Murder Take Two (10 page)

“I thought you always worked in pairs,” he said. “Where's your partner?”

A casualness in the question brought her mind back to a sharp point. “Was there anything you wanted to say to him?”

Nick shook his head. The elevator glided to a stop at the fourth floor and the doors opened. “Good hunting,” he said.

With her thumb on a button to keep the elevator in place, she watched him stride along the corridor and knock at Laura Edwards's suite.

*   *   *

Laura wriggled out of her pants and stepped into the shower. She felt hot and sick and worried. Seeing Ben after all these years brought emotions and memories and regrets and desires like a tidal wave. There she was standing on the beach and this twenty-foot wave rose up and flattened her. She hadn't expected it. She was only curious to see him, and she wanted to talk to him. The thing about Ben was, she could trust him. There was nobody else she could say that about.

Turning off the water, she groped for the towel and rubbed herself dry, then slipped into a white silk robe. Was somebody actually trying to kill her? She'd worked hard to get where she was. That didn't happen in a vacuum. Had she offended somebody along the way?

Well, maybe. Okay, probably. But that was just the business. She'd never schemed and manipulated in any underhanded manner. Never deliberately tripped up anybody. Never stabbed anybody in the back. Never pushed anybody down the stairs. Never lied—well, of course, she'd
lied,
but nothing vicious. Like she could speak Spanish when her Spanish was two words, like she could ride horseback when she never got on anything that didn't have wheels. Never slept with anybody either. Not for gain. Except her first agent and she'd married him. He didn't have murderous thoughts about her. Did he? Of course not. It hadn't been very long into the marriage when she discovered he was unfaithful, and they'd parted with no hurt feelings, except hers, maybe. She'd been heartbroken. The betrayal had left her devastated. Anyway, he was in L.A.

She'd had love affairs, two serious. They'd ended the same way. With the guy betraying her. No man had ever been faithful, except Ben.

There she was all set to believe Nick was the one. He'd been married twice, so had she. She was madly in love, so was he. They were supposed to live happily ever after. Yes, well, it just goes to show. She pulled a tissue from the box on the counter and blew her nose. Along came Ms. Overdeveloped Spider and sat down beside him. Instead of being frightened away, he hustled her into bed. Laura never could stand spiders.

She didn't know how she felt about Nick now. Only once, he'd sworn. Well, maybe. She didn't know if she believed him or not, and even if she did, once was too many. She didn't know what to believe anymore. She felt alone and afraid. Could he want to kill her? Impossible. Why would he? Because he didn't love her anymore? Well then, why wouldn't he just say so? Afraid she would make a scene?

She slid her feet into high-heeled white slippers. Well, of course, she'd make a scene. Was that any reason to kill her?

What about Sheri? Little Ms. Sex Object. Sheri wanted Nick and also wanted Laura's role. Was she so dumb she thought she could get it if anything happened? Nobody's that dumb. But she was a vengeful spider. What about that? If Nick really did say he wasn't interested, she might think getting rid of me would change his mind.

And that would also get back at Hayden Fifer. What about him? He have any reason to harm his star actress? No, he loved her. He'd wanted her for this movie. Of all the directors she'd ever worked with, he was the one she liked the best. He'd never harm a hair on her head.

The knock made her heart skip a beat. She edged to the door. “Who is it?”

“It's me.”

Nick. Come to finish what he'd failed at earlier? Her heart kicked in so fast it threatened to choke her. Then she took herself in hand. Everything is not a movie, Laura May. And Nick does not want to slaughter you. Open this door.

When he tried to kiss her, she stepped back. “What do you want?”

“What kind of line is that, coming from my beloved?” He sprawled on the Victorian sofa and gazed up at the crystal chandelier.

“You gave up any rights to being beloved when you took up with the Lloyd person.” She flipped on the chandelier; a zillion teardrops blazed into light.

Nick blinked, rubbed his eyes, and hauled himself up straight. “I just saw the police.”

“What police?”

He gave her a look. “The woman police chief.”

“So?”

“They're looking at the stunt double's death as a murder.”

She backed up to a wing chair and sat, crossed her legs. “How do you know?”

“Who'd want to kill her? All she ever did was work out, or work on stunts. That's all she ever thought about. Nothing else was ever on her mind. How could any of that turn into a reason for murder?”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying, I'm worried.”

“You suggesting someone wants to kill me?”

“Laura,” he said, “the world is full of nuts.”

She recrossed her legs. “You're not being very comforting. Why aren't you holding my hand and saying, ‘There, there'?”

“I would, if I was sure you wouldn't spit in my eye.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Love scenes between us lately have been only on the set.” He reached for a low vase on the table behind and eased a cigarette pack from his shirt pocket, then stretched out a leg to get his lighter from his pants pocket.

“What do you expect, you bastard? And if you're going to smoke that, go to your own suite.”

He smiled. “That's my girl. I'm glad to see a little fire. It means you still care.”

“I care about the air I breathe and the company I keep.”

“Well, let's talk about that for a minute. What company have you been keeping lately?”

“What does that mean?”

“That small town cop?”

“Don't be ridiculous. After your antics, you can't in all good conscience expect to play the jealous suitor.”

“Come on, Laura. Stop playing to the camera.”

It was true, everything was a scene for her. Well, she had to have some way to get through the pain. They weren't even married yet, and he couldn't keep his pants zipped.

“I told you the thing with Sheri just happened.”

She jumped up; the shiny robe swished as she paced. “You couldn't help yourselves. Love like yours couldn't be denied.”

“Oh, hell, no. She's a beautiful and determined lady. I had just enough to drink that it seemed like a good idea. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry it happened? Or sorry that now she's got her sticky fingers clutching at you?”

“Don't be snide, Laura. You don't do snide convincingly.”

She stopped in front of him and crossed her arms. “I'm a damn sight more convincing than your girlfriend. She's a lousy actress.”

“She's not that bad.”

“She's wood. And just barely managing to get by without cue cards.”

“My darling Laura, I've told you I'm sorry. I've groveled at your feet. What more do you want?”

An ugly bust sat on the table at the end of the sofa. She considered hurling it at him. Better not. She might miss and break it. Or not miss and break his nose. Fifer would never forgive her.

Nick was watching, waiting to see what she'd do. She turned, swirling the skirt of her robe, and tossed herself in the chair.

“One thing I could always count on, Laura,” he said.

He didn't go on. The bastard was going to make her ask. “What?”

“Your honesty. Behind all your emoting, you've always been straight. With yourself, with me, with everybody.”

“Well, thank you very much. What has that got to do with your betrayal?”

“Betrayal, is it? My self-esteem just went up a notch. If you're betrayed, I'm important.”

“Not anymore, you slime.”

He stretched both arms along the back of the sofa and crossed his ankles on the coffee table. “Have you ever done anything you regretted?”

She eyed him warily. “Yes.” Probably lots if she made a list. “So?”

“This is one of those things, Laura. It was a mistake. It was stupid. I regretted it from the moment it happened.”

“Ooohh. All this regret doesn't keep you from letting her hang on to your arm.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Oh, really. I suppose it wasn't her in your trailer this morning. Who was that? Somebody selling Girl Scout cookies?”

“You're beginning to piss me off, Laura. I came to do a little more apologizing, a little more groveling, but there's a limit. I told her there was nothing between us.”

“Maybe you should try words of one syllable.”

He leaned forward so abruptly he scared her. Her heart started doing that thing again. “Aw, Laura, come on now. Was there ever somebody in your life like that? Who got a scenario in his mind that wasn't anywhere near reality and wouldn't give it up?”

There was, actually. A man who swore undying love. Wanted to marry her. That he was already married never fazed him. He wouldn't give it up, he even left his wife so they could be together. She eased one slipper off and let it dangle from her toes.

“All clear? Enough groveling? Can we have dinner now?”

“I'm tired, Nick. And there's something I need to take care of.”

“Yeah? With a cowboy cop? What is it? Unfinished business? Sweet nostalgia? A thing for a man in uniform?”

“He doesn't wear a uniform.”

“He does in that photo you have of him. I knew I'd seen him before. Maybe we should talk about that.”

“Talk about an old photo?” She sighed, weary, stagy. “I can't deal with this, Nick. Just leave.”

“That the best you can do? No storming fit? Flashing eyes and flaring nostrils?”

She smiled, then pointed to the door. “Out.”

He got up and left without a backward glance. She was considering being outraged. At least he could have put up more protest.

*   *   *

The phone tore through the fog wrapped around his mind, collected a fistful of nerves, and jerked him awake. He grabbed the receiver to shut off the noise. “Yeah.”

“Oh, Ben, I'm so sorry. I woke you.”

He cleared his throat and tried to do the same with his mind.

“Ben?”

“Yeah, Laura. What is it?”

“I need you.”

“I'm no longer working the Bender case.”

“Please.”

“What's the problem?”

“Just come.”

“Where are you?”

“My hotel room.” The dial tone hummed in his ear.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stared at the floor under his bare feet. My ex-wife, who is now a Hollywood sex goddess, has just invited me to her hotel room in the middle of the night. He replaced the receiver. It couldn't get any better than that.

He got into the shower with the idea of clearing his mind and stayed only long enough to sluice the sweat off his body. What Laura wanted teased at him while he brushed his teeth, zipped up his jeans, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. In ten minutes he had the Bronco headed for the Sunflower.

*   *   *

Laura wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on as if she were drowning. She kissed him; the kiss was slightly aggressive. His arms went around her automatically, his hands felt the muscles of her back under her silky robe. Her perfume filled his mind with memories. The physical responses were still there; maybe they were always there between old lovers.

She tilted her head and smiled up at him. “Oh, God, Ben, you don't know how much I've missed you.”

“You got me here in the middle of the night to tell me that?”

“It isn't the middle of the night. It's only eleven. Did you ever think about me after I left?”

“Never.”

She laughed: light, pleased. “Liar.”

He smiled. “I read about you now and then, after you got famous. You did good, kid.” He let his arms drop, felt awkward, like he'd stumbled onto a movie set. Fancy hotel, subdued light, beautiful woman in slinky attire, and a rube who didn't know what the hell he was doing here.

She stepped back and tightened the belt on her robe, then took his hand and led him to the sofa. He sat; she perched beside him, hands together on her knees, and leaned slightly toward him. A small lamp on the end table created a halo effect around her platinum hair, picking out gold highlights.

“Regrets?” she asked softly.

“Laura, what are you doing? We made a mistake a long time ago. After all the hurt, and the scraped pride and ruffled feathers, there was sadness, and then there was relief.”

“I had regrets. Lots of them. Still have sometimes.”

That tugged at desire. Irritation came along. Well well, just like old times.

“Don't, Ben.” She barely touched his jaw. “This muscle always jumps when you get mad. Please don't. I'm scared. I need you. I don't have anyone else I can trust.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Don't be a cop!” Her hands clenched. “Jesus, why can't you just be human?”

“I was under the impression you wanted a cop. Did I get that wrong?”

Her blue eyes glistened. “I wanted a friend.”

Which made him feel like a total shit. This too was just like old times. He wondered if she was as snared in the undersurface nuances as he was. “To help, I have to ask questions. The only way I know how is as a cop. What's the problem?”

“All business. No drinking a cup of kindness for auld lang syne.”

“What do you want from me, Laura?”

The tears filled her eyes and trailed down her face.

Oh, shit. He slid over, put his arms around her, and held her close. The cynic that he was pointed out that histrionics were her forte. The mind might twist situations with complications, or worry at them to find the hidden meanings, but the body cut to the chase, and his body responded to hers just as it always had.