“She was. How come you know her?”
Roddy gave me a dirty smile. “Banged her a couple of times.”
“Good to know you kiss and tell.”
“I don’t think there was a lot of kissing involved. She liked getting right to the point. Hot little lady. Did it right in my office.”
I tut-tutted. “Shame on you. That’s not very professional behavior.”
“Chick that hot, I’m not saying no to. Fuck professional behavior.”
“Did you get her address?”
“Hey, I think it’s pretty impressive I know her last name. It’s not like we went for dinner and a movie, you know. I banged her, that’s it. Pretty good lay, too. Wouldn’t mind another hit at that.”
“When was the last time you… err… banged her?”
“Couple of weeks ago, I guess. She probably got bored after two times. Not that I’m a bad fuck, mind you. She’s just one of those broads that wants some variety in life, you know. Some people might call her a whore, I just call her a woman who knows what she wants. And you pay a whore, right? Not that she wasn’t worth a few bucks.”
“I’ll try to track her down,” I said. “Enjoy your burrito, and please, if you can find out more about the other women in the pictures…or if any of them also… visited your office… let me know.”
He held up his hands. “Wait a minute, buddy. It’s not like chicks ask me to bang them every day in the club, okay? Way too much competition for one. And I am busy doing my job over there.”
“Sure,” I said. “Don’t worry. I won’t think any less of you.”
I left his place and got behind the wheel of my Dodge Charger. I used my iPhone to Google around a bit and managed to find Gina Walters’ address. Nice to know some people still list their numbers. I thought about giving her a call first but decided I was close enough to pay her a surprise visit. Since she made herself scarce pretty quickly at the club, I figured she might not be home if I announced my visit.
It turned out I was in luck. The door to her apartment opened, revealing her attractive self. She was wearing a black skirt and a white cashmere sweater that revealed more than it concealed.
“Well, you don’t look like an encyclopedia salesman?” she said.
“Do they still sell those? I think Wikipedia replaced them,” I said.
“I don’t know… Do people still buy dirty magazines?” Her smile was full of mischief. How did she get the conversation turned to sex in twenty seconds?
“I figure that’s a declining market as well. But you’re right, I’m not here to sell encyclopedias. My name is Noah Milano. I’m a security specialist and private investigator.” I offered her my business card.
She took a look at the card. “Private dick, huh?” The card went to her cleavage and disappeared. I wondered if she always used her bra as a rolodex. “I’ll keep this. You never know when you might need a good dick, right?”
She might have been the first woman to make me blush. Did I just land in a bad porn movie? This conversation had more double entendre than an episode of Two And A Half Men.
“Yeah, right. Listen, I need to talk to you about something you witnessed a few days ago…”
“Yes, the thing at the club, right?” She said it like she encountered dead bodies in the toilet every week.
“That’s right.”
“Come in then.” She turned around and wiggled inside. I followed, feeling a little like I was entering a dragon’s den.
The inside of her apartment was what I’d expected. All pillows, futons and tiger printed rugs. There was some incense burning, and the walls were covered with paintings and pictures featuring somewhat artistic renditions of half-clothed men and women. Love shack, baby…
“Have a seat. Would you like a drink? Scotch maybe?” she asked. “Wine?”
“A beer would be cool,” I told her and sat down on the pillow-filled couch.
“Of course,” she said and went to the kitchen. She returned with an open bottle of Coors. I accepted it and took a pull.
I took the bottle away from my lips. “Thanks. So, like I said, I’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened in the club.”
She sat down on the arm of the couch She crossed her legs. Nice calves. I noticed she wore an ankle bracelet, silver with a little star attached to it. “What do you want to know?”
“I’d just like to hear the details about how you found the body. Stuff like who was in the room with you at the time. The condition of the body.”
“It’s not really one of my favorite topics, you know. It was kind of icky.” She didn’t manage to sound upset.
“I’ve got reason to think her death wasn’t an accidental OD. That’s why it’s important to know everything about what happened. Do you understand?”
“You mean you think it was murder? Isn’t that something? You really are a regular Magnum PI?”
“Yeah. In fact, if I grew a moustache you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Now, let’s get to the moment you discovered the body. What happened?”
“Well, I was in the rest room freshening up, make-up, hair, you know. People were coming and going, but the stall right to my left stayed occupied the whole time. I just got this vibe that something was wrong. I knocked, but she didn’t respond.”
“What made you think something was wrong?” I said.
“I could see her feet showing under the stall door. They were kind of splayed out in front of her, not natural looking, so I decided to get security over there. Turned out the door was unlocked. The security guy opened the door and there she was, needle in her arm, mouth open wide and gone to heaven.”
“You left very quickly then, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want to stick around for the circus. Don’t care to be in the public eye too much. I get around a lot, you know? With guys. I don’t give out phone numbers afterwards, don’t want them to stalk me or try to date me or anything. I figured staying there for reporters or cops to show up I might end up in the papers or on the news or something. So I hightailed it.”
“I see. You remember anyone who was with you there at the time you found the body?”
“No, not really. I like to go clubbing alone. That way I can leave whenever and with whomever I want, if you know what I mean. I’d hate to be bad friend and I hate to be just a tease…you know?” A hand went on my knee as if to emphasize the point.
“Sure. Did you know the woman?”
“I’d seen her around, I guess. She was a frequent flyer at Peaches. Hung around with the stars a lot. I used to figure she was either a groupie or a screenwriter or producer or something. Now I know she was a journalist, of course.”
“Any celebrities you can name?”
She stroked my knee while she thought about that. “I saw her with Danny Ketchum once. Couldn’t blame her. He’s hot. Not my type, of course. I don’t do it with celebrities. Don’t want to end up in the tabloids, you know.”
“How did they seem to get along?”
“Not too well, really. I figured maybe she just came on a bit too strong to him or something.”
“Did you see them together the night she died?” I noticed her hand was travelling north of my knee.
“Yeah, they had a little talk. She stormed off. She seemed pretty pissed off too.”
That was interesting. Ketchum hadn’t mentioned anything about that before. In fact, he’d stated pretty definitively that he wasn’t even there that night. “Any idea why she was angry?”
“None. I was standing too far away from them. Besides, I was paying more attention to the Latino I’d just met at the bar. This whole shit messed that up, though. He was gone by the time I left the john.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
She moved her face closer to mine. “Maybe you could make it up to me.”
I gently moved her away from me and stood. She was attractive enough, but I didn’t feel like bedding Roddy’s sloppy seconds. Besides, the woman radiated trou
ble like a furnace, and I had enough of my own already. “Sorry, I have to go. Leads to follow, witnesses to investigate. You know, PI stuff.”
Her hand creeped a little farther toward the promised land. “I seem to remember that Magnum always made some time for the ladies.”
“Magnum was a hack. I’m a professional,” I told her and managed to extricate myself without having to resort to violence. I hurried to the door and left.
EIGHT
A map to the stars’ homes showed me where to find Ketchum. I wanted to have a word with him about his lies to me. His Beverly Hills mansion was enclosed by a massive iron fence.
An intercom was situated next to the main gate. I pushed the button and waited.
“Yeah?”
I recognized the voice. “Hey, Mason! Nice to hear your lovely voice. It’s Noah Milano. I’d like to talk to your boss.”
“Fuck off.”
“That’s harsh. I thought we were friends.”
“Fuck off or I will make you fuck off.”
“Your boss has been lying to me, Mason. That makes me think he has something to hide. He can choose to talk to me or the cops and the tabloids. I can keep a secret. Do you think the other two choices can?”
Silence on the other end. Mason was probably conferring with Ketchum. Then, “Come in, asshole.”
The gates opened automatically and I walked onto the premises. I was still half expecting a pack of Dobermans to attack, but I arrived at the mansion’s front door unscathed.
Mason was waiting for me in the doorway. He pushed me inside. “Get in, motherfucker.”
It was pretty clear Mason was aching for a fight. A natural impulse for me was to tangle with him right there. That wouldn’t be very helpful to the investigation, though. I showed my mom I was all grown up now by just walking inside and ignoring the devil’s voice on my shoulder telling me to take the annoying bodyguard apart like a clock.
Ketchum did well enough to have a home that would have even impressed my dad. And that was not an easy task, believe me. It was filled with designer furniture, original artwork, and equipment that was more bling-bling than useful.
Ketchum was wearing a T-shirt that pictured Tony Montano of Scarface. Never understood why people seemed to worship that character. I had been doing my best for years to be as different from Scarface as I could. Ketchum’s jeans were torn in a way only produced by the most fashionable and elite designers. His watch cost more than my yearly rent.
“I would be lying if I said I was happy to see you,” he said and got up from his couch where he’d appeared to have been reading his newest script.
“I’d rather be at Starbucks myself, buddy. I just need to talk to you for a minute, though. If you hadn’t lied to me I wouldn’t have had to make this little house call.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You told me you weren’t there when Carol Dickinson died. I have a witness putting you at the scene.”
Ketchum smiled. “That sounded pretty Law & Order… Did you know I guest-starred in an episode?”
“If I wanted to know what you starred in I’d just log on to Imdb, okay? I want to know why you lied to me.”
Mason did his bodyguard thing behind me, sounding out a little growl. I ignored it.
“Why do you think I lied? If I’d told you the truth, you’d go all bloodhound on me, thinking of me as a suspect. I wanted to avoid that. I don’t need that shit. I’ve got lines to practice. I’m going to audition for the newest Zack Snyder movie. I don’t need any distractions.”
“I promise you, lying to me is not the right way to go about that. Tell me what you saw that night, and I might leave you alone. Keep lying to me and I will be on you like the proverbial white on rice TV-cops like so much.”
Ketchum shook his head. “You really have this tough guy act down pat, don’t you?”
I cracked a knuckle. “It’s not an act. Just ask your gorilla.”
Mason growled again. I ignored it again. He wouldn’t try anything. He’d made enough of a fool of himself the first time around.
“So okay, I was there that night. I didn’t talk to that bitch, though. I figure she didn’t even know I was there.”
“You must have felt like telling her what you thought of her?”
“Sure. I even would have liked to kick her teeth in. But I don’t need another scandal. I just buried my head in tits and booze.”
“Sounds like a good hiding place,” I agreed. “Did you see who she was with?”
“Don’t know. Just saw her and decided to ignore her.”
“I told you to cut the shit before. The witness I was talking about saw you talking to Carol. Says it seems you pissed her off too.”
“Christ, you’re a bulldog aren’t you? Yeah, I talked to her. She wanted to talk to me about something important, she said. I told her to go to hell. She insisted on talking to me again. I had Mason tell her to fuck off. People usually do what he says.”
“Something important? Any idea what?”
“None.”
“Weren’t you curious? I find it hard to believe you didn’t at least want to find out what she was talking about.”
“Like I told you, I don’t want to have anything to do with her anymore. Whatever she was selling, I wasn’t buying.”
“I just hope you’re not lying to me again. If I find out you have, I’ll come back and talk less civilly to you.”
“What the fuck? That’s it! Did you hear that, Mason? He’s threatening me! Kick his ass!”
Mason couldn’t just ignore a direct order like that, so he gathered his courage and grabbed my arm. I spun around, planting an elbow in his face, plastering his nose over his face like wet paint.
His hands went up to his nose, his gut an open target for a quick strike with my fist. I ended the one-sided fight with a hip-throw that launched him into Ketchum’s stereo equipment.
“You fucking weakling! What do I pay you for? You’re fired!” Ketchum yelled.
“Take it easy. I’m sure your bruiser is plenty effective against paparazzi and ugly groupies. He’s just not used to taking on an experienced fighter like me.
Ketchum pointed an angry finger at me. “You…you…asshole! Get out of here or I’ll fucking sue you!”
I held up my hands, showing him he should take it easy. “Whoa, your guy attacked me, not the other way around. Besides, whatever Carol wanted to share with you, chances are it might be related to her death. That connects you to it as well. You might want to give that a long, hard thought. It might mean whoever targeted Carol might target you next.”
“You’ve seen too many movies, Milano. What could possibly drive someone to want to kill me as well as that bitch?”
I shrugged. “I was hoping you might know. Think about it, Let me know if you find out. I might prevent you from getting killed.”
“You’re crazy. Get out of here.”
“Suit yourself,” I said and went.
NINE
All right, now I had a new possible link between Ketchum and Carol. I also had no idea how to investigate it further, although it might also explain why her laptop was missing. It made me think she found out something which might be of interest to Ketchum and was hot enough for someone to steal and even kill to keep a secret.
I still wasn’t able to set up a meeting with Lia, so I decided to follow a lead I hadn’t paid much attention to yet. Derek Pryce, Carol’s old boyfriend. It seemed totally detached from my other line of investigation, but I like to hedge my bets.
I Googled his address and in just a few seconds had come up with the location of his photo studio in Burbank. I decided not to call ahead. I wanted to surprise him.
A half hour later, I was able to walk into his photo studio through a door left carelessly open. A welcome sight greeted me. Surrounded by all those odd-looking lights and funny umbrella-thingies a beautiful black woman, wearing only a thong bikini, was showing off her curves. She was lying on the floor, chin suppo
rted by one hand in a classic pose.
“Uh…sorry to interrupt, the door was open,” I announced.
“What the fuck?” the woman said and searched for something to cover up her body. She failed to find something though, settling for covering up her ample bosom with her hands. They were not up to the task.
“Who the fuck are you?” the photographer asked me. Honestly, I hadn’t even noticed him yet, distracted by the ebony beauty. He was wearing a white shirt with the top three buttons loosened and a porkpie hat on his noggin that he probably thought of as jaunty. He also had one of those stupid goatees that only a very few people can get away with. He was not one of them.
“Noah Milano. You might think twice about leaving that door open next time you have photo shoot with a naked beauty. In fact, with a beauty that naked and beautiful you might think about adding a few extra locks.” I think the girl giggled a bit at that. Flattery will get you everywhere.
“I didn’t figure on someone being so rude to just walk in. Besides, didn’t you see the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door?” the photographer said.
“Oops. My bad,” I said. “Sorry about that. Derek Pryce?” I offered him my hand.
“Yeah. What the hell do you want?”
“I’m looking into Carol Dickinson’s death. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“There’s not a lot I have to say about that.”
“I will have to insist,” I told him. “Would you want your model to know how… persistent a suitor you used to be?”
Pryce glanced over his shoulder at the model. She was still covering her boobs with her hands, unsure what to do.
“Baby, take five please. Get yourself a cup of coffee or something,” Pryce told her.
She left through a door in the back of the room. Pryce and I both took a moment to enjoy the view of her thong and what it tried to cover. Sexist pigs, all of us.
“Nice job. Maybe I should try it? I already photograph a lot in my line of work,” I said.
“So, you’re a private dick?” He said it like he was talking about necrophilia.
“Security specialist, but I do some investigating on the side, yeah. And please, don’t call us dicks. That’s like soooo thirties.”
The Death Business (A Noah Milano Novella) Page 3
