Naked Frame (11 page)

"How old is he?"

"Seventy-something. He's retired. And don't
worry—he's a very nice man."

"Okay. Thanks. I'll be watching for
him."

"Just be careful. Don't trust anybody but
Melvin."

Megan ended the call and put her phone away.
Some people were glancing at her as they walked by. She knew she
must looked hideous. Red eyes. Runny mascara. But right now she
didn't care how she looked. She leaned over and buried her face in
her hands.

A hand touched her arm. "Are you okay,
Miss?"

When she saw him, she recoiled. An old man
was sitting next to her on the bench. His suit looked like it had
been pulled out of somebody's garbage can. Smelled like it too.

"I know how you feel, Young Lady. It's a
tough world out there. But this will help." He held out a Gideon
New Testament. The cover was dirty and worn. But it looked as
though it had never been opened.

"Thanks, but I'm okay."

He put the little book in his coat pocket.
"You could starve out there."

She ignored him.

"But a five dollar bill would keep a man
from going hungry."

"I don't have any money."

"Well, then...you're in as bad a shape as
me."

Megan stood up and began to walk away.

The old man followed her. "It's dangerous
for a young woman to be walking around by herself."

"I'll be fine."

"Well, I'll tag along to make sure."

Megan saw a security guard across the way,
and considered flagging him down to get the old man off her ass.
But that would draw attention. And right now, she needed to blend
in. She reached into her purse and took out her cash, holding it
close to her side, away from the man. She had about $300 left from
the cash Joey had given her. She quickly found a five-dollar bill
and put the rest back in her pocket.

She handed him the bill. "Good luck and
goodbye."

"Oh, thank you, Miss. God bless you." He
walked away smiling.

After Megan stopped by the restroom, she
walked over to a coffee shop and bought a large cup of coffee. She
sat down at a table and began to sip. What was she going to do now,
if this supermodel thing had just been a trick to get her
there?

Joey Ketrousie was the one who had sent her
to New York. Did that mean he was the killer? Her mind raced with
questions. And she didn't have good answers to any of them.

After a few minutes, a young man in a
leather jacket walked in. She listened as he ordered coffee. Megan
loved his New York accent, and his jet black, wavy hair. He sat
down at a table across the room from her, and almost immediately
began to stare at her.

She was flattered at first. But what if he
was there to kill her?

Megan pretended her cell phone was
vibrating. "Hey, Baby...okay, I'll be right out." She put her phone
away, and rushed out of the coffee shop, leaving her half-full
coffee cup sitting on the table.

As she walked down the corridor, she thought
she heard somebody calling out from behind her.

"Hey, Lady."

Megan walked faster. It sounded like the guy
from the coffee shop. But maybe all New York men sounded that
way.

"Lady." He caught up with her.

She stopped walking and turned around. It
was him. "What?" Her first thought was to kick him in the balls and
run. But she froze.

"Back at the coffee shop—you left this on
the table." He handed her some dollar bills and coins.

"Oh. My change from the coffee. Thank you so
much." She wished she could get to know him and his deep blue eyes.
Then she saw his wedding ring.

"No problem." He smiled. "Have a nice
day."

She resumed her trek to the passenger pickup
area. Megan hoped Gabby's uncle was going to be there. She tried to
remember everything Gabby had told her. His name was Melvin. He was
in his seventies. He'd be wearing a Dallas Mavericks cap—a brand
new one.

And there he was, plain as day—standing
right next to a man holding up a sign with her name on it.
"Shit."

Megan approached from the side, and spoke
softly. "Are you Melvin?"

"That's me," he said loud enough for fifty
people to hear him. "Are you Megan?"

She shushed him, and nodded.

"Okay. Let's go."

The man with the sign stayed put. But she
saw him glance at her as they were leaving.

She tried to hurry Melvin, but he explained
that his arthritis wouldn't let him move any faster. Megan wished
she could put him on a luggage cart and roll him out.

They got into Melvin's old car and left the
airport. Megan kept looking back. But there were too many cars for
her to judge whether anybody was following them.

CHAPTER 22 - Tuesday, 5:55 p.m.

"Reservation for G.G."

The maître d' studied the man before him in
the navy business suit, long-sleeved white shirt, and maroon and
navy silk tie. He checked his reservation book. "I'm sorry, Sir. I
don't see..."

He leaned in and whispered, "It's me.
Gabby."

A smile of delight spread across his face.
"What are you doing?"

"Just play along, Arnie. Please."

"Oh. Here it is. Enjoy your evening,
Sir."

"Thank you." Gabby winked at him.

If Gabby's friend, Arnie, had not been
working tonight, he might have been turned away. Or worse
yet—exposed. The guy who was filling in for Arnie the night before
had gushed over Gabby. He surely would have given away his identity
tonight.

Those years in the high school drama
department had given Gabby no experience in acting. All he ever did
was create costumes. But tonight he would prove he had acting
talent. Suppressing his natural effeminate demeanor, he would
become the most macho guy in the room.

Gabby had a wad of cash in his pocket, and
he was ready to get up close and personal with a hot, young
waitress. If she'd rub up against his arm with her bare ass, he'd
stuff her string with fifties.

His own thoughts made him cringe. Sure, he
was only playing a character, but...he could never treat women that
way. Dammit! He had to stop thinking it to death. Tonight he was an
actor.

As the hostess led him to his table, he
pointed to a particularly busty waitress. "I'd like one of
those...with cherries on top. And some whipped cream—so I can lick
it off."

The hostess stopped in front of an empty
table. "Sir, we don't allow that type of behavior here at the Café
Nue."

Gabby laughed. "Oh, I know that. I was just
screwing with you."

"Here's your table, Sir. Your waitress will
be right with you."

His eyes followed her as she walked away.
Such a cute bouncy butt—dancing cheek to cheek.

Gabby hoped he didn't get the same waitress
as last night. But there she was—walking toward his table.

"Good evening, Sir. My name is Cotton Candy,
and I will be your waitress." She handed him a menu. "Would you
like to start with a glass of wine?"

He didn't bother to open the menu. "No. I'll
have a Bud Light and a cheeseburger. No fries."

"Very good, Sir. Thank you." She took his
menu and walked away. She did not appear to have recognized
him.

Gabby spotted Rebecca on the far side of the
room, carrying a large tray of food. He hoped she would see him and
come by his table.

After she delivered the food to her table,
she walked around to see Gabby. "Don't look at my body."

He checked her out, head to
toe, and grinned. "You are
smoking
, Babe."

"Quit looking. They named
me
Boobsicles
."

Gabby laughed.

"I could slice your head clean off with this
tray."

"Sorry." He looked directly into her eyes.
"I heard from Megan. My uncle picked her up at JFK. She'll stay at
his apartment for a few days."

"Good."

"Did you find out anything?"

Rebecca was about to speak when a large hand
grabbed her left butt cheek. Before she could turn around and clock
the guy, she realized it was Bobby.

"This is not your table, Boobsicles. What
are you doing over here?"

"I'm sorry," said Gabby. "It's my fault. I
motioned for her to come over. She's just so damn hot. I wanted to
give her this." Gabby took out a fifty-dollar bill and stuffed it
under Rebecca's thong strap.

"Thank you." She offered a forced smile.

"Well, I agree. She
is
a very sexy woman. But
you must observe the house rules. You can only interact with your
assigned waitress."

"That's fine. Cotton Candy's smoking hot
too." He grinned. "I just got a little greedy."

"It's understandable, Sir, but—"

"—I know. No problem."

"We appreciate your cooperation," said
Bobby. He finally released Rebecca's butt.

She walked away.

"Have a nice evening, Sir," said Bobby.

Bobby should have recognized Gabby from the
night before. Not from the way he was dressed, of course, but from
the sound of his voice, or his mannerism. Something. But he didn't.
Gabby was feeling very proud of his newfound acting skills.

Cotton Candy delivered his beer.

"Thanks, Babe."

"You're welcome, Sir. Your dinner will be
ready soon."

A familiar voice caught Gabby's attention.
He diverted his eyes to the middle of the restaurant. It was Wiley.
And he was sober.

Gabby watched Bobby walk over to Wiley's
table. The conversation looked serious. Bobby put his big, fat hand
on Wiley's shoulder, and appeared to be lecturing him. Wiley pushed
Bobby's hand away and jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair.
He stormed out of the restaurant.

Gabby wished he could have heard what they
were saying. Last night, Wiley had told Rebecca that he would soon
be the owner of Café Nue.

Yet Joey Ketrousie had told
them that
he
was
now the owner. Was that the cause of the conflict between Wiley and
Bobby? Or did it have to do with one or both of the murders? He
couldn't wait to tell Rebecca what he'd seen.

CHAPTER 23 - Tuesday, 7:00 p.m.

As Rebecca walked into the dressing room to
take her break, two large-breasted women walked past her without
saying a word. Darcy was sitting at her dressing table, finishing
up a sandwich. "Hey, Darcy. How's it going?"

"Fine. How about you? How are your
tips?"

"Not bad." Rebecca sat down at her dresser.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and quickly looked
away.

"Did you bring something to eat?"

"No. I didn't even think about it."

"I did the same thing my first night. I was
so nervous that I forgot to bring food." Darcy reached into her
cooler and took out another sandwich. "Here, you can have this one.
It's tuna."

"Oh, no, Darcy. I'm not going to eat your
dinner. I'll get a bag of chips out of the machine."

"Look. I'm full. So, you might as well eat
it, or it's just gonna go to waste."

"But you might get hungry later. It's a long
night."

"No, I never do. Got to stay thin if I want
good tips."

Rebecca eyed her body. "Well, whatever
you're doing—it's working."

Darcy giggled. "Thanks."

"You've been so helpful to me on my first
night. I really appreciate it, Darcy."

"You're welcome." She smiled warmly. "Well,
it's time for me to get back in there and make some more money. I'm
saving up to buy a house." She stood up.

"Wow. Okay. See you later."

Rebecca tore into the sandwich like a wild
animal. Either it was the best tuna sandwich ever made or she was
starving to death.

As she gobbled down the last of it, she
stood up, hurried to the doorway, and peeped out into the hall. It
was clear. She casually but quietly slipped down to Joey's office.
The door was closed. She listened for a moment, but heard
nothing.

After knocking lightly and hearing no
response, she peeked inside. The office was empty.

Checking the hallway again, she rushed into
the office and closed the door. She knew Joey could come at any
second. What reason would she give for being in his office?

She sat down at his desk, quickly surveying
it for anything of interest. Near the phone was a notepad with the
message: CC 214-209-5555. She knew it wasn't Carly Cinaway's phone
number.

Rebecca unzipped her tip bag and took out a
twenty-dollar bill. In tiny numbers, she wrote 2142095555 on the
edge of the bill and put it back in the little bag.

To her surprise, Joey's desk was unlocked.
In the top left drawer she found a contract for the sale of Café
Nue to Joey. It was signed by Kimberly Smotherburn, and notarized.
But the document was postdated for the fifteenth of next month. So,
the notary had committed fraud, risking revocation of his
commission or even prison. There must have been some serious payoff
money, thought Rebecca.

Kimberly was selling Café
Nue for a measly ten grand. It had to be worth a lot more than
that. And what gave
her
the right to sell it?

Rebecca heard someone walking down the
hallway. She quickly put the contract back in the drawer and closed
it.

Joey opened the door. "What the hell are you
doing in my office?"

Rebecca got up from the chair and sauntered
over to him. "I've been waiting for you." She stepped in very
close. With the heels, she was 6-foot-5. Her bare breasts were just
below his chin.

"Well, you have no business being in
here."

"Aw, come on, Baby. Don't be mad." She put
her hands on the sides of his head and gently pulled it toward her
breasts. If Rebecca could keep herself from barfing on his head,
she figured she just might come out of this alive.