Death of a Pirate King - lanyon Josh - Страница 48
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“My dad. My brothers. I’m married, for chrissake.”
“Oh yeah,” I said dryly. “I keep forgetting.”
He stopped. “Okay,” he said, meeting my look, “but what the hell did I go through these two years for, if I’m just going to flush it all down the toilet? If anybody ought to understand, you should.”
I was still trying to work that out when he left.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“You’re not drinking?” Paul inquired.
“Not at the moment,” I said.
A private smile tugged the corner of his sensual mouth.
We were sitting at Cafe Del Rey at a table looking out over the marina. Yachts bobbed gently in the midnight blue water. A few forlorn stars blinked in the midnight blue sky. A young woman with a midwestern accent approached our table and asked for Paul’s autograph. He signed the little brochure for Starline Tours she was carrying. “You see,” he told her. “There are movie stars everywhere you look in California.”
She laughed delightedly, and they chatted a few minutes more. He was infallibly gracious.
“I admit I was a little surprised to get your phone call,” Paul said, turning back to me without missing a beat. “Not that it isn’t always a pleasure.” His eyes seemed bright with that inner mirth. I wondered yet again what Jake saw in him. Yes, I thought he was beautiful, but it was such a strange, hazardous beauty. A little on the exotic side for Jake, I would have thought. But maybe I wanted to think that.
I hadn’t heard from Jake since Friday evening when he’d fled my place like a creature of the night with a whole village of torch-wielding fanatics on his tail. I hadn’t heard anything from anyone. No one had tried to arrest me or even interrogate me. It was Saturday evening now.
The last time I’d phoned the hospital was that afternoon. Al January’s condition was reported critical but stable.
“Were you surprised?” I asked. “I can’t imagine a lot surprises you.”
“You,” he said -- and it was straight out of one of his films. “You were a surprise.”
I sputtered into my water, and his fawn-colored eyebrows drew together. “I’m sorry?”
“No, I’m sorry,” I said, although I clearly wasn’t. “Actually, what I was sort of wondering was what you wanted me to do next.”
The fawn-colored eyebrows drew together. “What I…?”
“Well, the case isn’t over. What should my next move be?”
“Your next…?” He let that trail, adding thoughtfully, “I suppose the case isn’t over. Interesting.” He suddenly chuckled. “Well, I shall have to consult the stars.” He winked. “The other stars. Did you know I had gypsy blood?”
“I did not know that.”
“On my maternal grandmother’s side.” He held out his hand, palm up. “I’ll read your fortune.”
“Another time.”
“Come on.” He was amused by my reluctance.
“Shouldn’t I cross your palm with silver?”
He shrugged. “We’re friends. No charge.” He took my hand in his, gently turning it heel up.
“Here’s your lifeline.” He traced a line with his thumbnail halfway down my palm and stopped. “Oh dear.” He quirked his eyebrows and gave me a wry, commiserating look.
I tried to jerk my hand away, but he laughed.
“I’m teasing you, dear boy. You have a perfectly ordinary lifeline. Your loveline, on the other hand --” He shook his head, his eyes full of wicked amusement, and let my hand go.
I reached for my glass, the condensation chill on my palm -- washing away the feel of his fingers, washing away whatever fate he pretended to see in the lines of my hand. I swallowed ice water, set the glass down.
“You know Nina’s been released? They can’t seem to figure out how she got the poison into Porter’s glass.”
“Yes, I’d heard,” he said indifferently. He lifted his cocktail -- something called an Admiral’s Tea. He did like those sweet, flavored drinks. “I suppose it will be Ally next.”
“You suppose what will be Ally?”
His eyes locked on mine. “I suppose the police are looking at her closely as a possible suspect.”
“Oh!” I chuckled. “I thought you meant…well, people around you have been dropping at an alarming rate.”
He stared at me.
I said gravely, “You know about the attack on Al January, of course.”
“Of course.” He continued to stare at me. “A tragedy.”
“Hopefully not,” I said. “Hopefully he’ll pull through.”
He licked his lips.
I smiled confidingly, “Granted, your original interest in this investigation was the same as mine. Mostly. We neither of us wanted to be suspects in a murder investigation --”
“And to that end, you succeeded beautifully,” Paul assured me. “Neither of us are suspects any longer.”
“Aren’t we?” I arched my brows, mirroring his own elegant surprise. “But suppose the police don’t arrest Ally? Suppose they look elsewhere? There’s only you, me, and Valarie left. Al getting clobbered pretty much puts him out of the running.”
“The attack on Al might not have anything to do with Porter’s death. He told me once they have a great deal of crime in that neighborhood.”
“Jake may successfully be redirecting that investigation, but I don’t think there’s much doubt that the attack on Al was connected to Porter’s death.”
He sipped his drink and said nothing.
“Jake’s influence will only stretch so far,” I said. “Someone is going to be arrested and eventually tried for Porter’s murder. The LAPD take a very dim view of homicide -- even among the rich and famous.”
He gave me another of those long, bright looks.
“You’re absolutely right,” he said. “This isn’t going to go away on its own. In fact…yes, this is rather perfect timing. I’m having a small get-together on the Pirate’s Gambit tomorrow. Just a few friends from the party. Why don’t you join us? You’ll be able to do what you do so well. Snoop.”
“Is that what I do so well?” I mocked. “I was sure Jake would give me higher marks for…well…other things.”
His eyes locked on mine, and they were glacial blue. Then he smiled. “Tens all across the board, I assure you. I’m planning to seduce you myself.”
“I’m planning to let you,” I said. “But maybe tomorrow we can chat some more about getting this movie made from Murder Will Out.”
He said slowly, “You know, Adrien, that might not be so easy now. Porter was our financial backer and Al was writing the script…”
“Oh, I can write the script,” I assured him blithely. “And I’m sure you’ll come up with the money from somewhere.” I raised my brows at the expression that fleeted across his face. “No?”
He smiled -- and I blinked at the radiance of shining eyes and all those teeth.
“Oh, yes,” Paul said. “I’ll come up with whatever is necessary.”
* * * * *
When I got back to the Cloak and Dagger, I found the cat dying outside the side entrance.
I nearly stepped on him -- it was dark and I was preoccupied with my own thoughts. Having arranged your own murder is not a comfortable feeling.
There was a feeble meow, and I saw the pale glimmer of his form right before I put down my boot.
I knelt and I could see in the wan security lights that its skinny frame was streaked with dark, its narrow flanks moving quickly up and down. It looked flat -- like a cartoon cat after it’s been run over.
I whispered, “What happened to you?”
Not that I was expecting an answer, but it gave another of those pained meows.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Didn’t I tell you?” I informed it. I rose, went inside, and ran upstairs. The timing could hardly be worse if the damned cat had planned it. I grabbed a towel from the cupboard, hurried back downstairs, and stopped behind the counter long enough to look up the address of the nearest emergency animal clinic.
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