Dead Famous

by Kate Allenton

  “I don’t ever go anywhere unprepared,” he announced out of the blue.

  I grabbed my purse and started sticking things inside. “Are you expecting trouble over dinner?”

  He moved to stand behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and rested his head on my shoulder. “I excel at handling trouble, Cree. I just like to be prepared, and this running off to meet your friends wasn’t part of our plans.”

  “Sometimes you just have to go with the flow and see where life takes you unless you’re following a clown. Don’t ever follow clowns.” I turned in his arms and rested my hands on his shoulders. “Are you always this OCD?”

  “Yes. Will you tell me where we’re going?”

  “No.” I smiled. “I can’t tell you where, but I can tell you that we aren’t meeting any spies, contract killers, or vampires.” My brows dipped. “At least I hope not. Do you think men like that live in California?”

  “I doubt vampires live here, but I’m sure the other two types do.”

  I pouted, pushing my bottom lip out.

  He lowered his lips to mine. He was a breath away from a kiss when the hotel phone rang.

  “Hold that thought.” I slipped free from his hold and answered the phone.

  “Ms. Blue, your limo has arrived.”

  “Thank you.”

  I hung up. “Our ride is downstairs.”

  He waited by the dresser as I headed for the door. I glanced back to find him not following me. Seemed I still had some training to do. “What’s the problem?”

  He held out his hand, and I closed the distance between us. He cupped my cheek and planted a slow tender kiss to my lips.

  “I was trying really hard to keep this strictly a working relationship.”

  “Live in the moment. Isn’t that what you said?” He smiled and winked.

  “Yeah, maybe if the moment doesn’t smear my lipstick.”

  He ran the bad of his thumb beneath my lip. “All better. Now stick close to me and no running off.”

  “I’m armed,” I whispered between us.

  “I’m lethal,” he whispered back. “Now please just give me this.”

  “Fine.” I slipped out of his arms and headed for the door. “If you insist. Just this once since you’re trying to loosen up.”

  West Archer

  Chapter 5

  His heart literally stopped as the limo turned into the familiar drive. The white mansion on the hill held secrets about Prince Phillip, and West. Not many people knew about this house and its ties with Calinda and my best friend.

  “This is beautiful,” Cree cooed, staring out the window, oblivious to his unease.

  “Who are we meeting?” he asked, more like demanded. His tone was clipped.

  Cree spun in his direction, her brows bunched as she held his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

  “Who. Are. We. Meeting?” He enunciated each word.

  “Butler Spade,” she answered as they pulled into the circular drive.

  He swallowed hard, shoved the door open, and held out his hand for her to take. They walked up the stairs to the door and waited as she rang the bell.

  The familiar chime made his stomach flip. Get it together.

  The door flew open, and Butler greeted her with a huge smile as he scooped her up and twirled her in his arms. “My favorite psychic.”

  “My favorite singer.” She giggled as he lowered her to her feet.

  West never considered himself the jealous type. He and Cree weren’t official in any capacity. He flexed his fingers to keep from making a fist.

  “And the Lord who ditches his date.” Butler held out his hand, and West shook it. “Archer.”

  “Spade.” West’s tone came out like a warning instead of a greeting.

  Spade held the door open and gestured them to follow him inside. With each step, he felt as though he was stepping back in time. Calinda’s favorite painting still hung on the wall. The priceless vase filled with white roses sat in the foyer. The flowers might be new, but the vase wasn’t. How did he know? He’d bought the damn thing.

  This wasn’t a coincidence. No, not by a long shot. Cree had violated the non-disclosure he’d made her sign the first day they’d met. Crap.

  Butler was pouring her a glass of wine as West looked around the room. If buildings could talk… He’d thought he could do this. He thought it would be easy. He thought wrong.

  “Thank you.” Cree’s voice pulled West back into the moment. She took a sip of her wine.

  “What would you like Archer?” Butler asked.

  “Answers,” West demanded.

  “Answers to what?” Cree asked.

  “Your surprise,” Butler said, confirming West’s suspicion.

  The musician knew exactly what West was referring to.

  “Who told you about Calinda?” West stood at the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen. He crossed his arms as Butler reached into the fridge and pulled out a beer. He handed it to West before he answered.

  “Her case is why Cree came to town, right? To solve her murder?”

  “Wait,” Cree said, lowering her glass. “How did you know?”

  “You told him,” West said, cutting straight through her innocent act and violently twisting off the top of the beer.

  Cree snapped her gaze to West. Hurt registered in her eyes. “I wouldn’t break your confidence.”

  Butler tilted his head. “She didn’t tell me, Archer. She didn’t have to. It wasn’t farfetched to guess, not that I needed to. I asked Glynis why Cree was on the island with you. You remember, the weekend you ditched her, and she almost died?”

  “Butler, stop,” Cree said, moving to stand next to West. “He had to go. I made him.”

  “Glynis was the one who told me her father sent you to her to help on Calinda’s case,” Butler explained.

  Damn. He shook his head. He hadn’t even thought that maybe Glynis or her father, Deputy Director Harrison Reed, might have been the one to blab.

  “I’m confused,” Cree said.

  “We can’t have that,” Butler announced. He held out his arm to encompass the room. “My house is your surprise. Calinda Sparks’ personal little love shack. I own it.”

  Her mouth parted as she turned to survey the room. “How…”

  “A week ago it came on the market. Her estate had finally decided to sell, and I needed a new house. Some place that was just for me so I could write my new stuff, so I bought it.”

  “Just like that, you bought Calinda’s house and Cree just happens to be working the case?” West was trying for calm, but he wasn’t quite hitting the mark yet.

  “I liked the house. What’s your problem, Archer?”

  Cree spun to look at me. “This should make you happy. Less red tape for me to tap into her energy.”

  It should make him happy; it just didn’t. Being in this house dredged up memories he’d long thought buried. West sighed. “I just wasn’t expecting to come here.”

  “Sorry, man, I didn’t realize you’d have an issue,” Butler said and pulled Cree into his arms. He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry I can’t stay for dinner.”

  “You’re leaving? We just got here.”

  “I had a family emergency come up, and I have to go, but dinner will be delivered in ten minutes. You should stay and eat. You’ll love it. I promise.”

  Cree’s smile slipped from her face at her obvious disappointment. Now West, on the other hand, just grinned.

  Butler pulled out some keys and dangled them in front of Cree. “Feel free to stay here while you’re in town.”

  “That’s not necessary. We’re staying at the Claremont,” West said.

  “Oh, I couldn’t put you out.” Cree’s words were much more sincere than West’s.

  “You’re not putting me out. My other house is near the studio, and I’m recording for the next two days after I deal with my sister. My driver is on standby for your use the entire time you’re here. It’s the least I can d
o.” Butler kissed Cree’s cheek while holding West’s gaze. The singer was toying with trouble and begging to leave with a shiner. “My offer still stands to use the house.”

  Cree glanced over her shoulder and met West’s stare. “That’s kind—”

  “No arguments. You helped me when I needed it, and you helped my best friend. Welcome to my world, Cree. Let me know if you need me to pull some strings to get you places that might resist your presence.”

  “I can assure you that I have enough clout to get her wherever we need to go.”

  Butler slowly nodded before he met Cree’s gaze. “My other offer still stands too. If he ditches you, just call and I’ll be happy to take his place. It might be fun, so think about it.”

  “Listen here…” West advanced, and Cree held up her hand, stopping him. West held Butler’s glare above her head. She might be clueless about what was really going on, but West wasn’t. The musician was trying to make his play on her.

  “Thanks, Butler. This case is really important, right, West?” She glanced at him, her brow cocked before she turned back to the singer. “We could use all the help we can get. Just being in this house could provide some answers, and that’s what we’re here for, right, West?”

  Chapter 6

  I was surrounded by testosterone. Butler was toying with fire, and West…he was acting like a jealous lover. My chance at a relaxing evening vanished like my sex life.

  “Walk me out, Cree.” Butler gestured to the door.

  I patted West’s shoulder as I passed. “Drink your beer, Prince Charming. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I closed the door behind us. Butler was already laughing.

  “Was that necessary?”

  “Absolutely.” He turned to face me. Humor shined in his eyes. “And I meant every word. If you need me, just call.”

  Butler climbed onto the back of a motorcycle and grabbed the helmet hanging from the bars. He smiled again. “Oh, and you might want to be expecting Charlie’s call.”

  “He doesn’t know I’m here.”

  “He will. I plan to rub it in that I called dibs.”

  I rested my hand on my hip. “Real mature, Spade, real mature.”

  Butler started the motorcycle and revved the engine before he flipped the visor on his helmet.

  I headed back into the house to find West no longer in the living room.

  “West,” I called out.

  “In here,” he answered back, and I followed the sound of his voice. I found him standing in the library, with his back toward the door as if he were looking at the books on the shelves.

  “Sorry about that. I had no idea Butler was going to act that way.”

  “He likes you. I don’t blame him. You have that magnetic personality that draws people in.” West turned to face me with a book in his hand. He snapped it closed and tossed it on the desk before he advanced on me and pulled me into his arms. “I need to be straight with you.”

  “Okay.” I stared up into his serious gaze.

  “I got jealous.”

  “I noticed.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I don’t get jealous…ever.”

  “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

  He raised his brow.

  “Wow.” I cleared my throat. “I’m sure the feeling will pass like a stomach ache. In a couple weeks you’ll forget it even happened, and it will be just a bad memory.”

  “What if I don’t want to forget about it?” He cupped my cheek. Desire swirled in his eyes. “I won’t make promises I can’t keep.”

  “I would never ask you to.” My voice came out breathless.

  “This could get complicated.”

  I gave him a sincere smile. “I wouldn’t know what to do with easy.”

  He kissed me, only stopping when the doorbell rang. “That would be our food. I wonder what he ordered.”

  “My guess would be mischief if mischief was edible and came with sprinkles of trouble on top.”

  I followed West to answer the door. He pulled it open, and we came face to face with one of Hollywood’s hottest rising and upcoming stars in the culinary world.

  “Ms. Blue?”

  “Chef Dubois.” I pulled the door open wide. “It’s an honor.”

  The chef snapped his fingers, and ten workers dressed in aprons carrying platters appeared behind him. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Blue. Butler is one my dearest friends, and he asked that I feed you only the best.”

  His French accent was beautiful. I pulled West out of the way and let the others enter. A smile filled my lips, and my heart might have actually skipped a beat as I grinned up at West. “You’re in for a treat.”

  “Looks like I need to up my game. Spade knows exactly how to whet your appetite.”

  I shut the door as the last one entered, and West held my gaze. The tenderness and warmth in his eyes contradicted his profession. He was, after all, a trained in the art of killing. I just hoped he didn’t plan on destroying my heart. “I guess you’re the lucky one who gets to reap the benefits.”

  “Ms. Blue,” the chef called out. “Dinner is served.”

  ****

  I rubbed the sleep from my eyes; dinner had been divine. The wine was exquisite, but neither of them compared to what had happened when we made it back to the hotel.

  I inched out beneath the weight of West’s arm, which was resting over my stomach. We’d finally found an outlet for all of that sexual tension that had been building between us. Was it wrong that I slept with a man I knew was going to leave as soon as I solved his case? Probably, but I’d relive every delicious minute.

  “Where are you going, luv?”

  “To shower and get dressed so I can solve your case. I need to get rid of you before you ruin me for good.”

  West rolled over. The sheet rested at his waist, giving me a glimpse of the hard muscles I’d explored last night. “Tired of me already?”

  I smiled and winked. “We have to get you back home before you turn into a pumpkin.”

  “I thought I was Prince Charming,” he teased.

  “Yeah, well, this Cinderella forgot those crystal shoes at home.”

  “We’re in the shopping mecca of the world,” he said, climbing out of the bed. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

  He sauntered over to me and pressed a long kiss to my lips. “Let’s get you clean.”

  I pressed my hand to his chest. “If you join me, we’ll never solve your case.”

  He hoisted me over his shoulder, and a squeal left my lips as he carried me into the bathroom. “Don’t worry, luv. I have faith in your ability to keep me in line.”

  Yeah, because I was doing such a bang-up job. I really needed to work on my resolve. West’s kiss was like fondue. Once the heavenly taste of melted cheese passes your lips, you either hate it or want to bathe in it.

  Chapter 7

  West and I used the rental car instead of the limo as we headed for the police department. He was taking this whole control thing to all new heights. He was kind of wired that way. Not that I minded. This was probably the only sightseeing I’d do on this trip. I was rewarded with traffic that moved like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum while being dragged out of Disney.

  Finally, we arrived for our scheduled meeting with one of the old detectives that had worked the case. We’d been promised he’d be helpful. I wasn’t holding my breath.

  They shuffled us into a conference room to wait when an older man entered. A sunburn blazed on his shiny head beneath his balding white hair. His scowl was set deep into the lines of his weathered face. He glanced at me and then back to West as he took his seat. “You again.”

  “Do you two know each other?”

  The man tossed a file onto the table. “You can say that. He was a suspect in this case.”

  “Was being the operative word,” West announced.

  “I’m Detective John Tinder.” He grunted as he looked at me. Skepticism registered in his eyes. A non-believer. I k
new this wouldn’t be easy. “You’re the psychic?”

  “Yes, Sir and thank you for taking the time to meet with us.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice when the Deputy Director of the FBI called. Deputy Director Reed ordered me to fill you in on everything up until the case went cold.”

  “And we appreciate it,” I offered.

  “Listen,” he said, clearing his throat. “We’ve had tips from your kind throughout the years, and they all amounted to a can of beans, so don’t waste my time unless you’ve got hard concrete proof. I’m not chasing ghosts.”

  “My kind? You mean a well-educated southern woman who owns her own business and helps solve cases that the police can’t? Or do you mean my kind as in the one who had the tip that lead to the arrest of a serial killer? Or do you mean...”

  West rested his hand on my leg, catching me off guard and cutting off my rebuttal. “Do you have any new leads?”

  I sat back in the chair and crossed my arms over my chest and watched as Tinder flipped his file open. He slid out one of the pictures and pushed it in my direction. I’m not sure what he was hoping for, maybe for me to run from the room screaming at the picture of Calinda’s dead naked body sprawled, half hanging out of a bathtub.

  “That’s how she was found?” I asked.

  West didn’t look at the picture. Instead, he slid the file in front of him and began to read.

  “It was called in as a possible drug overdose.”

  “Calinda didn’t do drugs,” West answered, lifting his gaze. “Where’s the ME’s report?”

  “It’s missing.”

  “Do you remember what it said?” I asked, curious how something like that could just vanish. Was her publicist trying to keep it out of the public records and away from paparazzi? Or maybe someone trying to make a quick buck on the Internet?

  “It was a homicide. She was drowned in the bathtub.”

  “Did you collect any DNA? What about a rape kit?” I asked. There had to be something for me to go on.

  “Sex was consensual,” West said.

  I glanced at him. “How do you know?”