In Deep Shitake (A Humorous Romantic Suspense) (35 page)

Mo gave it one last try and shoved aside her pride. “Ross, please,
please
believe
me. I swear to you that I did not call Milton. I did not give him a story about us.”

“You swear?”

“Yes.” Her eyes swam with unshed tears as they pleaded with his.

Their eyes caught and held, but his remained angry. “Like when you were caught breaking into that car. Oh yes, we both know how truthful you are.”

A knife of disappointment rammed into her heart to the hilt. Despite everything she’d thought that she could reach Ross. It seemed that she couldn’t, even if she begged.

 “Why don’t you kiss my asparagus,” she blurted out.

“I did that last night if you’ll recall.
And this morning.
And this afternoon.
That’s what got me into this mess,” he grumbled.

Mo swallowed down the hurt and shame. “Oh yeah. It was so mediocre, I almost forgot all about it,” she struck back.

“I’m not likely to be able to forget. It may have cost me the financing for my film. I’m going to have the rest of my career to regret my mistake.”

“Come on, Ross. Why would the studio executives care if you cheated on your fiancée? I think you’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“Whether they do or not doesn’t change the fact that you betrayed me to the press.” His face was like stone.

Mo sighed, defeated. “If that’s the way you feel, then I guess there’s nothing left to say.” Mo held her head unnaturally high, her chin jutting forward.

“I suppose there isn’t,” Ross replied. He stared at her for long silent seconds as if waiting for something. Finally, he uttered a few choice obscenities of his own and slammed his hand against the kitchen door. The edge banged on the wall behind
it,
as Ross stormed out past an open-mouthed Miss Kitty and a hovering Leo.

No one moved until the front door crashed open and slammed shut again.

“Sis?”

“Don’t.” Mo held up a hand defensively. “Just don’t say anything. It’s over.”

There was at least one more thing to do before she could go to her room and wail like a baby—kill Clarence.

She scanned the dining room. The interrogation chair was empty. “Where is he?”

“Who?” Leo asked.

“Clarence,” she said with impatience.

“He was just here,” Miss Kitty said, bending to look under the dining room table.

Mo took a deep breath, trying to hold onto her temper. She’d already lost it quite enough for one day. “Well, he’s not here now.” She marched through the parlor to the hall and saw Clarence with his back to her, hunched over something on top of the hall table.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Mo demanded.

Clarence jumped and turned in one motion. “
Nothhhhhhing
,” he stuttered.

When he moved, Mo saw her enormous messenger bag purse. Its flap was open leaving the interior contents exposed.

“Nothing, eh?”

Sprinting into action, Clarence dashed the few feet to the front door. He was outside, down the porch stairs, and running along the sidewalk before Mo could move.

“Mother—Marshmallow fudge,” Mo said deliberately changing the epithet. She wasn’t going to let Clarence remove her from the anti-swearing wagon.

Mo stuck her head out the front door.

“That’s perfect,” Mo said as Clarence rounded the corner of the block and proceeded north and out of view.

“You want me to try to catch him?” Leo asked over her shoulder.

“No, he isn’t going to tell us anything and we can’t torture him, unfortunately. Let him go for now.”

Going through her purse, she found her wallet, with cash, credit cards and identification all present and accounted for. Clearly he hadn’t been after money.

She dumped the contents of the bag on the table and pawed through them. What had Clarence stolen? Car keys, two tins of mints, digital camera, cell phone, three pens, mascara, lip balm, lipstick, tampon, a few coins and assorted other detritus. Nothing seemed to be missing.

 “Can I ask a favor?” Mo asked Leo. “It’s about Milton. Would you look for footage of him at the convention?”

“Sure thing. Is that why you asked him if he’s married?”

“If he’s married, he probably has something to hide from his wife. Let’s just say, I’m going to look for his website.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, but what if he doesn’t have a website?”

“Oh he has a website. And I think I know where to look. In fact, you’re going to help me. It’s a question of whether I can find what I need in time to help Ross. If I don’t, he’ll never forgive me.”

Mo thought for a moment. “Forget it, Leo. Why should I help Ross anyway? Forget about Milton.”

Leo’s face set in serious lines. “I’m sorry I told you to give that jerk a chance, Mo.”

Waving off his comment, Mo continued investigating her bag.

“Anything missing?” Leo asked.

“No. Maybe the wiener didn’t have time to steal anything.”

The Love Boat theme sounded and the cell phone danced on the table. “Shitake,” Mo said, glancing at the ID and saw a text message. “It’s Harry.” The text read:
Remember the appointment at agency and later with Nelson
.

Mo sighed. “I’d better get over to the agency. She said something about an assignment.”

“Will you be all right?” Leo asked.

“I’ll have to be.”

Mo threw her wallet, the cell phone, and the contents back into the bag before grabbing up her keys. “I’ll see
ya
later, bro.” No time for a breakdown. She had to act fast to salvage her career.

Chapter Sixteen

Ross had to act fast to salvage his career.

He couldn’t even recall the drive to his hotel with his mind racing the entire way. As ridiculous as it was, the whole inflated non-scandalous scandal just might be enough to scare off Nicodemus. The story might be enough to trigger that moronic morals clause Nicodemus had insisted on for the financing contract.

Ross should have known not to expect better of Mo. He’d only known the woman for what? Two days? Three?

Riding the glass walled elevator upward toward his room, Ross punched the speed dial number for his agent on his cell phone for the fourth time. Plugging the phone into the car charger had given it a little juice.

The assistant answered again.

“Get Aaron on the phone.” Ross didn’t bother with a greeting.

“I’m sorry, but he hasn’t come back to his office since you called the last time.” The girlish voice on the other end had an anxious high pitch.

“He always has his cell phone with him. Is he trying to avoid me?” Ross tried not to shout, but it came out as an aggressive growl instead.

The assistant made a nervous little laugh as the elevator door of hotel opened in front off Ross. He stepped out and strode down the hall.

“Absolutely not. Mr.
Stillman
left the phone on his desk. He must be somewhere in the building.”

Ross gritted his teeth. “Can you find him? I have to talk to him and it can’t wait.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty new here and I don’t want to lose my job.”

“Get him. You won’t lose your job. This is an emergency.” Aaron would be angry Ross had made a mess of things. But with all the money Ross had put into his pocket over the years from the
SpyMatrix
residuals alone, Aaron would get over it. He was paid to take care of these things.

“There is
one
more place I can try,” the assistant said.

Ross heard the assistant across the miles of cell phone towers as he approached his room.

Damn that Imogene Tuttle! He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Why had he been convinced Mo wouldn’t sell out to the press at the first opportunity? The answer came quickly. He’d trusted her because despite everything, especially her profession, he’d thought Mo was basically honest and compassionate. And when they’d made love it had been wondrous, as if something in his soul had finally connected with something in the universe that had been missing all his life. He had finally understood the phrase “make love”, because that is what it had felt like. When he and Mo were joined physically, it seemed as if feelings of love were being created.

He groaned at the sophomoric sentimentality of his own thoughts.

Stupid, idiotic, moronic.

Mo had only been a particularly good lay. Everything else between them had been a lie. Mo had jumped at the first opportunity to sell him out to the highest bidder.

Hadn’t she?

The hotel room door was in front of him before he realized that he didn’t have his key. He transferred the cell phone to his right hand and fumbled in his pocket for his wallet. He had to sandwich the phone between his ear and shoulder to free his right hand to pull out the key card. Jamming it into the lock, he saw the green light flash, heard a beep, and the lock mechanism released. Manipulating the handle, he pushed the door open.

Now that Ross’s fury was cooling, he couldn’t help but wonder why it was that he had believed Clarence. He’d never met the little twit before.

And Milton. Certainly that
wanker
had no reason to be trustworthy. Come to think of it, the reporter had seemed a bit too smug and self-satisfied with the effect his performance was having on Mo and Ross. There was absolutely no reason to believe Milton’s version of things. The only reason he’d believed them was that he wanted to believe them.

But why?

The sound of a creaking door came across the phone. Then the assistant’s voice said, “Mr.
Stillman
? Are you in here, sir?” Her words were tentative and there was a slight echo.

“Sheila. What the hell are you doing in the men’s room?” Aaron's voice sounded tinny and a whoosh of water drowned out a line of obscenities.

“Ross Grant is on the phone," the assistant squeaked.

“Can’t a man even have a bowel movement without interruption? I told you never to disturb me in here for anyone but an A-list celebrity," Aaron growled.

“I know, but he says it’s an emergency. Besides, isn’t he on the A-list?” the assistant asked.

“Of course not. Has he had a blockbuster lately? Has he starred in a movie that made money in the last five years? Has he even had a movie that was released during the summer in the last five years?
Dammit
, Sheila, you have to learn these things if you’re going to——”

Humiliation burned through Ross as he cut off the call.

He heard a sound and whirled.

“Hi, lover.” Heather rose from the sofa across the hotel suite and sauntered toward him.

“You’re just what I needed to make this
sodding
day complete.”

“I knew you’d come home to
Heather
. I forgive you for your fling with that Stooges woman.” She sidled up and pressed her full length against his before caressing his cheek with her fingertips.