"Paris!" Coney clapped me on the back. He then turned to the unconscious man at our feet. "A friend of yours?"
I nodded. "The usual. You know how it is." Bending down, I pulled a wallet from the guy's jacket and stuffed it into my pants.
"I got this." Coney threw the limp guy over his shoulders. "Be right back." And then he vanished. I was brushing my suit off when he got back.
"What did you do with him?" I asked.
"I have the perfect place for him," my cousin answered with a smile. "How about a beer?"
"Can we go right now?" I asked. He put his arm around my shoulders and led me across the fairgrounds to a beer tent.
I told him the whole story. Coney Island Bombay was my cousin, and a carnie with a Ph.D. in philosophy. He was one of the quietest men I knew. And I'd trust him with my life.
The beer tent was tucked away near the staff parking area and frequented by carnies on their breaks. We'd found a quiet corner, and I spilled my guts. He listened as I told him about Liv, Plimpton, and the two hitters I'd encountered. He said nothing for a moment when I was done.
"So you thought the first hitter was after Liv?"
"I did until now. But that attack was in L.A. How the hell did this guy know I'd be halfway across the country tonight?"
Coney flexed his fingers. "Maybe I should kill him. Let's see the wallet."
I handed it over. My dates would be looking for me. And the cameraman would capture every hilarious moment of that.
"Mac Bukowski," Coney read. He raised his eyebrows at me. "Russian?"
"No," I shook my head. "Had a Midwest accent. He might've been called by someone out West. Has to be someone involved with the show—they were the only ones who knew I was coming here."
Coney held up the wallet. "Do you mind?" I nodded. He continued, "I'll look into it. See what I can find out about him." He leaned forward. "There are three women who do not belong here looking for you."
I turned to see them, stumbling on the gravel in their heels, racing toward me. When I turned back, Coney was gone. He was always the smart one in the family.
I made my way out of the tent and walked toward them before noticing the security guy with them.
"They with you?" he asked.
"Is something wrong?" Off to my right, the cameraman seemed to twitch with glee.
"They broke into the refrigerated case and tried to lick the butter cow." The guard's name was "Tim" according to his nametag. He looked like off-duty law enforcement.
Ophelia squealed, "Paris! They have a life-sized cow carved out of butter!" The three girls giggled. This was not good.
"You have to go," the guard said.
"Sorry about that," I said as I hustled my dates away. They scrambled to keep up in their high heels. "Call the driver," I said to the cameraman as we headed toward the exit. We left a long line of gawkers in our wake.
Once inside the car, I turned to my "dates." "You licked the butter cow?" I was furious. Where did the director find these idiots?
Rio feigned a baby voice, and I hated it. "Sorry Paris. We couldn't resist…"
Destiny held out a camera. "I got a picture of it!" Sure enough, there was a photo of the three of them, clearly held at arm's length by Ophelia, licking the butter cow as a group of kids looked on in horror.
Ophelia nodded, "It was sooooooo cold in there!" She slid over to me and huddled against me. "I wish you'd been there to keep us warm."
I pushed her back. "I'm glad I wasn't." Stupid as they were, I thought they'd hear the edge in my voice. "What were you thinking?"
They got it. And the ride to the airport, and the flight home, was mercifully silent.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"It's not denial. I'm just very selective about the reality I accept."
~Calvin Trillin
Guess who went home that night? Go ahead. Okay, it was the three butter cow lickers. I was angry, and everyone in the room knew it. Mel followed me back to my suite, begging me to take more time with the eliminations. I ignored him and slammed the door shut between us.
I sat down on my bed and ran my hands through my hair. This was getting out of control. My whole opinion of women was changing. I wanted so hard to believe these women weren't bimbos. I'd even convinced the crew to refer to them as women.
The three tonight were the worst. But I'd eliminated six others prior to tonight. So maybe none of them were any good. Which meant I'd be stuck in this hell a lot longer.
Then I thought of Cindee. She wasn't bad at all. I just pissed her off when I spoke. Something stirred in my stomach, or maybe it was the funnel cakes and corn dogs from Iowa. I really liked her. Well it didn't matter because she hated me. She knew I didn't have a high opinion of any woman who auditioned for this ridiculous show.
And then there was Teri. She didn't have a high opinion of me because I auditioned for this ridiculous show. I liked her too. All I'd ever wanted was to meet a woman I'd want to pursue a relationship with. Now, I'd found two, and they both thought I was a jackass.
I wanted to hit something. And that was weird for me. I never lost control of my emotions. I was the level-headed Bombay. At least, that's what my family said. Right now, I was not level-headed at all. I was pissed off at everything. There was no point in blaming Liv anymore. I'd brought all of this on myself. There is nothing worse than an assassin pity party.
It was a cool night. Opening the French doors to the patio, I felt a light breeze ruffling through my hair. No one was in the pool. In fact, I wasn't sure it had been used at all. Maybe all I needed was a little exercise…a stress burner.
I found the pair of Gucci swim trunks that Roberto had gotten me. He'd pushed for the Speedos, but I'd refused. After making sure no one was around, I slipped down the hallway to the stairs and stood on the edge of the pool.
I dove in, and the water rushed over my skin like a salve. It was cool and relaxing as I swam across the bottom to the other side. Emerging, I took a deep breath, and went back to the other side. Stress started to slide off me as I carved my way through the water. I tried to imagine my worries slipping away as I swam.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" Cindee asked. I emerged to find her sitting by the pool. A breeze stirred her silky black hair, and she smiled.
"What are you doing here?" I asked as I jumped up and joined her.
She shrugged. "There's a major catfight going on. I couldn't stand one more minute of it. No one would miss me, anyway."
"Why's that?" As I started toweling off, I noticed her looking at my body. I worked out and was in good shape. So why did I feel nervous about it?
Cindee looked at the house, then back at me. "I don't say much. I never volunteer to trash talk. So they ignore me."
"I guess you don't like it here anymore than I do." I ran my hands through my hair to get it off my face.
Cindee sighed, "No, I guess I don't. And that makes me feel like an idiot."
"Me too."
"So," she said, wiggling her toes underwater. "What's up with you and F-Troop?"
"Oh, noticed that, did you?" I laughed. "That was a mistake."
She rolled her eyes. "I'll say. What, exactly, makes it funny?"
"It isn't. Turns out, it's just annoying. I only put that in my contract because I didn't think they would do it."
Cindee's eyes found mine in the dark, and my face grew warm. Was I blushing?
"Ah. That explains the weird yogi, and the buckets of mud. Did I actually see the kitchen staff pureeing tulips?"
"Yes. And let me tell you, none of it has been worth it." Why was I telling her this? Was it because I felt like giving up already?
"But then, I never would've met you," Cindee said quietly. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, and it was very, very sexy.
"True," I added, "cuz clearly, I'm such a catch…"
Cindee silenced me by pressing her lips to mine. Her kiss was innocent, curious…and I didn't want it to stop.
"Wow," I said when she fina
lly pulled away, "that was worth it."
"Paris!" Roberto's voice came from the house. Cindee winked before vanishing. I think she didn't want to get caught.
"There you are," Roberto said as he sat in a lounge chair poolside. "I've been looking all over for you." His smile told me another story.
"Mel's looking for me, isn't he?" I said.
"Yes. And I didn't want your lady friend to get busted."
I stared at him. "Why not?" He was hired by the show, after all. Why be loyal to me?
Roberto looked at his manicure, feigning boredom. "Because I like her, and I can't stand any of the other women here. He rose to his feet and gestured in front of him. And I headed back into the house with a smile on my face.
Mel was pacing the floor in my room. "It's just that, well," he said for the fifth time. The director was nervous about something and seemed afraid to tell me about it. "The show's being shortened. You have to pick your fiancé in two days."
What? "It is? Why?" I stammered.
Mel rubbed his chin roughly. "The crew hasn't been paid in weeks. And the landlord is throwing us out in three days. We can't afford the engagement ring…hell, we can't afford the roses!" He looked so upset that to my own amazement, I toyed with funding the show myself.
All this could only mean that Plimpton was finally discovered to be dead. Or missing to the extent that he hadn't written any checks.
My mood lightened. I threw on a robe. "So, what happens now?"
Mel stared at me. He looked desperate. I did not like that look. "Tomorrow, you have to narrow it down to two gir…women. You can do that, right?" His eyes pleaded with me.
Hell, I could narrow it down to one girl tonight. But that wouldn't make good TV. In fact, I was pretty sure the whole thing would end up cancelled before it aired.
"Okay, fine," I said.
Mel clapped me on the back. "Thanks! I'll work up a new plan tonight. You get some sleep." He left before I could change my mind.
Roberto followed him out. I took a shower and went to bed. So tomorrow, I'd pick Cindee and someone else, who would just be cast aside later. The memory of Cindee's kiss resonated on my lips. I really liked her. But could I propose to her in two days?
I'd never gotten that far with a woman before…emotionally, that is. And I was not the kind of guy who could fake propose when what I really meant was want to see where this leads us?
Suddenly, this didn't seem like a good idea at all. What was I thinking? Actually, I was thinking this wouldn't get any further once they discovered the executive producer dead. But the fact of the matter was, I didn't have any semblance of a plan from the start. And that wasn't me.
I climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom for some aspirin. Upon closing the medicine cabinet, I froze when I saw my face staring back at me. I seemed to be disappointed in myself. As I looked into my own brown eyes I saw something I hadn't seen before. Fear.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"She jerked away from me like a startled fawn might, if I had a startled fawn and it jerked away from me."
~Raymond Chandler
A crash behind the bathroom wall caused me to launch automatically into defense mode. It was very late. What was on the other side of this wall? The garage. I slipped into a pair of chinos and an undershirt and opened the doors to the balcony.
There were a lot of expensive cars in the garage. A thief could make a lot of money stealing just one. Or it could be worse. There was someone after me. I hoped for the thief. If anyone got hurt in this house because of me, I'd never forgive myself. Slipping one leg over the rail, I lowered myself to the ground below and headed for the garage.
A light was on. Maybe it wasn't a thief. Maybe it was worse. Even though I wasn't fond of these women (except for Cindee, of course) I wasn't going to let anything happen to them. Where was security? Were they too broke to have any?
The main garage door was open, and I slipped inside on the right. Hugging the wall, I worked my way to the back.
"Dammit!" a hoarse voice cried out. It gave me the bearings to zero in, and I crept closer. Being barefoot, I was able to move quietly. A shadow appeared ahead of me, hunched over what looked like a body on the floor.
I took him out in a flying tackle. He was a big, ugly man with cauliflower ears and a broken nose. I hit him in the jaw with a right cross, and he crashed to the floor. The body behind me moaned, but I didn't take my eyes off the guy.
He swung heavily up at me, and I dodged it easily. One uppercut to the jaw, and he was out cold.
"Unhh," the body behind me groaned. I'd attend to whoever it was in a minute. First I had to secure this guy before he came to.
A long electrical cord snaked on the floor next to him. It only took two minutes for me to hog tie him.
"Paris?" the voice behind me said unsteadily. It was Teri. I turned to find her sitting up, holding her head. She was holding her hand in front of her, staring at the blood on it as if she didn't believe this was real. Seeing her there, hurt like that, was like being sucker-punched. How did this happen? She was just staying late, working on the cars and got in the way of a very bad man. A man looking for me. This was all my fault.
I pulled her into my arms. "Shhh. It's okay. You're safe now." I needed to get to a phone.
"He…he came out of nowhere…" she said. She didn't cry or freak out, and I wasn't sure if she was in shock.
I asked for her cell, and she handed it to me. Because of the address, the police were there in minutes. They found us and took the thug away. By then, the other women in the house had woken up and stood around the edges of the garage. Cindee came forward with a towel and pressed it against Teri's scalp. She was the only one who did anything.
I couldn't figure out if the women were quiet due to shock or was it just because there weren't any cameras on them. It was probably better that I didn't know the answer to that. The police questioned Teri and me for a while. They figured out immediately that none of the other women knew anything.
"It's probably just a break-in gone wrong," the detective named Miller told me. "I'll leave a squad car at the end of the driveway till morning though…just in case."
I watched as an EMT finished with Teri.
"I think you should come down to the hospital for a few tests," the EMT said. Teri just shook her head and waved him off. No matter what anyone said, she refused to go.
The authorities left, and the women went back into the house. Cindee offered to let Teri sleep in her room.
"I'll keep an eye on her," she said to me. "It's not like I'm going to sleep now anyway."
"Okay," I said and watched as she led Teri into the house.
I closed the garage door, and once I made sure every window and door in the house was secured, I grabbed my cell and took it down to the living room. I'd wait up the rest of the night with a baseball bat if I had to. No one was getting in, and no one would get past me.
"Coney?" I asked once he picked up. "You find out anything on that guy at the fair?" It didn't matter that it was four a.m. Bombays are used to phone calls in the middle of the night.
"Nothing. It's weird," he said, alert as usual. "The guy in Beverly Hills," Coney asked, "he had a license too, but you found out who he was. This guy, however, is clean. Squeaky. It must be a fake."
I told him what just happened, keeping my voice low so I wouldn't wake anyone. Coney whistled when I finished.
"Someone's after you, but it's definitely amateur night," Coney said. "Does Dak know anything?"
"He hasn't called. And he would if he found something out." I frowned at the cell. "This is getting dangerous for those around me." Teri had gotten hurt, and I felt responsible.
"Do you need backup?" Coney asked. And I knew he'd do it too. If I said the word, he'd drop everything and come out here.
"No. The show ends in two days. I can keep things going until then. But thanks." I hung up.
My instinct told me these were all attacks on me. It felt like an inside job.
One thing ingrained in Bombays from birth was to follow our instincts. And they'd never been wrong. But what was the motivation? Was Mel staging this to boost ratings? Did Kevin the Kid have some grudge against the fact I'd already gone through puberty? I was pretty sure the chef hated me with my outrageous demands. But enough to kill me?
On the other hand, Bombays had enemies. That story was thousands of years old. And the only motive someone like that needed was that we were hired killers.
Daylight dusted the bottom of the window panes as I brooded. No matter how I spun the idea around in my mind, I wasn't any closer to an answer. The sounds of people moving around began as a trickle as the contestants woke up (if they'd ever really gone to sleep). I heard the garage door open and was relieved to see Mel, Kevin, and Roberto enter the house.
"Paris?" Roberto asked, taking in me, sitting in the living room in a T-shirt, jeans, and bare feet.
Mel looked around. "Something's not right," he said slowly. Kevin stood staring, stupidly.
"Mel!" One of the women screamed as they all streamed downstairs. "Paris saved us!" another one cried. They surrounded the director, each telling a taller tale than the last. By the time I left the room, I heard that I'd somehow taken on and defeated ten men and won the Medal of Honor before building a homeless shelter with my bare hands.
"Are you going to tell me what really happened?" Roberto was fast on my heels as I climbed the stairs.
"I will, if you'll just check on Teri, the chauffeur."
Roberto had a pained look on his face. "Teri?"
"She's in Cindee's room." I turned toward my suite and didn't stop until I was lying flat on my bed.
I stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Why was someone coming after me? It didn't make sense, kind of like a reverse hit or something. My head and heart were pounding mercilessly. There'd be no sleep tonight. Time floated by overhead while I marked it with bloodshot eyes and the suspicion that none of this was really over.
Paradise By The Rifle Sights (Greatest Hits romantic mysteries book #5) (Greatest Hits Mysteries) Page 8
