Poor Little Bitch Girl (54 page)

Detective Lennox was waiting to question her, but Dr Glass had not given him the go-ahead, which I think kind of pissed him off as he paced up and down drinking endless cups of coffee out of Styrofoam cups.

Finally Dr Glass appeared in the waiting area. “Carolyn’s going to be fine,” she assured us – paying special attention to Mrs Henderson, who looked kind of wrecked herself. “She’s suffering from exhaustion, severe dehydration, and she has a nasty cut on her foot which will need stitches. We’re giving her a tetanus shot just to be safe. However, you will all be happy to hear that the baby is fine.”

“Baby?” Mrs Henderson said, confused.

“Baby!” I gasped, equally confused.

“Carolyn is almost two months’ pregnant,” Dr Glass revealed. “I thought you all knew.”

So
that
was Carolyn’s exciting news. Finally!

Bobby took my hand and squeezed it.

Hmm . . . who knew that mere hand-holding could send chills down a girl’s spine?

“You surprised?” Bobby asked.

“You bet!” I replied. “Now I need to find out who the father is.”

He gave me a slow smile.

Oh man! Those whiter than white teeth. Those lips. Those dark, intense eyes.

Should I be getting turned on at a time like this?

I think not.

But screw it. Carolyn’s safe. So what was wrong with concentrating on Bobby?

Nothing.

“Why?” he said sensibly. “Isn’t it up to her to tell you when she wants you to know?”

Smart too. Questioning her right now was not a good idea.

I suddenly realized how tired I was. Emotionally drained and ready to go home and crawl into bed with Amy Winehouse beside me.

There was nothing more I could do here. The Hendersons needed time with their daughter; I would just be in the way. Besides, if all was okay, Carolyn would be coming out to stay with me in a week or so.

I asked if I could see her. Dr Glass said no, only family for now.

Bobby kind of read my mind. “How about I fly you home?” he suggested. “Your friend is safe, there’s nothing more you can do here.”

“But you live in New York,” I murmured. “I can easily catch a commercial flight.”

His dark eyes bored into mine. “I’m taking you home,” he said, his tone inviting no argument.

I said my goodbyes to the Hendersons, wished them well, and made them promise to have Carolyn call me as soon as she was up to it.

We both shook Detective Lennox’s hand, and then took off, me and Bobby Santangelo Stanislopoulos.

Sitting in a car on the way to the airport I felt a shyness overcome me, and that’s not me at all.

Oh God! In the midst of all the drama was I falling in . . .

No! No! No!

“Whereabouts do you live in L.A.?” Bobby asked.

“Why? You planning to have your plane land on my street?” I answered flippantly.

“Maybe,” he said, grinning. “That way I can get rid of you sooner.”

“Get rid of me? How dare you!” I joked.

“Y’know,” he said, giving me a long, lingering look, “you’re even prettier when you’re mock-angry.”

I swallowed hard. Usually I would come up with a smart retort, but Bobby had me flummoxed.

The plane was waiting. Naturally. It seemed Bobby snapped his fingers and things happened.

Hani and Gitta were on board to greet us, clad in their smart uniforms.

Hmm
. . .
I think I could easily get used to this style of travel.

I glanced at my watch. It was almost noon, Washington time. Three hours earlier in L.A. The Maestro funeral would soon be underway and I would not be there to participate.

Too bad.

Or not.

The moment the plane took off I fell into a deep sleep, curled into a tight ball. Someone – I think it was Bobby – put a blanket over me and a pillow behind my head, but nothing was about to wake me. I was totally beat.

When I did surface a couple of hours later, Bobby had news.

Apparently Ralph Maestro had been arrested for ordering his wife’s murder. It was all over the internet.

Unfortunately – or fortunately – I’d missed the whole thing.

I couldn’t wait to get home and find out everything.

As soon as we landed, Bobby had a car waiting – of course – and we set off for my apartment.

I was major conflicted. Was I going to invite him in? What kind of state had I left my apartment in? Where were we headed? Could this possibly turn into something?

Yes! Yes! Yes!

But fate always has a crazy way of intervening, and standing outside my apartment was Sam – the screenwriter I’d spent one night with in New York.

“Hey there!” Sam exclaimed, full of enthusiasm. “I just sold my screenplay to Universal, so here I am!”

And yes, there he was – complete with overnight bag.

Awkward.

Very awkward.

Especially as Sam was acting as if we were a couple. Or at least that’s what Bobby seemed to think, for he gave me a quick peck on the cheek and took off fast. There was nothing I could say to stop him.

Bye bye, Bobby, nice knowing you.

Completely thrown, I invited Sam in, gave him a drink and hearty congratulations, and then told him he couldn’t stay.

Sam got the message – he wasn’t slow.

Over the next few days I found out a lot. I discovered that Ralph Maestro was not merely a movie star, he was a man with connections. Important and powerful connections. So although he was arrested and charged with hiring Hank Montero to murder his wife, Ralph was released within hours. Felix Saunders saw to that. A five-million-dollar bond, and the big movie star was back in his enormous mansion, a confident man. Confident that when the case finally came to trial, perhaps in four years – the same amount of time it had taken to get famous record producer Phil Spector into court for trial number one – he would walk free. For in Ralph’s mind he was guilty of no crime.

The beautiful ethereal Gemma Summer, his loving wife, had screwed around on him, and to Ralph that was an unforgivable sin. He revealed to Felix and the investigating detectives, that one day, while sharing a beer with his former stunt double, Hank Montero, he’d happened to mention that any woman who cheated on her husband deserved to be shot.

How was he to know that Hank – a man who’d fallen upon hard times – would take him literally?

“It was a stupid joke,” Ralph informed them all. “A careless remark seized upon by an unbalanced psychopath.”

Felix nodded. He understood. Felix understood everything.

Later there were questions about the money Hank claimed Ralph had paid him.

“The man was down on his luck,” Ralph said without a flicker of guilt. “I gave him a few thousand dollars to tide him over. If you can’t help your fellow man, what use are you to anybody?”

I had looked into his face and seen raw evil in Ralph Maestro’s piercing eyes.

But Felix was a master – he knew he would have no trouble getting Ralph exonerated from all charges.

Felix was a killer lawyer.

And Ralph was a killer client.

Shortly after, I quit the firm of Saunders, Fields, Simmons & Johnson.

Perhaps my dad was the one with the right idea. Suddenly, prosecuting criminals instead of defending them seemed a lot more palatable.

Carolyn was on her way to stay with me for Christmas and hopefully she’d tell me everything – for so far, her kidnapping remained a mystery. I was also dying to find out who the father of her baby was. We had a lot of catching up to do.

I wasn’t sure what my future held, but one thing I did know for sure: I planned on making all the right choices.

As for Bobby, well, harking back to high school, he was the handsome jock, and I was the studious girl he never noticed. I’d always known it couldn’t possibly work out.

Now I could get back to concentrating on my career.

I was free. I could do absolutely anything I wanted.

A
t first Annabelle was dazed – not even shocked because instinctively she’d sensed her father was guilty all along. Oh yes, she’d joked about it, but deep down she’d always harbored a gut feeling that somehow or other Ralph was responsible for her mother’s brutal demise.

Ralph Maestro and Gemma Summer.

The perfect couple.

Perfect no more.

Of course she was sure that Ralph would be acquitted, if he ever went to trial. This was Hollywood, after all. Movie stars could and did get away with murder.

In the meantime, Annabelle refused to allow her father’s newfound notoriety to slow her down. Oh no, not at all. Fanny was in charge, and anything Fanny suggested was right on the money.

The top shows wanted her.
Oprah
,
Larry King Live
, even
The Jay Leno Show
. She appeared on them all.

It turned out – exactly as Fanny had predicted – that in front of the camera Annabelle was a natural. Charming. Sweet when she wanted to be – wicked when she didn’t. Amusing. Literate. She was a talk-show host’s dream guest.

Then, exactly as Fanny had also predicted – along came the offers to put her name to a book. It was a multimillion-dollar deal.
My Life – A Hollywood Princess Tells All.

A fast publication. A phenomenal rise to the top of the bestseller lists. And soon Annabelle Maestro was a bona-fide star in her own right.

* * *

Frankie finally called it quits on their relationship. He did not appreciate Annabelle’s shitty attitude; she was lording it over him as if she was the second coming of Angelina Jolie. One thing Frankie knew for sure – he was not cut out to be background material.

Fanny was pissing him off too. Everything she did was for Annabelle to shine – nothing for him. The reality show featuring the two of them as a couple never happened. Instead Annabelle was offered her own show based on her dumb book.

That was it for Frankie – he didn’t give a fast crap. He had other things to get off the ground. Besides, he and Annabelle had grown apart months ago.

When Frankie said goodbye, Annabelle said good riddance.

Both of them had moved to L.A. and the Hollywood lifestyle suited Frankie just fine. He and Rick Greco were in business together – a business Frankie knew only too well. Persuading out-of-work actresses to sell their perky little bodies on the side for mucho bucks was easy pickings. So far, business was booming. Frankie was one very happy Hollywood pimp.

* * *

Carolyn recovered in record time. Determined to put her ordeal behind her as quickly as possible, she decided to leave Washington and return to L.A. with her parents.

Evelyn and Gregory Stoneman visited her in hospital. What a treat
that
was. Carolyn could hardly believe that Gregory had the balls to turn up with his wife.

“We’re so sorry, dear,” Evelyn had crooned, thrusting a box of expensive chocolates at her. “Poor Gregory was worried sick.”

Worried sick, was he?
Carolyn thought.
I bet he was.

She did not know for certain if Gregory was involved in her kidnapping, but he sure as hell couldn’t look her in the eye.

The love she’d once felt for him was long gone.

“Have the police found out who did this terrible thing to you?” Evelyn continued, while Gregory studied the floor and didn’t utter a word.

What a coward!
Carolyn thought. In case she suspected something, he’d turned up with his uptight wife to protect him, a woman she barely knew.

Carolyn was sickened. Senator Gregory Stoneman was not the man she’d thought he was. In fact, now she realized that he’d never had any intention of leaving his wife and starting a new life with her. The man was a lying, cheating
married
sonofabitch.

But still – in spite of everything – when questioned, she’d been unable to implicate him in her kidnapping.