Betrayal (19 page)

“He’s not our suspect,” Jim said firmly.

“I agree with you, but what makes you say that?” He always liked comparing notes with Jim. He was a smart guy.

“He was honest with us. He’s not afraid to look bad. He’s not covering up. I knew the answers to some of those questions, and he told the truth. And he doesn’t need the money.”

“I agree on all points. And I think he’s still in love with her.”

“Probably,” Jim said coolly. He didn’t think much of him, but he didn’t believe he’d been stealing money from Tallie. He was certain of that. That left Brigitte, but he wasn’t ready to see her yet. He wanted to line up all his ducks before he did.

Chapter 12

ONCE TALLIE FINISHED
the location shoot in Palm Springs, making full use of the desert, she was busier than ever when they moved back to L.A. The house was lonely and quiet without Hunt, but she was getting used to it, and to coming home to an empty house. The sense of shock she had had in the beginning was still there, but she was slowly adjusting to life without him. She had no social life at the moment, she was too busy with work to even think about it. And Hunt was still having his lawyers call Greg Thomas and beg her to work on the next film with him. She wouldn’t consider it, hadn’t talked to Hunt in many weeks and didn’t want to. His betrayal weighed on her like a concrete suit. And she still hadn’t told Max about it, and didn’t intend to until they met in person in New York. Conveniently, Max had been invited to Florida by friends over spring break and Tallie had agreed to let her go. Max knew her mother was busy trying to finish the film, and Tallie was relieved not to have to tell her about Hunt moving out. Max always asked about him when she called, and
Tallie
said he was fine. She wasn’t ready to deal with Max’s reaction yet, so Florida seemed like a good idea, and she was planning to go to New York to see her shortly after.

They’d been shooting in L.A. for two weeks after they got back from Palm Springs, and she’d heard nothing from Jim Kingston. He had said he would call her when he had something to report, and she had her hands full at work now anyway. She was trying to stay on schedule, before they took a hiatus and gave the cast a week’s break, while they got ready to move the shooting to a new location in L.A., under the freeway. They were still waiting for street permits, which also gave them time to build some additional sets they needed. Tallie was keeping her eye on all of it, along with her leading lady’s belly. She had announced to them halfway through the film that she was pregnant, and now they had to use a body double for her in a lot of the shots. It was one more thing to worry about. But her work was always a welcome distraction from misery of any kind. And Tallie managed to call her father almost every night when she came home from work, except if they shot too late. Sam had mentioned several times how disappointed he was not to have heard from Hunt himself. After a warm relationship between them for four years, it seemed disrespectful of Hunt not to call him. Tallie had a simple explanation for it: Hunt was a coward with her father, just as he had been with her. And her father didn’t disagree. Hunt wasn’t the man he had thought him.

She had spoken to Victor Carson several times about her monthly disappearing cash, and interestingly, it had stopped when Hunt moved out, which meant either that he’d been taking it, or that the
person
who was wanted her to think so, and no longer had the cover of Hunt’s presence to blame it on, so they were being cautious. And Tallie was convinced now it was Brigitte. She didn’t trust her anymore, after all these years, and she had adopted a seemingly easy way with her, but none of it was real. Being around her now was stressful for Tallie and a constant strain. She tried to keep things light, but Brigitte’s betrayal weighed heavily on her too. Nothing was easy right now, and hadn’t been in well over a month, nearly two, since Hunt moved out.

She had seen a photograph of him with Angela on the front page of the tabloids when she bought groceries one weekend. And Angela’s pregnant belly was in full evidence. Hunt had been laughing and looking happy with his arm around her in the picture. And Tallie was so shaken by it that she left her groceries in the cart at the checkout stand and walked out. She wasn’t eating much now anyway. She was living on salads that she picked up from the deli on her way home.

There had been another photo of him in the tabloids with Angela at the Academy Awards, and Tallie was relieved she hadn’t gone. She told Max she was too busy when Max questioned her mother about it. She would have hated running into Hunt, and she was amazed that Max hadn’t seen the photo herself, and grateful that she hadn’t. She was either studying for exams, or busy with her friends. She paid no attention to the tabloids, she had better things to do.

The only good news in Tallie’s life was that she was planning to spend a week with Max in New York while they were on hiatus, after Max came back from Florida with her friends. Tallie could
hardly
wait to see her, it had been too long, but Max sounded happy at NYU. She had a new boyfriend and was making lots of friends. And Tallie still wanted to tell her about Hunt in person, not over the phone. This was going to be a major change for her as well. And Tallie’s father was urging her to tell her daughter soon, before she found out some other way. He was afraid she would be angry at her mother for keeping it from her. Sam was relieved to know that Tallie was planning to go to New York.

Jim Kingston called Brigitte for an appointment with her during their last week of shooting before their hiatus, and at first she tried to tell him that she was too busy to see him. She seemed unimpressed when he told her he was from the FBI. Tallie had vaguely mentioned to her that she had talked to them about Hunt taking the money. She made it sound like more of a routine formality, or something she had done to scare him, so Brigitte hadn’t been concerned about it, nor interested in making time for him in her schedule. Tallie hadn’t said it was a priority. She had said very little about it.

“I have a very busy week,” Brigitte told Jim officiously. “I have to be on the set with Ms. Jones.”

“Next week then,” Jim said easily. He had a casual way about him that put people at ease, took them off guard, and usually made them open up to him.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be away,” she said brusquely. “We’re on hiatus next week. Maybe when we get back.” He almost laughed when
she
said it. Most people didn’t have the guts to say “maybe” to the FBI. He was used to getting a more cooperative response than that. Brigitte appeared unconcerned.

“Actually, this isn’t a ‘maybe,’ ” he said with laughter in his voice. “We need your help about the lost or stolen money. Since you’ll be away, let’s make it tomorrow, shall we?” This time it was a rhetorical question and there was no option in his voice. “Or today, if you prefer. I’m sure Ms. Jones will be very happy to have you meet with us. I can call her myself if you like.”

There was a split-second pause. “No, that’s fine.” Brigitte sounded casual and made it clear that she had better things to do with her time.

“Noon tomorrow then?” Jim said pleasantly. “On the set? Or at your place afterward?”

“My place at seven,” she said, pleased to call the shots and set the venue. She wasn’t going to meet with the FBI on the set. What if someone thought it was about her? Jim was delighted with her suggestion. It fit perfectly with his plans. She had walked right into it with ease.

The next day he arrived at her house on Mulholland Drive promptly at seven. It was a beautiful old home that had been remodeled, with a handsome garden and a big pool. Her Aston Martin was in the driveway. Jack Sprague was with him when he rang the bell. Jim had worn a suit, which he often did for work, and a tie, which was rare in L.A. His son Bobby said it made him look like a cop, but it was a good suit. After all, as he told Bobby, he was FBI. It was a standing joke with them.

Brigitte answered the door wearing a short Balenciaga dress. He wouldn’t have recognized the label, but he knew it was expensive and looked great on her. She had a heavy gold cuff on one arm, with small diamonds sparkling in it, and the diamond studs on her ears that she often wore. She had just had her long blond hair blown out, and it looked fabulous, and she had a fresh manicure and pedicure. Her makeup was subtle and flawless as always, her hips slim, her bust generous, and she looked like she’d just stepped off the cover of
Vogue
. She was an enticing sight to any man, and no one would have believed she was thirty-nine—she didn’t look a minute past twenty-four. Jim Kingston was impressed, and Jack nearly drooled.

Brigitte was cautious as she opened the door. Jim introduced both of them, and walked into the entrance hall as she stepped aside. Beautiful old cathedral ceilings and an antique crystal chandelier met his gaze. There was a smattering of antique furniture, a round modern carpet, and a large modern painting above the stairs. She led them into a living room that overlooked the pool. It was quite a place. It didn’t have the comfort and ease of Tallie’s house, but in some ways it was similar, and looked like what Tallie’s house could have, if she’d made as much effort with it as Brigitte, or spent as much on the art and antiques. Jim looked at Tallie’s assistant carefully, as she sat down on an elegant white couch. She was actually much less beautiful than the woman she worked for, but she had maximized and enhanced all her assets, surgically or with flattering clothes, hairstyle, and makeup, and wound up looking far more impressive than her boss. But it was
Tallie
who was the real beauty, in spite of her ragbag style, no makeup, and disheveled hair. Brigitte just knew how to work it all better, and looked like, and apparently lived like, a star.

Her house was spectacular, and seemed as though a decorating magazine was about to arrive to shoot it. It was exquisite, impeccable, and elegant, and the garden looked like a corner of Versailles.

“Wow! This is quite a place,” Jim said with obvious admiration as he glanced outside. “How long have you had it?” It sounded like a conversation, not an interrogation, which was a sign of his considerable skill. Jack admired his style. Brigitte blossomed like a flower as he chatted casually and admired her home, and Jack just stared at her. As their kids would have said, she was “hot”!

“I’ve been here for seven years now,” she said proudly. “I was in Santa Monica before, on the beach, but the house was too small. I came into some money, so I upgraded to here. It’s a work in progress. I’m always working on it. I just redid the upstairs, and remodeled my bathroom, and put all new trees in the garden.”

“I’d love to see what you’ve done,” Jim said, smiling at her. “I’m remodeling right now too. It’s driving me nuts. I can’t get anything finished.” They were talking about contractors and what a headache they were as she led him upstairs. Her bedroom looked as though it had been designed for Marie Antoinette, in contrast to Tallie’s very stark bedroom he had seen at her home, whose main features were a large flat screen and an unmade bed. Brigitte’s bedroom was totally perfect, and she had a large antique four-poster bed, covered in miles of pale yellow silk.

“An heirloom?” he asked, pointing to the bed, and she nodded.

“It was my great-grandmother’s. I’ve had it in storage for years. Thank God my evil stepmother didn’t take it.” She talked about her a lot, the evil stepmother who had caused her to flee San Francisco and move to L.A. eighteen years before. She had been there ever since, although she went home from time to time, but the stories she told about her stepmother were legion.

She showed him three handsome guest bedrooms on the second floor, all with antique beds, although less grand than her own, and the remodeled bathroom that he gazed at with envy and awe.

“That would take my contractor two years to produce,” he said, admiring an enormous round tub with a Jacuzzi in the middle of the room, and a fabulous shower built for two. Everything in the bathroom was pink and white marble, including the walls and floor. And it had a view over the garden. You could see the layout of the beautiful garden even better from here.

“It took my contractor a year,” she admitted, “and I had to beat him up every day, but he did a good job. And he came in at a good price.” She was obviously very proud of her home. Tallie enjoyed hers, but you could tell she didn’t really care. All her creativity went into her work. Clearly, this was Brigitte’s realm of expertise and pride and joy. She had no children, so she could afford to spoil herself. She didn’t have to worry about kids in college. All she had was herself.

They walked back downstairs afterward as they chatted, and she offered them both a drink, and they declined. Jim asked for a glass of water instead, and they walked into her kitchen, which was state-of-the-art, with every piece of fancy culinary equipment
imaginable.
Everything was done in black granite, even the kitchen table.

“This really is quite a house,” he said in awe, and she beamed. “You must love it here.” He looked envious, which thrilled her and flattered her ego.

“I do. I work hard, and it’s a joy to come home at the end of a day or a trip. Especially if we’re in a hut somewhere in Africa while we shoot, with snakes all over the place.”

“You must be happy to be back from Palm Springs,” Jim commented, taking the glass of water from her.

“Yes, I am. ‘There’s no place like home!’ ” she quoted from
The Wizard of Oz
.

They went back into the living room again then and sat down.

“So tell me,” Jim said with a sigh, nursing his glass of water in the Baccarat glass she had handed him. “I gather Hunter Lloyd was taking Ms. Jones’s money from you.”