Dangerous Kiss (30 page)

Teddy was impressed. Irena could kick it good.

'Thank you, ma'am,' Detective Johnson replied, recognizing a pain in the ass when it stared him in the face. He was well aware that dealing with so-called celebrities was always trouble, and this uptight woman was definitely on protection duty. 'Hopefully we won't need to bother you again.'

'What was that about?' Irena asked, as soon as the two detectives had left.

Teddy shrugged, attempting to appear unconcerned, although inside he was shaking. 'Dunno. Somethin' about a jeep involved in a robbery.'

'There are thousands of jeeps in Los Angeles,' Irena said crossly. 'Why they come here?'

Teddy shrugged again and turned away. He didn't want her to see his face, which probably had 'Guilty' written all over it. 'Beats me,' he said.

'Where's Mila?' Irena snapped.

'Haven't seen her,' Teddy lied.

'Do not answer the door again,' Irena said sternly. 'It is my job to look after this house. My job, not yours.' She shot him a suspicious look. 'You have something to hide, Teddy?'

'Don't be stupid,' he mumbled.

Once rid of Irena, Teddy raced upstairs where he and Mila conferred way into the night.

'Whatever happens,' Mila insisted, her pointed face agitated and angry, 'deny everything. Understand, Teddy? Or, I promise you, you'll regret it big time.'

A week later the same two detectives were back. This time they requested to see the jeep.

Once again, Irena stonewalled them.

'How about we come back with a search warrant?' Detective Johnson said, with a weary sigh. He'd spent too much time and energy on this case. All he wanted to do was solve it so he could get the Santangelo woman off his back. She was bugging the shit out of him, completely unaware of the many other homicides that needed solving.

'Yes,' Irena said, glaring at him. 'Perhaps that's what you should do.'

'If that's what the miserable witch wants,' Detective Johnson muttered to his partner as the two men returned to their car, 'that's what she'll get.'

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that the jumpy black kid they'd talked to a week ago looked a lot like the artist's rendition of one of the suspects. That, combined with the jeep having some of the same numbers, was giving him cause to think they may have hit pay dirt.

Twenty-four hours later they returned with a warrant to inspect the jeep.

Irena, who on principle detested the police, almost panicked. Price was in Vegas and she didn't wish to bother him with such nonsense, so she made the two detectives wait at the door while she contacted Price's lawyer, who yelled at her for not alerting him the first time they'd come to the house.

'Podonki!' she snapped, reverting to her mother tongue as she slammed down the phone. Police. Lawyers. All figures of authority made her sick. They thought they could march in anywhere and do whatever they wanted. But not in Price Washington's house they couldn't. Not while she was there to protect him.

The detectives with their precious warrant were out of luck, because Teddy was not home, so the jeep wasn't there. 'When will he be back?' the Hispanic detective asked.

'I not know,' she said, guarding the front door like a sentinel.

'We'll wait,' Detective Johnson said.

'Outside,' she said.

'What was your name again?' he said.

'Irena Kopistani,' she said. And felt fear, because if anyone discovered her true identity it was quite possible she would be deported, considering she'd entered the country under an assumed identity.

'Miss Kopistano,' Detective Johnson said, mispronouncing her name, 'do either of these people look familiar to you?' He held up the two computer-generated photographs.

Irena's stomach flipped. The girl in the photo resembled Mila. And the boy could certainly be Teddy. 'No,' she said, staring straight ahead.

'No?' Detective Johnson said, observing that her pinched face had flushed a dull red. 'Doesn't the boy look like that kid we spoke to the other day?'

'No,' Irena repeated.

'That boy was Price Washington's son, right?'

She nodded, reluctant to tell them anything.

'Does he have a white girlfriend?'

'Excuse me?'

'A white girlfriend,' Detective Johnson repeated, wondering what kind of bee she had up her ass, because she was definitely suffering an attack of the guilts.

'No,' Irena said flatly.

'Where are you from, Miss Koposta?'

Her face was stony. 'Do I have to answer your questions?'

Oh, yeah, she definitely had something to hide. 'It's up to you,' he answered mildly, playing good cop.

She threw him a filthy look. 'By law do I have to answer them?'

Detective Johnson's gut feeling told him he'd come across a vein of gold. He'd got a search warrant for the jeep, now he was turning around and getting one for the house. Pronto. This old bag knew more than she was saying.

Forty-eight hours later they were back with a warrant to search the house.

This time the surly housekeeper couldn't stop them. She got on the phone to Price Washington's lawyer again, but it was too late: they were all over the house, concentrating on Teddy's room. And when they picked up his mattress and discovered the many press clippings about the murder and Mary Lou Berkeley Detective Johnson knew for sure that this was it. They had suspect number one. And his experience told him that, once Teddy Washington was in custody, the boy would give it up within the first few hours, and they would have the name of his partner in crime.

'Who's the girl?' Detective Johnson asked, waving the computer likeness of Mila in front of Teddy's face.

'Dunno,' he mumbled, terrified, because when Price found out he'd been arrested and hauled down to the police station, his life would turn to pure garbage.

'No good protecting her,' Detective Johnson said, ' 'cause the moment we get her in custody she'll give you up like the school tramp on prom night. And you seem like a nice kid - in fact, from what I understand you didn't participate.' He gave Teddy a moment to think about that. Then he said, 'Of course, being there makes you an accessory, and a sharp lawyer can turn this case around, and before you know it, you'll find yourself doing time for murder. Ever seen those prison movies, Teddy?' He paused to let that sink in. ' 'Cause if you have, then you know what goes on inside. So I strongly suggest you co-operate and tell us who the girl is, 'cause we'll find out anyway. An' if you're trying to protect her, it'll blow up in your face.'

Teddy shuddered. Murder. He hadn't murdered anyone, he'd just been along for the ride - that was all. And if they did find Mila, she'd tell them he was innocent, then they'd have to let him go. Yeah. Mila knew the truth better than anyone.

'So…' Detective Johnson continued. 'Who is she? And where can we find her?'

Teddy kept his silence, but they found her anyway. They discovered that Irena had a daughter, and when they saw her and noted her resemblance to the computer photo, she was arrested at her place of work in front of everyone.

Mila did not go to the police station quietly, she informed anyone who would listen that Teddy had forced her to go on the ride that fateful night; that he'd plied her with cocaine and booze; that he'd been carrying his father's gun, and that he'd shot Mary Lou. 'He raped me, too,' she added, for good measure, frustrated and angry that she hadn't been able to find anyone prepared to put a hit on Lennie Golden, therefore she had not been able to claim the reward. Now she was in deep shit and what the hell could she do about it? Exactly nothing.

Detective Johnson sat her down in the interrogation room and questioned her for three long hours.

She stuck to her story.

'Teddy says it was you who fired the gun,' he said, regarding her carefully. 'He says it was you calling all the shots.'

'Liar!' she snapped.

'Wanna tell us about it?'

'Teddy's in denial,' she said stubbornly. 'He's not thinking straight. I told you, he did the shooting. What would I be doing with his dad's gun?'

'Why didn't you come forward after it happened?'

'I was scared,' she lied, lowering her eyes. 'Teddy threatened to kill me if I talked.'

Detective Johnson sighed. Nothing was ever simple.

By the time Price Washington's lawyer arrived, both Mila and Teddy were locked away for the night. Teddy in juvenile hall, and Mila in jail.

'Too late for bail. Come back tomorrow morning,' Detective Johnson said, hardly looking at the Beverly Hills lawyer, whom he disliked on sight.

Howard Greenspan, a smooth-looking man with a tan, a two-thousand-dollar suit and plenty of attitude, bristled. 'Price Washington won't like this,' he warned.

'I said tomorrow,' Detective Johnson repeated, refusing to be intimidated by the fat-cat lawyer in his expensive suit, reeking of costly aftershave.

'Mr Washington has friends in high places.'

'Congratulations,' Detective Johnson growled.

The two men locked eyeballs.

'What's the charge?' Howard demanded.

'Accessory to murder,' Detective Johnson said.

Howard G. Greenspan nodded. Price was out of town anyway. He'd spring Teddy in the morning, and then they'd see who had the clout in this town.

Chapter Fifty-two

As soon as Lucky received word of the two arrests, she felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Lennie felt it too. 'This is exactly what I needed, closure,' he said. 'I'll never forget the hate in that girl's voice, or the cold-blooded way she went ahead and shot Mary Lou like it didn't mean a goddamn thing. When I see her put away for life that'll do it for me.'

'This is California,' Lucky pointed out. 'She might not get life.'

'By the time I get out of the witness box,' he said fiercely, 'it'll be life.'

Lucky nodded, although she wasn't so sure. California law was a strange and laughable thing. Criminal justice, more often than not, meant 'justice' for the criminal.

Steven felt the same way. 'When it comes to the trial we have to be there every day,' he said. 'It's imperative that the jury sees the victim's family as a united and ever present unit.'

'I'm in,' Lennie said.

'Me too,' Lucky said.

Although she was happy about the arrests, she was still worried about Brigette, who was due to arrive in LA any day. After talking to Lina at Venus' party, she'd immediately called Brigette's agent in New York, who'd informed her the agency had no idea where Brigette was. So Lucky had tracked her down to the Dorchester in London, where the reception desk confirmed that Brigette had been staying there but had checked out and left no forwarding address. Lucky was alarmed. It wasn't like Brigette to take off without telling anyone her whereabouts. 'I'm flying to London,' she'd informed Lennie. 'I've got a feeling something's wrong.'

'You're crazy,' Lennie had said. 'Brigette's a grown woman grabbing some privacy, you can't begrudge her that.'

'Brigette's an heiress,' Lucky had reminded him, 'due to inherit a billion-dollar fortune. Someone has to look out for her.'

Before she'd made up her mind whether to go or not, they'd received a postcard from Brigette with no return address, saying she'd met someone special and would be travelling around Europe for a while.

This did not satisfy Lucky, although Lennie seemed to think it was okay. 'Hey, listen,' he'd said, 'the kid's had all those bad experiences with guys. She wants to have fun. I'm glad she's found herself a guy.'

'Yes, but who is he?' Lucky had said, worried. 'For all we know he could be some fortune hunter in it for her money.'

They heard from her again the next week. Another postcard. 'Touring around Tuscany, having a fantastic time! Love Brigette.'

And so it went on for the next few weeks, Brigette communicating by postcards with no return address, until finally she'd phoned.

'Where have you been? Lucky had demanded. 'And who's this guy you're with?'

'Take it easy,' Brigette had said. 'I'm having a great time travelling around Europe. I'll get in touch again soon.'

In the meantime, while Lennie worked on his computer all day, Lucky busied herself reading the scripts sent over from Alex's office. After several duds, she'd found one she liked in particular, a sharp romantic comedy about a very rich divorcee and a sexy male stripper, kind of a Pretty Woman in reverse. After reading it through twice, she'd messengered it to Venus, who'd immediately fallen in love with the female lead. 'I've got to play her,' Venus had said. 'She's me in another life.'

Lucky called Alex to tell him, and two days later the three of them had sat down over lunch at the Grill to discuss it. Venus wanted several changes, Lucky had her own ideas and Alex was simply delighted that he and Lucky might get a chance to work together.

'Have you told Lennie?' he'd asked, over coffee.

'No,' Lucky said, waving at James Woods as he sauntered out of the restaurant with a pretty teenager. Probably his niece. Or maybe not. Who could tell with actors? 'I'll tell him when we're closer to a deal.'

Alex had smiled his lazy crocodile smile. 'Really?' he'd said, liking the fact that Lennie wasn't in on this.

'No big thing, Alex,' Lucky had said crossly. 'Lennie won't mind.' But, deep down, she'd known that he would.

After thinking it over, she'd decided not to tell Lennie until the deal was set because the thought of producing a film and working with her two best friends was too exciting a prospect even to contemplate giving up.

A few weeks after Brigette's phone call, they'd received a glossy ten by eight wedding photo of her with a tall, handsome, blond man. Brigette had scrawled across it in her own handwriting,

'COUNT AND COUNTESS CARLO VITTORIO VITTI!!'

Lucky had raced straight into Lennie's study. 'You're not going to believe this one,' she'd said, waving the photo in front of him. 'She married the guy. No pre-nup, nothing. This is insanity!'

'Still no address?' Lennie had asked, checking out the photo.

'Nope. I can't believe it, we don't even know who he is. If it had been up to me I would've tracked her down weeks ago and found out all about him.'