Lethal Seduction

by Jackie Collins

  “It’s nice to see you again, Jamie,” Kimm said.

  “I hope it’s nice to see you again too,” Jamie replied, staring at the detective. “What exactly do you have for me?”

  “A surprise,” Kimm said.

  “I used to love surprises,” Jamie remarked, shrugging off her coat.

  “Maybe not this one,” Madison said.

  “So what is it?” Jamie asked, steeling herself for the inevitable.

  “Photographs,” Kimm said. “And tape recordings of his cell-phone conversations.”

  “Are you allowed to do that?”

  “It’s not a question of whether I can, I do.”

  “Right,” Jamie said, her expression becoming somber.

  “Hey, listen,” Madison said. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

  “No,” Jamie said sharply. “I do need you. You’ll stay here with me.”

  Kimm opened her briefcase. “You might want to look at the photos first,” she suggested, her wide face quite serious.

  “This is torture,” Jamie moaned. “You look at them for me, Maddy—I can’t do it.”

  “Yes you can.”

  “No I can’t. What if she’s someone I know?”

  “You’ve got to do it yourself,” Madison insisted.

  A reluctant Jamie accepted the photos with shaking hands. She studied them for a moment, her classically beautiful face quite impassive. “What is this?” she said at last, thrusting the photos at Madison. “What the hell is this?”

  Madison inspected the photographs. The first one showed Peter on the street, talking to another man. The second photo was more intimate as the two men leaned closer together. In the third photo they were embracing. And in the fourth, they were entering a hotel arm in arm.

  “Oh, Jesus!” Madison said, feeling sick for her friend.

  There were a few moments of silence before anyone said anything. “I’m sorry,” Kimm finally said. “But I suppose you had to find out sometime.”

  “Find out what?” Jamie demanded, the color draining from her cheeks.

  “It’s pretty obvious,” Madison ventured.

  “What?” Jamie yelled. “Tell me what?”

  Madison and Kimm exchanged glances, and Madison gave an imperceptible nod, giving Kimm permission to say the words aloud.

  “Your husband’s having an affair with a man,” Kimm said.

  And then there was silence.

  CHAPTER

  40

  ROSARITA WAS ALL SET FOR Vegas. She visited Barney’s, purchasing a couple of expensive designer outfits before making a trip to one of her favorite places in New York, the Bigelow Apothecaries store on lower Sixth Avenue. Rosarita was a total makeup freak, and in Bigelow she went crazy, buying CE nail polish in red glitter, a selection of Laura Mercier lipsticks, several Portuguese soaps from Klaus Porto and, finally, a tube of glycolic acid skin-lightening lotion from Peter Thomas Roth—her favorite skin-care line.

  After paying for her purchases with a credit card—Chas would pick up the bill, as always—she took a cab home.

  Now that I’m pregnant, she thought, maybe Daddy will spring for a chauffeured car to drive me around. It’s not right that I should be struggling on the cold New York streets, climbing in and out of cabs.

  She decided to take it up with him in Vegas, preferably in front of Martha, who she was sure would agree with her.

  Back at the apartment she packed her new makeup purchases carefully in her vanity case, making sure that the plastic bottle of poison was still well hidden at the bottom.

  She was uncharacteristically nervous, but also excited. Vegas was finally coming up, and if all went according to plan, soon she would be a free woman.

  Wouldn’t that be something to celebrate.

  •

  Across town, Dexter arrived at his first acting class full of enthusiasm. He’d had a good few days. Both Chas and Mortimer had agreed to meet with Silver Anderson, and the moment he returned from Vegas he was setting a time and a place. When he’d told Silver, she was delighted. “Put me in the same room with a potential investor, darling,” she’d drawled, “and the money is practically ours.” A throaty laugh. “I’m very persuasive.”

  Yes, he knew that.

  The acting coach Annie had recommended was a tall, thin, pale man with narrow eyes, a mean slash of a mouth and yellow Dracula teeth. His name was Finian Price, and he was a small-time character actor in big-time movies. Dexter recognized him immediately. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” he said, walking over and introducing himself.

  Finian dismissed him with a snarly look. “Enough with the ‘sir’ shit,” he said. “Go sit over there,” he added, indicating a wooden chair at the end of a row of straight-backed chairs.

  Dexter had expected a more friendly greeting, considering Annie had assured him she’d called the guy personally. Obviously Finian had other things on his mind.

  The class was filling up with students. There were about twenty people—most of them quite young.

  Dexter looked around and wondered if any of them were working actors like him. He didn’t recognize anyone, so he went and sat down where Finian had told him to go.

  A girl looked up as he approached, a petite natural blonde, with flowing hair that reached below her waist, an innocent face, wide eyes, full lips and an adorable snub nose. She was slender and possessed a beauteous smile, which she honored him with as she put out her hand. “Hi,” she said in a soft, lilting voice. “I’m Gem.”

  There and then Dexter fell truly in love for the first time in his life.

  “Uh . . . Dexter Falcon,” he said, shaking her hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Dexter,” she murmured. “Are you new here?”

  “As a matter of fact—yes,” he said, quite entranced by this angel.

  “Oh, good,” she said, relieved. “So am I, and I’m so nervous.”

  “Don’t worry,” he found himself saying. “I’ll look out for you.”

  “You will?” she said hopefully.

  “Course I will,” he said, experiencing an overwhelming need to protect her.

  “I only arrived in New York last week,” she confided. “From Indiana. A friend told me about this class, and I knew this is where I had to be, even though enrolling used up almost all my savings.”

  “I hear the teacher is excellent,” Dexter said.

  “I hope so,” she said. “I only have enough money to support myself for three months. If I can’t make it in that time, I’ll be on a bus headed back home. I was wondering,” she added tentatively, “should I be looking for an agent?”

  She sounded like him when he’d first arrived in town: naïve and trusting—all the things you shouldn’t be in a city as hardedged as New York.

  He’d been lucky. Somebody would have to make sure she was lucky too.

  “How about some quiet around here?” Finian thundered, planting himself at the front of the class. “Concentrate, for God’s sake.”

  A murmur of assent echoed around the room.

  “Today we’re going to discuss the movie The Fight Club,” Finian announced. “We’ll analyze who those characters are and how you relate to them. At the same time we’ll attempt to discover why you poor sods want to be actors in the first place, because God knows, it’s hardly an easy profession, and very few of you will make it. I did,” he boasted. “But I’m one of the lucky ones. And today you’re the lucky ones, because today I’m sharing some of my hard-earned knowledge with you.”

  “He’s a famous actor, isn’t he?” Gem whispered, obviously impressed. “I’ve seen him in movies.”

  “Not a star, if that’s what you mean,” Dexter said in a low voice. “Although according to my agent he’s an excellent teacher.”

  “Oh,” Gem murmured, even more impressed. “You have an agent?”

  “Yeah, well you see, I’m a working actor,” Dex explained, hoping it didn’t sound as if he was showing off. “I’m only here to gain a few
extra pointers.”

  “You’ve appeared in movies too?” she said in her soft melodious voice, so unlike Rosarita’s strident shriek.

  “TV,” he said. “I was on a soap, Dark Days.”

  “How exciting,” she breathed. “Unfortunately I never have time to watch TV ’cause I’m always at work. Back home I was a checker at the local supermarket.”

  “Not you?”

  “Yes, me,” she said with an endearing smile.

  “Lucky customers.”

  “Thanks,” she said, lowering her eyes. Then, “I’ve been saving for three years to come to New York,” she revealed. “Ever since I was sixteen.”

  “Shut up over there,” Finian yelled harshly. “What are you morons paying for? To watch? Or to listen? Go to the movies if you want to watch me. If you wish to listen and learn, then do so for crissakes! It’s bad enough teaching a bunch of amateurs like you, but if you’re planning on talking throughout my class, I simply refuse to continue.”

  Dexter was shocked at how rude Finian was. He was also shocked that Annie would send him to a class that was quite obviously for beginners. He was no beginner, he’d been on Dark Days for a year, making him an experienced actor. Anyone who knew anything at all about the business realized that performing on a soap was a crash course in gaining experience. Every day there were pages and pages of dialogue to memorize, and he’d excelled at being word perfect, able to function at the speed of light. Damn Annie! This eight-week course was costing him fifteen hundred dollars, which seemed exorbitant.

  “Sorry,” Gem murmured under her breath. “It’s my fault he’s cross.”

  Dexter couldn’t stop looking at her. She was so pretty. And so innocent. “Don’t worry,” he whispered back. “Bullies never bother me.”

  Finian spent the rest of the hour-long class putting people down. He’d summon a student to the front, instruct them to read a scene, then, when they were finished, proceed to pull their performance to pieces. While he was at it he also managed to trash the entire cast of The Fight Club, proclaiming that Edward Norton was dull, Helena Bonham Carter was far too dramatic and Brad Pitt was an overrated sexy dud.

  Jesus, this is one bitter guy, Dexter thought. Got a strong hunch this is not the place to be. Better call Annie and tell her.

  He could see Gem was completely in awe of Finian, and he was sorry she’d wasted her hard-earned money. He could afford it. She certainly couldn’t.

  When the class was dismissed, they walked out together. “How about grabbing a coffee?” he suggested.

  She nodded. “Okay,” she said softly.

  “Good,” he said, ridiculously pleased that she’d accepted.

  “I feel so insignificant,” she said with a sigh, as they left the building. “Insignificant and totally inadequate. I’m sure he hates all of us.”

  “No he doesn’t,” Dexter assured her. “He’s a frustrated actor who never made it to the top, so now he’s taking it out on us. It’s his way of hitting back.”

  “How can somebody like that teach acting?”

  “Beats me,” he said and shrugged.

  “And I was so looking forward to his class.”

  “Maybe he’ll improve.”

  “I hope so.” She tilted her chin. “How long have you been an actor, Dexter?”

  “Not that long,” he admitted. “I was a model before—the Mortimer Marcel boy.” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “Jeez, that sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I did most of Marcel’s ad campaigns. Had a billboard in Times Square.”

  “You did?” she said, gazing up at him with adoring eyes. “How fantastic.”

  In the entire time he’d been married to Rosarita, she’d never looked at him the way Gem did.

  Suddenly he was jolted back to reality with a vengeance. What was he doing? His wife was pregnant, and here he was having thoughts about this girl. It was all wrong, he had to stop immediately.

  “Uh, listen Gem—about that coffee,” he said. “I just remembered, I’ve uh . . . got an appointment.”

  “Oh,” she said, obviously disappointed. “That’s all right, I understand.”

  “So I’ll see you next week in class?”

  “Yes,” she said, gazing at him expectantly.

  He knew she was waiting for him to ask for her number, but he didn’t, couldn’t. “You’d better watch out,” he said. “This city can be brutal.”

  “I know,” she said, nodding determinedly. “But at least I’ve got a job waitressing.”

  “Where?”

  “At a restaurant in Tribeca. So . . . as long as I’m making survival money, I can keep chasing my dream.”

  A girl with a dream.

  How refreshing.

  •

  All packed for the upcoming trip to Vegas, Varoomba called her grandmother. It took several attempts before she reached her, Renee being a very busy woman indeed, running a highly successful phone sex service. Although Renee had raised Varoomba after her mom died of a drug overdose, she was hardly the nurturing grandmother type.

  “Hi,” Varoomba said.

  “Who’s this?” Renee answered suspiciously.

  “It’s me, Grams. Surely you recognize my voice?”

  “Oh, you,” Renee said grumpily.

  “I’m on my way to Vegas, Grams, an’ I was kinda thinkin’ that it might be a good thing if you could like dress down and come meet me and my boyfriend,” Varoomba said hopefully.

  “What boyfriend is this?”

  “He’s a keeper, an’ I’m hopin’ he’ll marry me.” A wild giggle. “Who knows—perhaps we’ll get t’do it while we’re there.”

  “An’ where do I come in?” Renee asked.

  “Chas is into family. It’d be nice for him to know I got one of my own—that I’m not just another dumb stripper.”

  “You mean he loves you for your family?” Renee jeered. “Not your big tits?”

  “Grams! Please!”

  “All right, all right. Phone me when you get here. An’ bring money, ’cause you ain’t sent nothin’ for months.”

  “I will, Grams, I promise. Only one thing—when you meet us, you can’t be drunk.”

  “Ha!” Renee said. “What makes you think I’m still drinkin’?”

  Oh, Varoomba thought, perhaps it’s ’cause ever since I was a kid I’ve never seen you without a drink in your hand.

  “This is important to me, Grams,” she said, almost pleading. “It could mean a lot of money for us both—this one’s rich.”

  “Finally the girl gets smart.”

  “We’re flyin’ in for the big fight. I’ll call you as soon as we check in.”

  Varoomba had a plan, one that she’d decided was the way to get to Chas. It was quite obvious he was a man who honored family—what with his two daughters always coming over. And it was also apparent that he genuinely loved the one with the kids, so if only her grandma would cooperate, behave herself and, most of all, stay sober, Renee would definitely make a good impression.

  Varoomba knew it was about time she settled down, and right now Mrs. Chas Vincent sounded pretty damn good to her.

  •

  “Hi, honey,” Dexter said, giving Rosarita a perfunctory peck on the cheek.

  “Hi, honey,” she responded, mirroring his tone. Wouldn’t do to cause any waves right now.

  “Get all your shopping done?” he asked.

  “I certainly did. Bought two great outfits. Am I gonna look hot!”

  Dexter managed a weak smile, although he didn’t think it was appropriate for a mother-to-be to choose sexy outfits. Gem would never do that.

  “How was the acting thingie?” Rosarita said, examining her perfect French manicure.

  “Okay,” he answered carefully. Better than okay. I met the girl of my dreams. And I can’t stop thinking about her.

  “Just okay?” she said, stifling a yawn. “Didn’t he tell you that you were the second coming of Harrison For
d?”

  “ ’Fraid not.”

  “Shame,” she said, a slight mocking tone in her voice. “Maybe you should show him some of your tapes, let him see you in action.”

  Sometimes Dexter couldn’t help wondering why Rosarita went out of her way to be so bitchy. There was always a put-down in everything she said.

  He turned away and thought about Gem. That’s exactly what she was—a gem, a beauty, the girl he should have married.

  How did he know?

  He just did.

  Several months ago, Rosarita had requested a divorce, and he’d said no. Too late now. Like an idiot he’d followed his dad’s advice and knocked her up. Now there was no way he’d ever ask her to get rid of their baby. As his mother would say, “You’ve made your bed, Dick Cockranger, now you’ve got to lie in it for eternity.”

  “Want to go out for dinner tonight?” he suggested, having no desire to sit around the apartment thinking about what might have been.

  “Good idea,” Rosarita answered, having no desire to sit around the apartment thinking about what might have been.

  Dexter flexed his muscles and kept thinking of Gem. “What time do we leave tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Chas is picking us up around nine.”

  “You’re sure you want to go?” he said, hoping she might change her mind.

  She fixed him with a long, penetrating look. “Wouldn’t miss it, Dex. This trip will be unforgettable. And that’s a promise.”

  Book Two

  •

  LAS VEGAS

  CHAPTER

  41

  ANTONIO “THE PANTHER” LOPEZ had greased-back, dark hair, a cocky grin, several prominent gold teeth and an attitude of complete confidence.

  “The champ ain’t got no chance wit’ me,” he said, sitting with Madison on a bench at his training camp, his manager and handlers hovering nearby.

  “Why’s that?” she asked, studying his sharply chiseled face, thick bull neck and muscled shoulders, mentally preparing the way she would describe him in the article she would write.

  “ ’Cause I’m gonna kick his sorry ass like it ain’t never bin kicked before,” Antonio boasted.