Hot Secret (17 page)

“Come along,” she said to them. “You can ride over to Virginia Key with me. Jeffrey should have luncheon waiting in the trailer.”

Indeed the small, damask-covered table was set with expensive silver, crystal, and china. Champagne cooled in a bucket and a colorful fruit salad rested on iced plates. Jeffrey welcomed them as if the luncheon were being served in some elegant dining room rather than in a made-over recreational trailer that had been hurriedly spruced up for Veronica’s temporary use. He’d even added a bouquet of yellow roses, reportedly the actress’s favorite. Veronica
said nothing about his efforts. She seemed to take them as her due.

As the trailer left Miami Beach to go to the Virginia Key location, Michael asked Veronica what Duke had been talking about when he’d threatened her earlier.

“After lunch,” she said insistently. “We shouldn’t let all this lovely food go to waste.”

“And after lunch, you’ll use the next scene as an excuse,” Michael said. “Why don’t you just tell me whatever you know now? Get it over with so you don’t ruin your digestion.”

Since no one was eating the beautifully displayed meal, Molly thought worrying about the star’s enjoyment of it was wasted effort.

Veronica finally lifted her gaze until she was staring straight into Michael’s eyes. “I don’t know anything,” she said, her voice steady.

“You’re saying Duke was lying earlier, that his threat meant nothing?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.”

Despite Veronica’s sincere delivery, not even Molly believed her. Michael tried another tack. “Tell me about your relationship with Kinsey.”

“He had a reputation as a hot director. We didn’t always agree. We argued quite a bit, in fact. I’m sure everyone has told you that already.”

“When did you meet?”

“When he contacted me about starring in this movie. Our agents arranged a breakfast meeting at the Beverly Hills Hotel.” She glanced at Molly. “You must let me take you there the next time you fly out
to L.A. The place raises the concept of power breakfasts to new heights.”

“Did you and Kinsey get along then?” Michael persisted.

“It was a pleasant breakfast. I believe I had fresh strawberries.”

Molly seriously doubted Michael was interested in the menu. Even so, he inquired pleasantly, “And Mr. Kinsey?”

“Melon, as I recall. Eggs Benedict. I told him he was probably killing himself with all that cholesterol.”

“I’m sure he appreciated your concern,” Michael retorted dryly, just as his beeper went off. He glanced at the calling number, then reached for the cellular phone he’d been carrying around on location.

“O’Hara,” he said tersely once the call went through. He listened intently. The rest of them sat around watching him. Jeffrey tried to break the silence, but Veronica cut him off with a look.

“Okay, got it,” Michael said. “You’ll fax the rest to the office? Right. I’ll call if I need anything else. Thanks.”

All three of them watched him expectantly. He foiled them all by returning at once to that long-ago breakfast at the Polo Lounge of the Beverly Hills Hotel.

“What was your impression of Greg when you met him?”

“He was a pleasant young man,” Veronica said. “What more can I say? You can’t tell how talented someone is just by talking with them. I screened several
of his films later that same day. Those told the story. This was someone I knew I should work with. The clippings my agent gave me about his background and successes intrigued me.”

“Did he explain to you why he was so intent on casting you in this picture?”

She hesitated, then said, “No. I assumed he simply thought I was right for the role.”

“Surely other actresses would have been equally right. Good roles for women your age are tough to come by. Competition must have been fierce.”

“It may have been. I can’t really say. To my knowledge I was the only one Greg ever considered.”

“Why?” Michael repeated.

“Greg is the only one who could answer that.”

“Unfortunately, he’s dead.”

Veronica blinked rapidly at Michael’s harsh tone. “I think we’re all very much aware of that, Detective.”

“But you don’t seem nearly as concerned about finding his killer as I am. Why won’t you tell me what Duke was talking about?”

“I can’t,” she said, her eyes suddenly welling with unshed tears. If it was a deliberate play for sympathy, it didn’t work.

“Can’t or won’t?” he asked, hammering at her. No one had touched a bite of the food on the table. If Molly’s was any example, their stomachs were all tied in knots.

“I don’t know,” Veronica swore. “I’m telling you the truth, Detective. I don’t know what Duke Lane knows or thinks he knows.”

Michael muttered an oath and sat back. “Okay. We’ll save it for later.”

Jeffrey Meyerson scowled at him. “Really, I must protest. Can’t you see how your questions are upsetting her?”

“I’m trying to conduct a murder investigation. People tend to get upset now and then. If Ms. Weston has nothing to hide, then my questions shouldn’t distress her.”

“Your tone would distress Attila the Hun,” Molly mumbled just loud enough for him to hear her clearly. He reached over and circled her wrist with his hand. He applied just enough pressure to warn her to keep her smart remarks to herself.

The minute the trailer pulled into the road to Virginia Key and the quaint, colorful fishing village that had been constructed for use as a working film set, Veronica practically ran in search of Hank. It was the first time she’d ever been on the set before her call.

Michael stood in the doorway and watched her go.

“Are you satisfied?” Molly demanded. “You were actually cruel in there.”

“I was doing my job,” he retorted, lifting his sunglasses so she couldn’t miss the banked fury in his eyes. “And the next time you decide to interfere, I’ll charge you with obstruction of justice.”

Molly gaped at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“You’re damned right. I wanted to put the fear of God into her in there. She knows something and
I want to know what. With you and Meyerson rushing to her defense, she squirmed off the hook.”

“She’s a human being, dammit. Not some fish you’re trying to reel in.”

“She is a murder suspect,” he said flatly. “Maybe the best one we’ve got.”

“She didn’t do it,” Molly countered.

“Thank you for your unbiased, fact-based opinion,” he snapped. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get over to headquarters so I can take a look at the reports Les just faxed to me.”

“How are you going to get back?”

“Unless I miss my guess, Otis Jenkins followed us over here in his car. He’ll take me. I think he’ll be very interested in what Les has to say about your innocent star.”

Before Molly could demand to know what he meant by that, he’d crossed the street and climbed into Jenkins’s unmarked car, which was indeed waiting.

Molly stared after them as the car’s tires spun on the dirt shoulder before making a U-turn and heading out at a speed a good twenty miles an hour over the limit. Molly hoped they bounced over a speed bump at that pace and had some sense knocked into their hard heads.

•   •   •

If Veronica Weston refused to answer Michael’s questions, there was one other person who had the same information, Molly realized as she brushed away yet another mosquito. After days of rain and weeks of still, hot, humid air, the pesky insects had
multiplied into irritating swarms. The production assistant with the can of bug spray was the most popular man on the set.

Duke Lane had raised the issue of some secret he and Greg Kinsey had shared involving Veronica. Molly had no doubt that his quick denial had been a lie. She walked down the dirt path from the set until she located his trailer parked in the scant shade offered by a row of Australian pines.

Duke’s terse “Yes” was all she got in response to her knock. She opened the trailer door and stepped inside, savoring the dark interior and chill air. A flute sonata that Molly recognized as Mozart’s played softly.

The actor was lounging back in a padded swivel chair, his feet propped on an ice chest. His hands were folded in his lap. A dog-eared, open book lay on his chest. Thoreau’s
Walden
. She would have considered it an odd choice had she not read that he was among those fighting to save the lovely, historic pond and its serene surrounding forest from developers.

Molly couldn’t tell if Duke’s eyes were open or not. Despite the dim lighting, he was wearing his sunglasses.

“We need to talk,” she said, taking the chair opposite him.

“About cabbages and kings?”

“About Greg Kinsey and Veronica Weston.”

“Sorry. No can do.”

“Why not? You obviously know something. Veronica’s terrified.”

Duke whipped off his glasses, lowered his feet to
the floor and leaned forward, his expression intent. “You know the hell of it? I really did throw that comment out just to see what happened. I really don’t know a damned thing. I just picked up on some weird vibes about those two over the last few weeks. I took a chance that my observation would shake Veronica enough to get her to cooperate in that last scene. I was as stunned as anybody when she reacted the way she did.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Okay, let’s talk about those vibes, then. What did you see or think you saw?”

“You want a beer?”

Molly shook her head. He opened the cooler, withdrew a light beer in a glass bottle, and popped off the cap. After he’d taken a long, slow swallow, he sat back in his chair.

“I guess it started with the way Greg watched her. I mean the woman’s a beauty, especially for someone her age, but Greg always had this slightly awestruck look on his face. You know what I mean?”

“Not really,” Molly admitted. “Maybe he’d always admired her films and was thrilled to be working with her.”

Duke considered the explanation. “Oh, there was some of that. No doubt about it. But this was something else, something personal.”

“Are you saying he was attracted to her? It wouldn’t be the first time an older woman appealed to a younger man.”

“Hell, no. Greg had a type. Dark-haired, thin to the point of emaciation. Like Laura and that Italian
model he fell for. He also liked to play the role of mentor, liked the adoration. Veronica doesn’t fit into that mold at all. She seemed to appreciate his talent, but she certainly wasn’t in awe of him.”

“Are you saying this feeling, whatever it was, was more on Greg’s side than on Veronica’s?”

He hesitated before answering. “Yeah. I think it was.”

“How well did you know Greg?”

“Professionally. We didn’t socialize, either before production started or since. We have different agendas.”

“Meaning he chases women and you don’t,” Molly suggested with as much subtlety as she could manage.

Duke grinned ruefully. “You can say it, Molly. I’m gay. It’s not something I bother to hide. People can accept me or not. My agent says I’m nuts to go public. He thinks it’ll hurt me in the long run, but so far I’ve done okay. I don’t regret being so straightforward about my sexuality.”

“You tried to hide it when we were with Michael the other day. You referred to your squeeze several times in a way that implied it was a woman.”

He shrugged. “Cops make me nervous.”

“You guessed he was a cop? He hadn’t even been assigned to the case at that point.”

“Observing people is what makes a good actor. I know all the signs. Besides, he had too many questions for some casual acquaintance of yours. I figured I’d play out the scene and see what happened.”

“Okay, since you know, then you probably also know he wondered if you had a thing for Greg.”

“So he said. I didn’t. Why waste energy on something that can’t be?”

“But there is someone here with you? A man?”

Duke nodded. “Don’t bother trying to speculate. He’s not on the film, not even in the business.”

“But he is your alibi for Saturday night when Greg was shot. Have you told Michael about him?”

“O’Hara has all the information he needs to conclude that I wasn’t anywhere near Miami Beach at the time Greg died. I’m sure he’s checked it out. He strikes me as a pretty thorough guy.”

Molly nodded. “Which means if you are lying about what you know about Veronica and Greg, he’ll find out. He won’t be happy that you’ve withheld information.”

“Do you believe me?”

She gazed into his guileless eyes and decided that whatever else Duke Lane might skirt the truth about, he wasn’t lying about this. On some things she simply had to go with her instincts, and he had convinced her.

“Yes,” she told him finally. “I believe you. But if you think of anything else, anything that might explain these feelings of yours about the two of them, will you pass it along?”

“To you or the cop?”

“I have a hunch the cop would prefer it if you gave the information to him firsthand.” She grinned. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it second, though.”

Duke nodded. “That’s a promise, then.”

She glanced at the table and spotted a cellular phone. “Mind if I make a call?”

“Be my guest.”

She dialed Liza. “I need another favor,” she said, when she got her. “I’m stranded out here on Virginia Key and I need to get over to the Beach. Can you pick me up and give me a lift to the police station over there?”

“A break in the case?”

“Could be. Michael’s friend in L.A. picked up on something and he’s checking it out now. He wouldn’t tell me before he left here.”

“What’d you do to tick him off? Meddle in his investigation?”

“Something like that.”

“And you’re on your way to do more meddling?”

“Only if you’ll come get me. Otherwise I’ll be stuck over here dying of curiosity.”

“Where are you exactly?”

Molly described the location and Duke’s trailer.

“Can I meet him?” Liza asked. “We’ve crossed paths at a couple of these big environmental fundraisers, but we’ve never met. I’d like to tell him how much I admire his idealism.”

“If you get here before Hank calls him to the set, I’m sure Duke would be happy to hear he has yet another fan.”