CELEBRITY STATUS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #4) (12 page)

            “Promise me you’ll stay calm,” she said to her partner.

            “I do not make promises I’m not sure I can keep,” he responded, holding out his hand.

            Skip looked at the pictures, read the caption under the first one, didn’t bother to read the story. He grabbed his phone and called Rob. “Forget the press conference,” he said without preamble when Rob picked up. “They’ll just twist whatever you say. There’s another article, about Kate. Rose’ll send it to you. Go for the threat of a lawsuit, and if they don’t take the threat seriously, file it! I’m going to talk to Cherise.”

            Skip was out of his chair before he had finished hanging up the phone. Rose followed him down the hall to the elevator, jogging to keep up with his long strides. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched. Not good signs. She’d seen this normally laid-back man blow before, when something was threatening his family.

            “I’m going with you,” she said.

            “Suit yourself,” he said, bypassing the elevator and heading for the fire stairs. He took them three at a time.

            Rose, preferring that all of her bones remain intact, did not follow suit. Once outside the fire door, she broke into a run. Skip was already two thirds of the way to his truck.

            “Maybe I should drive,” she said, inserting herself between the big man and the driver’s door.

            He shrugged, then shook his head. “It’ll help me calm down.”

            Skip drove with studied control out I-70 to Howard County, carefully maintaining the speed limit.

            At the farm, in response to his pounding, one of the new hires called through the door, “Who’s there?”

            “Your bosses,” Skip growled.

            Inside, Cherise started to rush toward him. Skip held up both hands in front of him. “Don’t touch me, Cherise,” he said, through clenched teeth.

            She stopped two feet away. “Where’s Ben? Why did you send this guy here?” she hissed at him.

            “Ben is protecting my wife and children from the paparazzi,” Skip said, his voice cold. “I’m sure your publicist has sent you the article from Saturday. There’s a new one today.” He gestured to Rose. She handed Cherise the pictures and article.

            While Cherise perused them, Skip continued, “Rob Franklin is threatening the paper with a defamation of character suit.”

            “That won’t work,” Cherise said absently, still reading. “The courts consider public figures fair game.”

            “I am
not
a public figure, Cherise. You may be, but I am not, and my wife and kids certainly are not.”

            “A judge may see it otherwise if you’re perceived to be my boyfriend,” Cherise said, as she walked across the room and sat down on one of the white sofas.

            “But that’s the whole point, now isn’t it? I am
not
your boyfriend. I am your bodyguard. And if it comes down to a lawsuit, you are going to testify to that fact.”

            “I’ll have to check with my agent and lawyers on that, Skip. They may not feel it’s in the best interests of my image to get involved.”

            Skip crossed the huge living room in two strides. He towered over her. “You are already
involved,
Cherise. My family has been sucked into this because of you. You
will
testify if we need you to.”

            Cherise looked up at him, fire in her eyes. “Well now, you can’t make me do that, now can you?”

            “Oh, but I can. Rob will subpoena you and have you declared a hostile witness. And if you don’t say, unequivocally, in court that you and I are
not
lovers, Rob will tear you apart. I’ve seen him in action, Cherise. He’s the best. By the time he’s done with you, you’ll be telling the court you regularly have affairs with Martians and other extra-terrestrials.”

            Cherise’s face was a neutral mask. Then an almost evil smile spread across it. “Well, then I’ll just have to sue your good friend, Rob Franklin, for conflict of interest.”

            “You never hired him. He’s on retainer with Canfield and Hernandez. And you, Cherise, are no longer one of our clients. Find yourself another security firm. I’m not even willing to recommend somebody. I don’t want to be responsible for having one of my colleagues’ lives poisoned by an association with you.”

            Skip turned and headed for the door, but Cherise got there first. “No, Skip, please. I’m sorry I spoke rashly. Please don’t abandon me!”

            She reached out to him. He stepped back. “I told you not to touch me.”

            “Okay, okay.” She held up her hands in surrender. “I’ll testify if you need me to, but I’m telling you, a defamation suit is not the way to go. It just keeps the story alive for months on end in the media.”

            “So how about this, Cherise. You hold a news conference and tell the media it’s all a misunderstanding. I was your bodyguard for that one concert, just to get you in and out of there without being overwhelmed by your fans. No mention of the stalker.”

            “I’m willing to do that, but my life is not completely my own, you know. I’ll have to run it past my agent and publicist first. Make sure they’re okay with that spin.”

            “You do that, Cherise, but hear this. If they don’t like that
spin
, they’ll like it even less when I go public and tell them what’s really going on.”

            Cherise’s eyes narrowed. “You do that, Skip Canfield, and I’ll see that you’re ruined.”

            Rose stepped in. “Just talk to your people and do the news conference, Cherise. It’s not a big deal to explain that you hired a bodyguard for one night.”

* * *

            Cherise’s ‘people’ did not like the idea of a news conference. “Jim thinks it’s time to change your image,” Jannie said over the phone. “You’ve outgrown the wholesome girl next door, so we’ll go with you being a bit of a wild child, just don’t carry things too far. No drugs.”

            Actually the publicist had said, “We can’t rein her in anymore, Jannie, so we might as well go with it. Let Johnny be the wholesome one, the good influence on her. I’m sending out a release that she and Troop are still good friends, and will continue to perform together.”

            There was panic in Cherise’s voice. “Skip’s threatening to not handle my security anymore, Jannie, and the stalker’s still out there. His lawyer’s looking into a defamation of character suit.”

            “Against you?”

            “No, against the press, but he said he’d force me to testify that we’re not lovers.”

            “Stall him, sweetie. I’ll check with our lawyer and get back to you. No news conference until I do.” Jannie hung up the phone, swore under her breath, and then picked up the receiver again.

            But she didn’t call her lawyer. Instead she buzzed her assistant to research who was the best security company in New York, and to find out how much they would charge to send a team to Maryland. If she could get this Skip dude out of the picture, the whole story would die a natural death, with no need for news conferences or defamation suits.

CHAPTER TEN

            By Wednesday morning, Cherise still had not set up a news conference. She kept telling Skip her life was not her own, that her ‘people’ had to look at it from all angles first to consider how it would impact her image. “But I’ll insist, Skip,” she had promised.

            The paparazzi were leaving the kids alone. Harassing small children didn’t play well with the general public, especially the star-struck women who were the main readers of the entertainment tabloids. Still Mac was going with them and Maria whenever they left the house. He thought of Edie and Billy as his niece and nephew.

            The press was keeping their distance from Kate as well, after Ben Johnson had picked one of the slimy bastards up by his shirt front. Lifting him completely off his feet, Ben had informed the reporter that he was Mrs. Huntington-Canfield’s personal fifty-foot restraining order.

            Unfortunately the paparazzi were not leaving Skip alone. He had to shake a tail every time he went anywhere. And the phones at Canfield and Hernandez were ringing non-stop. Skip had hired a young woman from a temp agency to answer them. She was instructed to answer “no comment” and hang up on reporters.

            That was only eliminating about half the calls, however. Some of the bastards were sneaky enough to pretend to be potential clients, giving the temporary receptionist some bogus reason why they wanted to hire the firm. Skip couldn’t afford to refuse to take those calls, just in case it was a new client.

            Their reputation would be damaged if potential clients couldn’t get through, and they needed the income. Although Mac was refusing to take payment for guarding the kids, insisting they were family, they still had to pay Ben, and the four men stationed around his house to keep the paparazzi from sneaking up to the windows.

            Skip had tried to insist he would pay for the guards out of his own pocket, but Rose wasn’t hearing it, insisting they were necessary because of an agency case. He was seriously considering adding them to Cherise’s bill.

            The phone on Skip’s desk rang, again. Picking it up, he barked, “Canfield.”

            “Well, good mornin’ to you too, son.”

            “Sorry, Dolph. The paparazzi have been calling all morning.”

            “Got some good news, my boy. Talked to Robinson over in Howard County. They got the lab report back. Heart is canine. And there are prints, from several different people, all over that knife handle.”

            A long pause. “Are you waiting for a drum roll or what, Dolph?” Skip growled.

            A chuckle, then Dolph said, “Got a match on two sets of them. Lansing, and also Cherise.”

            Skip processed that for a moment. “What the hell does that mean?”

            “Knife had to come from either Lansing’s place, and Cherise touched it at some point when she was over there. Or it came from Cherise’s house.”

            “What kind of knife was it?” Skip asked.

            “Steak knife, expensive, sterling silver, slightly curved handle. Hopefully we can find a set somewhere that’s missing one of its buddies. Robinson’s coordinating with the City police to get a search warrant for Lansing’s place. You wanna go check out Cherise’s kitchen?”

            “On my way.” Skip’s voice was downright cheerful. If they could get this damned case solved, he and his family could go back to their blissful lives of anonymity.

            “Thought that news would perk you up, son. Talk to you later.”

* * *

            Inside Cherise’s front door, Skip held his hands out in front of him as she came to greet him, but she didn’t try to hug him this time.

            “To what do I owe this honor, Skip?” she said, a touch of ice in her voice.

            “I have some news, Cherise. But first I need to see your kitchen, and talk to your housekeeper.”

            “Ooohh, you’re a man of mystery now. How delightful,” she said sarcastically.

            Skip was tempted to tell her to cut the crap, but decided to let it go. At least she wasn’t jumping on him.

            He headed for the kitchen, Cherise trailing behind him. “Where do you keep steak knives?” he asked over his shoulder.

            “I have no clue.” Cherise punched a button on the intercom on the kitchen wall. “Bonnie, can you come to the kitchen, please?”

            “Yes, ma’am. Be right there,” came the disembodied answer.

            Skip was already impatiently rummaging through kitchen drawers when Bonnie, a stout, middle-aged woman, came through the door. “Where are the steak knives kept?” Cherise asked her.

            “Hutch in the dining room,” Bonnie answered. She led the way. In the dining room, the housekeeper moved to an elegant mahogany chest of drawers, with a set of shelves on top. She opened a drawer.

            “Wait, Bonnie,” Skip said.

            She stopped and took a couple steps backward.

            Taking out his handkerchief, Skip lifted the leather box in the drawer by its corner and stepped over to put it on the banquet-sized dining table. “Bonnie, get me a table knife, please.”

            The housekeeper quickly complied. Skip used the knife to flip the small latch on the box and lift the lid. Inside were eleven sharp knives, sterling silver, slightly curved handles, and one empty slot.

            Skip’s face broke into a huge grin. “I need something to put this whole case in, something that won’t disturb any prints,” he said.

            “I’ll find something,” Bonnie said and disappeared into the kitchen.

            “What does this mean?” Cherise said.

            “This means, Cherise,” Skip said, gesturing for her to take a seat further down the table from the leather knife case, “that we have a solid case against your ex-boyfriend, Timothy Lansing.”

            “Tim?”

            “Yup, he sent the bracelet. We can get the sales record from Tiffany’s. He wiped everything real good, including the shiny wrapping paper, but he forgot about the scotch tape. His fat ole index fingerprint was on the sticky side.” Skip tilted his head toward the leather case. “Knife in the bouquet of flowers matches those. His prints are on it, along with yours.”

            “How’d you get my fingerprints?” Cherise’s voice was sharp, her face unhappy.

            “Dolph probably pocketed something you’d touched. Focus on the important stuff here, Cherise. The case is solved. Lansing is your stalker.”

            Bonnie came back into the room, holding up two gallon-sized baggies. “Slide one on each end, put the whole thing in this.” She waved a plastic grocery bag in her other plump hand.

            “That’ll work nicely,” Skip said. “I’ll get it in a minute. Sit down please, Bonnie.” The woman pulled out a chair two down from her boss and carefully lowered herself into it.