CoverBoys & Curses (18 page)

Chapter
Fifty-Four

Secret
Obsessions

HARLAN
COAL STOOD at the gateway between his public residence and the huge stone wall
that protected his inner sanctum. Armand was in the mood for an argument and
Coal knew to get his aide inside the great chamber and out of earshot.

           
“Why would you have to tell the
Visconti woman that I own a place on the beach near hers?” Armand roared.

           
“I didn’t tell her that because you
don’t, do you? The Centre is borrowing it, and you’re damn lucky to get to use
it for your little emergencies. But don’t be a fool. Visconti saw you there on
the back deck. She doesn’t know it yet, but if and when she puts it together,
we’re better off she knows now.” Coal opened the grand skylights to catch the
rich scent of wisteria from the grounds below.

           
“You aren’t paying any rent on that
place, just like the Bel Air house. You’re paying me to be quiet,” Armand
raged.

           
“My deal is between Gabriella
Criscione and me. I don’t let her tell me how to run my life, and I don’t let
her tell me how to run hers.

“The
beach house isn’t like our other properties. I don’t see me getting my hands on
the deed for some time, but it’s my gift to you for as long as you want. Don’t
screw it up and you can use it any time you want.”

“And
what about the old man? Falls?” Armand paced the cork floors that afforded an extra
cushioning of silence.

“He’s
going to meet his maker in a few weeks. Poor old geezer has a bad heart. He’s
on some battery-operated pump that needs a recharge every seven hours, poor
guy. Falls will fall, and all that loot will become ours. Give it some time.”

           
“Time is what worries me,” Armand
said.

           
“Then I guess it’s time for some
more baseball.”

DETECTIVE
WRAY called my cell. “Did you get a hold of that friend of mine in Tucson?”

“You
have a friend?” I joked.

He
actually laughed. A belly-bursting laugh I could almost see over the phone.

“I have
spoken to him. He’s working on it. He’s trying to find my friend’s brother,
first. I gave him the name of a producer I know that seems to have connections
with all these things.”

“Missing
children. That would be the infamous Jack Helms’ new obsession.”

“Right,”
I said.

Now how
did he know that? Maybe I didn’t give the detective enough credit, I thought.

IT
WAS CARLY’S IDEA. Combat boot camp champion that she was, she wanted to play
tennis and I agreed. Not my brightest moment, but neither of us had seen Brock
in weeks and he was a member of the club. He got us passes and told us he’d buy
drinks later. I wasn’t sure that meant he would show up, or just pick up our
tab via his golden association with the country club crowd.

           
“I haven’t played in months,” I
said.

           
“It shows. It’s thirty—love,
girlfriend,” Carly blared.

           
“I can’t do a whole set,” I whined,
out of breath and ready to quit. “You must have some new vitamin regimen.”

           
“Something like that,” Carly said as
she poured two glasses of water from the side court. “I guess it’s my Purity
Oath.”

           
“What’s that?”

           
“Abstinence,” Carly said.

           
We finished the game in silence,
except for my few gasps, screams, and ‘oh shits’. After I’d finally expunged my
last bit of energy I called a truce.
 
We gathered
at the net to collect our towels and gym bags, with Carly the clear victor.

           
We ended our exercise endeavor over
gulps of water and then a glass of wine at a table, poolside.

           
“Abstinence, huh?” I asked Carly.

           
“You’re one of my best friends.
Surely you get this. I’m a virgin.”

           
“Maybe. I sort of thought maybe. Do
you have desires?”

           
“What the hell do you think I am?”
Carly wore a mischievous smile behind her mock hurt frown. Friendship. We were
on solid ground.

           
“I honestly don’t know. It occurred
to me maybe you just weren’t interested in sex,” I answered.

           
“Are you crazy? Have you never heard
of a virgin? Good god, you don’t think I’m a lesbian, do you?”

           
“It wouldn’t matter to me if you
were.”

           
“As long as I don’t come on to you,”
Carly laughed.

           
“Deal. You are a good friend but I
have my limits.”

           
“I’m the only virgin my age left in
L.A., and when the right man, the
golden
man
, comes along, I’ve got a precious little package for him. And it’s not
implanted by one of your plastic surgeon nuts.”

           
Carly pulled at her
pinot
grigio
,
as if it were that golden man’s lush lips. She was stunning, in every way.
Choppy black hair, short and flirty. Curves. Real curves. And I felt saddened I
didn’t know her secret. After all these years I recognized my ignorance. She
was a virgin by choice until her prince arrived. I made wrong assumptions. I
didn’t have a clue that she was on a chosen and widely respected path. I did
hope she would find her prince.

           
Still, I wanted to suggest she
loosen up. Experience her body before she committed to a monogamous
relationship. As I studied her, she read me more deeply than I had ever read
her.

“Anyway,”
Carly said, “a man would only get in the way until I have my antique store up
in running. That’s my first goal. I have a new big design job, Lauren. It may
just be enough to do it my way.”

“Where
is it? One of our famous or infamous stars?”

“You
know how that goes. No one wants to let on that they’re dumping a ton of money
into their property.”

“You
sound like it’s patient-client privilege confidentiality. Or a lawyer thing.”

“I’ve
been in the business long enough. The more hush-hush they are, the bigger the
deal. And I’m familiar with the house. It should be quick, easy, and
prosperous.

           
“So let’s flip the tables. What’s
your goal these days? You have this way about you when you’re uptight. You
crank your neck around in circles, and when it’s real bad, you even pull on
your ears,” Carly said.

           
“Really?” I had heard it before.

           
“Yup. And you’re doing it right now,
even while you’re drilling me about my sex life and business concerns.”

           
“I didn’t know I was that
transparent.”

           
“Like a day old guppy,” Carly said.

           
“I haven’t had time to tell you but
I’ve hired a private detective in Tucson to look into Payton’s death and maybe
even help track down her brother.”

           
“You’re kidding? And you didn’t have
time to tell me?”

           
“It happened so quickly. I got his
name from the detective hammering me here about—well you know what about. I
honestly didn’t think it would go anywhere. Turns out this Tucson guy seems
like he might take a peek at things for us.”

           
“Who else knows?”

           
“Like I said, it happened fast. You’re
the first one I’ve had time to talk to, but here comes the devil, himself.”

Chapter Fifty-Five

Mi
Club
es
Su Club

I
NODDED TOWARD THE six-foot plus hunk that strolled through the country club’s
lounge in black shorts and a just-so-tight black tee shirt. Brock’s season
would soon be coming to a close, and I could sense his aching muscles screaming
for a time out. They still looked divine, believe me.

           
“Who won the match?” Brock said as a
waiter appeared from nowhere and delivered him a beer.

           
“Don’t have to ask, do you?” I
whined.

           
Carly patted on the seat next to
her. “Sit. Lauren has big news about Payton.”

           
Brock’s penetrating eyes stole all
three bases, as they always did with me. “What’s going on?”

           
I explained what few details I had,
which was nothing but a vague hint of someone willing to investigate two cases
that weren’t even really cases. But Payton’s brother was still missing. And
Payton didn’t put a single bullet into her own head.

           
I looked up to a familiar voice and
a swash of white fabric. “Hey, Slugger. How’s your game going these days?”

           
Brock stood to attention. Firm and
guarded attention. “What are you doing here, Mr. Coal?”

           
“It’s
Doctor
Coal. And I’m early for a private appointment. Couldn’t help
but notice two of my favorite girls.”

           
Coal sat next to me in the remaining
chair. He didn’t look at me. I found that odd, but in a way, a relief.

           
“So,” Coal repeated, “how is your
ballgame?”

           
“A very decent year, all and all,”
Brock said, stretching his muscular arms out in a full sweep then landing them
around both Carly and me. Real smooth. If you’re twelve years old.

           
“You’re old college injury still
getting to you? Rotator cuff?” Coal asked.

           
Brock dropped his chin. “Guess so.
How did you know?”

           
“I read the papers,” Coal said. “See
the news now and then.”

           
“I didn’t take you for a sports
guy,” Brock said.

           
“You needn’t take me for anything,”
Coal responded.

           
The waiter arrived with three flutes
of champagne as Coal signed for them. “Hope you don’t mind, girls, but the very
sight of you is cause for celebration,” he said.

           
“So now you’re a member of my club?”
Brock asked.

           
Carly broke up the exchange of
squabbling before I even realized the tones of voice had become more callous
than the words themselves.

After
diverted fierce glares, Carly announced that her business plan was complete and
she knew her vision of an antique store was nearing reality.

           
Brock seemed surprised. Coal seemed
to know all about it. But then again, both Carly and I had seen little of
Brock, and Carly surely saw Dr. Coal all the time.

           
I didn’t mention the offer to move
to The Centre. I can be an idiot but I’m not plain stupid.

           
Brock noticed the jewelry-pitching
blonde I’d seen on what seemed like every other commercial on television. She
arrived at a table next to us and it seemed to me she secured the best viewing
advantage to take in Brock’s abs-fitting black tee. Now I was the twelve year
old.

           
Coal spoke up when he saw us all
stare at the magnificent spokesperson. “So-called stars read lines someone else
wrote. They step where someone else has directed them to step, and then they
rely on someone to
splice
and dice their films to
take out all of the real stuff.

           
“Lauren has a first class magazine
that rocks. Carly has a successful design business and a dream. That’s real
world and world class.”

           
Brock downed his beer.

           
Carly drooled under the pool of
accolades that kept on coming from Coal’s perfect mouth.

           
I pulled on Brock’s arm and asked if
he’d go to the bar with me. He jumped to his feet.

           
“Why don’t you tell me why you and
Dr. Coal have to keep going at each other all the time?”

           
“Because he’s playing mind games
with me. He’s a psycho-nut playing mind games with all of us.”

           
“He’s just trying to be supportive
of his patients,” I said.

           
Brock grabbed the cold beer offered
by the bartender.

           
“Why do you think he’s here? You
think he just showed up at the same time we happen to be here?”

           
“You heard him. He has a meeting
here.”

           
“Right. He signed for your drinks.
That means he’s a member. Mr. Doctor Good with no need for worldly possessions
went and joined a country club.
My
country club.”