No Cure For Love (26 page)

Far from being angry with her, he had simply nodded, made notes, asked more questions. Once he had broken through the dam of her silence, he didn’t criticize her for what she had failed to do; he seemed to understand her denial.

When she went back downstairs, fully dressed this time in jeans and a Hard Rock Cafe sweatshirt, she found Arvo sitting on a stool at the kitchen island sipping coffee. She poured herself a cup and sat opposite him. He still looked embarrassed. She felt irritated by his presence.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry about walking in just now.’

She stared at him and shrugged. Was this the way it was going to be until they caught the stalker? A man in her house. It wouldn’t be Arvo, she knew that. But the police, or the network, would surely arrange to have someone watch over her. Scared as she was, the idea still upset her. She hadn’t shared her space with anyone in a long time, and she didn’t think she could stand it, whatever the circumstances.

‘This is good,’ he said, holding up the coffee.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked. ‘I don’t remember asking you to stay.’

‘You weren’t in any shape to ask me anything.’

‘You put me to bed?’

He smiled. ‘Yes. But I didn’t undress you, if that’s what you mean. I just dropped you on the bed, that’s all. Scout’s honour.’

‘So why are you still here? Couldn’t you find the door or something?’

‘Maybe
I
just got tired. Maybe
I
’d had too much to drink, too.’

‘Policemen aren’t supposed to drink on duty.’

‘There’s a lot of things policemen aren’t supposed to do.’

‘Had you?’

‘What?’

‘Had too much to drink.’

‘No.’

‘Then why did you stay? You already made it perfectly clear it’s not your job to act as a bodyguard.’

Arvo sighed and ran his hand through his hair. ‘It isn’t. I just used my judgement. I didn’t think it was safe for you to be here alone. It was late, too late to arrange for any other security, and you were tired and emotional. Last night, it just seemed easier for me to stay in the armchair, that’s all. Besides, I’d nowhere better to go. If it’s any consolation, I had a lousy night’s sleep.’

Sarah couldn’t stop the corners of her lips twitching in a brief smile. ‘I slept like a log,’ she said, then added softly, ‘Thank you.’

‘See, that didn’t hurt did it?’ Arvo said, then stretched and rubbed his eyes. ‘Anything to eat?’ He walked over to the fridge.

‘You’re staying for
breakfast
?’

‘It’s the least I can do. Ah-ha. Bacon, eggs. Perfect.’

Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘It’s obvious Stuart did the shopping. That man’s diet . . .’ She found some oranges in the basket on the bottom shelf and peeled one. ‘At least he bought
some
fresh fruit.’

Arvo poured more coffee and fried up the bacon and eggs. Sarah turned her nose up when he offered her some, so he ate it all himself.

‘Don’t you have to be at work?’ she asked.

‘Trying to get rid of me already?’

‘Just wondering.’

‘I could ask the same.’

‘I’m still on vacation. If . . . if Jack hadn’t died I would still be in England.’

‘You showbiz people get so many days off. Maybe I’m in the wrong business.’

‘Try it,’ she said.

Arvo finished his bacon and eggs and pushed the plate aside. Sarah picked it up and carried it to the sink. She was beginning to feel a little more comfortable around him, but she still hoped he would go soon. She hadn’t even unpacked from her trip yet. Besides, a strange male presence infringing on her place of solitude and privacy disconcerted her. Apart from Stuart, Jack and Jaimie, she hadn’t even had another man in the house.

‘If you’re ready,’ Arvo said, ‘I’ll drive you over to the studio.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

‘But I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here. I told you, I’m still on holiday.’

‘Sarah—’

She slammed her coffee cup down. ‘Don’t you
Sarah
me! This is my home. You’re the only one who’s leaving. Right now.’

He didn’t move.

‘Did you hear me?’

‘I heard.’

‘If you don’t go now I’ll call the police.’

‘I
am
the police.’

‘Then I’ll call your superior officer. You can’t do this. It’s
my
home.’

‘My, you
are
grumpy in the morning, aren’t you?’ he said.

She tried to gauge his expression as he looked at her, but she couldn’t fathom it. He was obviously giving her the same kind of stone-faced look he gave to the criminals he interrogated. After a brief staring match, though, he stood up, picked up his sport jacket and the plastic bag in which he had put the letter and card. Then he said, ‘Whatever you say. An Englishman’s home is his castle, right?’

‘You’re going?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well . . . what? . . . I mean . . . what do I . . .?’ She felt flustered by his sudden capitulation.

‘What are you supposed to do?’ He took a card out of his breast pocket, shrugged and dropped it on the island. ‘Call me if you have any problems.’

‘And that’s it?’

He shrugged. ‘The name of the game is cooperation, not coercion. The law helps those who help themselves. That means you have to be willing to help yourself if I’m going to help you at all. Obviously you’re not. Good luck.’

‘But aren’t you going to send me a bodyguard or something? You can’t just abandon me. There’s someone out there been killing my friends.’

‘Really? Give Stu a call. I’m sure the network will send somebody around, the lucky guy.’

Sarah glared at him for a moment, then ran her hand through her hair and sighed. ‘Sit down. Please,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. This is coming out all wrong. I’m just not used to having anyone around the place. Can’t we work something out?’

Arvo held her eyes for a moment, then put his sport jacket on the back of a chair and sat down again. ‘I thought we’d worked things out last night.’

She ruffled her hair and pulled a face. ‘I know. I’m just confused. Scared. I don’t know what to do.’ She looked around. ‘This is all I’ve got. I’ve always felt safe here, secure.’

‘Not any more.’

‘It hasn’t really sunk in yet. I don’t want to feel like a fugitive.’

‘Can I have some more coffee?’

‘Sure.’ She poured him another cup.

‘There are several options,’ Arvo said. ‘None of them perfect. If you stay here, you’ve got a choice of either one live-in bodyguard or two outside: one to guard the front and another to guard the back. Expensive, and the least safe. I talked to Stu briefly last night before he left and he thinks he can get the studio to increase the security around the lot, so you won’t have to worry when you’re at work, and maybe spring for a personal bodyguard for you—’

‘But I—’

Arvo held up his hand. ‘Hold on a minute. Let me finish. What Stu suggested is that you stay with him. Believe me, you’re a lot safer with people around you. There’ll still be a bodyguard around to keep an eye out for you, but he won’t need to be under your feet all the time. Stu owns a gun, and I know he’s qualified to use it. Maybe you don’t know it, but he fought in Vietnam. He even won medals.’

‘How long is this going to go on?’ Sarah asked.

Arvo shook his head. ‘I wish I knew. Naturally, if it goes on a long time we’ll have to reconsider our tactics. There’s always protective custody.’

‘Jail?’

Arvo shrugged. ‘Worst-case scenario. For the moment, will you just listen to me and let me take you to the studio? They’ll give you some office space there. You can work on your scripts or something. Then you can go back with Stu tonight.’

‘But won’t it be dangerous for him, for Karen and the kids?’

‘It’s dangerous for everyone around you right now. Stu cares about you. He’s willing to take the chance, and I think he’s right. He’s sending Karen and the kids off to her mother’s in Santa Barbara for a few days. I told you, Stu knows how to handle himself. He’s no fool. And there’ll be someone else – a professional bodyguard – keeping an eye on the both of you.’

Sarah chewed on her lip and thought for a moment, looking around the kitchen. ‘You worked all this out between you while I was away, did you?’

Arvo nodded. ‘After Jack’s murder, yes.’

‘All right,’ she said finally. ‘It doesn’t seem like I’ve got much option. It’s just as well I didn’t unpack, isn’t it? Can you give me a few minutes to throw some clean clothes together?’

‘Sure.’

Outside, the first thing Arvo did was check the mailbox.

‘It’s been redir—’ Sarah started to say. But she stopped when she saw him hold up a white envelope between his thumb and middle finger.

Sarah felt her chest tighten. ‘He’s been here,’ she said. ‘During the night, while we were here.’

‘Looks like it.’ Arvo put the letter in the plastic bag with the others. ‘The last one was hand-delivered, too, remember. We’d better lock up and go,’ he said.

Sarah was aware of herself nodding, even though all she still wanted in the world was a day alone at the beach house relaxing, unpacking, phoning her family to thank them for having her and to remind them she wanted them to visit her soon.

She watched as Arvo locked the sliding glass doors and pulled the drapes, then she picked up her windbreaker with the show’s logo emblazoned on the back and followed him out to where the overnight bag sat by the door. She set the alarm and they locked the door behind them.

Arvo’s car was parked where he had left it on the dirt shoulder outside her back door. Something looked odd about it, Sarah thought, then she saw how it rested flat on the ground.

‘He’s slashed the tires,’ Arvo said. ‘Jesus H. Christ! The bastard. He’s slashed the fucking tires!’ He kicked the front wheel then leaned forward and slapped his hands against the hood, leaning forward like a guy being frisked by a cop.

Sarah touched his shoulder. ‘Tell me the number,’ she said. ‘I’ll phone and get help.’

27

Arvo stabbed at the elevator button again and swore under his breath. Parker Center elevators, he remembered, were always out of order. Finally, it stopped, discharged a couple of passengers and took him, groaning and shuddering as it went, up to the third floor.

Every time he went back to RHD, he became more and more thankful for the TMU’s move to the relatively clean and spacious Spring Street headquarters. He hadn’t noticed it so much when he worked at Parker Center, but Detective Headquarters was definitely run-down. If it wasn’t quite as grungy as the make-believe precinct where Sarah Broughton filmed
Good Cop, Bad Cop
, it was pretty close.

The third floor was overcrowded, for a start; the air conditioning never worked, so you had to work with fans blowing your papers around all over the place; and there were so many earthquake cracks in the walls that nobody could remember which quakes had caused them.

As he walked into the corridor, he heard a radio playing from the secretaries’ office: The Beach Boys, ‘Help Me Rhonda.’ For some reason, it made him think of Nyreen. California girl.

He opened the door to Robbery-Homicide and popped his head in. All the desks were pushed together in the centre of the room to make one long, rectangular island, around which the detectives sat facing one another. The room was hot and sweaty. Telephones rang constantly; papers littered the desks and filing cabinets flanked the walls and corners. Over them all, like some sort of guardian angel, a boar’s head was mounted on the wall.

Fran Jenson was staring at her reflection in her compact mirror as she applied thick red lipstick. She looked up and winked at Arvo. Joe Westinghouse, two chairs down, saw him next and came over.

‘Let’s go grab something to eat,’ said Joe. ‘It’s been a long day. I could do with a break. Besides, I need a smoke.’

‘After all the trouble I had getting the elevator to come up here,
you
want to go out.’

Joe grinned. A gold filling twinkled. ‘I’m buying.’

‘You’re on.’

It was easier getting down, and they soon walked out onto Los Angeles Street, office towers glistening in the sun. Downtown was the only really high-rise part of LA apart from Century City, with its bank towers vying with one another for tallest structure, so there were plenty of city workers out for cigarette breaks or late lunches. They didn’t wander far, though; over on Main or down towards Sixth, the streets got grungy real quick.

Joe bought chili dogs and Cokes from a street vendor and he and Arvo sat on a low wall to eat. Arvo realized it was mid-afternoon and he hadn’t eaten lunch yet. First, he showed Joe a photocopy of that morning’s letter:

My Darling Little Star,

I hope you had a good Christmas at Home with your Folks. I think that Family must be important to you in a way it never has been to me. Or maybe it has been TOO important to me. Strange things have happened in my Family and one day you will know all about it. But we must make a new start with our own Kids and all. I hope that your Family will be my Family too one day soon.