by Jo Leigh
She looked sharply at Mrs. Geiger, afraid she’d given something away. The woman was upset, distraught. And drunk. The bourbon Dahlia had brought wasn’t her first. Probably wouldn’t be her last. “Did Danny and your husband have an argument? I mean, just before…”
“Argument is putting it lightly. I told that cop that it was Danny who killed him. He didn’t believe me, but that’s because Danny Austen is a movie star.’ Cause he has all that money. But money won’t get him off of a murder charge. Not if I have anything to say about it.” Sheila leaned in, and Mia had to stop herself from turning away from the alcohol on the woman’s breath. “He’s a killer. He thinks I don’t know. But I’ve got pictures.”
“From that night?”
Sheila took a drink, then leaned in once more. Only she stopped as the bar door opened. One of Piper’s assistants, not Lorraine this time, but Viv, was there as an escort to the meeting.
Mrs. Geiger didn’t give Mia a second thought. Grabbing her teacup of bourbon, she left the bar, cursing up a storm.
Mia went back to her station, wishing like crazy she could just go find Bax. Sheila Geiger had the camera! That must mean she was tied to the murder somehow, right? How else would she have gotten the pictures? No, Sheila hadn’t said they were from that night, so she’d better be careful what she told Bax. It was tempting to believe all she’d heard. Easy. Kind of how tempting it was to believe the tabloids.
She knew better. She would report what she’d heard but in a calm, clear way that didn’t reflect her own opinions. It’s what Piper would do.
Privately, however, she could think about what she’d heard. If Mrs. Geiger had the pictures from that night, what would that mean? That she’d killed him? Why would she want her husband dead, though? Sheila didn’t work. Geiger was her meal ticket.
No, it made a lot more sense that this was about Austen’s sex life. There were so many women madly in love with him, with his image, there’s no way his career would stay intact if it was known he slept with men.
And what the heck was up with Mexico? A secret tryst? An affair gone bad?
She got her personal cell and hit Carlane’s speed dial number. Her friend answered on the first ring.
“Have you heard any gossip about Danny Austen being bi?”
Carlane didn’t miss a beat. “What? Who did you see?”
“No one. It might be completely untrue. Have you heard anything?”
“God, no. He’s supposed to be the playboy of the western world.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“That’s it? You’re not even gonna tell me what you know?”
“I don’t know anything. It was a rumor, nothing more. And the person saying it was drunk, so it’s probably nothing.”
“Damn, girl. My heart’s racing. He can’t be gay. It would just break my heart. I told you. All the good ones are married or gay. There’s nothing left for us hetero gals.”
“Don’t panic. Seriously. Oh, wait, one more thing. Did Weinberg ever make a film in Mexico? With Bobbi or Danny or both?”
“Something about that rings a bell. Let me get back to you.”
“I appreciate it, sweetie.”
“Got a call. Talk to you later.”
Mia hung up her phone and slipped it into her pocket. Sheila Geiger had been drunk and devastated. No reason to believe her, not even about the pictures. Although Mia would still tell Bax about their conversation.
She got a little shiver thinking about him. Was it not the most courtly gesture ever to meet her at the subway? He’d looked really good this morning, too. He’d worn dark jeans, an incredible soft, dark-green shirt and a leather jacket to die for.
Oh, man, she was in trouble. She’d worked herself into quite the orgasm last night and all from thinking about the possibilities. It had been so long since she’d had a crush, and this one was major. They had only three months before he was off to Colorado. But three months would be enough, if…
The problem was, did he want there to be something between them? It was hard to tell. She’d thought for sure he’d wanted to stay last night, but he’d walked away without a backward glance.
Maybe he wanted to get together, but since they were working together…
Oh, crap. That was it. He didn’t want to risk the information. She’d basically become his informant. Maybe he thought things would get too messy if they pursued this…thing.
As far as she was concerned there was no cause for concern. They were both sensible and aware, and they both realized that the investigation had to come first. As long as they didn’t get all crazy about things, they could still work together and have a little sex on the side. No harm, no foul.
Or not.
Why, out of all the men she’d met in months, did she find the detective so yummy? It was all wrong, and she’d do herself a big darn favor by forgetting about it. She had enough on her plate with her job, and now helping with the case. It was stupid to think of hooking up with Bax.
Stupid and addictive.
No, no. Mustn’t linger in the land of make-believe. Focus on the work. On the great puzzle to be solved. Yes. The sooner they had the killer in custody, the sooner Detective Milligan would be…well, he’d be something. To find out what, she had to solve the crime. Fast.
“WHAT’S THE GOOD WORD?” Bax asked, fully prepared to hear nothing but bad words from Grunwald, who’d been dutifully following the chain of evidence as Bax was busy being jerked around by celebrities.
“We found some fibers, but nothing that’s going to point to a killer. I’m still waiting on the official autopsy results but we know there wasn’t a fight. Whoever did it came from behind. No defensive wounds.”
“So we still don’t know if it was a man or woman who killed him?”
“We’ll know more once we get more results. I hear from the captain this one’s going to hit the lab fast. What about you? Anyone looking good?”
“Everyone looks good. Too many fish in this barrel. I need to find out about the finances of the picture. How much the actors are getting paid. What kind of arrangements they have with Weinberg. I’m hearing noises that the film company is in trouble, too. So dig up what you can.”
“Yeah, well, Miguel came back and he’s assigned to the desk, so guess what he’s gonna be doing?”
Bax laughed, knowing Miguel hated desk duty worse than anybody. “That’ll teach him to wash his car.”
“Good luck with those movie stars,” Grunwald said.
“Yeah. I’ll check in with you later.” Bax disconnected and put his cell on his belt, wishing he could go back down to that nice little office in the basement of the hotel. He’d lock the door, turn off his phone and sleep until it was time to leave New York.
There was only one thing he’d miss, and it wasn’t finding Geiger’s killer.
An air horn went off down the street, signaling that the director had yelled cut. Most of today’s scenes were being shot in the Hush garage, but they were also blocking part of East 41st Street, which was causing havoc with traffic.
He knew that the city made a fortune from these movie shoots, and that’s why they were so willing to inconvenience the denizens of midtown, but man, what a mess.
Bobbi Tamony had blown him off twice, and that was going to stop right now. He didn’t give a shit about her schedule or her temperament. He’d had it with these prima donnas.
With a curse, he pushed himself off the side of the building. It was just past noon, and if the first assistant director was to be believed, the filming would stop for lunch any minute.
“Bax!”
He turned at the sound of Mia’s voice. All of a sudden he wasn’t so tired. There she was, coming out of the big glass door, rushing toward him in her black tux. The smile on her face put one on his.
“Are you swamped?” she asked.
“No.”
“Really? You have some time?” She looked past him, to the big barricades holding back the pedestrians, the off-duty bea
t cops making an extra dime. Past them were trailers and equipment and a bunch of crew people scurrying to and fro as if they were doing something important.
“I’m all yours,” he said.
She flushed enough for him to catch it on her cheeks. “Great. Where can we go that’s private?”
He thought about taking her down to the office he’d been given, but he wanted her away from Hush. If he could have, he’d take her far away, say, the Cloisters or at least Central Park. Then it hit him. “Come with me.”
She walked along beside him, and the urge to take her hand was strong. Really strong. But he was on the clock and so was she. Hadn’t he just lectured himself about this very thing?
“Where are we going?”
“I think I have somewhere nice and quiet and private,” he said. “I have to check, though.”
They walked past the barricade into the heart of the location. It wasn’t difficult to find the AD. She was standing in the middle of the street, papers in one hand, a walkie-talkie in the other.
He touched Mia’s arm. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded as she stared at all the equipment and chairs and the thrum of activity.
The business w to work out, at least for the next hour. He didn’t want anyoneith the AD took only a few minutes. Then he was back at Mia’s side. “Come on,” he said, pleased that things were going from the film company or Hush knowing he was using Mia as his go-between.
He led her to the garage, to the row of trailers and motor homes. When he got to the fourth huge motor home, the only one without a name plate, he opened the door and waited for Mia to climb the four steps.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s what movie stars use instead of port-a-potties.”
She whistled as she got a load of the five-star accommodations. It wasn’t exactly like Danny Austen’s, but it was close.
“This is like a suite at the hotel,” she said, running her hand over the top of the white leather armchair. “Are you sure it’s okay that we’re here?”
“No one’s using this one, at least for today. I checked.”
She looked at him with a hint of wicked in her big dark eyes. “So no one’s gonna come knocking?”
He shook his head.
Mia approached him slowly, her fingertips trailing over the table. “I’ve got a whole hour until I have to get back to work.”
She was tiny next to him. His hands could fit around her waist. The top of her head didn’t even come up to his chin and she smelled like a soft, sweet flower. But the look in her eyes was bold as brass.
Wanting her swamped him, made him lift his hand to pull her close. To kiss her would ease the ache that had been there since they’d met. It would let him sleep again. But in his dreams, he hadn’t stopped at a kiss.
Bax forced himself to take a step back. To make it really clear that this was business and nothing more. It didn’t matter that she wanted it. That he wanted it.
Man, his job sucked.
6
OKAY, SO SHE’D MISJUDGED the situation. It happened. No big deal, right?
Turning away from Bax, who’d done everything but send up a flare to let her know that he wasn’t interested in anything beyond a work relationship, she gathered her pride and her wits about her as she sat in the chair next to the table. No chance of him getting close from this position. “Sheila Geiger came to the hotel this morning. She had some interesting things to say.”
Bax nodded as his gaze moved from her to the couch back to her then to the other single chair across from the table. That’s where he chose to sit. “You talked to her yourself?”
“Yes. In the bar. She was early and I took her to get some tea.”
“She didn’t seem like the tea type to me.”
“Yes, well, sometimes our initial impressions aren’t all that accurate, are they.”
“Point taken.”
She hadn’t meant to get snarky with him. Using her most practiced smile, she leaned in, making sure her body language was friendly, open. Not in the least sexual. “Anyway, she’s pretty sure that Danny Austen killed her husband.”
Bax blinked at her as if something didn’t compute. He’d already said he thought Sheila wasn’t unhappy that her husband was dead, and Sheila had admitted she’d told him about her suspicions, so why was this revelation troubling him? Then it occurred to her. She was grinning at him as if she’d just told him he’d won a stuffed bunny. She ditched the big smile and eased back about ten degrees. “She also said that she thinks it’s because Gerry knew that Danny bats for both teams.”
“Shit,” Bax said.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just that I think it’s true.”
“That Danny killed Geiger?”
“No. That Danny is bisexual.”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly take Sheila Geiger’s word as gospel.”
He shook his head. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that Austen hit on me this morning.”
“What?”
“I was thinking maybe I got it wrong, but now that two sources have confirmed it—”
“He hit on you? How?”
“It’s not important. What else did—”
“Oh, no. Come on. I’m not going to tell anyone. What did he say?”
Bax looked flustered. He scratched his head, making little tufts of dark hair stand up, and he didn’t meet her eyes. “I had a headache. He offered to help me with it.”
“Holy crap.”
“I said no.”
She laughed. “I wasn’t suggesting that you didn’t. I’ve just always thought, you know, Danny Austen. He’s legendary.”
“But is he a killer?”
“I haven’t finished about Sheila.”
He leaned forward, looking pleased that they were talking once more about murder.
“She said she had pictures.”
“From that night?”
“Don’t know. I asked, but then someone came in. She never answered me.”
“Did she give you any specifics about the pictures?”
“She implied they were of Danny and someone else. A man. She said they would prove that he was the killer.”
“Unless they show him with the murder weapon, or actually killing Geiger, I doubt that. But they sure could point to motive.”
“If she’s telling the truth.”
“You didn’t believe her?”
She hadn’t wanted to tell him this, not after being such a snot with that comment, but she had to. “She was drunk.”
“When?”
“This morning. When she got to the hotel. It’s crazy, too, because she was going to lunch with Piper and Trace.”
“Trace is the attorney, right?”
“Yes. Piper’s husband.”
“Sheila knew that. Knew she was meeting with counsel.”
“Maybe not. I don’t know. Even so, it seems like awfully poor judgment.”
He leaned back again. “The alcohol must be a considerable problem, then. She has a lot on the line. A lot to lose.”
“Or she’s really devastated by the loss of her husband.”
Bax shook his head even as he said, “I suppose so.”
“You don’t believe her?”
“I’d have to see the evidence for myself.”
“Can’t you get a search warrant? Get all the cameras from their house?”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to see if a judge will get on board. But there’s no guarantee, even if we swept the house, that the pictures would be there.”
Mia stood up, anxious now to leave this very private and inviting motor home. But she couldn’t go just yet. Not until she knew for sure.
She remembered a lesson her mother had taught her long ago—don’t ask a question if you’re not prepared to hear the answer. But she was prepared. Better to get things out on the table. Deal with what was, not what she wished could be. “Bax?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, but I got some pretty strong vibes before. About us.”
He met her gaze. “You did, huh?”
“Was I crazy?”
Bax closed his eyes for a second, then shook his head slowly. “No, you weren’t.”
“Ah.”
He stood up. Came close. “But here’s the thing—”
“You don’t have to explain,” she said. “I just—”
“I do. There are some propriety issues as well as some legal issues.”
“I’m twenty-eight, for heaven’s sake.”
“Not that kind of legal,” he said, smiling at her. “We made an agreement last night. You’re an informant. You may have to testify, and if that came to pass, and then it came out that we—that I—”
“Oh.”
“So, it’s not that I don’t want to.”
She stepped back, not sure if she needed to discuss this any further. “It’s for the best. You’re leaving. I have so much to do with the hotel and everything—”
“Right, right. Those are all really good reasons.”
She backed up some more, almost to the door. “I’d better—”
“Sure. Yes. And thanks for that information. Helpful. Good.”
“No problem. All part of the service. As informant, I mean.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again. His gaze went down to the notebook in his hand, and she slipped out the door.
BOBBI TAMONY WAS in her motor home, and by this time, Bax was no longer impressed. It all felt foolish to him, a giant game that half the world had bought into, but that really meant nothing. All pretense, no substance.
He’d seen a lot of Bobbi’s movies in his time and had enjoyed them for the most part, but she was just a suspect. A suspect with two very small, very yappy dogs that had the run of the trailer.
“Can I get you something? A drink? A snack?”
“No, thank you,” he said, sitting in the big chair by the door, just as he had with Danny. Bax eyed the couch, wishing for the hundredth time that he hadn’t been such a fool with Mia. It wasn’t that he’d changed his mind about what he could and couldn’t do, but he was damn sure a smarter man would have handled things more adroitly. He’d embarrassed her. Embarrassed himself. And damn it, he still wanted her.
