That need grew more urgent as she noticed the fuller and fuller coverage the newspapers were giving to the story, and the fact that Brad had disappeared. Worse still, they were now adding drugs charges to the previous ones, and any old enemies he had made were now jumping onto the bandwagon to crucify him. There were tales of wild parties, deviant sexual practices from ex-girlfriends. Zaira began to lose her confidence in her plan.
How could she manage to defeat all of these lies? Were they being paid for by someone, perhaps? Could she get any evidence?
Zaira had no idea how much private investigators charged, but she had a great deal of the money left that Matt had given her, and could always get more. So as soon as she got to LA, she checked into a small motel near the airport, and began to go through the telephone books. She telephoned about a dozen places, and narrowed it down to three choices, based on how prompt they had been in their response to her request for help.
The first building she went to looked as though it had been condemned for years, and the second was in the worst neighbourhood she had ever seen. Prostitutes milled around the streets, and even knocked on the window of her car.
The third address was much better, in a cleaner residential area, and Zaira decided it was the best of a bad bunch. She knocked at the door, and was astonished to see a young woman not much older than herself usher her in and sit down behind the desk.
“You told my partner about some surveillance work you need doing?” the girl asked calmly, pen poised in her hand.
“Yes, Ms. Tremaine, I need some help in tracking down the movements of my husband.”
“Divorce?” the girl asked nonchalantly, convinced she had heard it all before.
“Look, I don’t meant to be rude, but before I explain everything, I did get the impression that there was someone else working here, a man?” Zaira asked.
“Yes, I know the same old story, people don’t want to hire me because I’m a woman. But I served as a cop for nearly ten years on the Los Angeles Police Department, until I got shot and decided I’d rather investigate in the background than be used as a moving target on the front lines. So don’t sell me short,” the girl argued hotly.
“I’m not, Ms. Tremaine, it’s just that I think this is going to take up all of the agency’s time, not just yours. So if your partner, and any other associates are available, it would be useful to have a council of war so to speak, to see how soon we can get the investigation started,” Zaira said calmly.
Ms. Tremaine blinked in disbelief, and said, “Right then, they’re next door. I’ll give them a shout.”
She came back a few minutes later, with an elderly looking man in a dark pin-stripe suit, and a tall thin young man in jeans and a sweatshirt. All three of the family had dark hair and eyes, and were very fit looking.
“This is my father Dave, my brother Jimmy, and I’m Kelly. My mother is in on the business too, Sheila, but she is out at the moment doing the shopping. She has a good instinct for crime, too, so if you don’t think it's breaking any confidences, then we’ll fill her in when she gets back.”
“That’s fine, Kelly. I’m Zaira, by the way.” She began to fish all the newspapers out of her bag, and went over the story briefly.
“I’m sure you would have to be blind not to have heard about this story concerning Brad Clarke and the pornography ring. I see also now that they are trying to indicate he is involved in some sort of drugs scandal as well. He's gone to England to avoid being put in prison, and to explain to his father that he is innocent. To get his help. I'm here now because I know he's innocent, but I have to help prove it. I doubt the police are going to spend a lot of time helping me, because like most people, they probably believe what they see, or think they see in these photos.”
“So you are trying to tell us that all these photos, records of financial double-dealings, money laundering, drugs, porn, are all fakes?” Jimmy sniggered.
“They are, all of them. Very professional, but definitely fake. I have some proof, but need to get more.”
The three of them looked at her silently for a few moments, before Dave said, “You do realize, it will have to be good if they are to drop the charges against him. This new State clamp down on drugs campaign has just been itching to catch a big fish, and this sucker’s a whale for them!”
“I know, which is why I've come to you for help. We can work out whatever payment terms you like, only we have to act quickly before any more damage is done,” Zaira pleaded.
Kelly shrugged, and asked, “What’s the hurry? They can’t bring him to trial without him being in custody. If he is safely in England, he can stay there until all this blows over.”
“I think there’s a larger plan at the back of it all. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I know the person responsible for all this. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. I love Brad Clarke, and will do anything to save him, even if it means going to prison myself.”
“A wife is bound to be loyal to her husband, but are you sure Mr. Clarke is innocent? I don’t mean to be brutal, but—” Jimmy said.
Zaira cut him off ruthlessly. “I’m not married to Brad. I’m married to the man who is responsible for trying to destroy him. Please, just listen, and try to help me.”
The Tremaines gazed at her open-mouthed. Zaira began to fill them in on the background to the whole affair, her disastrous marriage with Jonathan and his disappearance, his financial dishonesty.
“I was blamed for some of it, but I never knew of any dishonest practices, though I might have suspected. I was in England for a large part of the time. Jonathan and I grew further and further apart. And yes, I did suspect he was involved with drugs, but never anything like on the scale they're accusing Brad of now. Jonathan must be responsible for all this.
“When I saw him in New York, he knew Brad and I were involved with each other, so he could be doing it all out of simple jealousy. But there has to be more to it than that," she argued.
"What more could there be?"
"Brad's mother and sister were killed in a car accident three years ago. Brad is Cormac Clarke’s sole surviving relative. If anything were to happen to him, where would all the money go? If Jonathan has been making himself the substitute son, involved in every aspect of the business at Clarke Studios, then if anything happened to Brad, Jonathan might think he could inherit. Then, if anything were to happen to Cormac Clarke....”
“It sounds a bit far-fetched, really,” Kelly murmured, “but you could just be right.”
“I am, I know I am,”’ Zaira argued. “I know Jonathan. He's a sociopath. If Brad had been arrested, God knows what might have happened. Cormac might have disowned him, so Jonathan could inherit. Or, Brad might have been refused bail, and ended up languishing in a prison cell.
"I’m not so naive. An accident of some sort could have been arranged for him there. With him dead, Jonathan would definitely stand a good chance to inherit. If he has dealings with organized crime, especially drug-dealing, then anything could have happened to Brad once he was behind bars. Fortunately, I warned him in time, and he's safe in London for the moment. But that's not to say he's going to stay there for long, not when he's burning to clear his good name and find the bastard who did this to him.”
“Right, we will go along with your theory for now, since it seems plausible enough, and you know all the players in this little drama. But you haven’t given us any concrete evidence yet that Brad is innocent, just your own gut instinct. We need something more than that if we’re going to help you,” Kelly insisted,
Zaira pulled out a few of the newspapers with larger photos, and Brad’s airline tickets. “Look at the photo there. You can just see, at the bottom, the date stamp on the photo, small and faint, but they didn't cover it up as well as they thought. It says the first of September. This ticket was for the first. Brad couldn’t have been in two places at once. I’ve checked. Journalists snapped him at the airport here in LA as he was leaving, and again at Kennedy Airpor
t in New York when he was arriving.”
“But these photos could have been taken anywhere, even New York.”
“I know that, but look at the shadows there, and there. Look with a magnifying glass.”
The Tremaines all stared at the photo intently.
“The one on the arm looks like a Marine tattoo,” Dave said suddenly.
Zaira nodded. “I know, a friend of mine had one. But Brad doesn’t. See, in this photo there are tattoos also. Covered up with make up, but again, the reflection of the light and the grainness of the newsprint is making them show up. Take my word for it, Brad doesn’t have a tattoo anywhere on his body.”
“Right, we’ll need to get onto the newspapers to see the originals of these, or contact the Los Angeles Police Department and the District Attorney’s office if they have all gone to the state prosecutor,” Dave advised.
“But you'll have to be discreet. If Jonathan gets even a hint that we are onto him, he’ll run, and then we won’t be able to catch him red-handed. We’re going to need twenty-four hour surveillance on him, and he mustn’t see you too often. Can you manage to do it in rotation, different people, different cars, that sort of thing? I’m telling you, he’s exceptionally clever, and I’m sure with all of this at stake, he’ll be dangerous as well.”
“We can use some of our contacts, people we trust, in different cars. If he spots us, he’ll have to be a genius,” Kelly reassured her.
“Have you got a recent photo of Jonathan?” Dave asked.
Zaira handed him a snap from two years before. “He is dyeing his hair grey now, and he’s about thirty pounds heavier. He also dresses much more conservatively, and I think he has taken to wearing horn-rimmed glasses some of the time.”
“Well, we’ll send someone with a camera over to Clarke Studios to get a more recent picture to circulate amongst our colleagues. Then it will have to be a case of establishing some pattern of movement or behavior, to see if we can get any hard evidence of the set up for these fake photos, who Brad's lookalike is, and whether or not Jonathan's been involved with drugs,” Dave declared.
“Thank you, I’m so grateful for all your help.” Zaira smiled wanly, and relaxed in her seat for the first time.
“But I'm warning you now, Zaira, if your ex is as clever as you say, he won’t slip up unless he's forced to show his hand. He may think he has got it all going smoothly. He’ll be careful for a while. But if he thinks he’ll have to get more evidence, then we might prod him into incriminating himself.” Dave’s eyes glittered, and Zaira swallowed hard.
“What did you have in mind, exactly?”
“I think that the photos disappearing might provoke him into finding more, don’t you? Whoever this man is, he looks an awful lot like Brad. He’ll be keeping a low profile now, so we need to find him if we're to prove Brad completely innocent.”
“Can you arrange for the photos to er, disappear?
“Well, not exactly, but I have friends on a couple of the papers who can say they have if we need them to. Speaking of which, a few full-page articles on Brad’s anguished innocence will go down well, stir things up a bit where old friend Jonathan is concerned.”
Zaira nodded. “I’ll see what I can arrange. What about Brad’s father? Do you think we should tell him the whole truth, get him to help?
“No point, really. From what you said, Jonathan will probably have convinced him of his son’s guilt,” Kelly argued.
“I know, but if I can persuade him to help me, by taking my evidence to him as well? Besides, if Jonathan is up to something, making him force his hand might lead to some very nasty consequences for Cormac if the Clarke millions really are his target. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to him.
“And of course, he must have been working for the Clarkes for several months now, probably over a year from what I’ve understood from Brad. God only knows how much he's been skimming off from the company as their accountant. If Cormac can get the dirt on Jonathan there, he’ll go to prison, where he belongs,” Zaira insisted.
“All right, you can go see him, but you’ll have to be careful. If Jonathan gets even a hint of what you are up to, it could be a disaster,” Kelly warned.
“I know. I’ve arranged for Cormac to meet me, supposedly about business, in six days’ time. We'll see how far we have got by then. If you can get any more concrete evidence for me before then, maybe I can convince him. In the meantime, watch Jonathan, and we’ll put our other plan of operation into effect if if doesn’t get us too many results.”
Jimmy left the room to make a few phone calls, and Zaira said, “Look, all I’ve got is five thousand at the minute, but I’ll phone New York for more. I don’t care what it takes, Brad has to be cleared.”
“That will be plenty for now," Kelly reassured her. "Don’t worry. But if I might make a suggestion? You don’t know LA, and we need to keep in close contact. Would you like to stay here with us? We have a spare room upstairs, nothing fancy, but at least we can get hold of each other whenever we need to."
Zaira was gratefull for the offer. “That's really kind of you. If you don't mind, I'd be very grateful, and I’ll pay you rent."
“We’ll settle on a fair sum for the work and everything later, all right?” Kelly grinned.
“No, really, I’ll pay whatever the normal rate is,” Zaira insisted.
“Don’t worry, you'll get an itemized bill. And for the bargain rate, you’ll get Jonathan Wyman’s head served on a platter, I promise,” Kelly said with a steely look in her eye.
"I can't wait. So let me just get my things from the motel, get settled here, and then the hard work starts."
"You're the boss."
"Cormac is for the moment. I hope we can get our proof by the end of the week, but if we can't, well, we'll go to plan B."
"We'll all do our best. Try not to worry. Your man will be home before you know it."
Zaira sighed. "I sure hope so. I just hate to think what we're going to have to do to in the meantime to get him cleared."
Kelly eyed her closely. "Just how far are you willing to go?"
"As far as it takes to clear Brad, even if it means I never see him again."
"Whoa, it may not come to that—"
"I know Jonathan. He'll try to mix me up in this somehow, I'm sure. He's too damned clever for his own good. But I've never cheated anyone in my life, nor used drugs. I know I have nothing to hide. I just hope Cormac believes me."
"Well, I do," Kelly said firmly. "All of us. Trust me, it will be fine."
"I just hope Brad can trust me once all of this is over. I should have told him—"
"You didn't want to lose him, stir up trouble in your life by exposing Jonathan just when things were starting to fall into place in your life again for the first time. No one can really blame you for that."
Zaira sighed. "I just didn't have time to think—"
"Well, with any luck, Jonathan didn't either."
Zaira turned her anguished grey gaze up to her new friend's perky freckled face. "What do you mean?"
"Just that I think, judging from the bad quality of the photos, that Jonathan panicked, set his plan in motion a bit too soon. He was probably afraid you were going to tell Brad sooner or later, and made his move before you could warn him and his father who he really was. Trust me, honey, if he's slipped up anywhere else, we'll make the most of it. Then your Brad will be back and you guys are going to get the happily ever after all you writers dream about."
Zaira smiled wanly. "The Dark Lady is a tragedy, not a romance."
"Then write a new script, honey. Because I sure as hell don't want some creep like Jonathan to ruin your life any more than he ever has."
Zaira stood up from the sofa and nodded. "You're right. No sense in feeling sorry for myself. There's too much to do, and I'm damned if I'm going to let Jonathan gain the upper hand again.
"I love Brad, and he needs my help. I'll worry about what happens to me later. Tragedy or rom
ance, what difference does it make if he isn't a free man shown to be truly innocent. So let me get my stuff, and then we don't stop til Jonathan is behind bars where he belongs."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Zaira drove over to her motel with Kelly to pack up her things, and that evening she settled into her room and went down for dinner to meet Sheila, the mother of the house.
The old brick house was comfortable and homey, and the Tremaines all warm and welcoming. Sheila was a bustling little woman, an older version of Kelly, and a superb cook. Zaira was glad she had accepted the offer to stay there. It made her feel less lonely, and so many people coming and going in the house distracted her from brooding and longing for Brad.
That night, several other private investigators joined them for a drink after their meal, and Dave gave them all copies of the new photos of Jonathan and a rota for surveillance.
Then he gave them a list of all the people who had been talking to the press, to see if they could lean on them to tell the truth, as to whether or not Jonathan had bribed them to tell their lies to the papers.
A few of the detectives would also go through modelling agency books to see if they could find any of the people in the snaps, including the elusive Brad lookalike.
After they had gone, Zaira sighed. She knew it would be difficult to prove Brad’s innocence and Jonathan’s guilt, and there was a gnawing fear inside of her that no matter how it all turned out, she had lost Brad forever. How could he forgive her for not having told him the truth about Jonathan while she had the chance?
And what would happen when Jonathan was caught? Would she go to prison with him, as an accomplice? Would he lie to get revenge upon her, and say she had been in on it all, both now and in the past when he had fleeced the advertising agency?
Zaira confided her fears to Kelly, who patted her on the shoulder and said, “There is no way of knowing, is there? You just have to be patient. But the important thing for everyone concerned is that you are helping Brad now. And, you paid back all the money that Jonathan ever stole in New York. How could they possibly think you were a willing party in all this, when you've behaved honestly throughout?”
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