Eeny Meany Miny Die (Cat Sinclair Mysteries) (25 page)

"Who says she doesn't? I've got a suspicion something like that goes on between them in private."

I pulled a face. "A suspicion, or you've put a lens on them?"

"Now you're just being kinky."

"You wish."

His grin turned wicked.

Time to get the conversation back to business before he got any ideas. I did not want to encourage Scarface while I was dressed in pajamas. "So you think he's deliberately hiding from you?"

"Maybe."

"Or maybe something bad has happened to him. Poor Linc. I hope he's okay."

"See, you're nice. That's why I'm asking you for help. He thinks you're not going to screw him over."

"That's because I wouldn't."

He tilted his head to the side and regarded me. "But you're going to hand him over to us if you find him. Aren't you?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah." Maybe.

"Call him," Scarface said, fishing a piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it to me. A cell number was scrawled on it. "See if he answers. It's a long shot, but worth a try. The budget for the Renford police force is stretched, especially on Saturdays."

"Why Saturdays?"

"All the crazies are out." He nodded at the paper. "Call that number."

"Now?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Why not?"

"It's early."

"It's eleven."

"Really?" Why hadn't Will called me yet? Oh, right, we were fighting. Sort of. I wasn't sure what we were doing. Cooling down maybe.

I set the coffee cup on the bench and picked up my phone. "Let's see if we can locate the missing Linc."

Scarface groaned.

I shrugged. "Someone had to say it."

My call went straight through to Linc's voicemail. I cleared my throat as I listened to the beep tone and settled myself into the role.

"This is Ms. Adriana Buck from Buck and Werner's casting agency," I said in my best Southern drawl. "Your name was suggested to me by an acquaintance who thinks you'd be sensational in a new sitcom we're casting. We've watched tapes of your performances in your last role and I agree. You'd be perrrrfect for the part of Harry, the teenage son. Please return my call as soon as possible and we'll set up a meeting. If my people like you, I'll contact your agent." I recited my number and hung up.

Scarface shook his head. "You think he'll fall for that?"

"My accent was pretty good. I thought I sounded just like Adriana Buck."

"She's a real person?"

"Yep. She's a Hollywood casting agent. There's nothing like a sprinkling of authenticity in a lie to reel in the quarry."

"Remind me to never believe a thing you say again."

"I wouldn't lie to you, Scarface. You're a cop."

His eyes narrowed. I winked at him and his mouth softened.

"Now all we do is wait for him to call back," I said.

He kissed my forehead. His lips lingered longer than necessary. I didn't pull away. "I have to go, Cat. If he calls back, arrange a meeting and let me know where it is."

My face heated at his touch. I wanted to turn away, but that would be cowardly, and obvious. I stuck it out. "Great. I do all the hard work of finding him so you can swoop in and arrest him. Unfair."

"I don't want to arrest him, just talk to him." He curled a piece of my hair around his finger and tugged me closer. I could have resisted, but didn't. "Make sure you do call me if you hear back. He might be more dangerous than he looks."

He gave me a light peck on the mouth then let go of my hair. He sauntered through my apartment and out the door. I let out a long, pent-up breath and sagged against the bench. I felt wrung out, stretched thin, and pulled in a hundred different directions.

Time to hit the shower. It needed to be a cold one.

I didn't even get a chance to finish my coffee when my phone rang. The number that came up on screen was the one I'd just dialed.

Linc.

CHAPTER 14

I met Linc at a cafe two blocks from the Carleton Hotel. It was a busy place on the weekend and very public with tables spilling onto the sidewalk. It was the sort of place a representative of Buck and Werner would frequent. I wasn't meeting anyone in shadowy laneways.

Luckily Linc never questioned why the agency would have an office in a place like Renford. When he called me back, I told him "my rep" would meet him immediately. She'd be wearing a wide brimmed hat.

I sent Will a text before leaving the apartment, telling him where I'd be. He responded with:
Should I be worried?

I wrote back:
No
.

He thanked me for telling him. It was all very businesslike. I hated it.

I did not call Scarface and tell him about the rendezvous. I wanted a chance to question Linc alone first.

I caught a cab to the cafe, since buses were unreliable on Saturdays and the big hat made being in confined spaces a challenge. I'd wanted something to hide my face so Linc would come right up to me before he saw that it was me.

The hat worked  perfectly. His outstretched hand appeared in my line of vision first. "Lincoln Gardiner," he said. "So pleased to meet you. What was your name again? I don't think Adriana mentioned it."

I shook the hand limply. "Sit down Mr. Gardiner." I waited until he was seated before looking up and removing the hat.

"Fuck," he muttered. "I thought it was too good to be true."

Poor Linc. He looked so young and vulnerable sitting there with hound dog eyes blinking back at me. I felt bad for taking advantage of his desperation to get back into acting. If nothing else, it hammered home how much of a bitch Cindy really was. She'd been taking advantage of him for months.

"I'm sorry I lied to get you here," I said. "But the police told me you'd gone missing. I was worried you would avoid my call if you knew it was me."

His answer was a petulant grunt.

"Why?"

"You're working with the cops and I don't trust cops."

"Actually, I work alone. But why don't you trust the police?"

He rounded his shoulders. "My dad had some run-ins with them. He taught me never to trust cops. They'll twist the truth to get the answers they want."

There was no point telling him otherwise. He was young enough to still believe most of what his parents told him.

"The cops don't want to arrest you, Linc. As far as I know, you're not a suspect. But new information has come to light."

"What new evidence?"

We were interrupted by a perky waitress in a skirt so short it barely covered her ass. She couldn't take her eyes off Linc. When she finally turned to me to take my order, she looked me over with an I-can't-believe-he's-with-you expression.

"Go on," Linc said once she'd gone.

Scarface had taken the photos with him, so I had nothing to show. "There were some photos found in Frank Karvea's possession after his death. They showed Taylor in a compromising position with another guy. The other man's face wasn't clear. Until now."

His reaction hardly changed. Either he knew nothing about the photos or he was a fantastic actor under pressure.

"It's you," I told him.

That made him shift in his seat and avoid my gaze. He crossed his arms, shoving his hands right up under his pits. "So? I'm bi, okay." Teenage attitude laced his words and the accompanying sneer. "Who cares anyway? It's not like half the population isn't."

"When did you and Taylor have a relationship?"

"It wasn't a relationship! It was a casual fuck. Nothing else. Okay? Jeez, loosen up. You know, people your age are such prudes."

I'd been called a lot of things in my life, but never a prude. And never had my age been used as an insult from someone
younger
then me. Linc had just poked the bear. "Now listen here, you little shit." I kept my voice low so the patrons around us couldn't hear. Besides, threats sounded so much more, well, threatening when spoken calmly. "Just answer my questions truthfully and Cindy never needs to know about you and Taylor. You've got a nice meal ticket going there, and I wouldn't blow it to save his ass if I were you."

Linc's face turned as white as his hair. "You wouldn't."

I smiled.

"Fucking bitch."

"Now, now. Is that any way to speak to someone who holds your security in the palm of her hand?" I sat back and let him squirm for a few seconds. "I don't want to upset you, Linc, but I do need answers. So lets be civil. Tell me how long ago those photos were taken."

"Two years."

I sucked air between my teeth, even though I'd suspected it all along. Taylor had claimed they were taken two years ago initially, and first responses were usually the truth. "You were sixteen."

"I guess Taylor is in trouble now."

"That doesn't bother you? He was your lover."

He gave me a withering glare. His face turned pink, but there were no other telling signs of emotion. Acting could only get someone so far. There are no ways that I know of to control visceral reactions like blushes. He might be pretending that he didn't care, but he did.

Because he worried about Taylor, or because he hated him? I had to remember that no matter how worldly Linc appeared, he'd been only sixteen at the time of the affair. It was a tough age. An age when mistakes were made that came back to haunt you later.

"Fuck him," was all he said.

Maybe, just maybe, he
wanted
Taylor to be caught. It was possible Linc had planted those photos himself
before
Frank had arrived in Renford. I needed to find out his travel arrangements too. But why kill Frank?

Or had Frank been blackmailing Linc? The future of his career depended on avoiding scandal just as much as Taylor's did.

And then there was Cindy's opinion on the matter. "Does your boss know?" I asked.

His head snapped up to stare at me with those wide pretty eyes of his. "Don't tell her. Okay?"

"Why not? It's Taylor who's in trouble with the law, not you."

He sucked in his bottom lip. "She doesn't know about my…previous partners."

"You mean she doesn't know you're gay."

"I'm not gay! I'm…"

"Confused?"

He merely shrugged and folded his hands in his lap. "Just don't tell her."

"She won't hear it from me."

I didn't stay, but I did take my chicken salad with me. I hadn't eaten breakfast yet. Linc remained, a lonely figure hunched over his steak sandwich. I felt a twinge of sympathy, but little more. He was a guy who wanted something so badly that he was prepared to sleep with people he disliked to get it. In some ways, he was taking advantage of Cindy as much as she was taking advantage of him. They were both selfish, and both wanted something from their relationship.

I was never happier to have left behind the Hollywood scene.

I sent Scarface a text as I walked back to the bus stop and told him where he could find Linc. He sent one back.

You already met with him.

It wasn't phrased as a question so I didn't answer.

I checked the bus schedule at the stop. It wasn't arriving for another freaking thirty minutes! Who organized these things anyway? Not someone with a life, that's for sure.

I rang Mom. "Hey!" I said. "Can I come round?"

"Sure, Hon."

"Wait, Peter's not there, is he?"

"Does it matter if he is?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready to meet him." I winced. It sounded a little harsh, and maybe if she really did like the guy, I should make the effort. But it was just so weird!

"He's not here," she said. "You can meet him another time."

"Great. Um, I don't suppose you want to pick me up. My car's getting fixed and the bus doesn't come for ages."

"Sure. I've got nothing better to do."

I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, so I chose to believe she wasn't. "Great. Thanks, Mom. You're the best and I love you sooooo much."

"Hmmm. Just tell me where you are."

I gave her my location and hung up. Fifteen minutes later, she picked me up in her sporty two-door hatch. She'd traded in the family sedan after Dad died, claiming she had no need for a bigger car now that she lived alone.

"So what happened to your car?" she asked, slamming her foot on the accelerator. Apparently driving a sporty car meant she had to drive like a lunatic. She always used to be careful and keep to the speed limit, but not anymore. I clutched the leather seat with both hands and prayed to every God I could think of that the other drivers would give us a wide berth.

"Somebody smashed into it in a parking lot."

"Is their insurance paying for it?"

"They did a runner. The police are looking into it, but so far, nothing."

"Can you afford the repairs?"

"Are you offering to pay?"

She snorted. "No. You've got a job, you pay."

"Just thought I'd try."

"That's my Cat. Always trying." She shot me a grin.

"Watch the fucking road!"

She turned back to the front and clicked her tongue. "There's no need for that language, Darling. Or the shouting. I'm not deaf yet."

We drove home and I ate my chicken salad sitting at the same rickety kitchen table where I used to sit at as a child for family meals. It brought back memories of Dad making me sit there until I'd finished everything on my plate, sometimes up to an hour after the rest of the family had finished. I'd been a slow, fussy eater. Times had changed. The chicken salad was awesome and I shoveled it in.

"Is Will working today?" Mom asked as she flipped through a recipe book in front of me.

"Uh-huh. He's working really hard lately. I don't get to see him as much." No way was I going to tell her that we were sort of having trouble. She would try to analyze the situation and me, and come to the conclusion that I was at fault. I didn't need to hear that right now.

"Do you think he'll take some time off to come to dinner tonight with you?"

"You're inviting me to dinner?"

"You
and
Will."

I stared at her over my fork. "Why?"

"To meet Peter of course."

"I'm busy tonight. So is Will. He's working and I'm catching up with Gina. Sorry, Mom, another time?"