“I’M SUING EVERY SINGLE stinking one of them. I’m suing that black bitch, and the TV station, and anyone else who dares cross me.
“Calm down,” said Darlene La Porte’s lawyer, Linden Masters, a tall man with piercing blue eyes and a distinguished white beard. Linden had an air of respectability about him, which went down well with judges, considering he represented some of the most notorious people in Hollywood, including Darlene, who’d come to him when she’d grown tired of using cut-price lawyers, and had realized that paying for the best got her the services she required.
“That bitch practically accused me of killing Hildie,” Darlene fumed. “I know nothing about it.”
“Which is exactly why we’re visiting the police station later today,” Linden said in an irritatingly calm voice. “You’ll tell them you don’t know anything, after which they’ll leave you alone. Cooperation is the key. If you avoid speaking to them, Darlene, they’ll think you have something to hide.”
“What do you mean?” she asked crossly.
Linden pulled on his beard. “Did you send Hildie out to meet a client?”
“No,” Darlene said, pacing up and down the thick pile carpet in her luxurious living room.
“You’re sure? Because if you did, you’d better tell me. As your lawyer I’m here to protect you. And if you’re concealing any evidence at all . . .”
“Oh, God, Linden,” she said, collapsing into an overstuffed armchair. “Of course I’m not.” What she really wanted to say was “Yes, I sent her out with the one client I know nothing about. He calls himself Mister X. I hear from him only occasionally. He pays big bucks. All cash. The girls think he’s weird, but he’s never done any of them harm.” But, of course, she said no such thing.
“Good,” Linden said.
Darlene jumped up and walked over to the large picture window overlooking Wilshire Boulevard. She gazed out, watching the cars race by at great speed. For a moment her mind drifted back to a year ago and Kimberly. She’d fixed Kimberly up with a client. That client was Mister X. A week later the girl’s body was fished out of the ocean.
In her mind Darlene had always refused to connect the two, imagining Kimberly had gone off with her friends after her appointment with Mister X, and died or been murdered at one of the drug parties she always hung out at. Now this.
“I help these girls,” she said, speaking rapidly. “If I wasn’t around to supervise their lives they’d be out on the street or mud wrestling in some seedy place by the freeway, I save them from themselves. Thanks to me they live in nice apartments, wear beautiful clothes. I’m good for them.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Linden said, sure that Darlene believed her own lies. But as long as she paid his exorbitant bills, what did he care?
“What will this do to my reputation?” she wailed, turning toward him. “Can I sue? I have no desire to become another Heidi Fleiss.”
“There’s not much chance of that,” Linden said. “They caught Heidi on alleged tax evasion. You pay your taxes.”
“Yes, yes, I’m a good citizen,” Darlene said, convincing herself that she was. “I own a successful flower shop, which is where my income comes from. And I pay plenty of taxes. Plenty. Now my reputation has been besmirched and I want retribution.”
“Don’t worry,” Linden said. “We’ll get it. But you’ve got to remember, Darlene, you do have a record, and that’s not in your favor.”
“Dammit, Linden,” she snapped. “I pay you a lot of money to keep my reputation clean.”
“I’ll be back to fetch you in two hours,” Linden said, anxious to escape her bad mood. “In the meantime, don’t speak to anyone. No public comments. Tell your service to handle all calls.”
“Very well.”
Darlene saw Linden to the door and went into her bedroom. Hildie had been such a sweet, fun-loving girl, almost innocent in a way. Why had she sent her out with Mister X? She knew the man was a pervert. Why hadn’t she chosen one of her more sophisticated girls? Then she remembered, it was Kristin he’d wanted.
Impulsively she went to the phone and dialed Kristin’s number. The maid informed her she was out. “I need to speak to her urgently, Chiew,” Darlene said.
“I sorry,” Chiew replied. “Miss Kristin no come home last night. I worried. No message, nothing.”
“Didn’t come home?” Darlene said, panic suddenly rising. It wasn’t like Kristin to vanish without leaving word where she was—she always made sure she was reachable in case there was an emergency concerning her sister. “Do you know where she went?” Darlene asked, attempting to remain unruffled.
“No, ma’am. A gentleman called. Jake Sica. When she come back, he want her to phone him at hotel.”
“Give me his number,” Darlene said abruptly. “And when she does come home, have her call me immediately.”
Darlene looked at the number as she put down the phone. She had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling. Who was this Jake? Kristin didn’t go out unless it was business. She’d confided to Darlene that she had no need of a personal life, all that concerned her was making enough money to take care of her sister.
Picking up the phone, Darlene quickly called the number. It was a hotel. “Jake Sica,” she said, trying to get her mind around the name which sounded vaguely familiar.
He answered on the first ring.
“I understand you’re looking for Kristin,” Darlene said.
Jake immediately recognized the woman’s distinctive voice from Kristin’s answering machine. “Who’s this?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter who I am. Do you know where Kristin is?”
“You’re her madam, aren’t you?”
“Excuse me?”
“I was there when you called on her machine. You wanted her to meet a Mister X. You said he’d pay her a lot of money.”
“Who the hell are you?” Darlene screeched, blowing her usual cool.
“Somebody who cares about her.”
“If you care about her so much, how come you don’t know where she spent last night?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but we got into a fight because of your message. Now I’m looking for her, too.”
Darlene slammed the phone down. She wasn’t about to get involved. This could only lead to trouble.
• • •
Lurking outside the bedroom, Junia Ladd, Darlene’s significant other, had been listening to the conversation with her ear pressed close to the door. Junia, a pointy-faced girl of eighteen, with delicate ivory skin and wispy fair hair, had been Darlene’s live-in lover for eighteen months, ever since Darlene had rescued her from a juvenile detention center.
Junia enjoyed the luxury of living with Darlene, but sometimes she had to break free, and when she did, she needed extra money. Making something on the side was most desirable, because although Darlene was generous, she always had to know exactly how Junia spent her money. Junia could go into Sak’s or Neiman’s and charge whatever she wished, but if Darlene suspected she was out spending her money on grass or coke, she threw a nasty fit.
Sometimes Junia stole the odd hundred from Darlene’s Prada purse when she thought she could get away with it. Other times she tried to do people favors in return for cash. Giving Mister X Kristin’s number was a favor for which she’d gotten paid five hundred bucks. Luckily Darlene had been in the bathroom when she’d answered the phone. It was Mister X tracking Kristin. He must have sensed Junia was someone he could manipulate, because the first thing he’d said was “Give me Kristin’s home number and I’ll pay you five hundred bucks.”
“How do I know you’ll do that?” Junia had said, glancing at the bathroom door, making sure that Darlene was not about to emerge.
“Go downstairs in an hour. The hall porter will have an envelope with your name on it. The money will be there. Leave another envelope with Kristin’s number for me. Mark it ’Mr. Smith.’ ”
“Okay,” Junia had said. “Only don’t you dare tell Darlene.”
The deal had taken place on Saturday. Now with all this stuff going on about Hildie getting murdered and Mister X being involved and Kristin not coming home all night, Junia had the shakes. She wondered if she should confess to Darlene what she’d done.
No, she couldn’t. She was too scared. Darlene had a vicious temper, and Junia didn’t want to get thrown back onto the streets. She liked her setup. She even liked the dyke action, although that wasn’t to say she was totally gay. Junia swung both ways, considering it prudent to keep one’s options open.
Then she thought again about Kristin, whom she really liked because Kristin was a genuinely nice person, unlike Darlene’s other girls, who were mostly stuck-up pieces of work Junia didn’t get along with at all.
She could hear Darlene banging about in the bedroom. This was probably not a good time to tell her about Mister X’s phone call, but Junia realized she’d better do something.
She ventured into the bedroom.
“Goddamn it!” Darlene screeched. “How dare the cunt drag me into this murder investigation. I’m suing her black ass right off television. You’ll never see her again.”
Darlene was on one of her rants. Once she got going there was no stopping her until she’d gotten satisfaction one way or another. Darlene, who presented a calm and sophisticated public image, was actually a raving bitch. However, over the eighteen months they’d been together, Junia had learned how to handle her moods.
“I am not happy,” Darlene said ominously. “And I look like shit. I’m going to change.” She stalked into her dressing room.
Junia hurried over to the notepad next to the phone. Darlene had a habit of writing everything down, and sure enough, there was the name of the guy she’d been talking to about Kristin—Jake Sica—and a number.
Junia didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like she was a Good Samaritan or anything, but how could she sit back and do nothing? Hildie had been murdered, and indirectly it was probably Darlene’s fault. She was sure Darlene didn’t remember, but one night about six months ago she’d gotten drunk on a bottle of Cristal, and under the covers she’d confided to Junia the story of Kimberly and her connection to Mister X.
Junia had listened and said nothing. The next morning Darlene seemed completely oblivious to her ramblings of the previous night, and it was never mentioned again.
If Darlene went to jail, did that mean that she, Junia, would be left in the apartment with all the money and clothes and stuff?
Yes! She’d be the official custodian while Darlene was locked away. Wow! Not too bad a job.
Then reality hit. That’s not the way it would work. No, she’d be thrown out quick as shit. She’d have nothing.
Surreptitiously she copied down Jake’s phone number and slid it into the pocket of her jeans.
“Hey, Darl,” she yelled through to the dressing room. “Want me to go to the cop station with you?”
“Are you serious?” Darlene said, marching back into the bedroom wearing a La Perla bronze lace slip on her well-toned body. “You, my dear, will stay out of this. Let us not forget where I found you. So I suggest for the next few weeks you keep a very low profile indeed. In fact, I don’t even want you answering the phone. Let the service pick up.”
“It’s not like I have anybody calling me,” Junia grumbled. “You don’t allow me any friends.”
“That’s not fair,” Darlene said sharply. “We live a different kind of lifestyle than other people. You’re happy just to be with me, aren’t you?”
Junia wanted to say, “No, you’re twenty-three years older than me, and we’ve got nothing in common.”
But she didn’t. She knew she was living a cushy life, and she wasn’t about to blow it.
At least not until she was good and ready.