Joanna moved one of the kitchen chairs into the bathroom and placed it next to the sink. She was about to play customer to Faye’s professional hairdresser. It was such a large bathroom that it could easily have doubled for a salon stall.
After Joanna sat down, Faye stood back, then pulled both sides of Joanna’s hair forward and cupped it around her chin. “I’d take the color down a notch or two. Instead of the light blonde, I’d go to a rich, shimmering gold. And then I’d add both highlights and lowlights. Discreetly done, it could be dazzling.”
“You can do that here?”
“You bet I can. And I’d suggest a new cut. We’ll look through some of my books, see if anything appeals to you.”
Joanna had spent most of yesterday talking to Faye. She had to admit that she thought Faye was a lot of fun. She had a bawdy sense of humor and lots of bad habits. She drank and smoked way the hell too much—her words—and liked cards and casinos. Joanna was just waiting for the first homophobic remark about her brother, but Faye said she thought David seemed like a great guy. The only person Faye didn’t like was Freddy Kasimir. She kept bringing the conversation back to him, told Joanna in no uncertain terms to stay way from him.
Faye was very quick with advice—much like Joanna’s mother. It actually felt kind of wonderful to have someone take such a personal, motherly interest in her. Yesterday evening, Joanna had given her a tour of her wardrobe. Faye offered her opinions—what she thought was a good color, a good look for Joanna, what she thought wasn’t. Their friendship had grown so quickly that Joanna was suspicious of the way Faye made her feel: warm, almost safe. It made no sense, really, except that Joanna needed someone in her life like that right now.
It was approaching three in the afternoon when they finally left the bathroom and returned to the kitchen for coffee. Nolan would be stopping by in a few minutes. Once Joanna listened to his report, she’d have a better sense of how safe she’d feel when she did decide to go outside for the first time.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Faye, getting up to pour herself more coffee.
“Oh, nothing much.” Joanna gazed down into her cup.
“You’re worried about something. I can tell.”
“Don’t be silly. You hardly know me.”
“I’m a quick study.”
Joanna shook her head and laughed. “People always think they know celebrities because we’re on TV or they see us up on a big movie screen. We’re familiar, but that’s a far cry from the real thing.”
“Oh, I saw past that crap years ago. You’ve had a great life, Joanna, one that lots of people would envy.”
“I know. Really, I’m grateful.”
“Unlucky, too,” said Faye, stirring some cream into her cup. “I know you haven’t had much success in the love department. All I can say is, welcome to the club.”
“Thanks.”
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like you have many friends.”
“I’ve got lots of friends,” said Joanna, knowing she sounded way too defensive.
“Close ones?”
She looked up at the ceiling fan. “Sure. Cordelia, for one.”
“But you don’t talk to her much. You hardly ever see her. At least, that’s the impression I got from her.”
“What’s your point?” She was starting to get irritated.
“You need people in your life, Joanna. People who care about you.”
Lighting up, Joanna said, “Look, everybody wants something from me, okay? They want to manipulate me. Or if they don’t, they have a picture of me that’s so unrealistic I don’t even want to be in the same room with them. I have friends, lots of them. Other actors, actresses. People in the industry. We talk. But I don’t trust anyone completely, not anymore. Maybe it’s one of the downsides to my profession. I’ve been burned too many times.”
Faye nodded. “Still, it’s sad, don’t you think?”
“It’s the way it is.”
“I suppose that means you and me, we’ll never be good friends. I’m not in ‘the industry.’ I’m just an average Joe—or Jane.”
“Don’t expect anything from me, Faye. That way, you won’t be disappointed.”
“Okay. Not a problem. You could walk out the door tomorrow and all I’d do is shrug and go back to watching The Price Is Right. But here’s the deal. I’d miss you—not you the actress, but you the person. I like you, Joanna. You’re funny, smart. You’ve experienced the world from an unusual perspective and that interests me. I’ve always been the kind of woman who picks up stray animals, tries to find them good homes.”
Joanna blinked through the smoke from her cigarette. “You think I’m a stray?”
“In a way, yeah, I guess I do. As much as I respect you and what you’ve accomplished, I think your life is pretty lonely. And yet, in spite of everything that’s happened to you, you’re still a good person.”
“Yeah, right. Sometimes I wonder.”
“Well, don’t. Give me some credit, lady. I’ve lived a lot longer than you have and I’m very selective about the people in my life. You may not want to be my friend, but that doesn’t stop me from being yours.”
The phone rang. Rising from the table, Joanna grabbed the receiver off the wall. She expected it to be Nolan and it was. He was
downstairs. She buzzed him in, then turned around and looked at Faye. The question was, should she allow her to stay or ask her to go? “I have a meeting with someone. He’ll be up here in a second.”
“Want me to skedaddle?”
Joanna glanced at the clock. She wished David were here. On the other hand, after the bizarre way he’d behaved last night, she’d been more than happy to see him leave right after breakfast. “No. Stay.”
“Love to. Who’s the meeting with?”
“A private investigator I just hired.”
Faye’s eyes narrowed.
“Long story. Just wait, you’ll hear all about it.”
Once Nolan arrived, they all sat down in the living room. With his dark skin, stocky frame, gray hair, and mustache, Nolan reminded Joanna of Ossie Davis. She’d worked with Ossie several times. He was a gentle, cultured man. Nolan, on the other hand, was rough. He might not be a cop anymore, but he still gave off cop vibes. Joanna introduced Faye as a friend. She could see a look of pleasure cross Faye’s face.
“So,” said Joanna, brushing a piece of lint off her gray slacks as she crossed her legs, “what did you find out?” She was trying hard to remain calm—look calm—but inside, she was a mess.
Opening the file folder he’d carried in, Nolan patiently explained everything he’d learned.
The longer he talked, the tighter Joanna held herself. When he was done, she looked down at her hands. “But you don’t know for a fact that Gordon was behind those missing women.”
“No. There’s no proof. That’s why the police haven’t acted on it.”
“So they could be wrong. It might be a coincidence.”
Nolan closed the file and set it on a table next to him. “I think, Ms. Kasimir, that we’d be making a big mistake if we treated it that way.”
She swallowed, forcing back the bile rushing into her throat. “Sometimes I’m so thick. I actually thought I was rid of him.” She knew now that he’d never go away. Gordon had taken her freedom. From the moment he walked into her life, she should have seen him for what he was. That failure had eaten away at her daily for more than fifteen years. “What can we do?”
“We need to find proof that will put him behind bars. Short of that, he’s still out there on the street, and that means he’s still a danger. I plan to concentrate all my efforts on proving he murdered those two women.”
“Does that mean you think he was the one who sent me the pink roses?”
“I do,” said Nolan. “I wish I could tell you otherwise.”
A wave of fatigue shuddered over her. “It’s about what I expected.”
“I’m curious,” said Nolan, looking at her hard. “During the trial, did you ever talk to a therapist, a counselor, a cop—somebody who knew about the psychology of a stalker?”
She shook her head.
“Actually, in some ways, show folks are a lot like police officers. It’s a high-risk profession. You experience too much, see too much. I realize what happened with you and Luberman was a long time ago. Most of the research that’s been done on stalkers has been recent. I won’t get into details, but in general, one of the biggest mistakes celebrities make is being overly friendly. They let people take their pictures. Send out signed photos to fans. Allow publicity shots of their homes—even their bedrooms.”
“I’m not overly friendly,” said Joanna. “Anymore.” Throwing up her hands, she added, “But, I mean, are we supposed to live in a cocoon?” Strange question, she thought, coming from a woman who’d tried to do exactly that. She knew firsthand that being in the public eye wasn’t just all about praise. It could also be highly corrosive. For example, she’d been in a bathroom stall once when two women she’d just met—women who had been falling all over her telling her how wonderful she was—came in and started talking about how awful she looked in person. It was enough to drive a sane person stark raving mad.
“I know it’s a difficult issue,” said Nolan. “Most people look at fame and see only what’s positive. The money. The power. Public affection, even adoration. Fame opens doors, provides the famous person with amazing opportunities. But we both know that’s only one side of the coin.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Most people you meet will never be a problem to you. That’s a given. But for some, a very few, simple friendliness on your part can trigger a delusional individual into feeling like he has a relationship with you, when in reality, he doesn’t. One of the most interesting facts that’s come to light in the last few years is, contrary to what we all think, celebrities who attract the biggest number of stalkers—and all celebrities have stalkers, it’s just a question of how many—aren’t the most glamorous. They’re the ones who seem the sweetest, the most wholesome, because that makes them approachable.”
“But it wasn’t like that with Gordon and me,” said Joanna. “We had a brief relationship. I invited him into my life. At one point, I thought I loved him. It didn’t last long before I saw what he really was, but by then, it was too late.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Ms. Kasimir. Believe me when I tell you he targeted you. He had you in his sights long before he ever made his first approach.”
“You think so?”
“I’m positive.”
Joanna felt flattened. “What do I do?”
“Well, first, I’d suggest beefing up the security at the Linden Building. I’d like to put a man on the back door, the one by the parking lot, and by the inside elevator. That way, no one can sneak in. It’s just a precaution, but one I’d advise. It will cost some money—”
“Don’t worry about that. Can you set it up?”
“I’ve already arranged for two men to start tonight. They should be here around five.”
“What about when I need to leave the building?”
“Have you ever used bodyguards?”
Joanna sighed. “Yes.”
“This might be a time when you might want to do it again.”
“Can you suggest someone?”
“I do a lot of work with a local company in St. Paul. A lot of the guys they hire are either ex-cops or ex-military, so they know what they’re doing.” He took a card out of his inner pocket and placed it on the coffee table. “Call this number. Give them an hour’s notice.”
Joanna nodded, feeling a little better. “But unless you can prove Gordon is guilty of murdering those two women, I’m the one who’s going to spend my life in prison.”
“Let’s hope not,” said Nolan, rising. “Jane drove back to Eagle Ridge today. Maybe she found out something that could help us. If not, I’m planning to hire a man to sit on Luberman, follow him everywhere. And tomorrow, I’m heading up to Lake Poygan to research what happened to Mandy Kiskanen. Maybe I can connect some dots.”
“Thanks,” said Joanna. She walked him to the door.
As they were saying good-bye, her cell phone rang. Joanna looked so startled that Nolan said, “Why don’t you answer that while I’m still here.”
“If you don’t mind, I will.”
Faye stood up and handed it to her.
“Hello?” said Joanna, sinking down on the couch.
“Is this Ms. Kasimir?”
It was a man. She didn’t recognize the voice. “Who’s calling, please?”
“This is Noel Dearborn over at the Allen Grimby. I’m the intern assisting Cordelia Thorn. I’m sorry if I’m catching you at a bad time.”
“No, that’s okay,” said Joanna.
“The reason I’m calling is we got a call from Milwaukee Magazine. It’s the big glossy monthly that does features on what’s new around the city and the region. I’m told they don’t usually do stories on events as far away as the Twin Cities, but since you’re such a big name, they want to interview you. I’m kind of new around here, so I wasn’t sure how to handle it. Cordelia isn’t around and nobody else seemed to know what to do, so I took a chance and called. Hope you don’t mind. I didn’t give out your number because I didn’t think you’d want someone calling out of the blue.”
“Thanks,” said Joanna. “You’re right.”
“So I took the guy’s number, said I’d pass it on to you. If you’re interested—and I hope you are—he’d like you to call him back today. It’s getting kind of late, so do you think …” He paused, allowing Joanna to make the decision.
“Sure. What’s the number?” She wrote it on the inside of a Country Living magazine.
“Thanks, Ms. Kasimir. I’m looking forward to meeting you next Monday. I’m a huge fan.”
“What’s your name again?”
“Noel Dearborn.”
“I’ll call right away. What’s the man’s name?”
“Victor Allen. He’s the features editor.”
“Okay. I’m on it.”
After saying good-bye, she turned to Nolan. “Everything’s fine. Just some publicity stuff I need to deal with.”
“Okay,” said Nolan. “You take care, then. Call if you have any problems.”
After he was gone, Joanna leaned back against the couch cushions. She felt a little better knowing that Nolan was on the case. At least something was being done.
“Boy,” said Faye, returning from the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee for Joanna. “That was an earful I never expected. That’s why you look so worried all the time. God, if there’s anything I can do—”
“Have dinner with me,” said Joanna. “We’ll order something from the Greek restaurant downstairs.”
“Or I could go get us burgers, or Chinese. Or we’ve got some great Vietnamese restaurants in town.”
“Whatever you want,” said Joanna, pressing in Victor Allen’s number. She waited through three rings before the phone was picked up.
“Hello?” came a deep voice.
“Mr. Allen?”
There was a long pause. Then, “Joanna, how nice to hear from you again.”
She froze. “Gordon?”
“Welcome to the Midwest. Hope you’re enjoying your stay.” His tone was calm. Mocking. Just the way she remembered.
“You stay the hell away from me!”
“What a way to talk. I tried to get you to clean up your language, Jo. Remember? I guess you never learn.”
“If you come near me—”
“What? What are you gonna do? I’m the one who should be angry, Jo. That’s why I called. In case you’re as brainless as you used to be, let me spell it out for you. Call off the goons.”
“Not until you leave me alone!”
He chuckled. “Paranoid as usual. Nothing ever changes. Listen, babe. I’m only going to say this once. If you want to live to see your next birthday, back the hell off. Otherwise, well, I can’t be responsible for what happens to you in the big city, can I? Do you know what they call Minneapolis these days?” He voice lowered. “Murderapolis. Funny, huh? Well, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Bye, babe. See you around.”
“Joanna, what’s wrong?” asked Faye, sitting down next to her.
With all her might, Joanna hurled the phone across the room. It hit the side of a bronze duck sculpture and burst into pieces.
Exactly the way her life just had.