Killing America's Sweetheart: A Natalie Miller Mystery (7 page)

“So, Natalie are you dating anyone?” Bebe asked.

“No, not right now,” I said feeling a bit on the spot. I wasn’t really sure where she was going with her questions.

“Have you ever been married?”

“Yes, but we’ve been divorced for some time now.”

“It must be hard to be in a relationship when you have these abilities. I can imagine not every man is too understanding.”

I nodded taking a sip of my drink. I really didn’t feel like airing all my dirty laundry. The last thing I wanted was to disclose my stint in rehab and my downward spiral from three years ago.

“Bebe, did you hear anything the night Hannah was murdered? Noises or voices?” I said trying to shift focus to the reason I was there.

“No. After the terrible fit she threw when I arrived, all I wanted to do was take some aspirin and call it a night. I woke up the next morning to Simon beating on my door after he had found her. I’m the one who called 911.”

I sat and studied her intently. I felt a little biased towards her, but I didn’t want my own personal feelings to cloud my
judgment. I called on Gilles to give me a better reading.

Is she truthful?
I mentally asked him.

‘Yes.’

Is she sincere about what happened that night?

‘Yes.’

Does she love Simon?

‘Yes, but it’s different.’

What do you mean?

‘What she feels f
or him is love and protection, almost a sibling like affection.’

So, I guess Simon was telling the truth too. Maybe it was a green card marriage
after all.

“You do believe me, right?”
Bebe asked, apparently put off by my silence.

“
Oh, yeah of course. Sorry, I was just thinking of something.”

“Where you conferring with your spirit guide?” Simon asked after an
absence in conversation.

“Uh, how did you know about my guide?” I asked a bit bewildered.

“During the ride to the station with the two detectives, I heard Detective Fatty giving his Gosling look-a-like partner a bad time about you. He said something about voices in your head and calling you crazy.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“Oh, don’t worry. Ryan corrected him and told him there weren’t voices, merely just you communicating with your spirit guide,” he said with a smile.

“His name is Zack,” I corrected.

“Right. Well, he does share an uncanny resemblance to Gosling, doesn’t he?”

Bebe nodded as she sipped her coffee.

“He kind of gets that a lot,” I added.

“Personally, I think he’s much hotter than Ryan,” Bebe
bemused.

“Well, I wouldn’t
know about that,” Simon stated flatly.

“Oh, come on!
Anyone with eyes can see that the Detective is the hotter of the two. You know what really seals it for me? The fact that he’s a cop. There’s just something very sexy about that,” Bebe said smiling.

That’s pretty much how our visit went. Bebe and Simon recalling gossip and adventures from their past and giving me the dirt on some of the Hollywood elite. I must admit I was a bit disappointed with the
real Gosling information, but the enlightenment about Steven Spielberg, Tom Hanks and Brad Pitt were all gems.

“Listen, have you heard anything about Damien being in the area?” I asked Simon trying to ground our conversation.

“I asked Connie our housekeeper if she saw or heard from him and she said no. She admitted he had been around a few times last week, but she never knew where he was staying.”

“Did she tell this to the police?”

“Yes, she gave them everything she could possibly remember about everyone who has been in and out of here the past few weeks.”

Huh, t
hat didn’t lead us any closer. I decided to ask about Hannah’s stalker.

“Simon, what can you tell me about this stalker of Hannah’s?”

Pausing to stretch, he replied, “Not a whole lot. A few months after I moved here and Hannah joined me, we started noticing this guy following us all over. At first I assumed that it might be a local photographer, but he was always parked across the road watching the house, and then the gifts started to arrive, which were left on the door step and we realized it was getting creepy.”

“How did he get on the property?” I asked remembering the massive security gate.

“He just drove on in. At the time I didn’t have the gate or cameras, so it was open to anyone. He’s the reason it was installed.”

“What happened?”

“Hannah was advised to get a restraining order, which she did. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened since,” he said letting the words trail off as if he noticed the fumble in his conversation.

“Did he ever threaten to harm her?” I pressed.

“No. In fact, I really thought he was just a harmless fan. Extreme and maybe over reaching in his attempts to contact her, but I never suspected he would be violent,” Simon said with certainty.

“What about the night of the murder, was the security camera on? How did the killer get onto the property?” I asked

Simon burrowed his brows.

“That’s the thing. We looked over the security footage and it doesn’t show anyone else coming or going after we returned from shopping that night. But, if I’m to be totally honest, it really wouldn’t be hard from someone to hop the gate on an unmonitored section and bypass the camera.
I take responsibility for that. I chose not to have the entire property covered. I thought we didn’t need it. I guess I was wrong,” he said quietly.

Our conversation began to wind down, and I felt like it was appropriate to make an exit. Simon agreed to located the
restraining order documents and Bebe asked if it was okay to contact me for advice on the character she was working on. I agreed and made every attempt to hide my excitement. Bebe Gloth asking me to consult with her on a book! It was too unbelievable. Maybe things were finally turning around for me after all. The past three years had been a gigantic clusterfuck of bad luck and heartache. It would be nice if something positive happened for a change.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

The next few days went by without getting any new leads or impressions. In other words, thin
gs kind of sucked. I was starting to feel bad for agreeing to help Simon when so far I hadn’t really produced much for him. Guilt was also seeping in, as he had already written me a check for an obscene amount of money, (20K!). I hadn’t even cashed it yet, just in case I disappointed him. I had never been in possession of so much money. I was almost afraid to deposit it, as the bank might flag my account for fraudulent activity. They knew my account never held more than a couple hundred dollars, and after bills were paid it was more like $20. So, to take a $20K check in would definitely raise some eyebrows.

Thankfully it was my day off and with tomorrow off as well I was thinking I might try to make some head
way on this case. With Honey fed and walked, I decided it might be a good time to go and pay Zack a visit, (on official business of course!). Honey did her little hind legged dance, letting me know she wanted to go for a ride, and I figured why not? I grabbed her leash, my purse and keys and we were off.

After securing Honey in her shotgun
doggy car seat, we headed off for the police department, (yes, I am one of those people! But I do not own a dog stroller. I have some standards). I was about a block from the station when my cell rang. I looked at the caller ID and saw it was Karen. I decided to pull over and take the call. Normally I would probably be a law breaker and take the call while driving, but seeing as we were so close the police department, I didn’t want to take the chance.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Guess what I found out?” Karen said in mysterious tone.

“What?

“At derby practice last night one of the Dames said she spotted Damien Fields at The Hole the other night!”

“Are you serious? Is she sure it was him?” I asked not believing.

“Dude, she’s totally sure. She was in love with him when he was on the show Santa Monica. She even partied with him last night and went home with him! She was bragging about it all throughout practice.”

Hmm. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of this new information. It sounded like
some pretty reliable news, but why the hell would he still be in Treeville? I mean if he killed Hannah, why not take off for some exotic location? Assuming he had the 100K, why stay? And WTF was he doing at The Hole? The trashiest bar in town was now catering to Hollywood has-beens?

“Which Dame was it?” I asked out of
curiosity.

“Kylie,” she said with a groan.

Kylie Martinez was married with a husband overseas in Iraq. When the cat’s away the mice will definitely play. She at one point had a guy living with her, but kicked him out right before her husband came home. It was a close call, but it appeared she hadn’t learned her lesson.

“She
’s still up to her old tricks, huh?” I added.

“Of course. While her poor husband is fighting
in a foreign country, she’s over here giving comfort to any and all males seeking attention. I can’t stand her, but she’s an amazing blocker,” Karen added dryly.

“So, where is home for Damien?”

Karen laughed.

“He’s staying at T
he Bombay Inn near I-5,” she replied chuckling.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

The Bombay Inn was a seedy and cheap motel, where the rates where low, people mostly paid in cash and it had a known drug reputation.

“Wonderful,” I replied sarcastically.

“Are you going to check it out?”

“I suppose I’
ll have to. I’ve already been paid for my services and I have yet to turn up any useful information. I don’t really think I have a choice in the matter.”

“Good. I’m coming with you,” she said quickly.

“You want to come to a dirty, filthy, drug den?”

“Bitch, please. You got to meet Bebe Gloth! Bebe fucking Gloth! I mean, I’m the
librarian; I’m the one who’s in debt up to my ass in student loans! If anyone should have met her, it’s me. So, since you have not invited me to accompany you to Mr. Bellamy’s, I’ll take sloppy seconds with Damien Fields. I used to watch that shitty soap too. Even if he’s a washed up actor, he’s still someone somewhat famous,” she said ending her rant.

Ah, the magic and lure of Hollywood. It doesn’t matter that Damien hasn’t done more than a Hot Pocket commercial in the past two
years; he’s still someone to the celebrity rag masses.

I agreed to meet her later at my place, be
fore heading off to The Bombay Inn. Meanwhile, I still needed to touch base with Zack and see if there were any new developments he might be willing to share. Pulling into the parking lot I decided instead of walking into the building, I should call first.

“I see you didn’t take my advice,” he growled into the phone.

Ah, the advantages of caller ID.

“Hello, to you too,” I spat out.

He just always had to irk me.

“What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you. Do you want me to come in, or are you going to come outside?” I asked, already losing my patience.

“Shit, you’re here? No, stay put. I’ll come out.”

“Wow, way to hurt my feelings. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were ashamed of me.”

But, I don’t think he heard a word of my reply as when I paused all I heard was
silence and found that the call had been disconnected.

“That fucker,” I mumbled tossing my phone next to Honey’s car seat. Honey apparently bored by our
action less outing was startled awake by my phone landing near her.

“Sorry, Honey,” I said as I steppe
d out of the car and anchored myself against the driver’s door.

After about five
minutes, Zach finally came running out through the side employee door.

“So, you just can’t get enough of me, can you?” he replied breathlessly.

I rolled my eyes.

“Please. Been there and done that. Let’s move on now,” I said with annoyance.

He moved closer, giving me a whiff of his intoxicating scent and murmured, “Are you sure about that?”

He was inches from my mouth and
instinctively I licked my lips. Having him this close to me made me so nervous. I tried to back up, but there was nowhere to go. He smiled and gave me a wicked little laugh.

Finally, he moved back a step and changed his demeanor.

“So, what’s up?”

“I, uh
...wanted to know if there was anything new to report?” I stammered.

“And you thought if there was I’d tell you?” He asked.

“Look, you can’t deny that I’ve given you a jump on this case. I know that by telling you about my dream, you’ve been able to produce things that would have taken days longer to find out. All I’m asking is for a professional courtesy.”