Kissing in Action (7 page)

"Absolutely. If one of them causes embarrassment to the band, or the sponsoring management company, of course, they can be fired. That's why we need you to find the blackmailer. Everyone's job is on the line. If these so-called secrets get out, Amelia, Shelley, and Lauren could lose their jobs."

"Who would gain from that?" I asked.

"No one. No job is no salary; and no band is no salary for me."

"What happens if a band member is removed? Do the profits get split three ways?"

"No, it's more complicated than that. Part of their deal is salary-based, and part is based on profits from merchandising, concerts, and various other promotions. That's where the big money comes from. With Katya gone, her percentage doesn't go back into the band. They were set up as a four-girl group, so it's far more likely that the management company will appoint a new member, and that person will get a salary and profit share from future deals going forward. Katya's percentage for any deals up until her death will go to her next of kin."

"So none of us can benefit financially from Katya's death," Amelia concluded.

"Who is her next of kin?" I asked.

"I'd have to check the file, but I think it's her sister."

The bedroom door opened and Lauren appeared. "Is the bitch still dead?" she asked.

"Yep!" screeched Shelley. She reached for the bottle and poured another glass, drinking half of it in one gulp. I raised my eyebrows to Solomon in silent question at her alcohol intake. It was barely mid-afternoon and she already seemed to have consumed half a bottle.

"Joe, I need to ask you again where you were when Katya was killed," Solomon said, pretending to check his notes.

"I'll tell you where he will be," laughed Lauren, approaching the coffee table and poking at the sandwiches. She piled a few on a small plate, added chips, and plonked herself down next to Amelia. "He'll be partying with the rest of us later."

"There will be no partying. We'll stay at the hotel tonight. We need to show respect for Katya. Her body's barely cold," said Joe.

"Barely? She was always ice cold," scoffed Shelley.

"Can you hold down the fort?" Solomon asked quietly, leaning into me so he couldn't be overheard. "I think we need to separate them in order to get some straight answers."

I took a look at the band, who were giggling amongst themselves while they gorged down snacks and alcohol. "I guess," I said, feeling crestfallen at the very idea of trying to mediate between them. Perhaps without Katya throwing vases, it would be a lot easier; and if I were really lucky, maybe they would gossip. I could certainly glean some new information that way. "Can you find out who Joe was with, too? Maybe he'll tell you when he’s alone."

Solomon nodded. "We've got locations for all of you when Katya died," he started. "Lauren, you were asleep in this room. Shelley, you were downstairs in the hotel as were you, Amelia. Joe, you already mentioned you were in the library, also downstairs, but we have a witness that places you on this floor just prior to the murder."

"That's impossible. I told you I was in the library. Whoever it was must have been mistaken."

"My witness was very certain, and also said you were with a woman."

Joe laughed. "Really? I don't have time for women. I've got a band in the middle of a tour. Do you know how much work that is?"

"I don't want to embarrass you..."

"I'm not embarrassed, merely bemused. Like I said, your witness must have seen someone who looked like me."

"On this floor? In the housekeeping closet?"

"There's a housekeeping closet on this floor? News to me." Joe shrugged as he looked around at the band as if to say Solomon was talking crazy. "I don't think I've ever even seen the housekeeping staff."

"Me neither," said Amelia. "They're like elves. They come in and clean, but you never see them."

"Maybe because they're too busy making out in the closet," laughed Joe. "Listen, all I can tell you is I was nowhere near this floor when Katya got killed. Maybe your witness got the time wrong. I wish I could be of more help."

"Let me show you the hotel closet," Solomon said, "Maybe it'll jog your memory."

"Sure, if we must, but I don't how it'll help since I was never there. Girls, I can trust you all to cooperate with Lexi and answer her questions?" Joe said, rising and smoothing his jeans. "Which way?"

"Follow me."

"Your boss is a hottie," Lauren said when Solomon and Joe exited the room. "Is he single?"

"No, sorry," I told her. I was starting to find any girl in B4U fancying my boyfriend a little wearing. Of course, I could take it as a compliment that these beautiful, accomplished women found him attractive, and I must confess that part of me did, but I didn't like having to perpetually defend his honor.

"Damn shame. The things I could show him."

"Everyone's seen your things," said Amelia. "You should put them away before you get a reputation."

"Why hide perfection? Especially, when there's a party to plan," grinned Lauren.

"Party?" I asked.

"Nope, no party. We're in mourning mode right now," said Amelia, looking thrilled. "Hey, did you find the blackmailer yet?"

"Not yet. I wanted to ask you all a few more questions about that actually."

"Sure," said Shelley, "But can you do me a teeny-weeny little favor? Can you grab my sweater from my bedroom? I'm getting cold."

"Ummm," I paused, wondering why Shelley couldn't do that herself. Feeling slightly surprised, I thought,
what did it matter?
If I grabbed Shelley's sweater, maybe she would be grateful enough to help me find out whom Joe was spending his time with. "Sure. What color is it?"

"The striped, blue one. It's on the bed, through there." Shelley waved a hand towards the furthest door.

I walked over, pushing the door open and stepping inside. The room was dark and it was hard to make out anything in the untidy state she left it. I felt on the wall for the light switch, found it, and flipped it on. There was a huge pile of clothes on the bed, but no striped sweater. "I don't see it," I called back, making to leave.

Shelley appeared in the doorway, blocking my exit. "Try the chair by the window. Maybe I left it over there."

"Okay," I grumbled, audible only to me as I picked my way across the room. I rummaged through the pile of clothes on the chair, but again, no sweater.

"Did you find it yet?" she asked, going to the other side of the room.

"No."

"It's gotta be here somewhere. Keep looking!"

I turned to Shelley, to tell her that she was mistaken, but an arm reached through the doorway, and before I could even frown, the door was pulled shut and the light switched off. "Hey!" I yelled, stomping back across the mess in the dark. I gripped the handle and pulled. The door didn't move. I pulled again, but to no avail. Crouching to handle height, I could see why. Someone had deliberately locked the door! "Hey!" I yelled again. "Is this supposed to be funny? Shelley?"

There was a brief silence, then a small click. Beyond the door, someone giggled before saying, "See ya!" Another door further away slammed and I was left in silence.

"Shelley?" I asked again. "Shelley? Where's the light switch?"

I felt around the doorway for a light switch, but couldn't find one, so I groped my way over to the windows and pulled open the long curtains, flooding the room with light. No Shelley. I was alone.

"Argh!" I moaned. I felt put out at being duped so easily. I was locked in the bedroom and even more confused by Shelley's disappearance. Where did she go? How could I tell Solomon that the band gave me the slip after locking me in a bedroom? I needed to escape and see why they wanted me out of the way so desperately. Why would they pull such a stupid stunt rather than helping me solve the problems plaguing them? There was another door in the rear wall. I crossed over to it, not bothering to be careful about where I put my feet, and wrenched it open, hoping to find Shelley inside. Bathroom. Empty. "Damn," I grumbled as I turned back to the room. Everything I needed for my escape was in my purse: my cell phone, my lock-picking kit, and my Swiss Army knife. Unfortunately, my purse was in the living room. "How else can I get out of here?" I asked no one specifically. "How did Shelley get out of here?"

It was an attractive room, decorated in a classic style with a super-king-sized bed (unmade), a large, antique wardrobe (doors open and flooded with clothes), a wingback armchair (more clothes) and a thick carpet (even more clothes and various unmatched shoes). As I looked around, I couldn't help feeling dejected. I was stuck.

Just as I wondered whether hollering would help my predicament, I heard male voices from the sitting room next door. Scrambling over, I hammered on it. "Hey!" I called out, figuring I'd deal with the embarrassment later. "Hey! In here!"

"Who's that?" asked a voice I didn't recognize.

"It’s Lexi. Can you unlock the door?"

The lock clicked and I tugged the door open. Large and Larger stood in front of me, the confusion on their faces most likely matching my own. "What are you doing in there?" asked Large.

"I'll explain... oh, never mind. Where did they go?" I asked, looking around the empty room. No Solomon - great! But no B4U either.

"Who?"

"The band. Shelley, Lauren and Amelia. Where did they go?" I asked again.

"They went out," said Large.

"Uh-huh," said Larger.

"Yeah, I figured. Where did they go?"

"I don't know."

"Did they take a bodyguard? Did they call anyone on the phone?" I asked, my heart racing.

"They called their car service," said Large. "I think they went to a club."

I groaned. Why on earth would three supposedly grieving women want to go to a club mid-afternoon? Especially after receiving lockdown orders directly from Joe? It didn't make any sense, but I had to admit, they were hardly cut up about their friend's untimely death. Still, like Joe said, they were
supposed
to be upset. They had to appear like they were upset. Going to a club would not do that, and who would they blame first if the press got hold of the remaining members of B4U?

Me!

"Give me the number of the car service," I demanded from the pair, waiting while Large searched slowly through his cell phone before finally producing a number. I entered it onto my keypad, holding my phone to my ear as it rang.

"Marchmont Hotel Car Service," answered the woman on the other end of the line.

"Hi. I'm with B4U. Is the second car here yet?" I asked, bluffing.

"Second car?"

"Yeah, we sent for two cars. The first car just left and we're waiting on the second."

"I'm sorry, I don't have any record of two cars. Just the one."

"Well, fix it," I said, imperiously, as if were an irate member of B4U. "We're in a hurry!"

"Yes, of course, Madam. My apologies for the wait. We can have a car to you in five minutes. Shall I tell the driver to collect you from the rear service exit too?"

"That's right; and going to the same destination, which is... oh, shoot! Where did we book it?"

"The Blue Moon."

"Right. Yeah. Five minutes at the rear service exit," I confirmed, dropping my forehead into my palm. They couldn't have been heading anywhere worse. "Thanks." I hung up, aware that Large and Larger were staring at me. "When Joe and Solomon come back, tell them we all stepped out and will be back soon."

"Right," said Large as he looked around the empty room. "You and whom?"

"B4U," I said, as I skirted around them, running for the door before they could ask me anymore questions I didn't want to answer. I had a bad feeling, and a sense of urgency to get to the club and fast before B4U did something stupid.

Chapter Six

The Blue Moon was pretty much the worst club I could’ve chosen to find B4U. And if it hadn't been for the two security guards, and the car service that provided the information, it would also have been the last place I looked.

The club was a seedy-looking joint. I was pretty sure Lily once held a job there. Fortunately, she wasn't one of the "hot topless dancers" the billboard next to the door advertised, but briefly worked as a bartender. I recalled the tips were good, but the clientele were not the kind of people you'd ever take home to meet your mother.

As I stared up at the flashing neon sign, my heart was sinking. This was a sleazy club, and why the band wanted to come here, of all places, I had no idea; but I knew it couldn't have been for anything good. As I decided what to do, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I eased it out, checking the screen.
Solomon
. I let it ring out, since I did not want to explain to him why the band we were supposed to be protecting had ditched me to go to a strip joint.

I did the best thing I could under the circumstances. I called Lily.

"Hey," she said on answering. "I'm a little busy. Can I call you back?"

"I'll be quick," I promised. "What can you tell me about The Blue Moon?"

"The Blue Moon club? Nothing good. I mean, you know, I worked there a few years ago? Like, for a few weeks. I can’t say it was my most favorite gig ever."

"Why's that?"

"Oh, nothing bad, it's just kind of sleazy. Remember Flames? That was a classy joint compared to The Blue Moon."

"Rough employees?"

"No, not really. They were pretty nice; at least, from what I remember. They just worked their shifts, made some money and went home. The customers were okay too. Not grabby, just kind of sad and lonely. Anyway, everything was all above board. Why?"

"I'm standing outside it."

"Did Solomon fire you? Honey, you can have a job at my bar!"

"No, he didn't fire me!" I replied hoping my indignation was obvious. "I have to go inside. Do you have any tips?"

"Only if you take your top off and work it." Lily giggled.

"Not those kinds of tips. How do I get in? I'm not exactly their average customer. I have hair."

"Last I remember, it was just a walk-in. The doormen won't give you any hassle, unless you start something. Don't start anything, 'kay?"

I promised I wouldn't and told Lily I'd call her back to fill her in later on the details of why I was about to enter the strip club. I just hoped the details weren't too tawdry.

Lily's memory served correctly. No one challenged me as I pulled open one of the wooden doors and stepped inside. I was immediately assaulted by loud music and the cloying scent of sweat and cheap perfume. A couple of guys looked over, then returned their gazes to the stage. If they were surprised at seeing a fully clothed female, they didn't show it.

I went to the back of the room. Stretching out around the edges were booths, with various tables and chairs dotted across the floor, punctuated by several podiums. Each podium was speared through the center with a floor-to-ceiling pole. A bar was off to the right and there was one barman on duty, which made sense, given there were only twenty or so patrons. Even that many seemed a little at odds with the time, as I expected it probably got busier later. A couple of scantily clad women were propped up at the bar, but nobody paid any attention to them. All eyes were on the small stage at the front.

My mouth dropped open.

Grinding around the poles on stage were the three remaining members of B4U!

Only an hour earlier, they were wearing nice clothing. Expensive things. Fashionable, but nothing too “out there,” and certainly, nothing that could alienate their legions of fans. Now their nice girl facade was gone. Lauren, Shelley, and Amelia were in various states of undress. Amelia looked almost conservative in an unbuttoned pair of denim hot pants and a push-up bra, her top purposely hanging open, whereas Lauren and Shelley were stripped down to thongs and bras.

Even worse was the song they were singing. "The bitch is dead," sang Shelley, "Ding dong!" Lauren and Amelia joined in, singing the chorus of their latest hit single, changing every few words to say something derogatory about Katya.

"Oh, shit," I whispered. If this got out, or if anyone in the club was smart enough to recognize the performers, the band members’ careers would be over. And if Solomon found out they did this on my watch after giving me the slip, I could kiss not only the case goodbye, but my career too. That kind of thing had a never-ending power to cause embarrassment, which often followed a person around for years.

I peeled my shoes off the carpet and wound my way towards the stage, gathering items of clothing draped over chairs and tables that I recognized as belonging to the band. I folded them over my arms carelessly. A top flew towards me and landed on a nearby chair so I grabbed that too. I didn't care whose clothing I held, or what order I collected their things, just that I had them while I went to round up the band. I devised a plan to get them out of the club and into the safe confines of the hotel away from... oh damn! The man I passed held up a cell phone camera and snapped photos of them. Without thinking, I grabbed his phone and dropped it into his beer.

"Hey! he yelled, jumping to his feet. "What the hell?"

"Oops!" I said, holding up my clothes-laden arms. "My mistake!"

"That was no mistake, lady. That's a new iPhone. It cost me hundreds of dollars!" he snarled, towering over me.

"Yeah, about that... Um, let me give you my card and you can buy a new phone and we'll cover..."

"I want my money now! You see them—" He jabbed a finger at the stage before poking it at my chest. "That’s my money shot! The photos I took will earn me thousands!"

"Well, not actually, because your phone is toast," I said, giving him a little shrug while checking around to see who might be listening. If this guy recognized the girls in the band, it wouldn't be long before others did. "But I will ensure your phone is fully paid for."

"I'm gonna sue, bitch!" he growled, jabbing harder at my chest until I stepped back.

On stage, B4U harmonized, "Still dead! She's still dead! Hurrah!"

"What's going on?" asked a deep voice behind my back.

I gave the newcomer a shallow glance, just enough to see whom it was while keeping an eye on the angry guy in front of me, as well as the band. The band was in my line of vision, the angry guy started turning red, and the newcomer turned out to be the doorman, and he didn't look happy.

"This bitch dropped my phone in my beer and I want her to pay for it along with all the photos she destroyed," said the angry man, grabbing his beer. It sloshed over his hand as he pointed to the soggy cell phone.

"What photos?" asked the doorman.

"Shots of them," angry man shook his hand at the stage. "Don't you recognize them?"

"Who?"

"Those girls! They're famous, man!"

"You dropped his phone in a beer, ma'am?" said the doorman, looking down at me.

I turned towards him, trying to keep my eyes on everyone at once, and wished I had another pair of eyes. Fortunately — or unfortunately — the band were still on stage. They ceased singing and were now each wrapped around a stripper pole. They were surprisingly good at it too. "Yeah, kind of. It was an accident, but I promise to replace it," I said as the angry man started to growl about it being no accident.

"Lexi Graves?" said the doorman, squinting in the low light. "It's Lexi Graves, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah." I gave him a weak smile.

"I saw your photo in the newspaper. You solve mysteries."

"That's right."

"Are you solving a mystery now?" he inquired.

"Kind of." I stumbled onwards, hoping he was somehow impressed. "Absolutely. Yes."

"Your brother arrested me for burglary. I did time for it."

My heart sank. This was not good. I needed to get B4U away from more guys with bright ideas and cell phones, especially now that we were starting to draw attention from the other patrons. I also needed to get away from the angry man whose footage I destroyed and the doorman incarcerated by one of my brothers. Carefully edging backwards, I was surprised when the doorman stepped forward, opening his arms. Almost reflexively, I folded my shoulders in, preparing to bounce off a blow before running in terror. Then, the strangest thing occurred. He hugged me.

"It was the best thing that ever happened to me," he cried, hugging me tighter. "Yeah, I got sent down for a year, but that turned my life around. I learned to read and write, and your brother helped me get a job here when I got out. My girlfriend came back to me and we just learned we're having a baby boy." He released me and pulled out a cell phone before jabbing the screen. It came to life, showing an ultrasound picture. "Isn't he perfect?"

"He's wonderful," I said, exhaling in relief. "I'm really happy for you."

"Dude, less happy reunion, more camera repayment," huffed the angry man. "Where's my money?"

"We don't let patrons take photos of any of the girls," said the doorman, pointing towards the door. "Out, and don't show your face in here again. You're disrespecting the women."

"Screw you!" said the angry man, pulling his arm back, and ready to hurl his beer glass in my direction. Before he could, the doorman grabbed him by the collar and marched him outside. I watched him get tossed out the doors with the strong suggestion that he never return.

"Sorry about that, ma'am," said the doorman, returning to me. "The name's Ray. You're really solving a case?"

"Yeah, and I need your help."

"Sure, anything."

"I need to get these three women off stage and into a cab while making sure no one took any photos or video footage of them."

"No problem," said the doorman. "You get the girls and I'll handle the rest."

~

"What the hell were you thinking, Lexi?" yelled Solomon. We were holed up in Joe Carter's suite, and my day wasn't getting any better. Solomon was pacing while I sat on the couch. I wished I were on my couch at home, my feet tucked under me, a pint of ice cream on my lap, and nothing but quiet echoing around me.

"Obviously, I wasn't thinking, 'Hey, I know a great place to show B4U while they're in town'," I yelled back.

We had been arguing for the past fifteen minutes, ever since my return to the hotel with three bedraggled band members in tow. I had to promise that I was sent to retrieve them for a huge, nationwide TV interview. I made it up, of course, but it appealed to their vanity and they redressed fast enough, each one wanting to snatch a few extra minutes of fame. My new friend, Ray Domingo, The Blue Moon's doorman, was true to his word. He made sure every last image of the band was erased from the patrons' devices and I felt confident that B4U's escapades would remain a dark secret from everyone, including Solomon. I repaid Ray's favor with two hundred dollars that I hoped the agency's petty cash would cover.

"A strip club!"

"I don't know who told them to go there!"

"Did you mention it?"

"No!"

"Not even a little bit?" Solomon held up his thumb and forefinger.

"Not even, oh, at all! I don't know how they got there; they gave me the slip, locked me in a room..."

"You were locked in a room?!" Solomon planted a hand over his eyes and stopped pacing at last. "How did that happen?"

"Shelley asked me to get something from the bedroom, and when we went inside, one of them pulled the door shut and locked it, and Shelley disappeared."

"I should have guessed they'd pull something like that. Joe said he's been trying to keep the security quiet so as not to spook the band any further; otherwise he'd have had more sets of eyes on them the whole time."

"See?! I told you it wasn't my fault! No one else even saw them leave... wait, no one? Not even Large and Larger?"

"Who the hell are Large and Larger?"

"The security guards who sit in front of the elevator."

"Those aren’t their names."

"You're missing the point! How did they get out of the hotel without anyone calling Joe?"

Solomon's hand slid down and I caught a flash of confusion. I tried not to be too pleased about it, but it didn't work. "I don't know."

"It's not my fault," I told him again. "They should have been stopped several times before they left the hotel, and they weren't. They might have tricked me, but you can’t pin that huge security breach on me also."

"They aren't prisoners."

"Too right. So, how do you think I could have stopped them? It was beyond me."

Solomon dropped onto the couch next to me. "Joe really chewed me out on this."

"It's not your fault either. Did you find out why he was lying?"

"No. He stuck to the story that he was in the library. He said our witness must have been mistaken and seen someone who looked like him in the housekeeping closet."