The Next Victim (33 page)

With trepidation, she reached for the phone and punched in Wayne Clark's number. Just when she expected voice mail to click in, a man picked up. She recognized the cadence of Clark's accent right away.

"This is Kali O'Brien," she said, "John's sister."

If Clark was surprised to hear from her, he didn't show it. "Such terrible news about John's death. My condolences to the whole family. I know I should have dropped a note or something. Sorry to be such a bludger."

Kali could hear conversation in the background, and over that, a female voice sounding impatient. Clark must have put his hand over the mouthpiece briefly because there was a muffled "Give me a minute" before he came back to the phone.

"If you're calling about whatever money your brother had coming," Clark continued, "you need to talk to our accounting people. Or better yet, have the attorney handling the probate get in touch."

"Money?" Kali wondered if Clark had confused John with someone else.

"Payouts are made on a semiannual basis."

"What payouts?"

"Return on investment. John was one of our backers. Isn't that what you're calling about?"

John in the pornography business? "Not really," Kali answered, confusion overriding dismay. "I was calling because my brother met with you a few days before he died."

"Ah, that." Clark didn't seem inclined to elaborate.

It was a conversation better handled face-to-face, she decided. "Is there a time when we can get together?"

"We're in production right now, so the days are pretty busy."

"How about after work?"

Clark seemed to hesitate, then finally acquiesced. "This evening, around seven? We should be winding down by then."

"That's fine."

He gave Kali an address and directions for finding the door and buzzer once she was there. "It sounds more complicated than it is," he explained.

"I'll figure it out. See you at seven."

The agitation over the ominous phone call was overshadowed now by uneasiness. And, yes, curiosity over John's ties to the porn industry.

Kali had taken the tourist tour of Universal Studios in Los Angeles, and she'd been on a small company's set where a friend of hers once worked as a production assistant, but when it came to porn films she didn't have any idea what to expect. She'd sort of assumed they were shot in the back bedroom of a run-down bungalow in some seedy neighborhood where every house had bars on the windows.

Nice'n'Naughty Productions, however, was housed in a sleek and modern warehouse-like building out by the airport. The entrance was on the east side, off the paved and striped parking lot. Kali rang the bell and a buzzer sounded, signaling her to open the door. She stepped into a small, carpeted reception area that resembled the waiting room at her dentist's, right down to the artificial, and slightly dusty, ficus tree in the corner.

A moment later, one of the two interior doors opened and a man emerged.

"You must be John's sister," he said, offering his hand. "I'm Wayne Clark."

He was in his early thirties, of medium height and build, though he had a bit of a bulge around his middle. He was wearing blue Bermuda shorts and a yellow polo shirt. She could more easily picture him teeing off on a golf course than filming hot and heavy sex.

Wayne ran a hand through his hair. It was golden and wavy, curling around his ears. "Like I said, I'm sorry about John. I didn't know him all that well--I try to leave the business end of things to others--but he seemed like a nice guy."

As he talked, Wayne led her past several offices, a sound booth, an editing room, and a couple of production studios. Through the glass panel of one of the studios, Kali could see a cameraman on rails positioning a shot on the set of an empty living room. A pretty high-class living room, Kali thought. Oriental rug, overstuffed couch, mock fireplace, and big-screen televison.

Clark's gaze followed hers. "Fun's over for today. He's just setting up for tomorrow's shoot. We've got the girl-girl in the morning, and a girl-girl-boy after that."

"A what?"

"The scenes. Most of our productions incorporate the standard variations. It's pretty formulaic, but you've got to have them because customers expect it."

A young woman in workout pants and a T-shirt emerged from an area to Kali's right. "The shower sucks," she said to Wayne. "Still no water pressure. I thought you were going to get that fixed."

"I thought it was fixed, love."

"Yeah, sure."

"I'll get the guy back out tomorrow."

"
Before
I go on." She tossed her canvas tote over one shoulder and strode out the door.

Wayne turned to Kali. "That's Amber Lane. She's a pain in the ass sometimes, but she's dynamite in action."

Kali tried not to imagine the action but failed. She could feel herself blush.

"You want a soda or something?" Wayne asked her.

"No thanks."

He grabbed one for himself from the fridge in an alcove off the hallway, then pointed her to an office with a wide wooden desk, a couple of comfortable-looking chairs, a walnut bookcase, and a credenza. As classy as the typical law office, but in place of the customary diplomas and awards of recognition hanging on the wall, Clark's office offered framed blowups of graphic sex scenes.

Kali studied them while trying to appear that she was looking elsewhere.

"Have a seat," Clark said, pointing to a chair. He ignored the desk and sat opposite her.

She pulled her gaze from the photos on the wall. "So you make porn films?"

Clark winced. "We prefer the term 'adult content' or 'X-rated.' It's all strictly legal."

"For Web sites?"

"No, except for what we put out as teasers. The Web stuff is generally trash. Our stuff comes out on DVDs and cable. Hotels are a huge market. Insatiable, if you'll excuse the term." He grinned and popped the tab on his soda. "But the home consumer market is a gangbuster, too. Americans spend over ten billion a year on adult entertainment. Did you know that? It's a huge and profitable business."

In spite of herself, Kali was impressed by the numbers. "You make feature films, then?"

Clark nodded. "Everything from artsy, soft core to really hard core, though my personal preference is for stuff in the middle. Some of the schlock out there, especially on the Web, you get no story at all, clunky dialogue, amateur filming, sometimes just a single handheld camera. We try to be a step above." He paused to down a gulp of soda. "Well, we try to be several steps above, but I can't say we always get there. Trouble is, too many people don't give a rat's ass about quality. The market gets flooded with crappy product, and then consumers, they start to think that's the norm."

"Sounds like an uphill battle," Kali offered lamely. She wasn't sure that
quality
and
porn
belonged in the same sentence.

"Isn't that the truth," Wayne said. "We want to be known for quality. Good sets, good plots, attractive people--actors who can actually remember their lines. Everything you'd expect in a mainstream movie. We don't do the extreme stuff--no shots of women getting beaten, raped, suffocated, or strangled. No slasher films and no sadoerotic stuff."

"How commendable." She couldn't conceal the sarcasm.

Clark gave her an amused smile. "I take it you're not a fan."

"Not really, no."

He leaned back and held up his hands as if fending off attack. "Not one of those righteous crusaders who wants to dictate how others live, I hope."

"No, not that either. So what's your role in the company?"

"I started out as a director but I've gotten more into the production end. A good script and the right talent make all the difference. I try to make sure we've got both. Not the big-name stars, obviously. We can't afford them. But folks starting out, fresh talent, there's a lot to be said for that too. We're not in the same league as the major studios, but we're doing well and growing."

"Major studios?"

"VCA, Vivid, Wicked Pictures. They're known for big-budget films. Most of the biggies are in the Valley, near L.A. It's the epicenter of the adult film industry. But smaller studios are springing up around the country."

"And my brother," Kali asked reluctantly, "what was his role?"

"Strictly financial. Small time, in fact. He wasn't one of the major players." Wayne took another long swig of soda. "The bigger studios, they have corporate backing. Some are even publicly traded. We rely on private investors."

"So that's what you and John met about recently?"

Wayne shook his head. "No. Like I said, I don't handle the financial stuff. That was the first time I'd met your brother, in fact. I got a call from our financial guy saying John wanted to meet with me. About a girl."

"A girl?" Kali's mouth felt dry.

"That's what he said. I assumed your brother had a friend who was trying to get into the business and he wanted to use his contacts to find a role for her. But that wasn't it. He had a photograph of three young women. Wanted to know if I recognized any of them."

Kali swallowed. "Did you?"

"One of them. Dark hair, exotic looking. A real beauty, which is rarer than you'd think in this business. She'd been murdered a couple of days earlier and John seemed to think he was a suspect."

"Olivia Perez," Kali said, as much to herself as Wayne. "She'd worked for you?"

"Only a couple of films. Minor roles. To look at her, a hot babe like that, you'd think she'd be a natural. But she had no charisma on the set. I mean zip. She did a scene with Randy Gibbons, who's like our leading male, and she could barely manage to look interested. Her only enthusiasm was for collecting the paycheck at the end of the day."

Randy. The good-looking guy with the great body Joanna Sommers had told her about seeing at the mall. Not a boyfriend, but a porn star coworker.

Clark tossed his empty can. "Happens way too often. Girls come to the industry because they think it's an easy road to good money. They all think they're going to be the next Jenna Jameson. Most of them bail pretty quick."

"Jenna's a big name?"

He laughed. "Guess you're really
not
a fan, are you? Yeah, she's probably the most successful porn star ever. She still makes films but she's also CEO of her own company and brings in as much money as any mainstream celebrity. Maybe more."

Kali had never considered herself a prude, but she was beginning to realize she was more buttoned-down than she imagined. "When did Olivia start working for you?"

"Last spring. But it was the other girls in the photo John was most interested in. I didn't recognize either of them. I gave him the names of other folks in the industry who might have worked with them. And that was it."

Kali remembered the names and numbers written on the back of Wayne Clark's business card. She showed them to him. "Were these the contacts you gave John?"

"Yeah. I never talked to him after that, so I don't know if he had any luck."

"Did he by any chance tell you
why
he was looking for the girls?"

Wayne shook his head. "I didn't ask and he didn't offer. Sometimes it's best not to know."

So true, Kali thought. Unfortunately, not knowing was a luxury she couldn't afford just now.

Erling stared at the reports on his desk. It was impossible to concentrate. Rather than working on his open cases, he'd spent the afternoon trapped in his mind, watching his marriage and his career crumble.

Why hadn't he asked to be taken off the case the moment he recognized Sloane was one of the victims? It would have been embarrassing, but it wouldn't have permanently impacted his job. And Deena might never have heard.

Except, as Sloane's ex-lover, Erling would have come under suspicion himself. His job and his marriage
would
have been affected. Just as they were now.

He hadn't avoided anything. He'd only postponed, and compounded, his problem.

Erling shuffled the reports. He read the words, but nothing sank in. He squirmed in his seat, wiped the dampness from the back of his neck. What had possessed him to get involved with Sloane in the first place?

He'd known it was wrong, but even now he couldn't honestly say he regretted it. Sloane had been so alive. Vibrant and sexy in a way Deena had never been. Sloane tapped into feelings he'd thought were long dead. Maybe it was simply the novelty of the relationship, the rush of feeling desired, the excitement of breaking the rules. Or maybe it was the electric charge that had sparked between them the moment they'd met. Her blue-gray eyes had grazed his skin, taking stock, causing his flesh to tingle.

It wasn't that Erling loved Sloane more than Deena, or in place of Deena. He wasn't sure he'd even loved her at all. Rather, she was an addiction. He'd craved her and the dizzying pleasure of the here and now. Like a glutton in a candy shop, he'd been focused only on the next bite. It had been about him and how Sloane made him feel, not about Deena or their marriage.

But no longer. Tonight his two worlds would collide.

And Deena would be caught in the crush. Erling felt the weight of his wrongdoing like shackles on his soul. He couldn't bear to think of the ways he'd harmed her.

They'd married right out of college. Deena was only the second woman he'd been with, and the first had been little more than a drunken one-night stand. He was taken by her warmth, her laughter, the fact that she wanted him.
Him
. It was a heady feeling.

In retrospect, Erling realized that he'd loved the idea of Deena as much as the woman herself. But over the years of their marriage, he'd grown to care about her more deeply than he'd ever imagined. She was a warm and selfless woman, maybe a little controlling at times, but also someone who propped him up when he needed it, taught him to laugh at petty annoyances and not to take himself too seriously. But after Danny's death, she'd retreated into a place where Erling wasn't invited. Maybe he hadn't tried as hard as he should have. He realized that now, but after all, he'd been hurting, too.