Kissing in Action (20 page)

"How can I help?"

"I'm trying to find a guy called Michael. He's connected to Lauren somehow, but I don't know how."

"He hasn't come up during my investigation."

"That's what Garrett said."

"How did you get his name?"

"Michael was the threat used against Lauren in the blackmail plot."

"Ah. The one orchestrated by Amelia?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds like she should be the one you talk to."

"I plan on it. I just haven't had chance yet."

"There could be a reason you can't find him."

I shook my head as I held back a laugh. "I'm counting on it!"

"No, I mean, he could be our hit man."

For a moment, all I could do was stare. "You think Lauren hired a hit man to get rid of Katya?"

Maddox shrugged. "Could be. Let's look at the facts as Lauren knew them a few days ago. The band hated each other. She was being blackmailed by someone who knew about her mystery guy. She puts two and two together, gets the wrong number and figures it's Katya behind the blackmail, since she's always so nasty. To protect her guy, Lauren and this Michael guy get together and plan to kill Katya. They use the secret passage to access Katya's room, unseen, and she's later found stabbed to death. He exits the same way and leaves via the service elevator, simply walking out of the hotel, never to return, and Lauren waits in Amelia's suite, pretending she took a nap."

"How do they access the service elevator?" I asked, searching for flaws in Maddox's hypothesis.

"One of them steals an employee pass or keycard?"

"Could be. Did you check hotel records for access to the elevator?"

"Yes, but it services all floors, so there's too many people to eliminate."

"Fingerprints in the service passage?"

"Still some unknowns. Some I've matched to hotel employees, and they've been cleared."

"What about Lauren's alibi? If she planned a hit, wouldn't she give herself a rock solid alibi?" I asked, stating the most obvious problem with his theory.

"Yeah, I'm stuck on that too." We waited while the waitress placed our sandwiches in front of us. I took a large, hungry bite, sinking my teeth into soft bread, tangy pickle, and delicious salt beef.

"If you accessed her finances, perhaps you could find a payment to this Michael guy?" I suggested.

"If they're in on it together, it's unlikely she would pay him; and definitely, not by bank transfer or check."

"If they've been together a long time, she could have made other payments to him? Or him to her? Maybe they went on vacation and he bank transferred his share?"

"Why would she accept that? She's rich."

"I don't think B4U are that rich. I mean, they make a lot of money, but I think the band are salaried."

"I'll look into it. Maybe see if she made any payments to menswear shops, or had gifts shipped to another address that we could match to him."

"Can you..."

"Keep you in the loop? Sure. And you'll give me a heads up after you've spoken to Amelia? It would be good to have something extra to go on when I dig into this further. Michael is a common name, you know."

"I'll let you know what I find out."

"You hear about that story that got leaked about Shelley?"

"Yeah."

"Some people are dumb," laughed Maddox as he stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth.

I swallowed. "Er, yeah."

"Who tells reporters that kind of stuff?"

"No idea," I lied. "Who knows how reporters get that stuff?"

Maddox lifted his wrist, and checked his watch. "I have a meeting to get to. Good to catch up. We should do this again, but for longer. Want to get dinner some time?" He dropped a few dollars on the table next to the receipt the waitress set down a moment ago. I noticed he covered the whole receipt.

"Sure, that would be nice. I have surveillance for who knows how long, and a family dinner on Friday, but maybe after that?"

"I'm out of town this weekend. Maybe, next week? I'll give you a call." Maddox pecked another kiss on my cheek, grabbed his jacket, and rushed out, leaving me with the remains of my sandwich and wondering not so much about Lauren's mystery man, but Maddox's mystery woman. Our friendship seemed to be edging out of the fledgling stage and back to an easy repartee, but it clearly hadn't yet gotten to the personal discussion point. He never asked me about Solomon. I never asked him about dating. It just wasn't something we were comfortable with. At least, not in the same way I could ask any other guy buddy. Now that I thought about it, did I discuss Maddox with anyone but Lily? Solomon never asked me about him, although I was sure he knew we met up from time to time, and I didn't usually bring up our meetings in conversation.

"Being an adult is weird," I muttered, as I pushed my plate away and swallowed the last of my coffee.

"Tell me about it," said the waitress, reaching for the cash Maddox left and pocketing it.

We laughed, I thanked her and grabbed my jacket, ready to hail a cab for the hotel, and wishing I hadn't agreed to Lily picking me up in her car this morning. That gave me no other choice but to walk or take cabs. I could have gotten the bus, but Montgomery's public transit system wasn't the best, and I didn't have the time to take multiple buses across town to the hotel.

Ten long minutes, and one expense receipt later, the cab tossed me out in front of the hotel. I entered through the main entrance, the paparazzi ignoring me, thankfully, and crossed the lobby to the elevators. Solomon's security waited by the elevator to the penthouse suites and they admitted me without question.

Large and Larger waited in their usual seated positions in the corridor. "Hey," I said brightly as I stepped out. "I'm looking for Amelia." Large inclined his head to the right, which I took to mean she was in Joe's suite. I wondered if she moved in there permanently now that their marriage was out in the open. Fortunately, the door was ajar so I figured I wasn't interrupting anything that would cause me to want to bleach my eyes. All the same, I knocked loudly as I entered.

Amelia was alone, reading a magazine. Her wig was firmly in place which was a shame because I thought the short cut suited her better.

"How did the shooting go?" I asked.

She looked up. "We got the first ten seconds," she told me.

"But you were there for hours!"

"Only the last two hours were filmed. Didn't I see you there? You and the blonde chick?"

"Yeah, we stopped by."

"You should come by later too, when we film the club scene. It's got a big dance number."

"I'd like that; thanks. Are you all finished for now? When do you have to be back?"

"Not until eight. Lauren and Shelley are filming their solo scenes now. I left early to take a break."

A toilet flushed in the next room and I looked up, expecting to see Joe. Instead, Don stepped out. "Hey, the private detective!" he said, looking unhappy. "Are you interrogating Amelia? Amelia, do you want me to call someone? Joe?"

"No, it's cool," Amelia replied as Don dropped onto the armchair and stretched his legs. She glanced at me again, frowning. "Unless you
are
here to interrogate me?"

"No, not at all. Can I sit?" I took the adjacent armchair when she nodded, and slid off my jacket, folding it over the arm. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something about the blackmail?"

Amelia sighed. "Didn't we wrap that all up? I returned the money and apologized."

"That's great. I'm glad you did, but it's about..." I looked at Don, who was studying his phone and pretending not to listen. "Can we talk privately?"

"Don knows everything. You don't have to worry about him."

"Are you sure?" I glanced over at him and he looked up, giving me a sharp nod.

"Yeah, we've been friends since the tour started. We just clicked, right, Don?" She waited while he agreed, then continued, "Look I'm over all that blackmail crap. I won't do it again."

"That's okay. I just need to know how you knew about everyone's secrets?"

"We've been together years. I overheard stuff, or sometimes the girls drank too much and blabbed it out. I just paid attention."

"That's how you knew about Katya's past in Russia?"

"No, that came from a reporter."

"The reporter approached you?"

"No, he went to Joe with a big file about Katya. He had photos and certificates, all kinds of stuff, and not just from Russia, but her life here too. He even had a video of her fancy, private school music recital. She didn't learn to play piano by ear like she told everyone in her big rags-to-riches sob story. Her parents paid a concert pianist to teach her."

"You saw the file?"

"Yeah, I read it. Joe doesn't know."

"What happened to the file after that?"

"I don't know. I never asked. I assumed Joe paid off the reporter because the story never broke. Then Shelley ran into some PR girl who claimed to know Katya from way back. Honestly, I'm surprised it hasn't come out now that she's dead; but all the obituaries keep focusing on this terrible, sad life she was supposed to have had. If only they could have seen her in her prim, little, school uniform, or riding her twenty thousand-dollar pony."

"She really had everyone sucked in," said Don. "We all believed her story. I think even Katya believed it sometimes."

"None of you had any reason not to," I told them. "People lie so easily."

"Yeah, I bet you can see through them all?" Don put down his phone, as our conversation piqued his interest.

"Sometimes. Sometimes, it takes a while. None of you should feel bad about getting sucked in. Was Katya a friend of yours, Don?"

"I thought so, at first. The dancers, me, we all really clicked with B4U. I thought Katya and I clicked, but she was a nasty piece of work. She must have heard about all the awful things she did to people. If Lauren killed her... well, I'm not surprised," he said.

"No one deserved to die from a knife in her back," said Amelia, but she shrugged so I figured she wasn't all that devastated.

"How did you know Shelley's secret?" I asked, directing the conversation back to my main concern.

"She got really super drunk one night and it just came out." Amelia giggled. "Literally."

"And obviously you know your own secret, but what about Lauren?"

"Look, I don't know why you're asking all this, but really, I'm over it. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"I just need to know what you know about..."

"I said, I'm over it, okay? I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'm past all that. Ask Lauren. It's her deal." Amelia fixed me with a furious look. With her pursed lips and narrowed eyes, I figured I only had seconds before she shut down completely. Having Don back her up didn't help.

"Can I use your bathroom?" I asked, figuring I'd give us both a break and try again in another couple of minutes.

"Sure, it's over there." Amelia flashed a hand at the furthest door.

"Thanks." I walked over, shutting the bathroom door behind me. It was nice, far bigger than my bedroom, and beautifully appointed with marble countertops and a sink faucet that looked like it cost more than my whole bathroom. Since I didn't really need to be there, I opened the cabinet doors below the sink and took a look. There wasn't anything personal amongst the spare towels and extra toilet rolls, so I shut the doors and walked over to the shower cubicle. There were a couple of shower gels in the cubicle; his and hers. Besides that, nothing.

I counted to a hundred, then flushed the toilet, ran the water in the sink and mussed up the towel on the rack before I unlocked the door and stepped back into the room. Don was pouring tea from the large pot, and Amelia had tossed her magazine onto the coffee table.

"Is this your last video?" I asked, starting a conversation that I hoped would make Amelia feel comfortable again.

She shrugged and sighed. "I don't know. Maybe. Management are still talking about the future."

"You don't want to continue with the band?" I asked, wondering why she was keeping up the charade after the lengths she'd gone to in order to get fired.

"I don't care. We could make a lot of money if we stick together."

"That's good news."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Listen, about Lauren..."

"I said, I don't want to talk about it! If you want to talk to Lauren, she's at the warehouse, filming. I'm not getting into anymore trouble for this shit and I'm not saying another word."

I tried several more approaches, but Lauren didn't want to talk and Don was looking increasingly agitated. Rather than risk one of them calling Joe and getting me into more trouble, all I could do was thank Amelia for her time and leave.

Stepping out of the hotel, I hailed a cab and climbed in, asking to be delivered to the warehouse. I was hoping Fletcher hadn't solved the case in the hours since he took over. What should have been a twenty-minute journey turned into over an hour as we got stuck in a traffic jam due to a collision on Century Street. When I arrived, I was bored and frustrated, but I needn't have worried about Fletcher. I found him sitting on a plastic chair, his feet up on another, far away from the crew, and he didn't look happy.