Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (74 page)

When is Hollywood’s platinum femme fatale going to crank it back a notch?

—Cricket Summers: Columnist to the Stars

The next day when Lee called for an update on the latest developments at the Squire house, Piper invited herself to dinner at Lee’s place. “I have to get away from here for awhile,” she told Lee. “I need to decompress.”

Lee promised a gourmet meal in exchange for all the juicy details.

At eight o’clock, she drove to Brentwood. Lee lived in a pseudo-adobe house, a stone’s throw from where O.J.’s infamous house used to be on Rockingham before the bulldozers knocked it to the ground.

“Where’s Erica?” They stood in the kitchen amid the aroma of fresh garlic cooking. Lee poured two glasses of chilled Chardonnay.

“Erica? Hmmm, that’s a good question. To be honest, I don’t know where she is. Even Erica doesn’t know where she is. She’s in a place where I can’t go, which happens to be the major source of our screwed up relationship.”

“Meaning?”

“She walked when I refused to agree to a
ménage à trois
.”

“The other party being?”

“Her personal trainer. This big bruiser of a jock. God, I’ve never been so turned off by anyone in my life. A pinhead attached to a mountain of muscle and no neck. Disgusting.”

“I’m sorry. I know how much you cared for her.”

She waved it off and shrugged. “I knew it was mistake … our meeting in therapy. We’re two transsexuals with similar hang-ups. Instead of pulling together, we only hurt and cripple each other. It’s ironic though, the thing that broke us up was something we didn’t have in common—a taste for semen.”

Lee served salmon with asparagus on the wicker table in her courtyard. Water cascaded over the rocks of the stone waterfall, tinkling and gurgling. They ate by the glow of a burning citronella candle. Crickets serenaded them from the corner of the yard. It was a lovely night, the moon—a Dreamworks silver slice—and a handful of stars managed to shine through the haze.

Lee poured pinot noir for Piper and more Chardonnay for herself.

“You have circles under your eyes. You aren’t sleeping well,” Lee said.

“You wouldn’t be sleeping well either, if you lived where I live, seen what I’ve seen.” She speared a piece of asparagus and held it on the end of her fork. “Did you know asparagus makes your urine smell really funky?”

“What did you find out about the man, the one who steals screenplays?”

“I don’t know who he is. Only that he’s not who he said he was. Not a handyman. Not an undercover cop. So what do you think?”

“Did he threaten you in any way?”

Piper shook her head. “But there’s definitely something threatening about him.”

“You’ve never seen him at the house next door?”

“No.”

“All right, let’s try to think this through. You start butting into your neighbor’s business and suddenly this guy shows up, pretending to be someone he’s not in order to gain access into your life?”

“Yes, something like that,” Piper said. “Though he couldn’t possibly think he could get away with it. Not for long, anyway. He was operating with his own funds. That’s why Belle got suspicious. Their handyman never paid for anything out of his own pocket, not so much as a nut or bolt. Luke—or whatever his name is—bought windows, spackle, bricks and mortar. Why would he do that?”

“If they’re fleecing the old gal, they have the cash to do it. Her cash. But it takes time. It would be worth the expense to keep a close eye on you, to make sure you don’t screw up the cash-cow flow before they’ve gotten everything there is to get out of it.”

“If they killed Sybil’s housekeeper, why haven’t they tried to kill me?” she asked. “Luke’s had more than one opportunity.”

“One reason is that no one believes you. The police, social services, even her personal doctor thinks you’re delusional. Even so, to go after you now would be too risky for them. You’re probably safe until they’ve gotten everything they’re after.”

“And then?”

She grabbed Piper’s hands and squeezed. “Look, stay here. For a couple of nights, at least. Get some good sound sleep. With Erica gone, I’m rattling around in this big place by myself. The guest room is made up. The fridge is full. Stay. We’ll have that slumber party. I’ll pop in some of those old movies you’re so crazy about. I have everything you need like clothes, makeup, whatever. Lord knows I wore your stuff for years. You just didn’t know it.”

Piper laughed. Lee didn’t have to press too hard. Going back to the Vogt’s tonight held little appeal for her.

Lee opened another bottle of red wine. They tossed their shoes in a corner and drank wine while lying on throw pillows on the floor of the den and watching films from the fifties. She felt giddy. The pressures of the last week or two trickled away like the water in the courtyard fountain. She and Lee acted like two schoolgirls, rolling around on the carpet, giggling at the stiff dialogue and the corny special effects. She cracked up when Lee mimicked the melodramatic lines of the lead actress, exaggerating their already over-the-top dialogue. Tears streamed down her face. “Stop, I’m going to pee my pants,” she said. They laughed harder, clutching at each other. Lee pressed on her belly, saying, “Gotta go, huh? Gotta pee?” Then suddenly everything changed. Lee’s arms were around her, holding her in a different way, her hands on her buttocks, pulling her closer. Her mouth came down on Piper’s, her tongue probing.
No. Don’t ruin it, Lee. Please don’t
.

She pulled back. Lee moved in again. Before Lee could kiss her again she pushed her away. Piper scrabbled backwards on the floor, shaking her head. “Dammit,” was all she could say.

Lee reached for her. “Piper, I’ve never stopped loving you. You know that. I’m still the same person who loved you all those years ago. Inside…” she laid her palm flat against her chest, over her heart. “Inside here, you’re my first love.”

“No, Lee. No. It’s not the same. It changed. When you changed, it changed—
that way
. I’m sorry.”

Piper rose slowly to her feet, straightening her skirt and blouse. She quickly crossed the room, retrieved her shoes, and slipped them on, balancing with her hand against the wall. “I’m going to go home now.”

“Ah, crap. Don’t be mad. Don’t go. It won’t happen again. It was the wine. It was the breakup with Erica. It was — ah, shit, Piper, it won’t happen again. I promise.”

“I know. But I’m going to go home now.”

Lee didn’t walk her to the door. She knew Piper well enough to give her some space. Piper drove home through the clear night, the sliver of a moon following above, grinning like a madman.

Since her change, Lee had never let on that she wanted Piper in that way. Their relationship had grown strong because Piper believed they could be friends. Her feelings for Lee could never be passionate again. Confused and disturbed, she wondered if they could ever make it okay again, ever get back the close, platonic relationship which had taken years to develop after their divorce and throughout Lee’s transition.

Brushing tears from her face, she wondered if Lee, too, had shed tears tonight. Why had this happened now? Was it something she had said or done to encourage her? Maybe it was nothing more than her leaving Gordon, which had brought them closer together again. Just how spontaneous were Lee’s actions tonight? Piper thought about the romantic setting in the courtyard, the wine and the invitation to spend the night. Damn, she didn’t see it coming, so wrapped up was she in her own affairs. Spontaneous or planned, it hurt to think she might have lost Lee. She needed Lee more now than ever. She was the only one to share her morbid interest in what was going on at the house next door. She was the only one to
believe
her.

#

Before pulling into the Vogt’s driveway, she drove to the end of the street looking for Luke’s truck. When she didn’t see it, she pulled in and parked at the side of the main house. She wanted to check on Dr. Jekyll before going up to her place.

Dr. J seemed more agitated than usual. He squawked out a stream of nonsense words, refusing to say any of his learned words and refusing to cuddle, kiss or make his cooing sounds. Piper was in no mood tonight to put up with his pissy temper. It was too late to let him out to stretch his wings. Unless he had at least thirty minutes to strut and put on a show, he balked about returning to his cage. She didn’t have thirty minutes. Not thirty minutes she wanted to spend with an irritable, screeching bird.

While still in the main house, she went upstairs to check out the back of the Squire estate. No lights burned in the window where she’d seen the hand. She checked through all the windows on the second floor. The house was dark.

She went up to her place, guided by a light from the lamppost near the garage. Standing on the threshold, she flipped the switch just inside the door, but the light did not go on. The closest light was straight ahead in the kitchenette. She paused. She had no intention of crossing the room in the dark. A definite rustle to her right. The hair on the back of her neck rose along with the goose bumps on her arms. She wanted to run but her feet were locked in place. Someone was in her living room. She couldn’t see him but she knew he was there. A dark figure passed in front of the window. She caught a glimpse of a tall, well-built man an instant before he slammed into her. She screamed as she was knocked to the floor. She screamed again as a gloved hand clamped over her mouth. Kicking and twisting, she flailed out and raked her nails at the face above her. Over the roaring in her ears, she heard footsteps on the deck. The hand over her mouth eased off. It was too dark to see anything, except that there were two of them. Two tall men scrambling around on the deck. A thud, scuffling, and groans followed. One of them vaulted over the railing, hitting the ground below with an exaggerated grunt.

This wasn’t happening
. Her fears had been realized, she was now a target. There were two of them. One was still out there on the deck, his back to her, leaning over the railing holding a gun. Fighting the panic paralyzing her, she struggled to her feet and groped around inside the front door searching for something hard or sharp. Her fingers wrapped around the cast-iron doorstop. She sprang into action. The man spun around. She swung the heavy metal, catching him a glancing blow just above his eye, but the blow didn’t drop him. She raised the doorstop again. He grabbed her, pinning both her arms to her body and pushed her against the front of the guesthouse, pressing his body into hers, hard. “Take it easy, Piper. It’s me. It’s Jason Bower.”

Jason Bower?

“Detective Bower.”

“Detective?” The doorstop slipped from fingers when, in the light of the lamp below, she saw him in profile. A stream of blood coursed down the side of his face. “Oh my god.”

“Inside,” he said shielding her body with his as he propelled her through the doorway. “We’re targets standing out here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“… a dream come true. I’m married to the most marvelous man in the world,” Sybil told Hollywood columnist Hedda Hopper. “We have a beautiful son. Our daughter Norma has returned to us from England and Sam has initiated steps to adopt her. With my loving family, the Oscar nomination for Black Ribbon, and my upcoming film, Judgment Day, I couldn’t be happier.”Six months after that interview her baby boy was dead and her teen daughter committed to a sanatorium. A month later, her husband’s private plane crashed into the side of a mountain range in rural Nevada. Shattered dreams.

—Excerpt from the biography of
Sybil Squire: The Platinum Widow
by Russell Cassevantes

Inside the guesthouse, in the dark, Piper felt her way around editing bay to the kitchen and turned on the light.

Glass from the broken ceiling light fixture glittered on the editing equipment.

Piper looked back at the detective. He was dabbing at the cut on his head with the side of his thumb.

“Oh God, I’m sorry! Your head. I did that. I thought you were one of them. I have to get you to the emergency room.”

“It’s okay, it’s not as bad as it looks. Head wounds always look worse than they are.” He peeled off a paper towel from the holder on the bar counter then sat on a nearby stool holding the towel to his head. “How about you, are you hurt?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. Really shook up, though.” Piper hurried into the bathroom for something to dress the cut until he could get it properly tended to. He was on his cell phone when she came out. She heard him give out her address before disconnecting.

“The police are on their way.”

With a wet washcloth, she cleaned away the blood on his cut brow.

“Did you see who it was?” he asked.

“No, but I’m pretty sure it was the man who’s been posing as the handyman.”

“The one I saw fixing the windows of the main house?”

“Yes.” For the first time, he was wearing casual clothes. Off-duty? “Why are you here?” she asked.

“I got a call from the Fraud Section of the Financial Crime Division, a Lieutenant Stroller. Why didn’t you inform me about that particular development?”