How to Party with a Killer Vampire (28 page)

“Hi, I’m Presley Parker.” I reached out a hand. “From the party the other night?”

Stone-faced and ignoring my hand, he said, “Angelica’s not home. I’ll take whatever you have of hers and give it to her when she gets back.”

This caught me off guard. “Oh, well, actually, what I have for her is some information.” I tapped my head as if my news were locked up tight in my cranium. “I need to tell her myself.... It’s kind of personal.”

“Sorry. She isn’t here, and I don’t know when she’ll be back.” He started to close the door.

I raised a hand. “But, I thought you were her bodyguard,” I blurted, even though I knew he was really her husband and was posing as her bodyguard to keep their marriage a secret. Best not to reveal too much too soon, I thought.

“Yeah,” he said, shifting his weight, obviously uncomfortable with the question. His knuckles whitened around the grip of the bottle in his hand.

“If she’s not here, then why aren’t you out guarding her?”

“That’s really none of your business. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .” He started to close the door again.

“Wait!” This time I stopped the door with my foot. I had a feeling this was a guy who wouldn’t think twice about crushing my toes, but I hoped my Vans would soften the blow—and I couldn’t let this opportunity slip by. “Listen, I think Angelica’s in danger. I know about her stalker and I think he may be coming after her.”

He pulled the door open again and frowned, his brown eyes darkening. “Where did you hear that?”

Before I could answer, a female voice called from behind him, “Roman, who’s there?”

I couldn’t see who it was, with the man named Roman standing in the way, but the voice was familiar. I ducked under his arm that held the door open and entered the room. Angelica stood in her bedroom doorway, her hair disheveled, bags under her eyes. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. A rash filled her cheeks, and she had several bruises on her arms.

“Angelica!” I said, alarmed at her appearance. I had seen her only when she’d been fully made up, her skin like porcelain, her short blond hair silky and smooth.

She glanced at Roman. He gave her a stern look. “Angelica, go back to bed.”

“What’s going on?” I said, first to the bodyguard, then to Angelica. “Angelica, what’s wrong? Has this guy done something to you?” I nodded toward the bruises on her arms.

“Roman . . . ,” she whispered, as if running out of breath.

“Angelica, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Roman said.

“Wait!” I said, moving toward her and blocking her view of Roman. “What’s going on? Do you need help?”

“No . . . no. I’m fine, really,” she said dreamily, her eyes blinking heavily. “Just tired. Roman’s taking care of me.”

“You’re not all right,” I said, growing alarmed. “Have you taken some kind of drug?”

She blinked slowly again. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I was just having fun, you know. It was supposed to be harmless flirting . . . but he took it too seriously. I didn’t know how to stop it. . . .”

“Who, Angelica? Spidey? What did you do?”

Roman insinuated himself between us. “That’s enough,” he said. He took Angelica’s arm gently and guided her back inside the bedroom.

I got out my cell phone and punched 911.

“Hang up,” Roman said, appearing in the doorway.

“She needs a doctor!” I said. “She’s obviously been drugged or beaten or something—”

“Hang up the damn phone and I’ll explain.” There was fire in the man’s dark eyes.

I pretended to press a button as if hanging up, then dropped the phone back into my purse, hoping someone would answer and hear us. But Roman reached into my purse, pulled out the phone, and shut it down completely before setting it on a nearby end table.

He was good-looking, and smart too. More important, was he dangerous?

“All right, tell me what’s going on,” I said, backing slowly toward the front door.

“Sit down.”

“No, thanks. I prefer to stand.”

“Fine.” He crossed his arms, still clutching the pill bottle. “What do you want to know?”

“First of all, I know you’re not really her bodyguard. The two of you are secretly married.”

He smiled as if I were a silly child. “You’re right. I’m not really her bodyguard. But you’re wrong about us being married. We’re not.”

Surprised, I asked, “Then what are you? Her Svengali? Her manager? Her . . .” I’d run out of options.

He looked at the pill bottle in his hand. “I’m her nurse.”

I scrunched my face—not a good look for me—but I was thoroughly flummoxed. “Her nurse? Why does she need a nurse?”

“Angelica has lupus. She hired me to manage her health, give her her meds, and see that she eats right and gets enough sleep, while posing as her bodyguard.”

Lupus. What did I know about lupus? Pretty much nothing.

“What’s lupus?”

“Systemic lupus erythematosus is a chronic, inflammatory autoimmune disease,” he said, as if he’d recited the information many times. “It affects the skin, joints, kidneys, and other organs. There’s no cure, but it can be controlled. Occasionally it flares up, like today. Luckily she can afford a full-time nurse to help her deal with the disease.”

His news had taken the wind out of my sails. I felt drained of energy. “How sick is she? I mean, can she work . . . ?”

“Angelica’s case is moderate, except for the flareups. She gets rashes, bruises. Has headaches. Sometimes fever, achy joints, congestion.”

Wow. She’d seemed perfectly normal at the party. Today she looked deathly ill. “How do you treat it?”

“Medication. Anti-inflammatories, steroid creams, antimalaria drugs, a bunch of others. Not all of the drugs work for her, or they have side effects. Sometimes it gets worse and she has trouble breathing. There’s been some kidney damage. . . .”

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Why the secrecy? Why all the rumors that you’re her bodyguard or that you’re married?”

“Angelica doesn’t want the gossip writers and paparazzi to find out. It could ruin her career. If anyone in the business finds out she has a serious disease, she may never work in Hollywood again. She wants to live as full a life as she can.”

I sighed. It was a lot to take in. “Why did Jonas think you and she were married? She was having an affair with him, wasn’t she? He said she told him she was going to quietly divorce you and marry him.”

Roman sighed again. “I’m afraid she’s told a lot of men that. Jonas wasn’t the only one. As I said, she wants to live life to the fullest, and she doesn’t want anyone to know about her health.”

Whoa. I’d heard Angelica was quite the flirt, but I could barely comprehend all this. “She was stringing him along? And seeing other guys?”

“She did it mainly for the publicity. People love it when two stars from a film fall in love. It’s big box office.”

“Then why pretend she was married, and why pretend she wanted to marry Jonas?”

“Men seem to fall hard for Angelica. She makes each one feel he’s the love of her life.”

“But they’re not.”

“No. She pretends she’s secretly married to protect herself, to give her that distance and keep the guy from getting too close. As for the men, they seem to love the role of protector, of illicit lover.”

“Does she love Jonas at all?”

“I’m sure she cares for him,” Roman said, “but as for being in love, I’m afraid not.”

I thought about the video I’d seen of Angelica and Jonas. It appeared they’d been arguing. About what? Had she told him she wasn’t going to leave her fake husband? Or had Jonas been upset about her flirtatious ways? As for the figure watching them from the shadows, it could have been Bodie, or even Roman. More questions arose.

“Does she really have a stalker,” I asked, “or was that another lie?” I didn’t know what to believe at this point.

“Yes, that part is true. She has a stalker. Someone has been sending her threatening texts and e-mails, and calling her cell.”

“Have you told the police?”

“I wanted to, but Jonas said he’d find out who the stalker was and take care of it quietly, to avoid any bad publicity. Angelica went along with it. Even though Jonas doesn’t know about her having lupus, an investigation into her private life might be leaked, and she didn’t want to risk it.”

“Has Jonas figured out who the stalker is?”

“Not yet, but he says he’s getting close. He said he took her cell phone to some computer expert who can trace things like anonymous texts and e-mails.”

“Does he have her phone now?”

“I suppose. Meanwhile, I had to buy her a new one. I was just getting ready to set it up.”

This was all too much. I stood up. “Well, thanks for telling me the truth, Roman. I’m sorry about Angelica.”

“I trust you’ll keep it to yourself.”

“I’ll do my best. But two people who are connected to her have been murdered, and I have a feeling there may be more. She could use a real bodyguard right now.”

Roman nodded. “I’ll do my best too.” He showed me out, and I headed to my car, wondering if Roman had told me the truth. After all, he’d lied before. Maybe he really was keeping her drugged. I also wondered what Jonas’s computer expert had discovered on Angelica’s phone. As much as I wanted to check in on Brad, I felt I had to see Jonas—and find out what he’d learned.

I had a feeling if Jonas took the matter into his own hands and found himself facing the killer, he would end up like Spidey and Bodie Chase.

As soon as I got back to my car, I did two things. First, I wadded up the ticket on my windshield and threw it on the floor of my car. Second, I called Jonas Jones on his cell phone, using the number I’d gotten from Cruz. I figured as long as I had the ticket, I could stay in the spot for as long as I wanted. After all, I’d be paying a hefty rent on the space.

The call instantly went to voice mail.

What did that mean?

He’d turned off his phone?

Or his voice mail was full?

I looked up the number for the Mark Hopkins Hotel and punched the instant connect link.

“I’d like to speak to Jonas Jones,” I said to the operator who answered.

After a few seconds, she said, “I’m sorry. Mr. Jones has checked out.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, surprised. I’d assumed he wasn’t going to leave town until the killer was caught.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did he leave a forwarding address?”

“No, ma’am.”

Well, that’s just great
, I thought.
Now what?

I punched Detective Melvin’s cell number.

“Parker?” he answered.

“Hi, Detective. I’m trying to locate Jonas Jones. He’s not answering his cell, and he seems to have checked out of the Mark Hopkins. Wasn’t he supposed to stay in town? Any idea where he is?”

“Yep, and nope. He was told to let us know if he left town, so I’m assuming he must still be around. But as far as I know, he’s not staying anywhere else.”

“Can you find out where he is?” I asked.

“You telling me how to do my job, Parker?” he teased. At least, I thought he was teasing.

“No, Detective. I just wanted to talk with him. Will you let me know when you find him? I think he might be in danger.”

“You think everyone’s in danger lately.”

“Very funny. It happened to be true in Brad’s case. Besides, anyone could be in danger at this point.”

“I’m well aware of that, Parker. That’s why they made me a detective. I have an officer guarding Brad’s hospital room, another one watching Angelica Brayden’s place, one at Lucas Cruz’s studio, one at Otto Gunther’s trailer, and one who’s supposed to be keeping an eye on Jonas Jones. Okay by you?”

I looked around for the cop who’d been assigned to watch Angelica’s home but didn’t see anyone in uniform. Maybe it was a plainclothes officer?

“Wow, I’m impressed,” I said, impressed at how thorough the detective was being. And then I realized he’d neglected to send someone to protect me. Hadn’t it occurred to him that I could be in danger too? Or didn’t he care?

“Don’t worry, Parker,” he said, anticipating my concern. “We have someone heading over to Treasure Island to keep an eye on you too. I assume you’re there now.”

To keep an eye on me. That could be taken in a couple of ways, I thought.

“I’m on my way. And thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh, by the way,” I added, “what about the Black Pond? Are you going to have someone dredge it?”

“We have a team out there now. Should know if they found anything of interest soon.”