Dying to Have Her (4 page)

He glanced at the phone on the small table between the couch and one of the leather chairs. He didn’t pick it up to call Sharon. He would do so, soon. He couldn’t help but think about the last time he’d been about to take off on a good wilderness trek. Just before he left, he’d been called to take on a case. Well, he wasn’t a cop anymore. His time was his own.

To his amazement, the phone rang as he stared at it.

Let the machine pick it up!
he commanded himself.

He forced himself to remain still. Probably just Sharon, calling him. The machine picked up. He heard his own voice. Then he was surprised to hear the voice of Bill Hutchens, an old coworker.

“Liam, pick up if you’re around. The boss has asked that I call you and twist your arm. Liam, pick up, pick up …”

Let it go!
he told himself. But it seemed that his hand reached out of its own volition, and his fingers wound around the receiver.

“Yeah, Bill, it’s me. What’s up?”

“Accident on the set of
Valentine Valley.”

Despite himself, Liam felt his heart thud against his chest. “Serena?” he inquired.

“Serena’s fine. But that Jane Dunne who was just hired … dead. Falling spotlight.”

“And it was an accident?”

“Olsen wanted me to call you. The producer, Joe Penny, seems afraid that we might wind up with a higher body count.”

“More lighting equipment is going to fall?” Liam murmured skeptically.

“Serena was on the set at the same time. Penny wants you watching her.”

“Me?” Liam said incredulously.

“With great subtlety, if you will. This hasn’t been discussed with the lady in question yet.”

“You want me to play bodyguard to a woman who doesn’t know she has a bodyguard?”

“Something like that—for the moment. Olsen wants to talk to you, then he’ll explain it to her. She’ll know the score soon enough. Hey, not my idea. Olsen wanted you called in.”

“No. I’m taking off to the lodge. With a date.”

“Charlie Eagle is a date?”

“Bill, you asshole, you’ve been in Hollywood too long. No, I have a date with the woman I’m seeing now.”

Bill whistled softly. “The blonde I saw you with at the Italian restaurant the other night?”

“That’s the one. So—no. Tell Olsen thanks, but I can’t take the job.”

“I’m supposed to twist your arm.”

“Twist it. The answer will still be ‘Fuck, no.’”

“You can name your terms.”

“The department can’t afford me. You can’t begin to imagine the terms I’d demand.”

“The department won’t be paying—the show is picking up the tab. And this is Hollywood. They give millions of dollars here to assholes who can’t even act but can attract teenage kids. They’ll pay you what you ask—the lady is a major investment to them.”

Liam’s fingers tightened around the receiver. No, he wasn’t doing it.

Yes, he was.

Dammit, no.

He’d been the one to actually walk away, but she’d been the one with the ability to change things—well, at least that was the way he saw it. Serena had her own opinions. He’d closed the door; he’d made himself walk away. There hadn’t been a way to close the door in his mind, though, so there had still been those nights, lying awake. He could picture her, always, in his mind’s eye. No one in the world had hair like hers, deep, dark auburn, richer than a fire at sunset. And her eyes … like a turquoise sea. And her shape, tall, statuesque.

“No.”

“Liam, you have to.”

“No. I’d want way too much money. I’d want …” He thought for a moment, then named an outrageous sum.

“Well, I’m going to be gumshoeing it for a fraction of that,” Bill told him wryly. “Shit. I should have left the department. Olsen could have called me in for half of that. But I told you—the producers are paying. Serena is their biggie now, especially with Jennifer Markham off the set.”

“I still say no.”

“What if something does happen to her, something you might have prevented?”

Liam sat on the couch, his grip on the receiver so tight it might snap.

Hell, he had been the one to walk away.

Yeah, physically.

Because she just hadn’t really been with him. He’d been involved to the neck; she’d been involved to her own convenience. Best to back away before he became another casualty along the path of Serena McCormack’s spectacular rise to worldwide domination.

And still …

If something were to happen to her that he could have prevented …

“Where does Olsen want to brief me?”

“Down at the station.”

“At the station? What about the set?”

“The set is closed down today and tomorrow. They’ll reopen after the funeral and the weekend. For now, Olsen wants to see you at the station.”

“All right, I’ll go to the station. But I need to see the set. As soon as possible.”

“That can be arranged right after you see Olsen. Who, by the way, has already informed Captain Rigger that he’s trying to bring you in.”

Captain Rigger. Liam shook his head. The captain had managed the homicide unit as long as he had been with the force. Liam had first met him when he’d been a rebellious teen and the bodies of a friend and his entire family had been found in their house, which had caught fire. Liam had been the one to see the flames and call 911; Rigger had been the detective who tracked down the mother’s boyfriend when it was discovered that the wife and children hadn’t been murdered by the father, who was found with a bullet in his head, a gun by his hand. Forensics had proved that the father had been dead far longer than the mother and children.

He had met up with Rigger again later when he was diving for the police. Rigger had been impressed with his work and brought him into the regular force. At that time, he’d had no interest in college. Rigger had, over the first years, subtly made him see the benefits to going to night school and taking the time to get a degree in criminology. Eventually, Rigger had brought him off the streets to homicide.

He owed Rigger. And Olsen.

“Dammit, Liam, you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. All right, you can tell Olsen I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

“Thanks. I mean it—thanks.”

Bill rang off. Liam set down the receiver. “Shit!” he swore. “Shit!”

He sat on his couch for several minutes, tight as a bowstring. Then he remembered what he was supposed to be doing that day. He picked up the phone and called Sharon.

She answered with her usual endless cheer. “Are you coming for me?” she asked. “Hey, if you’re sorry that you asked a date along—”

“I’m not sorry that I asked you. But I need to take a rain check. Something has come up.”

“Oh?”

“A case. It involves a lot of old friends. I’m really, honestly, sorry. Do you understand?”

“Sure.”

“There’s been a death at a television studio.”

“Valentine Valley?”

“How did you know that?” he inquired.

“When I met you, I knew you’d worked on the last case that involved
Valentine Valley.
And Serena McCormack,” Sharon said.

“Serena wasn’t really involved in that case.”

“You dated her for a while, right?”

“Yeah, I did. It began and ended, Sharon.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“What’s happened?” she asked.

“A spotlight fell. An actress was killed.”

“Not Serena McCormack?” Was her voice
hopeful
?

His fingers again tightened around the receiver. He forced himself to ease his grip. He was going to break the damned thing.

“No. Jane Dunne.”

“Jane Dunne … oh, yeah, I think I saw something on the news about her being a hot property right now and joining the cast. She’s dead? She died on the set?’

“An accident, except that … I don’t really know all the particulars yet.”

He could almost see her shiver. “That show is jinxed.”

“It’s the highest-rated daytime serial out there.”

“You’re a P.I. now, not a cop.”

“But I have friends who are calling in favors. The show is important to a lot of people.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. And it will be more so now. People love to stop and watch the blood at the scene of an accident.”

“I’ll make this up to you,” he said.

“You will. And I’ll make it up to you. Remember that if the queen of daytime starts getting nasty. Call me when you can. I’m going to go unpack.”

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Oh, sure. Maybe I’ll head out on the dig that’s going on with some folks from UCLA. They’ll still let me in on it, I’m sure.”

“Great.”

“I’ll let you know what I’m up to—just in case you do need me. Or want to see me.”

“Thanks. You’re easy to want to see, Sharon.” Those were words he could say and mean completely. He cared about her. Just not the way he should. Pity he couldn’t explain.

There was this other woman, once. Perfect and beautiful, but so far from the concept of commitment that there was nowhere left to go. She was into entertainment; he’d spent some time as that entertainment. She dangled men from her career. He hadn’t been able to dangle any longer. It was over. Really over.

He stared at the fireplace and started swearing again. Then he got up and paced.

So much for being his own man.

“Thank God you’re home! Are you all right?”

It wasn’t going to be a peaceful evening, Serena thought. Melinda was asking a rhetorical question. She had barely gotten home and kicked off her shoes before she’d heard the knock at her door, checked through the peephole, and seen her sister.

Melinda’s first action was to throw her arms around Serena and hug her tightly enough to break bones. Serena hugged Melinda back, naturally grateful that her sister was so concerned, but both annoyed and unnerved that everyone seemed to feel she had escaped a fate intended for her.

“I’m fine, Melinda.” She withdrew from her sister’s embrace, realizing that Melinda was very agitated. Melinda passed through the small marble entry and went straight through to the rear of the house, where she stopped by the sliding glass doors that led out to the pool. She stared out at the pool and patio, shaking her head.

“She’s dead,” Melinda said. She was trembling.

“It was a terrible accident.”

“They’re sure that’s all there was to it?” Melinda queried, her back to Serena.

Serena paused, surprised by her sister’s worried tone. Melinda was five years her senior, and though Serena resembled her sister physically, they were nothing at all alike. Melinda had been a brilliant student; Serena had been good herself in school, but nothing to compare with her sister. She had been far too interested in dance classes, then guitar lessons, mime lessons. She had always known that she wanted to act. She had done theater work through high school and college, and then started landing commercials and guest spots on sitcoms, did movie work, then a stint on an old soap, and finally she’d gotten the chance to be a main character on
Valentine Valley.
Melinda had gone on to college, then graduate school, then to get her Ph.D. on the pottery of the ancient Etruscans.

She had married another serious brain, Jeffrey Guelph, and the two of them had lived in academic bliss ever since. They traveled the world—the remote world. They were familiar with dozens of Third World countries and were the only people she knew well who were fluent in Swahili. Serena had been amazed when Joe Penny, at a barbecue at her house one day, had hired Jeff to be a soap opera consultant. Until that time, Serena was quite certain that Melinda and Jeff were basically unaware that there was such a thing as network television.

After three weeks of working with Jane Dunne, Jeff had come to know her, but why was Melinda so upset?

“Melinda, naturally there’s an investigation.”

“Naturally.” Her sister’s back was still to her. “Oh, my God, this is so horrible.”

“Melinda, it’s upsetting … but I wasn’t aware that you knew Jane so well.”

“I knew her enough to know that she … she was a horrible person.”

Serena walked over to where Melinda was standing and forced her sister to look at her. Melinda did so at last, her blue-green eyes, so much like Serena’s own, glittering with tears.

“Melinda, did she do something to you?” Serena asked, baffled. Here was Melinda, close to shedding tears, while basically saying that she had despised Jane.

“No, but I … Serena, I did! I hated her. I only saw her a few times, at Joe’s ‘get acquainted’ parties, but she was rude and obnoxious. To me, at least. It’s just that she’s dead! I’m all right, really.”

“Hey, Melinda,” Serena said softly. “It’s tragic, but you didn’t have anything to do with it. A lot of people—” She hesitated, then spoke the truth. “Apparently, a lot of people hated her. Your hating her isn’t the reason that she died.”

“I hope not.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Oh, Serena!” Melinda threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly again. “I’m so glad
you’re okay.”

Those words were heartfelt, and again Serena was grateful. They were close, as close as it was possible for sisters to be when they were so unlike each other. Melinda had spent years sniffing at her acting career, merely tolerating what she considered to be a life with no true vocation. When Serena had been younger, acting in plays, Melinda would shake her head, but she would also be in the audience for any show Serena ever did.

“I’m okay. I’m really just fine.”

Melinda drew away, smiling, “I’m sorry. I’m being an idiot, huh?”

“Melinda, I’d worry about you if you
weren’t
upset about a woman dying!”

“Oh, Serena, now I feel really terrible. It’s more man that. I’m worried because of Jeff. And he wasn’t home … and he’d been to the studio …”

“Melinda, you have no reason to worry about Jeff. He left the studio early—before this happened. And he’s a consultant, not a stagehand, and certainly not with the lighting crew.”

“I know, it’s just that …”

“Melinda, it’s just what?”

Melinda inhaled, looking at her as if she was ready to burst into tears again.