by Lauren Carr
“How do you know him?” David asked.
Seemingly unengaged in the conversation, Cameron was taking in the expensive décor, which consisted of original paintings and a Tiffany lamp on his antique cherry desk. It was not your typical PI decor.
“I busted him once breaking into my office,” Cooper said. “Because I have a heart, I didn’t have him arrested, and I sent him on his way with a warning. I guess implicating me in this job was his idea of revenge.”
“Revenge for what?” Mac asked while looking him up and down. “If you didn’t send him to jail, he should have been grateful.” He tried to envision Kevin Cooper, dressed in a police uniform, stabbing Dee Blakeley to death while she begged for her life.
“Crooks don’t think like you and me.” Practically knocking David out of his way, he ordered Cameron, “Don’t touch that.”
Cameron stopped in the middle of adjusting the thermostat. “I’m sorry.” She proceeded to fan herself with her hand. “Hot flash. I was trying to turn the temperature down a bit. I’ll step outside to cool off.” She went out into the hallway.
Seeing Mac’s and David’s startled looks, Kevin chuckled. “I have a devil of a time keeping control of the heating bill around here with people changing the temperature up and down to meet their own personal temps.”
Mac folded his arms across his chest. “Do you remember Dee Blakeley?”
“Should I?”
“You were on patrol in her area the night she was murdered. One month later, you resigned from the police force to start this company.”
“Now I remember.” Kevin grinned. “Pretty young woman. She was a lobbyist. Stabbed multiple times by some maniac.”
“Why do you say maniac?” Mac asked.
“Like you said, I was with the force then. I know all about the murder. Multiple stab wounds. It had to have been a psycho.”
“I was the lead detective on that case,” Mac said. “She was scheduled to testify before the grand jury the next day about Senator Harry Palazzi raping her, but she ended up dead. You were on duty that night. One month later, you had the bucks to start this PI firm. Last night, Otto Grant told us that you sent him to retrieve an audio recording on which Senator Palazzi confessed to raping another woman. Does he by any chance have you on retainer? I guess after Blakeley’s murder, he knows he can trust you.”
The private investigator stood up to his full height. “What are you suggesting, Faraday?”
Mac stepped forward to look him in the eye. “I’m not suggesting, I’m saying. Your name has come up twice in connection to the senator, and both times the situation involved cleaning up this sexual predator’s messes. Now’s your chance to be one of the first rats off the ship that I’m going to personally sink.”
“Obviously, you have no idea who you’re dealing with,” the private investigator told him. “If you had any proof of a connection between me and Grant or Palazzi, then we wouldn’t be talking here. You’d have me in the police station.”
“Oh, but we will,” David said. “That recording has gotten a lot of people interested in Senator Harry Palazzi and his dirty dealings. It’s only a matter of time before the rats start jumping ship and cutting deals. There’s only a limited supply of deals to go around. If I were you, I’d cut one while there were still some to be had.”
“Good luck with that.” Kevin plucked a business card from his desk blotter. “Now I have a breakfast meeting with a governor at the yacht club. I suggest you leave, and the next time you want to speak to me call my lawyer.” He held out the card to David.
Outside the office, David allowed a smile to come to his lips.
“What?” Mac asked him.
David handed him the card. “Check out the name of his lawyer.”
Mac chuckled at the name: Samuel Brooks. Kevin Cooper had the same lawyer as Senator Harry Palazzi.
Out on the street, they found Cameron Gates sitting on the front stoop.
“How’s your hot flash?” David asked.
She smiled at them. “Once a woman claims to be having a hot flash, men stop all questioning. Notice he didn’t even walk me out, which left me free to snoop around.”
“What did you find?” Mac asked.
“That thermostat was a fake,” she said. “I spotted it right away. It’s a hidden camera and mic. Cooper apparently records his meetings. I also found that his administrative assistant listed a meeting between him, your Senator Palazzi, and a Brooks guy Saturday morning. It was called suddenly, because I saw where she had to scratch out a couple of meetings for him to make that one, which was noted with a red pen and starred. We could be assuming things, but it looked important.”
Noting that the sidewalk was becoming busy with people out and about, David gestured for them to head for the cruiser that he had parked at a meter down the street.
Mac fell into step to walk with Cameron. “Suppose your theory is right. Suppose the killer wasn’t working for Palazzi. One of Khloe’s friends got wind of what her announcement was going to be about and decided to cash in without Khloe. He killed her, found the tape, and used it to blackmail the senator.”
“And then after your encounter with Palazzi Friday night,” David said over his shoulder as he was leading them to the cruiser, “he assumed it was you who had the tape when he was contacted by the blackmailer. So Cooper sent Otto to search your house.”
“But you don’t have it,” Cameron said. “We know our stripper-slash-rock singer-slash-gay best friend is connected to Khloe, which would have given him access to her house, so he may have it.”
“That’s our next stop.” David punched the button on his keychain to unlock the door.
Luckily, morning rush hour traffic was lightening up. They went up the Washington Beltway to cross into Maryland until they came to Potomac, which was where they exited.
“Potomac is quite a ritzy neighborhood for a gay reality show actor,” Mac noted.
Cameron was equally impressed by the brownstone townhomes and luxury houses. “Not the neighborhood I was expecting. Are you sure you’re in the right town, O’Callaghan?” She checked the caller ID on the phone vibrating on her hip. “Hey! It’s that producer from Hollywood.”
Doubtful himself, David checked the address on the GPS. “Yes, I’m in the right neighborhood, according to the address we have in his file.”
Cameron was too busy talking on the phone to listen. “What have you got for me?” She put the producer on speaker.
“I got it from a very reliable source. Tiffany Blanchard was involved with Nick Fields,” came the sultry voice from the phone.
“What reliable source?” Mac asked.
“Tiffany’s modeling agent,” was the answer. “Who are you?”
“He’s Mac Faraday,” Cameron said. “He’s the homicide detective on the case for Khloe Everest’s murder.”
The producer’s voice deepened. “Well, Mr. Faraday, you have a very sexy voice. Does your body match?”
David laughed.
“My name is Shelby,” she said. “Maybe you’d like to come out to the West Coast. We could do lunch…or dessert…or what not.”
“Focus, Shelby,” Cameron said. “Tell us about Tiffany Blanchard and Nick Fields.”
“She didn’t tell her agent about Nick,” she replied. “Remember, Nick was supposed to be gay on Khloe’s reality show. Everyone thought he was for real. But then one weekend shortly before Khloe’s show got cancelled, Tiffany’s agent went to a resort in Malibu where a lot of people in the industry go to hook up with people they aren’t supposed to be hooking up with. Why they all go to this place, I don’t know. If someone really doesn’t want people to know who he’s hooking up with, then he should go someplace where no one knows him. But this is Hollywood.”
“Maybe it’s because they do want to be seen there,” Cameron said.
“Maybe,” she replied. “The paparazzi practically live there. Anyway, Tiffany’s agent ran into her and Nick Fields. Tiffany begged her
agent not to tell anyone because she said Nick was up for another gig and if word got out about him and her, it would ruin it.”
Mac and David exchanged glances.
“In other words, if word got out that he was straight,” Cameron said, “his career would be over.”
“Which is what happened,” she replied. “Word got out. I don’t know who spread it. Her agent said that Tiffany was ga-ga over Nick and devastated when his career was ruined and he had to move back East.”
“Maybe she forced him out of the closet,” Cameron said. “Though from where I come from, it isn’t the straight guys who are in the closet.”
“Whoever leaked it, ended Nick’s Hollywood career,” Shelby said. “A month after her agent ran into her at that resort, Khloe’s show got the ax. The last time Tiffany was seen alive was at the cast party. She got murdered, and Nick hightailed it out of town.” She gasped, “Oh, but guess what.”
“What?” Cameron asked.
“You know that resort I was talking about? Tiffany’s body was found on their beach. Do you think that means something?”
“Sounds significant to me,” Cameron said.
The cruiser was now nearing the end of a cul-de-sac that was home to two houses. Seeing that they had arrived at Nick’s home, Cameron thanked her.
“Hey, Mac,” Shelby called out, “Cameron has my number. Call me sometime. I could listen to your voice all day long.”
David and Cameron laughed at the blush that came to Mac’s cheeks while she disconnected the call and placed the phone in its case on her utility belt.
Outside a white stone home, a woman was helping three small children build a snowman. According to a sign in front of the house next door, a yellow Colonial-style house with white shutters, it was the address they were looking for.
David pulled the cruiser up in front of the house and parked in the street. Seeing the police cruiser, and David in his uniform and police jacket, as well as Cameron and Mac, who were wearing their police shields and weapons on their hips, the children and woman stopped playing.
The three of them offered smiles to the family. David tipped his hat. “Morning.”
The woman’s smile was weak. “Good morning.” She continued to watch them file up to the front stoop of the yellow house. Reaching the door first, Mac stopped and held up his hand for them to stop. He leaned sideways to press his ear to the door. “Do you hear that?”
David stepped up next to Mac to listen. “What is that? Sounds like a woman screaming.”
“That’s what it sounds like to me.”
Her hand on her gun, Cameron stepped between them to listen. Abruptly, the scream became louder and higher in pitch. All three of them reached for their guns.
“I think we got our guy, and he’s got another victim,” Cameron said.
“I’ll go around back.” Stepping off the stoop, Mac saw the woman and children still watching them. Seeing them un-holster their weapons, the woman pulled the children close. “You need to go inside,” Mac ordered in a loud whisper. He didn’t have to tell them twice. The woman practically shoved the children inside and slammed the door shut.
Mac ran around to the back, climbed up the steps to the deck off the kitchen, and tried the back door. It was unlocked. As he was coming in, he heard David kick in the front door. “Police! Nick Fields, you’re under arrest. Come out with your hands up!”
The scream became louder.
Their weapons drawn, David and Cameron ran up the stairs in the front while Mac raced up the back staircase. In a line, they charged into the master bedroom at the end of the hall, where the screaming reached an unbelievable pitch.
When the officers barged in with their guns drawn, the woman on the bed suddenly kicked out her legs and tried to sit up, but the naked man on top of her, in the throes of an orgasm, pushed her back down. “Not yet, baby, I’m just about to come! Come with me, baby! Come with me!”
“Nick! We—” she gasped, “We have company!”
With the moment gone, she shoved him off the bed, gathered the covers, and ran wailing into the bathroom where she slammed the door. The naked man climbed up onto his knees from where he had fallen out of bed and brushed his long hair out of his eyes. “Who the hell are you?”
“We’re the police.” David lowered his gun, but he was prepared in case the young man pulled a weapon out from under the bed clothing. “Are you Nick Fields?”
“Depends,” he shot back. “What do you want? And why didn’t you knock? You can’t just come busting into a guy’s house.”
“We did knock,” Cameron lied. “But you couldn’t hear us over the screaming.”
“Police do have the right to break in if they believe someone is in danger,” Mac said. “Your girlfriend was screaming. We thought she was in trouble.”
“Katelyn can be pretty loud.” He smiled broadly while running his fingers over his thin mustache and goatee.
The bathroom door flew open. Dressed, Katelyn came rushing out. “I’m out of here!”
Unashamed of his nudity, Nick stood up to give chase. “Baby, wait!”
She whirled around. “The police busting in on us is bad enough!” She pointed toward the bathroom. “Now I find a whole dressing room filled with makeup and enough women’s clothes to clothe a third-world country! I knew something smelled funny with you, Nick! You’re married!”
“No, I’m not!” Nick insisted. “All that stuff belongs to my sister. She stays here some—”
Not sticking around to listen, she stormed down the stairs and slammed the door. Mac, David, and Cameron exchanged glances. “Married?” David mouthed to Mac.
Cameron excused herself and went outside while David and Mac moved in on their suspect.
“Now look at what you did.” Nick turned to the men who had interrupted his fun.
“Sorry,” Mac said while holstering his gun. “Would you mind getting dressed?”
“Is this going to take long?” Nick asked with a sigh filled with disgust.
“Pretty long,” David said. “We have a lot of questions.”
“About what?” Nick still did not move to put on any clothes.
Mac stepped up to him. “Amber Houston, Tiffany Blanchard, and Khloe Everest.”
Nick’s eyes widened.
“They all have two things in common.” Mac’s breath feathered his face. “One, they all knew you, and you had relationships with them. And two, all three of them have been murdered.” His voice hardened. “Now get dressed.”
Nick’s face grew white. Staring at Mac as if he feared what he would do, Nick moved to the bed, bent over and felt around the floor in search for his clothes.
Outside, Cameron saw that the woman had run halfway up the block to a blue sedan, jumped inside, and sped off, but not before the detective memorized and jotted down the license plate. It had Virginia plates. When she turned back around to go inside, she saw the woman next door peering out the window at her.
I hope this is one of those nosey neighbors. Cameron sauntered up to the stoop and knocked on the door.
The woman opened the door as if she had been waiting for her. “Is everything okay?”
“We’re taking in your neighbor for questioning,” Cameron said.
“About what?” She opened the door to invite Cameron into the foyer of her home. In the living room, Cameron heard a children’s program on and saw the three preschoolers roughhousing on the furniture.
“I can’t really say.” After introducing herself and showing her police identification, Cameron asked her for her name.
“Sandy,” the neighbor answered with a toss of her head that propelled her shaggy dark hair out of her face. “Sandy Patton.”
“How long has Mr. Fields lived here?”
“Something like a year and a half.” Folding her arms under her bosom, Sandy let out a giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Cameron asked.
“I never knew his name until now,” she said. “He never says anythi
ng to anyone. I guess he travels, because he’ll be gone for days at a time. His wife certainly travels a lot because I’ll only see her on the weekends and maybe a couple of times during the week. When she’s around—” She held up her hands. “Let’s just say that my children and I steer clear when she’s in town. That was who I thought you were here to arrest.”
“Why did you expect her to be arrested?”
“With her temper, I wouldn’t be surprised if she killed someone.” Seemingly grateful for the opportunity to get her frustration about her neighbors off her chest, Sandy went on, and Cameron didn’t stop her. “The day after they moved in, she came over here and screamed at me about my children’s play set being on their property.” Sandy pointed toward the back of the house. “The neighbors who used to live there were friends of ours. When we got the play set, they invited us to put it on the most level part of the backyard, which put one corner on their property. It was there for years. Then they sold the house and went into assisted living. But when that couple moved in, the wife was over here banging on my door before the moving van had even left. She wouldn’t stop screaming at me long enough for me to say I was sorry and that we would dismantle the whole thing and move it, which is what we had to do. She kept on saying how unacceptable it was and that there were laws and she had legal recourse if my family or I trespassed again.”
Sandy shook her head. “That was my introduction to her. She never lets me get a word in edgewise—even to apologize—and if I do apologize, she’s so busy screaming at me that I know she hasn’t heard it. Last summer, the kids were playing in the swimming pool on our property, but they were squealing and making kid noises, and she said it was too loud. Her husband has never said a word to me. It’s like he doesn’t even know we’re here. Nor has she or her husband ever said a word to my husband. It’s always me that bitch—excuse my language—is screaming at. For some bizarre reason, she hates me. Maybe she’s afraid I’m going to steal her husband.”
Scratching her head over Nick’s marriage and the discovery of a dressing room filled with women’s clothes, Cameron asked, “Do you know for a fact that they’re married? Maybe they’re only living together—or she’s his sister.”
