A Pacific Breeze Hotel (6 page)

Nolan and Lila lay nearby. Blood oozed down the sleeve of Lila’s blouse.

“Lila!” Felicia crawled over to her friend.

“It’s just a scratch.” Lila’s voice was high-pitched with fear.

“The slug ricocheted off the trunk and nicked her arm.” Nolan ripped the material of Lila’s blouse to expose the wound.

“The bullet hit my trunk!” wailed Lila. “I hope my nylons are okay.

They were on sale, you know.”

“I need to get her to the hospital,” said Nolan. “She sounds a little shocky.”

“Shocky, slocky.” Lila sat up and looked around. “What about my car?”

Nolan pulled a white handkerchief from his shirt pocket and applied pressure to Lila’s wound. He wiped away the blood trickling down her arm. Felicia was relieved to see the wound was nothing more than a scratch and not deep at all. Her stomach still roiled at the site of the blood. She remembered DeWarner bleeding out on the Persian carpet in his office.

“No sign of the guy.” O’Rourke returned, holstering his gun. He bent to check on Lila. “I think he might have been in the alley across the street but he’s long gone now.”

“Why was he shooting at us?” Lila closed her eyes and lay back on the pavement.

“I think he was after Felicia.” O’Rourke’s face was a stone mask with no trace of warmth.

“My beautiful car!” Tears rolled down Lila’s cheeks as she sat up and checked out the damage to her vehicle.

Nolan stroked Lila’s hair. “Be thankful the car was here or the bullet might have hit one of us.”

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Pacific Breeze Hotel

Lila sagged against Nolan in a dead faint.

“It’s just a flesh wound but I’m taking her to Heart of Mercy. It’s the closest hospital.” Nolan picked up Lila and carried her in his arms as if she weighed no more than a stray kitten.

“We’ll follow in a minute.” O’Rourke opened the door to his car. Once Lila was ensconced in the front seat, Nolan started the engine and the car roared down the street with its siren blaring.

The sidewalk was soon crowded with police officers in uniform and detectives in suits and hats. O’Rourke spoke to one of the detectives and explained what had happened. He assigned uniformed officers to sweep the area for any trace of the shooter.

“I want to go to the hospital.” Felicia’s voice trembled with fear.

“We’re on our way.” O’Rourke looked around. “Don’t suppose you have an extra set of keys for Lila’s car…?”

Felicia fished around in her purse and pulled out a key ring. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

O’Rourke pushed the big car past the speed limit and they fairly flew the short distance to Heart of Mercy Hospital. By the time they arrived, Lila’s wound had been cleaned and bandaged and she hadn’t required a single stitch. The hospital insisted she stay overnight for observation since she had a large bump on the back of her head, the result of striking the pavement when she’d fallen. Nolan sat by her bedside, regaling her with his adventures on the police force.

On the drive back to her apartment, Felicia didn’t enjoy the breeze blowing through her hair or the spacious luxury of the Convertible. So much had happened to her in such a short time and she couldn’t shake the feeling her days were numbered. She told O’Rourke about the man who had followed her since DeWarner’s murder.

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Josie A. Okuly

“You should have told me sooner.” His mouth tightened into a hard line.

“I’m telling you now,” Felicia sighed. “At first, I thought I was imagining things. I never actually saw anyone until today when I caught a glimpse of a man in a well-tailored suit and slicked-back hair.”

“What color was his hair? How tall was he?”

“Uh, black hair, kind of greasy looking. He was medium height, not as tall as you. Kind of slim and wiry.”

O’Rourke frowned. “Did anyone know you were coming to the Ring-Tailed Lemur?”

“I left a note on the front door for Vance. I told him I was out shopping with Lila and we’d be home in a few hours. The Lemur was a last-minute decision.”

“Vance who?”

“Vance Morgan.” Felicia’s gaze held his. “He’s the man I used to date.

He’s here in Los Angeles on business.”

O’Rourke ran his fingers through his hair. “How well do you know this guy?”

“We’ve known each other since grade school. I think I know him pretty well.”

O’Rourke frowned. “I guess he’s trustworthy?”

“Absolutely.” Felicia smiled. “He used to be my knight in shining armor when I was a child.”

O’Rourke’s frown deepened. “Should I be jealous?”

“Not a bit.” Then she added, “But if you want to be jealous, that’s all right with me.”

O’Rourke grinned. “I was happy to see you when you walked into the restaurant today.”

“Were you?”

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He nodded. “And I think Nolan’s day improved the moment he met your perky friend.”

Felicia tried to smile but couldn’t make the effort. The stalker had shot at her in broad daylight. What would he do next? She huddled down in her seat, suddenly chilled, despite the warmth of the sun, which beat down on her face.

When they pulled up to her building, Felicia turned to O’Rourke.

“Does DeWarner’s killer really think I saw his face?”

O’Rourke didn’t answer for a moment. “Maybe. But it doesn’t feel right. Forgive my bluntness, but a professional hit man wouldn’t be so incompetent. A professional from Chicago or New York wouldn’t leave a melodramatic gesture like a knife in your coffee table. If he was aiming for you today, he would’ve hit you.”

The blood drained from Felicia’s face and the queasiness in her stomach came back with a vengeance. “Then what?”

“This smacks of something personal.”

“Personal?”

O’Rourke’s expression turned cold. Felicia didn’t envy the suspect that might face him in an interrogation room. His eyes were chips of dark gray ice.

“Someone with a grudge. Someone who hates you enough to write the word
tramp
on a piece of paper. I think it’s someone you know.”

Felicia shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone.”

“Fellow actor? Director? Producer? Take your pick. In your business, I’m sure you meet plenty of losers. Not to mention the men you’ve met at the soup kitchen. One of them might be our lowlife.”

Felicia clenched her fists. “And you lump me in that category?”

“I didn’t mean...”

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Josie A. Okuly

“Of course you did. I spend my time with lowlifes so that makes me a lowlife, too. That places me in a category somewhere between cockroach and sewer rat. I’m surprised you can even stomach talking to me.”

“Felicia, give me a break! I’m worried sick about what happened today. I wasn’t very tactful and I apologize.”

“I think you spoke your true feelings.” Felicia knew she was being unreasonable, but she didn’t care. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and the unresolved, mounting tension made her want to lash out in frustration.

She slammed the car door with all her strength and raced into the lobby. She had been an idiot, deluding herself into believing O’Rourke felt something for her, even though they’d just met. He was the kind of man she’d always hoped to meet, a real man, without a hint of superficiality.

He wasn’t tainted with the same brush as most of the people she had met in the entertainment industry. But when it came right down to it, his words had revealed his true feelings. He didn’t see Felicia as the type of woman he could fall in love with. He saw her as just another bubble-headed starlet who associated with morally questionable people.

Or did he? Hadn’t he been kind and attentive to her from the beginning? Hadn’t he aroused feelings in her no other man had? And the way he looked at her…

Felicia entered her apartment and threw her handbag on the kitchen table. The doorbell peeled and she went to answer it. O’Rourke stood in the hallway, his hands crammed in his pockets.

“I’m sorry.” He lowered his eyes and kicked at the fraying hallway carpet. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Felicia crossed her arms over her chest. “I got the impression you lump me in with the people I associate with.

Maybe this is the way you really feel about me.”

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Pacific Breeze Hotel

“Never.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“I swear,” he said.

Felicia couldn’t speak, still unsure of her feelings.

“You can believe me or not, but it’s the truth.” O’Rourke blew out a breath. “You’re a beautiful, talented young lady who wants to be taken seriously as an actress. I wish none of these horrible things ever happened, but one good thing came out of this mess. I met you, and my life has changed for the better because of it.”

Felicia’s eyes filled with tears. “I guess I’m not thinking clearly. So much has happened…”

“I know.” O’Rourke tweaked her nose as he had done in the stairway.

“I promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe and find the person responsible.”

Felicia nodded and gave him a shy smile. “Thank you.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “I’m heading back to the hospital later.

Do you think Lila will need extra clothes?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” admitted Felicia. “I’ll go next door and pack some things for her.”

ÇÇÇ

“What’s this all about?” C.B. DeWarner, Jr. sat in the interrogation room of the police station. His black eye, compliments of O’Rourke, stood out in shades of purple and green.

After O’Rourke left Felicia’s apartment, he’d caught a cab to the station. Once there, he made arrangements for uniform officers to pick up DeWarner, Jr. and bring him in for further questioning.

Now, O’Rourke circled the small room, forcing Junior to turn his head in order to follow his movements. O’Rourke stopped, planting

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himself behind Junior’s chair. He found this effective in order to intimidate the suspect and throw them off balance. Sort of like the teacher looking over a student’s shoulder. It was a successful psychological tool he often used to his advantage when conducting interrogations.

The claustrophobic flavor of the room was having an effect on Junior.

Sweat or hair oil beaded on his forehead and then rolled down his cheeks. O’Rourke didn’t speak as he stood behind Junior’s chair, letting the tension increase until it was almost unbearable. When it looked as if Junior might baste in his own sweat, O’Rourke began to ask questions.

“You have a thing for knives, don’t you?” The sound of O’Rourke’s voice caused Junior to jump.

O’Rourke leaned his weight on the back of the chair. “The other day, I couldn’t help but notice one of the knives was missing from your collection. Can you account for that?”

“Maybe the tooth fairy borrowed it.” Junior’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“You’re a funny guy, aren’t you?” O’Rourke turned his back on Junior. He left the room, returning with the knife he’d found in Felicia’s apartment.

Junior rubbed the back of his neck. “You can’t prove that knife is from my collection.”

O’Rourke smiled. “Oh, but I have proved it. The signature of the artist is identical to the other knives in your collection.”

Junior’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe someone stole it. I don’t check my collection every day.”

O’Rourke pulled up a chair and sat down across from Junior. He pushed his chair closer until he was only a foot from Junior’s face,

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Pacific Breeze Hotel

effectively invading the other man’s space―another psychological tool he had learned on the job.

“Let’s get down to business.” O’Rourke leaned forward. He saw every enlarged pore and every blemish on the man’s face. Junior sat back as far as he could but O’Rourke was still close enough to smell his sour breath.
All the money in the world can’t buy a clean conscience or fresh
breath,
he thought. “I checked out your alibi. You were at the barbershop when your father was killed. That isn’t why you’re here. What I want to know is why you’ve been following Felicia Avery and why you plunged this knife into her coffee table?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The strong scent of Junior’s sweat intensified in the small room.

“I’ve been thinking a person with all your money and connections could’ve hired someone to kill his father.” O’Rourke scratched his chin as if considering the thought. “I think it’s best if we keep you here a few days for questioning.”

“Hey, you can’t lock me up with these animals.” Junior’s voice ended in a bleat of terror. “I didn’t do nothing to that tramp.”

O’Rourke balled his hands into fists and blew out a breath. He stood up and circled the room again, biding his time, a wolf ready to pounce on his prey at any moment.

Junior’s face drained of color.

“It’s interesting you used the word
tramp
.” O’Rourke’s voice was mild but his words held unspoken menace as he walked around Junior like a caged animal. “That word was mentioned in a note left in Felicia Avery’s apartment. Someone had punctuated the thought by driving a knife into the paper. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

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Junior’s composure crumbled and he began to sob. “Felicia Avery killed my father. I wanted to scare her so I left the knife and the note. I thought she might confess if she was frightened enough.”

“How long have you been following her?”

“Since yesterday. I asked around the studio and found out where she lived. I left the note in her apartment. I wanted her to know I knew she was guilty.”

O’Rourke couldn’t bear to look at Junior. He might punch him.

Junior now sat with his hands covering his face and that was a good thing as far as O’Rourke was concerned.

O’Rourke fixed his attention on the cracks snaking across the worn floor. “So you left the knife in the coffee table. Then what happened?”

“Then I followed Felicia and her girlfriend to Woolworth’s. After that, they ended up at the Ring-Tailed Lemur and that’s when I decided to go home.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” O’Rourke placed a hand on Junior’s shoulder and squeezed.