Star Attraction (25 page)

“It will be, trust me.”

Brad returned a moment later.

Matt gave Zaira a few worried
looks, but said nothing of her plan to Brad.

Finally, their flight was called,
and while Brad argued that Matt was making far too may sacrifices for him,
Zaira eventually led them both to the security checkpoint near their departure
gate.
 

Matt pecked her on the cheek, and
said, “Be careful, and I will hear from you soon in New York.”

Brad swept her up into his arms,
and kissed her one last time.
 
Her
knees shook, and the tears began to fall. She reached up her hand to touch his
smooth cheek, and said, “Just remember, I love you, no matter what.”

“And I you, my dearest Zaira.”

Then Brad was gone.
 
His broad shoulders dwarfed Matt’s own
as they walked up the ramp together, then they both turned and waved.
 
Brad’s emerald eyes locked with hers in
an intimate caress which sent desire flooding through her, and he blew Zaira a
kiss as he disappeared.

Zaira sat down on a bench for a
few moments, trying to stop the tears flowing down her cheeks.
 
Brad was gone.
 
She had to stop thinking about him,
longing for him.
 
She had a job to
do, and do it she must.

Before she left the airport, she
rang Raymond Ness in his office, and explained her situation briefly.

“I’m sorry to let you down, Ray,
after everything you’ve done for me in the past, but I've just got some
information about Jonathan which I have to
 
follow up on so I can get a divorce from him once and for
all.
 
Can you take the lectures for
me for the next couple of days?
 
I’ve mailed you the rest of my lecture notes, so Ann can do them, if
that’s all right.”

“Jonathan, you say. Well, that's a
relief. You need closure on that chapter of your life. Go ahead and follow up,
with my blessings. Do whatever you need to.
 
The job will be open whenever you come back, and I'm sure my
wife will love to go back to a bit of teaching again.”

“Thank you, Ray, for everything.”

“Be careful, Zaira, won’t
you.
 
Ring if you need anything.”

Zaira hung up, and went out into
the brisk autumn air.
 
She read her
maps and then plotted out her route to LA.

It took Zaira a week to drive down
to LA, a tedious journey, but one which allowed her lots of time to contemplate
her strategy once she got to California.
  
She didn’t dare go on the plane, for she was certain
Jonathan would be keeping an eye out for her somehow.
 
She even planned a fairly roundabout route, just in case
someone was on to her after her crossing through Niagara.
 

 
Zaira wondered if she should go to the police straight
away.
 
But she was reluctant,
because there would be no point in trying to protect herself by telling only
half-truths.
 
She would have to
admit everything she knew about her husband, and hope the authorities would see
that she had every reason to be suspicious of Jonathan being the one
responsible for the campaign against Brad.
 

But what if they threw her into
prison, assuming she was guilty also?
 
After all, it seemed an incredible coincidence for her to be with Brad
in New York while her husband plotted against him in LA.

Zaira was reluctant to lay all her
cards on the table to the police.
 
They would be understaffed, overworked, and wouldn’t be able to give all
the time the investigation would need.
 
There were always private detectives, though.
 

She wondered if Cormac Clarke
would take Brad’s side. She wasn’t even sure if he would be willing to meet
with her.
 
Zaira cringed at the
thought of having to admit to him everything she knew.
 
Cormac would probably despise her, but
that didn’t make much difference.
 
All that mattered now was that Brad should be cleared of the charges
against him.

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,