B004183M70 EBOK (31 page)

Bradley bolted out of his office.
"Drew, make no mistake. You are not to speak that way in front of Miss
Bennett. Should you choose to test my resolve in this, you'll find yourself
with a black eye. I'm fed up with your tactics. You come here, spying on me
again, trying to find ways to make me look bad in front of Uncle Herman. I
don't interfere in your business."

"That's because I run a clean
operation."

Bradley grabbed Drew by his lapels.
"Like hell you do."

As if no one had spoken, I placed a check
made out to the Legends for Suzie's memorial reception at the edge of my desk.
In a casual tone, I said, "Mr. Williams, you need to sign this. I'll take
it over to the Legends myself, as I have an early business lunch at
eleven."

The phone rang before he could reply.
Instead, Bradley and Drew got into an argument over who was authorized to sign
the check.

I picked up the receiver and chatted with a
girl from Precision Knives about Debbie Ann's shoot tomorrow.

Bradley signed the check and held it out to
me. Without touching his fingers, I accepted it. He returned to his office.

Drew went down the hall.

Ending my phone call, I started typing my
notes on the Saint Thomas shoot, noting that Bradley was on his private line.
Listening while typing, I figured out he was on the phone with his uncle,
talking and drinking coffee I hadn't made for him.

He was still on the phone when I summoned
Danielle to cover for me while I met Darlene and Stu for an early lunch.

At the restaurant, Darlene and Stu couldn't
keep their hands off each other. Their happiness made me smile. I was able to
eat a hearty lunch, which made me feel better. The meal, and the looks I got
from men checking out my go-go boots, helped put me in a better frame of mind.

Darlene said, "Okay, now what are we
going to do next to clear Bradley's name?"

Stu looked at me. "Bebe, what about
Lola?"

I shook my head. "She's a suspect with
a strong motive and opportunity. I'm sure she won't talk to me after what
happened in Saint Thomas."

Stu grinned. "She'll talk to an
adoring fan. Me. I'm good at getting what I want out of a woman. After all, I
got the best girl in the world back with me," he said, and winked at
Darlene.

She elbowed him. "Watch it, buster.
And behave."

I said, "Thanks so much for your help,
Stu. And Darlene, don't worry if you can't come with me on my appointment with
Scott Roberts later today."

She waved a dismissive hand. "Honey,
I'll be there."

I left them and returned to the office
around one. Drew wasn't there. Bradley sat with his chair turned around from
me, looking out the window. On his desk was a sandwich from the Automat.

Danielle and I went over phone messages
before she returned to the typing pool. I had about three hours until I'd need
to leave for my appointment with Scott Roberts. Out of habit, I brewed a fresh
pot of coffee.

I finished typing my Saint Thomas report
and marched into Bradley's office, laying it on his desk.

"If I hurt you—by firing you—it wasn't
what I wanted," he said, turning to face me.

"I'm fine. You haven't eaten your
lunch," I said, unwilling to reveal how much I'd been hurt. "Can I
get you a cup of coffee? There's a fresh pot."

"That sounds great."

I returned with the hot mug a minute later.
"I'll be leaving today at four fifteen. I have another appointment."

"Are you going out looking for a
job?" Bradley asked, his cool demeanor back in place.

"Actually this has to do with another
matter," I said, and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Pickering hired a private detective.
There's no need for you to investigate any longer." The last two words
came out through gritted teeth.

"If you'll excuse me, I have lots of
work to do," I told him.

"Just a minute. What is with you and
that wino?"

I took a deep breath. "While I don't
see why I have to answer questions about my personal life, in this case I will
tell you. Harry is a friend. I try to help him when I can."

"You're always trying to help people,
aren't you, kid?" Bradley said, picking up a pencil and holding it between
his two index fingers. His voice dropped to a husky murmur. "I wish you
could help me, stop me from wanting—" He broke off.

Wanting to kiss me again? My heart started
that crazy beat. I chose to misunderstand him. "Don't worry. You'll be
cleared of Suzie's murder."

With that, I strode back to my desk.
Bradley and I didn't exchange another word for the rest of the day until I told
him good night at four fifteen.

"Arrange to have someone cover for you
during Debbie Ann's shoot tomorrow," he said. "I want you there. You
know how to deal with Pierre." A bit of sarcasm laced his last words.

"Fine," I said, and went
downstairs, breathing a sigh of relief. Obviously he hadn't read the Saint
Thomas report, which described how I had ended up being the model.

Outside, Darlene waited for me in the
sunshine. "How'd it go?"

I popped on my shades and filled her in
while we tried to get a cab.

She said, "Sounds like Bradley's a man
with a lot on his mind. Betcha you're number one."

I twirled a piece of my hair. "Yeah,
right. Men may be easy for you to charm, but not for me."

A cab stopped and we got in. I had Scott's
card in hand, and gave the cabbie the address.

"You're in training, Bebe,"
Darlene said. "As for Scott, we're trying to find out if he really has
nude photos of Suzie, right?"

"Yes. Louis gave me the idea that
Scott had that type of photos. I thought Scott might be blackmailing Suzie. If
she was paying him, he's off the suspect list If she wasn't, maybe the two
argued and he killed her. My only concern is how we're going to convince him to
talk."

Darlene laughed. "You keep forgetting
I'm a Texas girl. Don't you worry. He'll talk."

Scott Roberts's business turned out to be
in a brownstone in a residential area. He gave me an ice-cold look, but
admitted us. Like Pierre's place, the first floor served as a studio, with
cameras and umbrella lights set up.

Three female models—all long-haired blondes
with bangs, blue eyes, and skinny figures—wore matching outfits: a sleeveless
black chiffon dress that broke into pleats at the bottom. Round white collars
circled then- necks with a white daisy in their centers. Each girl's hair had
been pulled to one side in a low ponytail, secured with a fabric daisy pin.

A lone dark-haired male model, dressed in a
black velvet suit and ruffled shirt, sat at a white cloth-covered table set
for four.

They were passing a pipe among them,
smoking hash. One of the girls held out the pipe to Darlene. She reached for
it, but I put my hand on her arm. "Darlene," I hissed.

"Sorry. I was just trying to fit
in." But her gaze turned wistful as the pipe went on to the next person.

Scott looked at me without interest.
"I can't use you. I told you that at Suzie's memorial."

Darlene said, "Then why did you make an appointment
with her?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't appear nasty in front of the
Thom McAn guy. You can go now, both of you."

I moved close to him and spoke in a low voice. "I don't
think so. You see, I couldn't care less about being a model. I want the
pictures and the negatives of the nude photos you have of Suzie Wexford."

He stared at me with those freaky eyes. "What makes you
think I'm going to discuss Suzie with you?"

Darlene opened her purse. "This does, honey."

To my horror, a small gun lay in Darlene's purse.

Scott's face went pale. "Come upstairs."

As we made our way up, I whispered, "Do you always carry
that thing around, Darlene?"

"No, the gun usually stays in my panty drawer, but I had
it with me today because of Scott. I told you I can protect myself."

Reeling from the thought that Darlene kept a gun in our
apartment, I blinked twice when Scott flipped the light on in a small room with
a desk and lined with filing cabinets.

"Show us the pictures," Darlene commanded, the gun
now in her hand.

With an angry movement, Scott unlocked a file cabinet and
pulled out a set of photos. He shoved them at me.

So there really were nude pictures of Suzie! I flipped
through two of the shots, my eyes going wide at the sight of her naked body.

Darlene took a quick glance. "Ha, natural brunette."

"Why did Suzie pose for these?" I asked.

Scott shrugged. "Look, most girls who get off the bus
wanting to be a model end up doing nude shots."

"But I thought you encouraged Suzie to move here based
on candid pictures she sent you from Omaha."

"True. I knew she had potential and thought she could go
far. It was Suzie who wanted the nudes done in case her career didn't take off
as she'd planned."

"And you enjoyed obliging her,"
Darlene said.

"I've found that having those types of
pictures can be, shall we say, beneficial to a photographer."

I stared at Scott. "What I want to
know is if you killed her."

He laughed. "The two of you are crazy.
Right in your hands, you've got proof of why I'd never kill the two-timing
bitch. Suzie left me for Pierre, but she paid me good, in money and in
bed."

"Blackmailer."

"As I told you, nude shots are
useful."

"Did Suzie threaten to stop paying
you?" I asked.

Scott gazed at me with disgust.
"You're not going to pin her murder on me, baby. I can show you my
canceled checks to prove that Suzie had paid me through the end of this
year."

"Let's see them," Darlene
ordered, her gun still pointed at him.

Looking over the documents he produced in
short order, I could see he was telling the truth. In 1963, Suzie had paid him
five hundred dollars a month regularly. In January of this year, she'd paid
him six thousand dollars.

"All right. I believe you were
blackmailing her and she paid, so you had no reason to kill her. Give me all
the pictures and all the negatives," I said.

"Come on, baby, can't we make a
deal?" Scott whined. "I'll give you half of what I get for selling
them to Playboy."

And have Bradley's name—sure to be included
in any article about Suzie—dragged through the mud again? "I could just
take what I have here to the police. I know Detective Finelli personally. He'd
charge you with blackmail. Now, would you rather do as I say or have me pay a
visit to the detective?"

Scott sighed. "What difference does it
make to you if I sell the pictures to Playboy? I told you I'd give you half the
money."

"This is the difference: Suzie paid
you not to sell those pictures. Suzie is dead, and even she doesn't deserve to be humiliated now. Finally, you should earn your
money by finding the next top model and making her a star," I finished.

Darlene waved the gun at Scott. "It's very quiet."

Cursing bitterly, he handed over the photos.

I tucked them in my purse. "Now write a statement saying
you will never sell or give away any nude photos of Suzie Wexford and sign
it."

"Why? You have everything," Scott replied tersely.

"I don't trust you."

Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, Scott wrote.

He thrust the document in my hands and I read it. "I'm
satisfied now."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "You know, I could go to the
police myself and tell them you forced me at gunpoint to turn over personal
property."

Darlene and I laughed, knowing the coward would never go to
the police.

He went red. "What are you going to do with the
shots?"

I tilted my head. "We have a fireplace."

Darlene agreed, "That will do."

"Crazy women, burning a pile of money," he spat.

Darlene forced him to walk in front of us as we descended the
stairs to the first floor. We made our escape outside, and ran to the nearest
subway stop.

Once underground, I caught my breath. "We're down to
four possible killers: Lola, Gloria, Jeff, or Pierre. I'm seeing Gloria and
Pierre tomorrow. Jeff's address was in the phone book."

"You're not confronting Jeff alone," Darlene said.
"Let's come up with a plan for him later. I'm going to Stu's. He'll give
you a report on Lola in the morning."

I went home, hid Scott's letter, and lit the fire.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I arrived at the office before nine Tuesday morning. I wore a
short knit dress, white on top, turquoise-and-white-checked on the bottom. My
go-go boots looked fab with the outfit.