by Beth Yarnall
Chapter Twenty
Platt looked like someone had just snatched away his favorite donut and left him with a whole-wheat bagel instead. “I don’t like this.”
Amber winked at him. “Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll explain. The last time anyone saw Trinity was at Dhane’s memorial service. My client met with Detective Kennedy directly afterward. Then she was abducted and taken to the Raine Hotel where she discovered that Trinity had died. She called Detective Kennedy and your handsome self to the scene.” Amber turned to Kennedy, her smile dropping from warm and flirty to arctic and cunning. “So why all the theatrics, Detective? I thought you were better than that.”
Kennedy peeled away from the mirror and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Your client has been involved in this case from the very beginning. Every time I turned around, she was there. It wasn’t too far a leap to assume she had something to do with Trinity’s murder, either directly or indirectly.”
I gasped. He blamed me for what had happened to Trinity. Alex squeezed my hand. I remembered his words from earlier about blame and wondered if we had been smarter, faster, better, could we have prevented Trinity’s death? I could see it on Kennedy in the way his jaw set, the overbrightness of his eyes and the brackets around his mouth: Guilt weighed on him like a leaden coat. And he was looking to shove some of it off onto me.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I was to blame. The flower in Trinity’s hand was a clear message I wasn’t going to ignore.
“Can I say something?” I asked.
Amber answered, “No” at the same time Platt and Kennedy said, “Yes.”
“I think our time here is done.” Picking up her briefcase, Amber pushed to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Alex stood, too, leaving Platt and me the only ones sitting.
“Dhane’s wife was having an affair,” I blurted out.
“Azalea!” Amber plopped back down into her seat. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes.” I looked at Kennedy. “I have to.”
Amber put her hand on my arm. “Give me a moment first.” She directed her attention to Kennedy. “I want immunity and protection for my client. In writing. I don’t care who you have to pull out of the swimming pool to get it, but she doesn’t say another word until she gets it.”
“Done,” Kennedy said. “But the best way to protect her is for her to go home.”
“I agree.” Alex didn’t look happy about having something in common with Kennedy.
“I’m not leaving. I came here for a fun weekend with my friends and to go to the hair show.” I had to try to salvage something from this trip. “Tomorrow is the last day and tomorrow night is the awards ceremony. I have a couple of friends who are up for awards. I’ll just go to the show and the awards and that’s it. I promise.” And I meant it. I really did. I turned to Alex. “You’ll be with me. That’s all the protection I’ll need.”
Alex shook his head. “I won’t. I have to fly back tomorrow. I really think you, Juan Carlos, James, and Vivian should go home with me.”
“I’ll go if they go.” But I knew they wouldn’t. They’d been looking forward to this trip more than I had. Especially Juan Carlos.
Three frowns and a glare were directed at me.
“Why don’t I believe you?” Kennedy asked.
I held up a hand, trying hard to convey how serious I was. “I swear I won’t ask any more questions, snoop where I don’t belong, or look up anything on the Internet.”
“Speaking of…” Kennedy turned his angry stare on Alex. “From now until you leave Vegas, you won’t interfere in this case. That includes calling Kansas, Washington, or Timbuktu.”
Alex’s blue-eyed gaze stuck on me. “Now that Vivian’s clear, I’m not going to do anything else to encourage Azalea. You’ve got my word.”
Washington? Wait. What was in Washington?
“Uh-oh, she’s got that look,” Alex said.
I browsed the faces in the room, confused. “What look?”
Narrowing his eyes, Alex pointed at me. “That look you get when you’re trying to figure something out. What’s going on?”
“I hate that look,” Kennedy said.
“Nothing’s going on. I swear.”
I could tell I hadn’t convinced anyone.
“Platt.” Kennedy addressed him with his eyes on me. “You’re her guard tomorrow.”
“What? Why me?” Platt whined.
“Yeah, why him?” I whined, too.
Kennedy moved his focus to Alex. “What time does your plane take off?”
“Ten. I leave at eight thirty,” Alex replied.
“You’ll be at her door by eight fifteen,” Kennedy told Platt. “And you’ll do it because it’s our job to protect and serve.”
Platt looked like he was trying to sneer at me, but he ended up looking more constipated than mean. Great. What was I going to do with this boat anchor dragging along behind me all day tomorrow?
It took twenty minutes to get the paperwork Amber wanted and another forty for me to tell them everything I’d found out, speculated on, and supposed about Dhane’s and Trinity’s murders. When I finished, Kennedy gave me one last “stay out of trouble” combined with a fierce warning glare before he strode out with Platt riding his heels.
Alex, Amber, and I walked out of the police station and into the oven-hot Vegas afternoon.
Alex put an arm around Amber. I really wished he’d stop doing that. “I owe you, and so does Azalea.”
“I thought this made us even.” Amber fingered a button on Alex’s shirt like she was thinking of popping them all. “But if you insist we’re not, then I can’t wait to collect.”
I mentally rolled my eyes.
“Azalea, thank Amber.”
I looked at my sex-kitten attorney. She sure had flummoxed all of the men in the room. She’d played to the stereotype, but there was definitely a brain under all of those bleached-blond extensions. She wouldn’t ever be NOW’s poster girl, but she had definitely come through for me in a pinch. And it sure had been fun watching Platt make a drooling fool of himself.
“Thank you, Amber.” I went to her for a hug that caught her off guard. “If you’re ever in Southern California with a hair emergency, you give me a call.” I handed her my card. Whatever might have been between her and Alex, I was positive it was firmly in the past. He liked her, but he didn’t look at her the way he looked at me. Even if I didn’t have all of her attributes.
My offer of friendship seemed to touch her. I could have sworn she had tears in her eyes. I guessed she didn’t have many female friends.
“Thank you. I will. Call me if you need any more legal help.” She gripped Alex’s chin and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. The spark of jealousy was still there, but not as sharp. “Take care of this one,” she said to me, patting his chest. She gave us a small wave and spun on her heel.
Alex put his arm around me and gave me a half hug. “I told you she was incredible.”
We watched Amber sway away until she rounded the corner of the building, then we strolled out onto the main street to try and catch a cab.
“Alex?” I asked with a smile.
“Hmm?”
“Are you going to wear that lipstick all day?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Platt knocked on my door at eight nineteen the next morning, interrupting Alex’s lecture on promises and meddling. I never thought I’d live to see the day when I’d be glad to see Platt at my door. My vision of a lengthy, lusty good-bye scene with Alex had long since been replaced by a twenty-minute rant on the dangers of inserting myself where I didn’t belong—glossing over his role in the whole escapade, of course. Like he needed to tell me anyway. Visions of my flower in Trinity’s hand had haunted my dreams, making it impossible to sleep.
Platt’s Neanderthal brow lowered, casting an even deeper shadow over his eyes. I guessed that was his way of saying good morning.
“I’m not any happier than you are about this,”
I said, waving him inside. “You may as well come in.”
Alex handed Platt his business card. “Call me if anything goes wrong. Anything.”
Platt took the card without looking at it and shoved it in his pocket. “Sure you can’t stay?”
“I would if I could. I appreciate the help.” Alex’s words of thanks sounded more like he’d signed an IOU than a simple gesture of gratitude. He grabbed the handle of his suitcase and took my hand. “Step into the hall with me.”
I slid my keycard into the back pocket of my jeans and followed him out into the hall.
“I’m going to miss you,” Alex whispered, stroking the side of my face with his thumb. “I think I’m already used to sleeping next to you and that little snorty, wheezy sound you make.”
“At least I don’t kick you and pretend I’m asleep so I can cop a feel under the guise of sleep groping.”
He backed me up against the wall, his hands moving to my hip and the back of my neck. “I was sleeping, and I’m not the only one with wandering hands, you know.”
“Yeah, well, I was going to let you get to second base when we said good-bye this morning, but you wasted all of our fondling time with your lecture.”
He put his forehead to mine. “Damn.”
I looked into his baby blues and wondered if he were for real, if what was happening here was all my imagination, wanting it to be real. It felt real and scary and oh so thrilling. I closed my eyes, trying to control the hope that wanted to bloom.
“Azalea?”
I pulled away and opened my eyes. “What?”
“I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll set up that date you owe me. Okay?”
He said and did all the right things, so why was I still having a hard time trusting him? “Sure.”
He looked for a moment like he’d say something else, then changed his mind. Instead he tipped my head back and gave me the kind of kiss that made me forget everything that had happened this weekend, my fears, hell—even my own name.
“Uhhh,” Alex said, breaking the kiss. “If we’re not careful, we’ll give the guys in security something to post on the Internet.”
“It’s your own fault.”
“I know. I wish I didn’t have to go. Be careful. I mean it.”
“And you didn’t the last fifty-nine times you said it?”
“Be good,” he scolded. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“All right.”
He gave me one last kiss, pressing his lips hard to mine as if branding me, then he walked off down the hall, towing his suitcase behind him.
I turned to go back into my room when a thought struck me, snagging my attention. I looked up at the ceiling, noting the small black half globe at the end of the hall. A security camera. If my hotel had them, surely a hotel as swanky as the Raine had them. They would have picked up anybody going in or out of Dhane’s and Trinity’s rooms. And if so, why hadn’t the police looked at them? They’d know their approximate times of death, cross-reference that with the cameras, and you’d have an image of the killer on video.
I let myself into my room. Platt had parked himself at the end of the bed and was flipping channels like a champion.
“Hey, Detective Platt?”
He grunted.
“I’ll just be a couple of minutes, and then we’ll go down to the convention center.”
He might have mumbled something rude, but thankfully the TV drowned it out.
I finished drying my hair, smoothing it straight and bumping it at the ends with a round brush so it curved toward my face. I brushed bronzer on my cheeks and a matte coral lipstick on my lips. A thin line of black liquid liner on my top eyelid and lots of mascara completed the look. I’d chosen jeans again for comfort and topped them with a striped T-shirt strategically ripped and worn inside out for that I-paid-a-fortune-to-look-like-a-bum look. Five chain necklaces looped down at different lengths, matching my tassel chain earrings. I pulled on black Converse All Stars and examined myself in the mirror, feeling very punk-rock chic.
“I’m ready,” I called out to Platt, grabbing my bag and cell phone.
He flipped off the TV and trudged out into the hall after me.
With as innocent a face as I could muster, I asked, “Hey, what are those black globey things on the ceiling?”
Platt glanced up without tipping his head back. “Security.”
“Oh, wow, really? Do all the hotels have them?”
“Sure.”
“Huh. And they’re on all the time? I mean, they’re, like, taping every second? Day and night?” I punched the button to call the elevator.
“They ain’t Christmas ornaments. Of course they do.”
“How fascinating.” I put in as much enthusiasm as I could, channeling Amber. “Your line of work must be so interesting, getting to investigate crimes and all.” I tried to bat my lashes, but it made me kinda dizzy, so I stopped.
He adjusted his belt over his belly, tucking his thumbs into the waistband. “It can be. I get to lock up some major asswipes.”
The elevator arrived. Thankfully it was empty.
“Really?” I was quickly nearing the end of my ability to shovel bullshit while pretending to be impressed by anything Platt did other than not walk with his knuckles dragging the ground. I had a new appreciation for Amber. It must have taken her years to perfect her skills. “You must have gone through scores of footage in your career. I bet you’ve seen some pretty strange things.”
He snorted, and I had to resist the urge to check him for a curly tail. “This is Vegas. What do you think?”
“Gosh.” Mental head slap. Did I just say “gosh”? “I guess with technology these days, you could have cameras everywhere and they’d never fail.”
“You’d think that, but believe me, they do. Like this case I’m working on… Hey.” Platt’s face scrunched up. “You’re not supposed to ask questions.”
“Oh, sorry. I just get so curious. It’s a fault, really. I blame my mother. She questions everything.”
“That and you don’t shut up.”
The elevator reached the bottom floor, letting us out.
“Right. Sorry.” I headed off ahead of him, trying to hide my smile. So there was something wrong with the tape at the Raine. Interesting. Except I wasn’t supposed to be involved with this case anymore. Conflounded! And I wasn’t supposed to speculate about who would have the technical knowledge and skill to go around Raine security. Or how they would do it.
I got in line for a taxi, with Huff-n-Puff wheezing behind me from the short walk to the front of the hotel. Honestly, that man was one cheeseburger combo away from a gazilliondruple bypass. Some protection he was. I would have been better off with Jun in a fight than Platt.
Finally a cab pulled up and we climbed in. I was meeting Vivian, Juan Carlos, and Richard at the convention center. I had already missed most of the workshops, so I was really looking forward to going to some today. And I had a really cool outfit for the awards tonight. It had taken me weeks to put it together and I couldn’t wait to wear it. I loved dressing up.
We pulled up to the convention center and Platt got out, leaving me to foot the full cab fare. That Platt, always the gentleman.
I traipsed into the convention with my very large, very surly shadow and found Juan Carlos and Richard.
“Where’s Viv?” I asked.
“She’s not coming. She and James are spending the day together to see the sights.” Juan Carlos rolled his eyes so far up I thought they’d drop inside his skull. “Please. The only sights she’s likely to see are her ankles and the ceiling above the bed.”
Platt chuckled.
Juan Carlos jerked his head at Platt. “Who’s the Grimace clone?”
“My bodyguard.”
“Seriously?” Juan Carlos scrunched up his nose. “Where’d you go, Cheap Charlie’s Discount Security? Was he marked down? Is he paying you? Wait! Why do you need a security guard?”
Platt waved a hand. “Hello?
I’m standing right here.” He patted his side. “And I have a gun.”
“Sorry,” I said to Platt. “He tends to talk about people like they aren’t there. He’s harmless.” I gave Richard and Juan Carlos the rundown on what had happened at the police station yesterday and why I was saddled with the world’s least-intimidating bodyguard.
“Holy shitake mushrooms! That’s it. I’m not doing any more investigating for you.” Juan Carlos made a motion across his throat. “You’re cut off.” He froze. “Oh my God. I did it again. I can’t believe I did it again.”
“Come on, Sensitive Sally,” Richard said. “Let’s go look at the scissors. I need a new pair of channeling shears. Unless you want us to stick with you, Azalea.” He gave Platt a concerned once over, clearly doubting his ability to protect me.
“I have a gun,” Platt reminded him, patting his side again.
“I’ll call you if I need you, but I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I told him.
“Sensitive Sally is right,” Platt mumbled as we walked to the part of the convention center where the workshops were being held. “That guy’s more than a little light in the loafers.”
I rounded on him. “If we’re going to spend the day together, you’re not allowed to disparage my friends and I won’t mention the blob of jelly on your tie. Or your awful hair.”
Platt touched the top of his head. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“That color is too ash for your complexion and the hair over your ears makes your face look wider, more block-like. And we should really discuss your manscaping. You could braid the hair from your ears with your eyebrows.”
He put one hand to his ear and the other to his brow, frowning.
“If I had my shears and trimmer with me, I’d fix it for you. But I couldn’t bring them on the plane. Hey, I know. When my workshop on updos is over, we’ll go into the Expo and I’ll pretend to try out all the scissors on you. How does that sound?” I couldn’t walk around all day with Platt’s hair looking like that. People would think it was my work.
“What the hell’s an updo?”
