to Be Wild (28 page)

“Daniel,” Breaker Barney shouted out, “any good news for us? You find any bodies in Paulie Thomas's closet? You've been to where he lives, right?”

Here he was, Daniel thought, fraternizing with a smalltime hood. At least this one was smart enough to stay away from petty crimes. “Sorry, guys, I didn't find a single finger,” Daniel said easily, and took another big bite of pizza.

“No dinner, Daniel?” Lou Lou asked him.

He shook his head and smiled at Lou Lou as he chewed. Someone stuck a beer in his hand, which he regretfully handed back. When he finished his pizza slice, he raised his hand. “Here's the deal, people. I'm still working right now, and I need to speak to Mary Lisa alone.”

There was no empty spot in the house except in Mary Lisa's bedroom. Still, they had to wait for a teenage girl to leave the bathroom, pausing to hug Mary Lisa on her way out. When Mary Lisa pulled the door shut, she saw that Daniel was looking very serious. She flipped the lock on the door. Her heart speeded up. She grabbed his arm, shook it. “What's wrong, Daniel?”

“Paulie Thomas just died. I wanted to tell you privately.”

She stumbled back, fell onto her bed. He sat down beside her. “He never woke up, Mary Lisa, barely got through surgery. They said his heart stopped, simply stopped. They managed to revive him once, but when his heart stopped again, they couldn't bring him back.”

She stared at him, still unable to take it in. Paulie Thomas, dead. He'd been alive this afternoon, and now he was dead. She felt numb. “How old was he?”

“Thirty-two.”

“That's around Jack Wolf 's age. How old are you, Daniel?”

He smiled. “That's the first time you've called me by my first name. I'm thirty-one.”

“He was thirty-two and everyone still called him Paulie, not Paul. That isn't right, Daniel. That means everyone knew he wasn't right.”

“Yes, I know. Can I get you something, Mary Lisa?”

She shook her head. “No, just give me a moment to take this all in. How is Paulie's mother? His uncle?”

“They're both very upset.”

She nodded. “Did his mother have any explanation for why he tried to kill me?”

“She was too upset for me to get much out of her. She said only that Paulie seemed pretty hyper yesterday. He kept going on about seeing Margie McCormick crying on the set—something about her character, Susan Cavendish, having less of a role to play on
Born to Be Wild.
Paulie's uncle Tom finally said Paulie told him that Margie blamed you because of the new plotline you'd worked out with Bernie.”

“There is some truth to that, you know.”

“Don't be a fool. It doesn't matter. From what I could glean, Paulie had never managed a relationship, he was a loner, but he was very attached to Ms. McCormick. His mother hadn't made much of it until this happened.

“The thing is, Mary Lisa, when we got to his apartment with a search warrant, we didn't know what we'd find.” He sighed. “Fact is, we found a huge motive—his bedroom was filled with press clippings about Margie McCormick, and photos of her plastered on all the walls. On the wall facing his bed was a huge poster-sized photo of her in a bikini.”

“So you think Paulie was trying to kill me because of Margie? He thought I was hurting her?”

Daniel drew a deep breath, took both her hands in his. “Mary Lisa, whatever drove him to do this, he snapped and acted. I think this was a onetime thing for Paulie. Your stalker is someone else.”

She stared at him, suddenly so cold she felt frozen. “Not the stalker?”

He shook his head.

“But Paulie tried to run me down on his motorcycle. A gazillion people saw him try.”

Daniel nodded. “Yes, I know. But stay with me a moment, okay? The decision about the plotline—and Ms. McCormick being unhappy about it and complaining aloud—I realized that didn't happen until after that car hit you here in Malibu. More importantly, you had already mentioned Paulie to us, and we checked out where he was both on the day of the auto accident and at the time of the shooting on the beach. He had strong alibis on both days—he was with family and friends, and this afternoon we checked them again, got independent verification. It couldn't have been Paulie, either time.

“And finally, Mary Lisa, we found Puker Hodges a couple of hours ago, claimed he'd been on assignment in Santa Barbara and just gotten back. We took him over to the hospital.” Daniel sighed. “Puker said Paulie Thomas wasn't Jamie Ramos, the man we've been looking for. He said he'd seen Paulie Thomas only once before and that was when he broke onto the set of
Born to Be Wild
and took that photo of you and Bernie.”

Mary Lisa couldn't believe this. She didn't want to believe it, much less hear it. She turned on him, angry now because he'd told her the truth and she couldn't bear it.

Daniel handed her a glass of water from the table beside her bed.

She drank it down, clutched the glass between her hands, and said slowly, “Then—what? You think Paulie did this as a copycat?”

“Maybe.”

“Then Jamie Ramos is still out there?”

He said nothing, he didn't need to.

She looked at him for a very long time, looked down at her bare feet, at the three chipped French toenails, and whispered, “Well, shit.”

 

IT
was midnight. Jack was angry and scared for her, pissed that he hadn't been there, even more pissed that he couldn't come down. She made him swear he wouldn't tell her father, at least not yet.

When Mary Lisa disconnected, she was exhausted, but her brain was squirreling around so madly she began to pace her living room, unable to keep still. Only Elizabeth and Lou Lou were here now, Lou Lou sprawled on one of the living room rugs, her legs up on a chair, bare toes in the air. Elizabeth, elegant in her TV clothes, sat on a love seat, a cup of coffee in her hand.

“We will get through this,” she said to Mary Lisa. “We will.”

Mary Lisa was wearing her favorite pea green T-shirt she'd bought that fateful Saturday and a pair of banged-up low-cut jeans. She nodded toward Elizabeth, and went out to her back deck to lookup at the star-strewn heavens. “So many interesting shapes up there. I don't see a single motorcycle.”

Lou Lou walked out behind her, yawning. “No, I don't either. Now, Daniel is as upset as we are, mostly with himself because everything is dead-ended again. When he's upset, he paces around like you, he's not focusing on anything but you. Do you know I've even told him the name of your third-grade teacher?”

“You don't know the name of my third-grade teacher.” Mary Lisa paused, turned to rest her elbows on the deck railing. “Do you know I don't remember it either?”

“Yeah, well, I didn't want to disappoint him so I told him her name was Mrs. Pilsner, how's that? I think I was drinking a beer at the time. Damn, Mary Lisa, this is getting old. I'm ready for an ending, you know? A happy ending.”

Mary Lisa watched Elizabeth stroll out on the deck. She'd taken off her stilt heels and came to stand at the railing beside Mary Lisa, dangling her shoes by their straps over the side. She'd taken off her panty hose and her bright crimson–painted toes sparkled in the dim light.

Mary Lisa said, “I'm going to spend six hours with Chico tomorrow, then I'm going to the firing range for another six hours. Then I'm going to call Irene at the studio and tell her I want the studio to hire me around-the-clock bodyguards, about a dozen of them.”

“And the studio'll do it in a flash,” Elizabeth said. “They're not stupid.”

“About that six hours with Chico…” Lou Lou began.

Mary Lisa held up her hand, eyes narrowed. “What? You think that's not enough?”

“Maybe I'm thinking it's too much the other way.”

“Elizabeth, you agree with Lou Lou?”

“Six straight sessions with Chico and you'd be a cripple, if not dead. Yeah, cut that down to three sessions.”

Mary Lisa sighed. “Okay, I need you guys to tell me if I've gone over the edge.”

“You have,” Lou Lou said. “A long time ago. It's okay.”

The three women stood side by side beneath the beautiful black sky, a quarter moon bright above their heads, a warm breeze against their faces, hearing conversations from people walking on the beach. None of them said anything.

Finally, Mary Lisa whispered, “Okay, three straight lessons. I can do that.”

Goddard Bay

It was midmorning on a sunny Friday. Jack sat at his desk studying the transcripts of all the interviews conducted since Milo's death two days before. Only two days? It seemed like beyond forever. He hadn't gone home the night before, stayed here at the office and thought and reread all the reports until he was nearly blind. He'd gotten only a couple of hours' sleep. He was vaguely aware of voices outside his office door, but he blocked them out and tried to focus. The words blurred in his head. He knew he was tired, too tired, really, to see something he'd missed. He swigged down some coffee so thick it could make its own Rorschach if he spilled it.

He was trying to concentrate on proving it was Olivia Hildebrand who had killed her husband. He had little doubt about that by now. But the problem was, Mary Lisa kept coming front and center into his mind. She'd called him last night, not five minutes after he'd spoken to Daniel, and he'd listened to her tell him about Paulie Thomas's mad motorcycle attack and all that happened afterward. He was so scared for her as those words had rained on him that he'd felt paralyzed with it. He'd heard the fear in her voice as well, she was unable to hide it from him, actress or no. He'd known her such a short time, he thought, but he was coming to know her well. She had tried to present a picture of control for him, and he admired her greatly for it. Mary Lisa was solid, and what was cool, in that moment he thought of his mother and how she'd say Mary Lisa was solid as well. He smiled at that. She'd erased the lingering stain left from his failed marriage, the memories of distrust and dread that had haunted his mind, and betrayal, the final nail Rikki had banged in his coffin. He tapped his pen on his desktop, wondering if Mary Lisa was feeling something like what he felt, if in the short time he'd known her, he'd helped to rub out that jerk Mark Bridges from her mind. It was still awfully soon, dammit, maybe he was expecting too much.

He wanted to be in Malibu, he wanted to find the creep who was terrorizing her, which meant, bottom line, that he had to get Olivia Hildebrand into his jail, and her signed confession into his pocket. So he forced his mind back to Milo's murder yet again. He simply had to. How had Olivia managed to get the poison into Milo's food tray? They'd found rat poison at her home, but that wasn't nearly enough, as Pat Bigelow had acidly pointed out to him. Rats were common enough in Goddard Bay.

He wanted to find that bum who'd been around the Goddard Bay Inn kitchen. He was the key, Jack knew it.

He underlined something Mrs. Hildebrand had said—“I've loved my husband for thirty-five years, only him.” And he'd asked, “And did your husband love your daughter, Mrs. Hildebrand?”

“Ah, Marci—such a talented, beautiful child.”

He drummed his fingertips on the transcripts.

“Hey.”

That soft voice sounded sharp in his mind. No, the voice wasn't in his mind, and it was supposed to be down in Malibu. He jerked up.

Mary Lisa stood in the doorway, grinning at him.

He stared at her, her windblown hair, the big sunglasses she wore dangling in her fingers. She was wearing baize slacks and a fitted top beneath a navy blazer.

He nearly knocked his chair over as he went to her. He hauled her up against him, buried his face in her hair, breathed in the lemony smell, and reveled in the softness against his skin. He felt his fatigue fall away from him, forgotten.

He hugged her for what seemed like a long time, feeling her heart beating against his, and finally whispered against her ear, “I can't believe you're here. I was just thinking about you and hating that I couldn't be down in Malibu with you. Sweet Jesus, Mary Lisa, this is a wonderful surprise.” He eased her back, looked down at the face he'd once seen on the other side of bars in his jail, grinned and kissed her. He said into her mouth, “If I'd have managed to get to bed since Milo's murder, I'd have dreamed about this.”

She laughed into his mouth, felt the hard length of him that fit against her so perfectly, so naturally, and knew what coming home really felt like, for the first time in her life.

She squeezed him hard, went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. He tasted like heat and man and really strong coffee.

He was hard against her belly and shaking and she loved it. “I'm here to see you, Jack. With just a little nudge from the mad stalker.”

“When you called me last night, I'll tell you, Mary Lisa, I wanted to fly down there, tuck you into my duffel bag, and take you to Australia. Scared me spitless.”

“I was pretty near the edge myself there for a while. But now”—she paused, kissed his mouth again, hugged him tightly—“but now I'm with you and the world is right for at least awhile. Did I manage to surprise you?”

“Nah, you just gave me the excuse to leap on you and kiss you stupid.”

She grinned, touched her fingertips to his face, studying him, seeing the bone-deep weariness, the frustration, and joy, the joy he felt because she was here. She glowed, couldn't help it. She sobered quickly. “I know you're up to your ears in this mess. I won't be a bother, it's just that I missed you and, yeah, I was afraid down there—”

“Having you here is what I needed. It's true things aren't settled here yet, and I don't know when I'll get things cleaned up. It's all a matter of finding enough proof.” He paused, looked into her vibrant blue eyes, and said, “I'm quite sure it was Milo's wife, Olivia Hildebrand.”

“Oh dear. This is going to hit my mom pretty hard. You know she and my mother are close friends.”

He frowned down at her. “Yes, of course. Your mom hasn't missed a chance to bust my chops about harassing Olivia. But tell me what's going on with you.”

“Well, Lou Lou and Elizabeth came up here with me, and we're all staying at the Goddard Bay Inn—no way would I have them at my mother's mercy at the house. They groused and complained when I dropped them off, but I told them I wanted to surprise you—alone. They got the picture. You don't mind, do you, Jack? That I didn't tell you I was coming up here?”

“Doesn't matter now.” He started to kiss her again.

“Jack, wait, I've got things to tell you.”

“I know, but not now, Mary Lisa. Not now. There's a time for words but now's the time for this.” He cupped her in his hands and pulled her hard against him. It was amazing, almost as amazing as when he lay on his back on the beach, with her on top of him. “I want to take you back to the beach again.”

“That was”—she gulped, kissing his cheek, his chin, his mouth—“an experience I want again, real soon.”

There was a knock on his office door, but he was grinning like a madman, and paid it no attention.

“Chief.”

Chief?

It was Mary Lisa who pulled away, only about two inches, and turned back to see one of his deputies standing in the doorway, face crimson, looking so miserable Mary Lisa would have laughed if she wasn't thinking so much about pushing Jack back onto his desktop. She sucked in a deep breath and whispered, “Jack.”

“Go away, Ames.”

“I'm very sorry, Chief, but Mr. Beverly is here wanting to see Mary Lisa. He's, ah, fact is, Chief, he's right here, as in right behind me.”

“What?”

“I called Dad,” Mary Lisa said, “got his voice mail. I told him I was coming to see you, and I'd go over to his office later. I guess he had another idea.”

She turned to see her father behind the deputy, staring at her and Jack. “So,” George Beverly said, “I hope I'm not interrupting you, Jack.”

You sure as hell are
. But those were not words to be spoken aloud. Jack touched his forehead for a moment to Mary Lisa's, kissed the tip of her nose, and raised his head to look at the man he was now seeing for the first time as his future father-in-law. Whoa, wait a minute, that wasn't possible, was it? He stared blankly at George Beverly, relieved he was focused on his daughter.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He gently shoved the deputy out of Jack's office and closed the door.

She didn't want to leave Jack, really didn't, but this was her father and she loved him. She pulled out of Jack's arms and turned to grin at him. “Hi, Dad. I suppose I surprised Jack as much as you.”

“It looks to me like he got over the surprise part real fast.”

Mary Lisa nodded, looking all sorts of pleased with herself. “Yes, amazing, isn't he?”

George Beverly struck a pose, fingers stroking his chin. “I seem to recall that Chief Wolf wasn't at all amazing two weeks ago. I hadn't realized that you were interested in each other. Indeed, there seemed to be a goodly amount of dislike on both your parts.”

She thought about that, and slowly shook her head. “Mr. Macho and his jail cell—ancient history, Dad. Isn't life strange?”

Her father hugged her close. “I gave up long ago trying to figure out what life is,” he said, “I just try to live it.” She breathed in his familiar scent, rested her head on his shoulder for a moment.

She heard him say, “You look dead tired, Jack.”

“Not now, sir. Your daughter could rejuvenate a dead plant.”

Jack felt like he could run a marathon at that moment, that or have about six hours of sex with Mary Lisa, enough to last him for a little while. He remembered how he felt at the beach again, relived that endless moment when she'd climaxed and nearly rocketed him right over the edge, and tried not to shudder in his Italian boots in front of her father.

Mary Lisa looked at Jack, and the look in their eyes told George Beverly everything he needed to know, and a lot he didn't want to know about. “You should rest, anyway, Jack,” he said. “Okay, sweetheart, you need to tell me everything that's going on down south.”

“Detective Vasquez is still on it, Dad. The studio insisted I take off for a while, and the truth is, I really needed to get away. I thought about spending every day with Chico at his dojo and realized I needed to come up here to see Jack and you.”

Her father waved away her words as he looked from her to Jack standing behind her. “Definitely in that order, I see.”

She took Jack's hand. “Well, there's no denying this guy's mojo. And he's got all this stuff he's got to deal with and I thought he could use my help up here.”

“No way,” Jack said.

“Well, I guess we'll see—”

“There could be a jail cell with your name on it if you give me any grief, Mary Lisa.”

“Would I get a blanket this time?”

Her father, eyebrow arched, said, “I'm glad you're home and safe, Mary Lisa. Can I take you along to the house?”

“Well, the thing is, Dad, both Elizabeth and Lou Lou are with me. I stashed them at the Goddard Bay Inn, told them I had to see Jack. They wanted to come but I begged them to order the blueberry pancakes from room service instead. It worked since Lou Lou's a sucker for pancakes.”

“Why don't all of you come stay at the house? Kelly moved back to her apartment two days ago.”

“I don't think Mom would like three women invading her space. Not enough bathrooms, you know? Why don't we all come for dinner this evening?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes, I can see why you'd say that. Truth is, your mother is more than a little strung out, what with all that's happened to Olivia. When Olivia isn't at our house, Kathleen is at her house. It'll be a pleasure to see Elizabeth and Lou Lou again, Mary Lisa. They're both fine women, and good friends. You know anything more about Milo's murder, Jack?”

Jack shook his head. “I really can't discuss it, sir, I'm sorry.”

“When was the last time you had any sleep?”

“I look that bad?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Jack thought about it, slowly shook his head. He took Mary Lisa's hand. He hadn't thought about it before, but he saw she wore only one ring, a ruby set up high amid some small diamonds. It looked like an antique.

Mary Lisa hugged her father again. “I'll be okay, Dad. We can hope Detective Vasquez turns up something while I'm out of town.”

George nodded, smiled at Jack. “You come to dinner as well, all right, Jack?”