Eeny Meany Miny Die (Cat Sinclair Mysteries) (26 page)

She slammed the recipe book shut. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Cat."

I gave her an innocent look and a shrug.

She shook the book at me. "You're avoiding meeting him. You'll have to do it some time."

"I will! Promise. I'm actually looking forward to meeting the guy who can put up with your crazy new ways." I leaned across the bench and kissed her cheek. "Just not tonight, okay?"

She scowled at me like she couldn't tell whether I was being honest or not. I looked down at my salad and kept eating. She gave up with a sigh and walked out. A couple minutes later I heard a monotonous male voice on the TV.

"You should come and watch this," Mom called out. "It's a documentary I'm studying for my psych course."

I felt a little bad for lying about my evening plans, so I finished the last mouthful of my salad and joined her on the couch in the living room. Besides, I didn't have to watch it. I could just close my eyes and tune out.

Unfortunately Mom kept elbowing me. "Listen to this bit, Cat. He's going to talk about religious cults."

"How do you know?"

"I've watched it twice already."

"Why?"

"Shhh. Listen."

The bland voice listed some real life religious cults, then went on to describe why their leaders talked their followers into doing a range of things that most people would consider nuts. The majority did it for money or sexual gratification, but others seemed to simply enjoy the power they wielded.

It wasn't riveting viewing, but it got me thinking about Play Group, and Angel in particular. Jen, Taylor and Corey loved her to the point of idolization, just like a cult leader. They stuck together and defended her and one another, just like cult members. They were closer than most families, and while they weren't cut off from the outside world, they were a community unto themselves, especially when touring.

For her part, Angel gave each member her undying attention. She loved them, and as anyone who's been in the Hollywood system knows, true love is hard to find in that town. Performers were often separated from their families at a young age, or pushed into the industry by ambitious parents. Then there was the fake love dished out by agents, managers, producers and directors. A needy person immersed in that environment could easily fall pray to a beautiful, caring, strong leader like Angel.

Holy crap! I couldn't believe that I was thinking of her as a cult leader with Play Group being her followers. It was all so creepy. But it explained so much.

Including how she could get away with murder.

"Cat, are you okay?" Mom asked. She removed her glasses and peered at my face. "You look peaky. Maybe that chicken wasn't cooked properly. You should have eaten here. I could have made you something."

"It's not the chicken." I nodded at the rolling credits on the TV. "That was enlightening. I've got to make a call."

"To Will?"

"The police."

"Does this have something to do with that murder you're working on?"

"Yep." I walked back into the kitchen and fetched my bag from the bench.

"Then why not call Will?" she said, following me. "It does affect your fee, right?"

"It's too early to tell."

"Discuss it with Will first. He'll be able to guide you so you can keep your fee and do the right thing for the police at the same time."

My thumb hovered over the number to dial Scarface. "Wait. Are you telling me to withhold information from the police? You, an ex-cop's wife?"

"I'm an ex-P.I.'s wife too. Besides, you only have a hunch at this stage, right? No real proof?"

"I suppose."

"The police are only interested in facts, not theories."

"Scarface likes to hear theories. He's more open-minded than most of his colleagues."

"Is he that one-eyed man?" She shivered. "He gives me the heeby jeebies."

"He has that affect on people." I stared down at my phone. "Maybe you're right. I'll call Will first."

"Good for you, Honey." She circled my shoulders and pressed her temple to mine. "You're doing good work. Your dad would have been proud."

"Dad would have been happy if I was flipping burgers as long as it was here in Renford and not the den of iniquity that is Hollywood." Dad's worst nightmare was that his little girl had grown up and moved far away. He couldn't control what I did or who I did it with. The stress probably helped send him to an early grave.

I dialed Will's number and got his voicemail. "It's me," I said. "I've got a theory about Frank's murder that I want to run past you. Call me back. I'm at my mom's."

"But you'll be going home now," Mom told me. "I've got friends from psych class coming over."

I told Will's message bank that I was about to head home then hung up.

"I can give you a lift before my friends arrive," Mom offered.

I gave her my sweetest smile. "Thanks, Mom, you're the best."

"I know," she sang.

***

Will never called me back and I needed to talk my theory through with someone, so I called Gina and invited her over. She brought cake and problems of her own that she wanted to discuss.

"I invited Ben to my place last night," she told me as soon as she'd set one foot inside my apartment.

"I gather from your smile that you and he hit it off."

"If that means we had hot, sweaty sex then yes." She passed me the cake then flopped onto my couch. "Oh my God, Cat, you should see his guns!"

"Why was he showing you weaponry?"

"His arms!" She flexed her muscles.

"Biceps."

"Whatever."

"You'll have to learn what some of the muscles are called if you're going to date the kickboxing instructor."

"We're not dating, we're fucking."

"Sorry, my mistake. No need to learn anything except the safe word in that case."

Her withering glare was spoiled by her fit of giggles.

"I'm glad it worked out for you," I said. Not that I was convinced that anything had worked in her favor. It seemed to me she'd gone backwards, from a guy she liked who was good for her, to casual sex with a man who was a flirt. At least Gina seemed happy again, and a happy Gina made me relieved. I guess she just wasn't cut out for a proper relationship.

Maybe I wasn't either.

"How about you and Will?" she asked. "Have you two worked things out?"

"I spoke to him briefly last night." I set the cake down on the kitchen bench and sliced it. Chocolate. My favorite. "He's busy, so we didn't get to talk much."

"Busy, huh?" She gave me a sympathetic look.

My stomach sank. "You think that's bullshit?"

"Oh, Honey. I think he's—"

A gunshot rang out. It shattered my window, sending glass scattering across the floor. The bullet whizzed past me and lodged into the plaster on my wall.

Gina screamed.

"Get down!" I shouted at her.

We both dove to the floor behind the couch. She clutched me, her hands shaking. "Jesus, Cat! Who the hell is shooting at you now?"

"Probably the same person who tried to run me over."

"Someone tried to run you over? Fucking hell, why don't you ever tell me these things?"

"I didn't want to freak you out."

"Well I'm freaking out now! Jeez, no wonder Will worries. Um, what are you doing?"

"Trying to get my bag. My phone's inside." I wriggled backward until my feet hit the table. I was about to reach up for the bag strap when I heard footsteps running along the corridor outside my apartment. Old Mrs. Krenski couldn't move that fast. Maybe one of my other neighbors was coming to see if I was okay.

Fists pounded on my door. My heart leapt into my throat. Gina screamed again.

"Cat! Open up!" It was Jenny.

What the hell was she doing here? Oh. Fuck, no, please don't let her be the one shooting at me.

"Oh my God! Cat, are you in there?" Her high-pitched screech grated on my ears until another round of knocking drowned it out. "Someone's trying to kill me! Cat, please open up!
Please
!"

"Let her in!" Gina cried, getting to her knees and shuffling toward the door. "We're coming!" she called out.

"I'm not sure we should," I hissed. "It could be a trick."

"You think she did
that
?"

We stared at the bullet in my wall. An ice-cold shiver trickled down my spine. "Maybe. I dunno."

"She got up here pretty quick if she did," Gina whispered. "That shot was fired from the street and she was banging on the door almost straight after. It couldn't have been her."

"Cat!" Jenny screamed. "Cat, open up!"

"I'm letting her in." Gina unlocked the door and opened it. Jenny stumbled through on her high heels and Gina caught her. I flew to the door and pushed to close it.

A shoe wedged into the gap before I succeeded. A man's shoe, and it was attached to a man's body.

CHAPTER 15

"Hey!" Taylor cried. I didn't have time to digest the fact that he was there too, and Corey and Angel behind him. I was too busy trying to shut the door.

I almost managed it too. I doubted Taylor had been prepared for me to have my hands free. Clearly he'd expected me to catch Jen so he and the others could waltz right in and do whatever it was they wanted to do to me.

Fuck.

My efforts went from heroic to pathetic when Corey stepped in to help. Together they muscled the door open and stormed inside. Corey grabbed my arm, wrenching it behind my back. Pain shot up to my shoulder and stars danced before my eyes.

"You're hurting me!" I cried.

"Let her go," Angel said in that sweet, soothing voice of hers. She looked worried, her clear blue eyes clouded. "You poor thing. Guys, you shouldn't have been so rough. She didn't know it was just us."

Corey did as he was told. I noticed that Jen and Gina had untangled themselves and stood to one side. Gina's chest heaved as she sucked in breaths. Jen chewed her lip and wouldn't meet my gaze.

"What the hell was that all about?" I yelled, rubbing my shoulder. "Did you shoot at my apartment?"

"No!" Angel's denial was echoed by her three friends. "Of course not." She glanced past me to the broken window. Her brow creased and her mouth twisted with worry. "We think it was meant for us. We raced up here as soon as we heard it."

"You'd have to be superhuman to reach my apartment in the time it took for that bullet to hit my wall and Jen to knock on the door. How did you get into the building anyway?"

"The door was open," Jenny said.

"Jen was almost here when the shooting happened," Angel said. "The rest of us lingered downstairs."

I looked to Jenny. She still didn't meet my gaze. "Then why didn't she announce that you were all here? She said someone's trying to kill
me
, not
us
."

Taylor clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "You're so suspicious. Why would we want to hurt you? You're helping us."

I said nothing. There were too many unanswered questions, too many things that didn't add up. And they were creeping me out. Between the arm-twisting, the freakish timing, and the documentary I'd seen at Mom's, they were top of my suspect list. All of them.

"Who was it then?" I asked hotly. "Got any theories? I'm pretty sure Cindy doesn't know where I live, but Jenny does. I sent her my address when I moved in."

"Our money's on Linc," Angel said. She smoothed a hand over her hair. "You just met with him, didn't you? Maybe he followed you home."

"Why would Linc try to kill me?"

"Because he's nuts," Corey said.

"And because you found out about him and me," Taylor went on. "He probably freaked out."

"But
you're
the one with something to hide, not him," I said. "He didn't do anything illegal,
you
did."

"His career would be over if the media discovered he was sexually active at sixteen." He shrugged one shoulder. "The public are made up of mostly prudes and Hollywood is fickle, especially when it comes to actors in kids shows. Maybe Linc followed you home then called Cindy and told her where you lived."

It sounded plausible, but I wasn't taking chances. There were too many unanswered questions for me to believe them completely. "We'll call the police."

"No need." Angel looped her arm through mine and hugged it. Comforting me or pinning me? "I saw someone down the hall on his phone. He sounded like he was already speaking to the cops. Anyway, whoever was shooting, they must have gone now."

I glanced at Gina. She'd shifted back a little, separating herself from Jenny. She shook her head slightly, warning me not to push them.

"What do you want?" I asked, unlinking myself from Angel. "Why are you all here?"

"We have a favor to ask." She bit her lip and appealed to Taylor.

"A big favor," he said. "We want you to tell the police you found a letter from Frank in Cindy's things."

I blinked at him. "Um, what?"

Angel opened her bag and pulled out a piece of paper. "We have the letter here. It's in Frank's handwriting and is addressed to Cindy."

I took the letter and read it. Frank told Cindy in no uncertain terms that he wouldn't sell his half of Play Group to her. He then went on to threaten Linc with the photos of him having sex two years ago with an older man whom I assumed to be Taylor.

"Where did you get this?" I asked Angel.

"Frank had asked me to post it for him the morning he died, but I didn't get around to it. I'm so glad I didn't! We'd never have the evidence that she was the murderer."

"And you only remembered it now?"

She nodded and blinked those big blue eyes at me. "This morning. I opened it. I know I shouldn't have, but I was desperate to know why my husband was writing to his ex-wife."

She looked so innocent that I almost believed her. Almost. "Why can't you hand it to the police yourself?" I asked. "Why do you need it to be found in Cindy's belongings?"

"Because if they find out it never reached her, they'll never suspect her. But if they think she's already read it, they'll realize she has a motive for killing him."

Too neat and convenient. And Angel was using her hands again. She wasn't flapping them wildly, but she didn't know what to do with them. One moment they were both holding her bag, the next she had one on her hip and the other motioned in front of her the way some annoying TV reporters do.