CELEBRITY STATUS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #4) (11 page)

* * *

            Skip’s cell phone was purring and dancing around on his nightstand. Laying on his stomach, he reached out and groped around blindly until he located it. Dragging it toward his ear, he said, “Hello.” Nothing. He opened one eye and stared at it. Then realized he hadn’t hit the button to actually answer it. He caught the call just before it went to voicemail.

            “Skip.” Rose’s voice had an unusual urgency.

            “Wha?” he answered groggily, managing to pull himself into a sitting position on the side of the bed.

            “Skip, are you there?”

            “Yeah, Rose. What’s up?” He rubbed his hand over his stubbled face, trying to rub away the sleepiness. Glancing at the clock, he was surprised to see it was ten-thirty. He could have sworn he’d set the alarm before passing out the night before.

            “Skip, are you sitting down?”

            “Yeah,” he said, as he stood up and pulled on the jeans he had left lying in a heap on the floor. Struggling to zip them one-handed, he headed for the kitchen and coffee.

            “You know we have that media monitoring service, watches for any references to us or the agency. They fax me copies of anything in the print media,” Rose was saying in his ear, as he rummaged in a cabinet for a filter and coffee beans.

            “I stopped by the office this morning to pick something up. They’d faxed an article to us yesterday afternoon. Are you listening, Skip?”

            “Yeah, I’m just making coffee.”

            “Skip, stop making coffee and sit down,” his partner ordered.

            Jolted by her tone, he sat in a kitchen chair.

            “Some entertainment rag. Big picture, front page, above the fold,” she said.

            Skip was distracted by the sound of screeching tires and then raised voices outside. He got up and walked toward the window. The meaning of the scene outside registered in his brain at the same moment as Rose’s next words did. “You hauling Cherise toward the car, caption under it: ‘Cherise’s New Hunka Burnin’ Love.’”

            The man who had calmly disarmed a rapist the night before now lost it. He threw open the kitchen window and bellowed, “Get the hell away from my family!”

            “Shit,” Rose said. “Be there in five minutes, or less.”

CHAPTER NINE

            Rose, with Mac right behind her, elbowed her way through the crowd of reporters who were yelling at the house. Once past them, she turned and glared. The volume of yelling went down a few decibels. One of the reporters called out, “Who are you, lady?”

            Ignoring the question, Rose snarled at them, “Any of you assholes put one pinky across that line.” She pointed to the edge of the sidewalk running along the street. “And I will gleefully pound you into dog meat.” Mac just stood beside her, growling. Together, they pivoted with military precision and marched up to Kate and Skip’s porch.

            Inside, Rose pulled a clump of papers out of her back pocket. She handed the top one to Skip. It was the front-page picture from a national tabloid. Skip was escorting Cherise through the crowd at Merriweather after the concert, except the crowd and other guards had been cropped away, making it look like they were a romantic couple.

            He stared at it for a moment, then crumpled it into a ball and threw it across the room.

            “Where’s Kate?” Mac growled.

            “Upstairs with the kids.” Skip was pacing the room, wearing the rumpled clothes of the night before. “The assholes actually went into the vestibule of the church. She had to grab the kids out of their Sunday school rooms and drag them through that gauntlet to the van.”

            “Did you call Rob? Maybe he can do something,” Rose said.

            Skip shook his head, then said, “Yeah, call him.”

            Rose glanced at Mac and he pulled out his cell. Taking a deep breath, Rose handed Skip the rest of the papers. “Follow up stories from inside. One speculating about you and her. Another announcing she and Johnny have broken up and he’s turned to his old girlfriend for solace. Apparently they called her publicist for confirmation, and he figured this was a good time to spring that little goodie on the world.”

            “Great!” Skip threw up his hands, papers scattering everywhere. “That just lends credence to the bullshit about me and her.”

            “Rob’s on his way,” Mac said. “He’ll park ’round the block. Come to the back door.” Peering up the stairs, he continued, without his usual growl, “How ya doin’, sweet pea?”

            Kate reached the bottom before she answered. “The kids are playing in Edie’s room. She promised to watch her brother for a little while.” Her voice was flat, emotionless. “I called Maria, to warn her. She’s on her way home.”

            “Did you tell her to come around back?” Rose asked.

            Kate nodded.

            Skip was at Kate’s side in two long strides. He took both her hands in his. “Are you okay, darlin’?”

            Kate looked up at him. “No.”

            “I’ll get this straightened out. I promise. I’ll call Cherise. Have her hold a news conference. Explain that I’m her bodyguard.” They all stared at Skip, digesting the uncharacteristic note of anxiety in his voice.

            He pulled out his cell phone and started punching numbers. Rose stepped up beside him. She gently took the phone out of his hand. “Let’s think this through, Skip. Cherise doesn’t want it known she’s being stalked.”

            “And she’s not likely to be willing to complicate her own life to save us from all this,” Kate added, again in that flat voice.

            Skip scrubbed his hand over his unshaven face, then ran long fingers through his hair, trying to get his bearings. He’d woken from a dead sleep to find himself thrust into this nightmare. Maybe he was still asleep and this was all a bad dream.

            They heard someone knocking on the back door. Rose went to answer it. They could hear Liz in the laundry room, her booming voice so incongruous coming out of her petite body. “Rob’s a little big to be skulking in the bushes but we managed to get around the hoard out front.”

            Rob and Liz came into the living room. Rob made a beeline for Kate and put his arm around her shoulders. She turned into the hug, struggling not to cry. Liz joined them, wrapping her arms around Kate.

            Skip started pacing again.

            “Everybody, sit,” Rose said, gesturing toward the kitchen. They all sat down at the big oak table. “Skip, this is
not
your fault. Kate, we’ll get it straightened out. Rob, can we get a restraining order?”

            “Yeah, but that’ll only keep them out at the street, which is public property. Can’t make ’em leave.”

            “How about a no-closer-than-fifty-feet order?” Liz suggested. “So Kate and the kids don’t have to shove through them every time they leave the house.”

            “I can try,” Rob said. “But the courts don’t usually grant that for keeping the media at bay.”

            Kate shook her head, then said, her voice grim, “We’ve got the old garage out back. We’ll keep the van in there. Take the kids in and out through the back door.”

            Skip nodded mutely.

            A knocking sound came again from the back of the house. Rose and Mac exchanged a look and he got up to let Maria in.

            “Get out of my way, you blood-sucking heathen,” a voice boomed from the front yard.

            Kate couldn’t help but smile a little. “I believe our priest has arrived to perform an exorcism.”

            She went to the front door and opened it before Elaine could ring the bell.

            “I tried to call,” Elaine said.

            “We’ve got the phone off the hook.”

            “That’s what I figured.”

            “Come on in. We’re in the kitchen.”

            Liz got up to make coffee, waving the priest into her seat. “So what’s this about?” Elaine asked as she sat down.

            Skip and Kate looked at each other. “Until further notice, this is confidential, Elaine,” Kate said. “It’s about one of Skip’s cases. He’s been providing bodyguard and investigating services to a celebrity who’s being stalked by a fan.”

            Rose had retrieved the balled up picture from the floor. She smoothed it out on the table and turned it so the priest could see it.

            “Crap,” Elaine said when she read the caption, then crossed herself.

            “Yeah,” Kate said.

            Elaine turned to Skip, took in his shell-shocked, guilty look, and said, “Skip Canfield, you are not responsible for the insanity of others. Stop blaming yourself for this mess and engage your brain.”

            Kate actually let out a short chuckle. “You are a breath of fresh air, Elaine.”

            “More like a bucket of cold water,” Skip said. “Thanks for coming, Elaine.”

            Then he turned to his wife, pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry my work has brought this into our lives.”

            “I know, Skip, but Elaine’s right. We’re not responsible for other people’s craziness.” She took his hand and gave him a small smile.

            “So the question is, what are we going to do?” Liz said, passing out cups of coffee. “I’m Liz Franklin, by the way, and this is my husband, Rob. Friends of the family.”

            “Rose Hernandez.” Rose pointed her thumb back at Mac, who had come into the room and was now standing behind her chair. “Mac Reilly. Also friends, and I’m Skip’s partner. Mac works for us.”

            “Maria’s upstairs with the kids, sweet pea,” Mac said to Kate.

            “To answer Liz’s question,” Rose began. “Rob gets the restraining order, and I think we will be assigning a couple of our biggest and ugliest guys to enforce it.”

            “Ben’s with Kate,” Skip said emphatically. “Mac with Maria and the kids, whenever they leave the house.”

            “You’re pulling Ben off of Cherise?” Kate said.

            “You bet. She’s getting second string from now on,” he replied. “Our best are with my family. Especially with the kids, we’ve got to have somebody we can trust. We haven’t screened these new hires for abuse.”

            “Good point,” Rose said. “I’ll have Dolph run more thorough background checks on them tomorrow.”

            “Cherise may not step up to the plate, but can we call a news conference?” Liz asked. “Something to the effect that Skip was just providing bodyguard services during the Merriweather concert. You don’t have to say anything about the stalking.”

            “I can do that, as the family lawyer. And if they won’t back off, we might want to threaten them with a libel and/or defamation of character suit,” Rob said. “On the grounds that they’re damaging your reputation which will impact on your professional standing and ability to make a living.”

            “Cherise may try to accuse you of conflict of interest,” Kate said.

            “She never hired him. I did,” Skip said. “Then billed her for legal services.”

            Elaine had noted the frequent use of “we” by her parishioners’ friends. They were in good hands, earthly hands that is. She already knew they were in God’s hands. “Anything I can do, besides pray, let me know,” she said, pushing up out of her chair.

            “That may be the most helpful thing of all,” Kate said.

            “Elaine, with your permission, there will be a half dozen or so burly guys surrounding the church grounds next Sunday,” Skip said. “I don’t want this to disrupt the congregation’s worship again.”

            Elaine thought for a moment. “Thanks for the offer, Skip. I’ll check with Sym Peters and have him call you if he feels that’s necessary. But keep in mind, all power and protection ultimately comes from the Lord.”

            Skip lifted an arm and flexed his bicep. “I’m reminded of that every day, Reverend.”

            Elaine looked a bit confused.

            “We’ve never told you the story?” Kate said. “About the scrawny sixteen-year-old named Skippy, who got the crap beaten out of him by bullies, until he was blessed with a late growth spurt.”

            “Ah, that explains a lot,” the priest said with a nod. She headed for the door, Kate following to see her out.

            Kate gave her rector a big hug. “Thank you, Elaine, for being so understanding and supportive.”

            The other woman put her hands on Kate’s shoulders. “Honey, I’d love you and that man in there even if I wasn’t a Christian woman. You’re good people. Now you know where to find me if you need to talk.” She gave Kate another hug and left.

* * *

            On Monday, things went from bad to worse. Rose checked the fax machine first thing. It was spewing out paper. As she sorted through the sheets, her face darkened. The caption under the picture of Kate, head down, walking away from the altar read,
Betrayed Wife Prays for Guidance
. The second picture–Kate standing in the church aisle, a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face–had no caption.

            Rose groaned at the sight of the third one. Kate was standing beside the family van, her expression both angry and confused, the kids’ heads silhouetted inside. Under that one was
Can
She Forgive Him?
and the lead-in to the story.

Kate Huntington-Canfield, the wife of Cherise Martin’s latest lover, was visibly shocked and distressed when she attended church Sunday to seek solace and guidance. She was not willing to confirm yet whether she would be divorcing her husband. Despite being a devout woman, she will no doubt find it hard to forgive his sins…
The article went on to describe the supposed recent break-up of Cherise and Johnny Troop.

            “She ain’t devout enough, asshole,” Rose muttered under her breath, “that she’s not gonna want to kill you with her bare hands when she sees this.”

            It took Skip a half hour out of his way to dodge the paparazzi. When he arrived at the office, he was already in a bad mood. Just as he settled into his desk chair, Rose stepped into his doorway, a clump of papers in her hand.