Who Wants to Be a Sex Goddess? (25 page)

“Like I said, ma'am. We're just asking everybody to go over their statements from last night. Nothing to be upset about.”

“Ariadne?”

“Do you mind if I walk with her? She's had a very rough time.”

The officer frowned. “You are?”

“Ariadne McAllister.”

He pulled out the clipboard and consulted it. “Might as well. You're next.”

She waited in the hallway while Jeannie was inside. There was no place to sit, so she passed the time pacing up and down and pausing at the door to eavesdrop on the interview. Unfortunately, the door was thick, and she could hear only an occasional murmur.

After twenty minutes, the door opened and Jeannie stepped out. She was followed by the detective in charge. He motioned Andy inside, but instead of following her in, he closed the door behind her.

Andy whirled around. The suit was sitting in one of the wing chairs, legs crossed at the knee, one eyebrow raised.

He motioned to the couch, and she sat down, but not before she noticed him flick a look from her face to her toes. It appeared purely disinterested, but she knew that was deceiving. She bet he could judge someone in even less time than he'd used on her. At least she wasn't wearing a toga, but she felt just as exposed.

“No cause for discomfort, Ms. McAllister.”

Andy realized she was sitting debutante-style on the edge of the couch. She pushed back onto the seat and tried to look relaxed. “And you are?”

His mouth quirked. “Grayson Talbot. If you'd please tell me what you were doing and what you saw and heard leading up to the time you found the deceased.”

“I—”

“Already told the police. Just humor me and tell it again.”

Yeah. She'd heard those lines plenty of times on the set of one movie or another, right before they hauled the perp off to jail. She knew the drill by heart. She'd waited on the set of
Some Kind of Woman
while the actress coolly answered the detective's questions: the pursuer and the pursued confronting each other at last. She'd watched the actress glance past the detective's shoulder, then leap across the room and hurl herself at the open window. They cut. Set up the next scene. Andy took the actress's place, this time filmed from the back. She leapt across the room, sprang onto the windowsill, and jumped six feet down to an air mattress. Later, an exterior shot, with the camera below, Andy perched in a window, five floors up. Then “Action” and Andy jumped.

She glanced past the suit's shoulder at the window across the room. It was open.

His eyes flickered as if he were tempted to turn around to see what she was looking at. But he didn't; he just smiled. “I saw
Some Kind of Woman.
You were great.”

Andy's mouth fell open. “You—How—?” Jeez. No wonder his words had sounded familiar. They were the exact lines said by the detective in the film. He'd set her up. “Not funny. How did you find out?”

Talbot's smile widened. “We have our ways. Nice Web site, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“And we know that your aunt, Miranda “Mac” McAllister Houston, was here during the last session.”

“Do you know where she is now?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

Andy sank back on the couch. If they didn't know where Mac was…and who were they? “Are you a fed?”

He just smiled.

“You are.”

“Not exactly. And I believe, I'm the one who is supposed to be doing the questioning.”

Not exactly? What did that mean? “But you're here because Demetri's death wasn't an accident.” She made it a statement, because she knew he wouldn't answer anyway. He didn't. “Don't even bother to explain that it's classified. I know all the lingo. But what about Imogene Southwaite?”

He didn't answer. His smile didn't waiver, but for a millisecond his eyes went opaque. Barely perceptibly, but she was looking for it. She felt oddly gratified, like she was finally getting to be the star instead of the stunt double. Which was a ludicrous way to think. People were being murdered.

“She didn't just accidentally fall off her balcony, did she?”

No answer.

“Is that why Dillon is here?”

One eyebrow rose on that one.

“Don't worry. He didn't tell me.” And she was shocked at the bitterness in her voice.
You can't trust him.
She shook the thought off. “Because he isn't some boy toy with a cushy job. Any fool could see that.”

This time, Talbot laughed out loud. “And I thought he looked pretty good in a toga.” He crossed his arms loosely over his knee.

“But you in a bun and Coke-bottle glasses. I'm sorry I missed that. Ms. Jenkins was telling me how they're all so proud of your transformation.” He looked across the coffee table at her. “As well they should be.”

“So who do you think killed Demetri?”

“Now, Andy—do you mind if I call you Andy?—that, alas, is yet to be seen.”

“So he was murdered.”

“The investigation is still in its initial stages.”

“Well, you know I didn't do it.”

“Like I said—”

“And Dillon.”

Talbot shrugged noncommittally.

“But he works for you, doesn't he?”
Don't trust him.
“Though he
was
standing there when the lights came on.” She shut her mouth, appalled at what she'd said.

Even Talbot looked surprised.

“I didn't mean that he did it,” she said hurriedly. Hell, she didn't know what she meant. Why did she even say it? “Just that, if it wasn't an accident, heart attack, drugs, whatever—then it could be anybody.”

“Just about. Though most people can account for their movements and vouch for each other.”

“But not me and Dillon.”

A dip of his head. “And a few others.”

“There was a half hour between the time Demetri left the pool and”—she swallowed—“until he was found. People were moving around.”

“Relax. I just want you to go over it again. Try to remember every detail.” He looked at her seriously for the first time. “And don't embellish or surmise, please.”

She gave him a look.

“I know an active imagination when I see one. In real life we rarely have a eureka moment. Just dull routine. So…please.” He flipped on a portable tape recorder and placed it on the coffee table between them.

She repeated what she'd told the police the night before. She added details that she hadn't thought important or hadn't thought of at all.

Like the fact that Dillon was dry, and whoever had just drowned Demetri must be wet. But no, she didn't remember anyone in a soggy toga. But she did remember that the tiles were wet where she had been standing. That most of the room was in shadow, only one set of lights by the door and the underwater lights of the pool and whirlpool had been turned on.

She hadn't thought about it at the time, but now as she replayed the scene, she realized that the killer could have been standing in the shadows watching.

She didn't mention that. She knew Talbot was making his own surmises. He was the real professional.

“S
he's something else,” said Grayson Talbot as he switched off Andy's recorded testimony.

“Something,” agreed Dillon. “Was she trying to implicate me with that ‘he was standing by the whirlpool when the lights came on' business?”

Talbot bit back a grin. “I think she was just thinking out loud. She's got a quick mind.”

“Yeah. Quick enough to get her in trouble.”

“You want me to arrest her? I have a feeling that's the only way we're going to get her out of here.”

“Unless we find her aunt.”

“I've already got somebody on it, but I don't think she'd leave even then.”

“Why not?”

Talbot gave him a look. “For one thing, she's too involved. And she's jazzed. I felt like offering her a contract halfway through her interview.”

“Don't even think it.”

“You don't think she can take care of herself?”

“Yeah. Herself. Me and you, too. It's just that—it just isn't a good idea.”

“Afraid she'll get hurt?”

Dillon narrowed his eyes at Talbot. “Don't put words in my mouth.”

“Whatever.” Talbot stood up. “You'd better get out of here before someone starts getting suspicious.”

“What's next?”

“I've convinced the local police to stretch their investigation for a couple of days. But we need a break soon or I'm calling you off. The Southwaites will just have to cope. We have more important fish to fry.”

Dillon shot him a sideways glance. “We?”

“You're in if you want to be.”

Dillon nodded and left the office. He wanted in, but he needed to break this case first, because his confidence level was batting zero.

 

When Andy left her interview, she meant to sit in on one of the workshops, just to keep herself from thinking. She felt confused, split in two, as if there were two Andys.

One of them had fallen in love with her appointed attendant. Things like that happened all the time when you were on location. You paired up with someone and enjoyed them while you were there, knowing it would end when the shoot was over.

Only this time she didn't want it to end. Which was really stupid, because it had to.

At the same time, she kept getting these rushes of fear. That Dillon was someone bad, when she knew he wasn't. That she couldn't trust him. Maybe it was true. Maybe that was her rational self talking.

And how could she be worried about her state of mind when Mac was still missing. She hadn't come any closer to finding out what happened to her than if she'd stayed at home. And yet she couldn't leave.

She passed right by the classrooms without stopping and walked out the front door and into the sun.

Katherine Dane was coming up the steps.

“Ariadne. What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Andy, dragging herself back from her morbid thoughts.

“You look so unhappy. Is it this awful business about Demetri?”

“Yes. No.” Andy felt herself leaning toward Katherine, wanting a sympathetic shoulder. She pulled herself back. “I don't know.”

“It's normal to feel a little depressed when something like this happens.”

Depressed, that's it.
She must be depressed.

“But it will pass. Just keep meditating and if you need to talk, I'm always available.” Katherine smiled and continued up the steps.

Andy watched her go, but it was as though someone had gelled the lens, because she was out of focus—moving too slow. A dream sequence.

Katherine stopped at the door. “Trust me. You'll be feeling better in a few days. And all this will just seem like a bad dream.” She went inside.

Andy snapped out of her stupor. She'd just been thinking about a dream and Katherine had mentioned dreams. Like she'd read her mind. It had just happened again.

Andy started walking, staying in the sun. No destination in mind. Just trying to sort things out.

Maybe she was depressed, like Katherine thought. She was a very sensitive woman. She must have picked up on something even before Andy realized she wasn't happy. And she'd been the one to warn her about Dillon. But she didn't say why. Andy just knew that she must be right.

Andy hesitated. She'd come to the pool and she didn't want to be there. She veered around it and kept going. But why should she distrust Dillon? They had come to an understanding in the Bower of Bliss, and even though he wouldn't tell her what his exact job was, she guessed it was because it was classified. She didn't distrust him.

Don't trust him.

Damn, there was that voice again. She did trust him. It was Katherine who had planted the seed of distrust. And now that Andy thought about it, she hadn't felt depressed until Katherine told her not to be. Had she planted that seed, too? But why?

She'd reached the far side of the lawn. Here, the wall rose straight up from the grass. She felt like tearing it down as if she could tear down the wall to her understanding of what was happening. She turned and retraced her steps toward the Pantheon.

Now she wished she'd paid more attention during those meditation sessions. But Katherine's constant talking became so irritating that she had tuned her out. What else had Katherine said that she'd missed?

And there in the middle of the lawn, Andy had that eureka moment that Grayson Talbot said never happened. What if Katherine was not guiding them toward nirvana, but planting posthypnotic suggestions. And not only to Andy, but to others as well. To Mac. To Imogene Southwaite.

Was it even possible? Was it really true that you couldn't be made to do something you wouldn't ordinarily do. Like murder?

If not, anybody could have murdered Demetri.
No, slow down.
It was too far-fetched. Unless…if Mac had figured out the same thing—Andy refused to think of the ramifications of that. No, more likely, Mac left when she realized what was happening. But where was she now?

And why would Katherine do something like that? What would she get out of it? It wasn't her program or her money. But she, like the other priestesses, might do anything for Dr. Bliss. Was the good doctor calling the shots? Hypnotism was one of the methods she used to break repression.

Andy had come to one of the temples and she went inside. She was letting her imagination run wild, when what she needed was to think. She didn't know what to do next. If she went to Dillon or Talbot with such wild possibilities, they'd think she'd lost it for sure. Wait and see? Go to the session and try to catch Katherine in the act? Could she even prove it if she did?

The police would be rounding up their investigation any minute, and the troops would be gone. Somehow, she'd have to force Katherine's hand before then.

There was a lot that she needed to do to set it up, but whatever happened, when the meditation session met the next morning, she'd be there and she'd stay alert.

 

Dillon watched Andy and her three friends leave the dining room for the evening talk. Andy had managed not to look at him for the entire meal, and he was concerned.

Had Talbot said something that upset her? Was she embarrassed for having practically accused him of murdering Demetri? Or had she finally figured out that he was working for Talbot and was pissed. It would be like her. Too smart for her own good. And where did that leave him?

Right where you should be, fool. With your mind on your work, and not on your dick.
But it wasn't that. Desire, he could control. What he was beginning to feel for Andy was a whole lot scarier and didn't have a place in his life. It was imperative that he didn't get involved with her, but it was a little too late to attempt that now. He was afraid he'd passed beyond the no-return point. And he was afraid that Talbot knew it, too.

But Andy didn't join the others in the auditorium. Instead she went up the stairs. Now what was she up to?

 

As soon as dinner was over, Andy made an excuse for not going to Dr. Bliss's Fantasy Fulfillment talk and went in search of Katherine Dane. She was just coming out of her office.

“Ariadne, how are you?”

“I'm—I'm going home.” Andy watched for a reaction, but saw only appropriate concern.

“You don't really want to leave us, do you?”

“I have to. First Demetri. And now all these policemen everywhere.”

“I'm sure they will be gone tomorrow. And life here at Terra Bliss will get back to normal. You're just feeling a little depressed.”

Andy felt the word in her bones. She fought it.

“Yes. I'm depressed. And I want to go home. I should never have come. I'm going to tell Dr. Bliss that I'll need a ride down the mountain tomorrow morning.” Andy worked on a quivering lip. Was fairly pleased with the results.

But she still didn't see any reaction from Katherine but understanding and concern. Could she have been wrong?

“Well, if you truly feel that way, I'll order a car to take you down to Lake Tahoe where you can catch the bus. But wait until after breakfast. Dr. Bliss is speaking tonight, and I'm sure she will want to say goodbye. And I'd like you to meditate with the group once more before you leave us.”

Bingo. “I guess I could wait until after breakfast. But then I'm really leaving.”

Katherine smiled. “We'll miss you, but I understand.”

 

Well, that went well,
thought Andy as she went down the stairs. She was still shaking from the conversation. She'd just gone out on a limb, a really narrow one. If she didn't force Katherine to act, she'd be back in L.A. by this time tomorrow. Just as well.

A roar of laughter burst from the auditorium as she passed. The ladies were enjoying the Fantasy Fulfillment talk. Good for them. They could have it.

What Andy needed was less fantasy in her life, not more. She already spent her days and nights being someone she wasn't. Super heroine, daredevil, evil alien, secret agent. Where was Ariadne McAllister in all of this?

And to top it all, she'd fallen for someone who was some kind of secret agent in real life. What happened to roses on Valentine's Day, dirty socks under the bed, white picket fences?

She smacked her forehead. More fantasy, and she knew it. Life for her was what it was: work and the occasional affair. It was good enough for Aunt Mac. Galena had retired when she married Andy's father. But he'd died when she was fourteen. And Galena…had gone back to work.

And now Andy might be indulging in the biggest fantasy of all. That someone at Terra Bliss was a killer. She pushed out the front door, growling in frustration.

“Feel better now?”

She jumped. Dillon stood in front of her. She'd been so preoccupied that she hadn't even seen him. And he was the last person she needed to see right now. Mr. Fantasy in the flesh. Katherine's warning resounded in her head, even though she realized now that it was part of Katherine's plan, whatever that plan was.

She should tell him what she'd figured out. But if he believed her, which was unlikely, he'd insist on her leaving, and though that was just what she was planning, it was her decision and on her own time.

He certainly wouldn't countenance her plan for tricking Katherine into betraying herself. He'd think it was too dangerous. Which was sweet, but he would never understand that for once in her life, she needed to take a chance that wasn't controlled by a camera.

She had a hard time looking him in the eye, though. She didn't like this subterfuge.

He reached up and pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. “What's wrong? You don't look happy tonight.”

She shivered. He sounded just like Katherine. Don't think it. “Nothing.”

He heaved a deep sigh. Annoyed. She didn't blame him. What she really wanted to do was find a dark corner and touch every body part he owned. Then let him touch hers.

His fingers wrapped around her arm, and his touch zinged right down to her toes. This was not going well. Maybe she should just tell him her suspicions.
Don't trust him.

Now that she knew that voice for what it was, why wouldn't it go away? What was triggering it? She knew enough about hypnotism to know there had to be a trigger, a word, a place, something. Maybe the trigger was Dillon himself. He sure triggered something in her that had nothing to do with an altered state of mind.

“Is it me?” he asked. His voice was low, possibly tentative. It was hard to tell. He'd started walking by her side. The cool air made her shiver, and he slipped his arm around her.

“You don't really think I killed Demetri, do you?”

She jolted to a stop. Turned to face him. “No, of course I don't. What gave you such a stupid idea.”