Bouquet of Lies Part 16

Or I could probe it myself.

Yes! That was a better idea. Then she'd know what was going on.

She pulled her smart phone from a pocket and did a search for a local private investigator named Stark. There he was. She saved the address in the phone.

Stark had flirted with her. Well, leered at her. That might be her way in to get him to talk to her. Or rather, it was one way. Money was a sure thing. He probably wouldn't take a check and it was Sunday anyway. So he wouldn't be there.

Tomorrow. She'd go to his office with both money and herself. She'd come early. Long before Edward's appointment time.

Darla felt like a school girl out of her league and took several gulps of water.

Sunday night meant this particular restaurant wasn't crowded. Elegant, French and dimly lit, the place exuded romance. She and Randy were seated in an intimate corner.

Randy ordered both their dinners, completely at ease with the snooty matre d'. Darla giggled inside. How funny that people paid good money to be waited on by someone who acted like they were doing you a favor? The matre d' took the menus away.

Randy put his elbows on the table. He laced his fingers and rested his chin, eyes on her, sparkling and admiring. Her heart raced. She put the napkin in her lap and stared at it.

The waiter returned with a bottle of white wine and only one gla.s.s. Randy winked at her as the snooty man poured a splash.

"Fine," Randy said after sampling. The waiter poured more and left. Randy grabbed Darla's near-empty water gla.s.s, dumped what remained into his, and poured her some wine, two fingers high. "You seem nervous. This should help."

Darla squeezed her lips together. There was no use protesting. Randy would overrule. And besides. She wanted a real drink. She wanted to feel like a grownup.

"To us," Randy said.

"Us," Darla responded.

"And a wonderful evening." They clinked gla.s.ses. He smiled and swallowed.

So did she. The liquid went down smoothly. It warmed her and she felt relaxed almost immediately. "It's good," she said. Randy's smile was generous and the way he looked at her made it seem like she was the only person in the room. "You make me feel special." She took another sip.

"Good. Because you are special."

She giggled and put her hand on her face. She felt warm. "So are you. Have you had a lot of girlfriends?"

Randy looked surprised, then he smiled. "Oh, one or two."

"More than that."

"Nope. What about you?"

"Me? A thousand." He looked shocked and she laughed. "That's if you count all the guys in the books I read. I fantasize a lot." She put her fingers over her mouth. Had she really said that?

He grinned. "Well. Who doesn't?" Then his expression grew softly serious. "It's good to see you happy. Let's not talk about old girlfriends. I'm with you now."

She felt her heart leap into her throat. "I'm your girlfriend?"

"What do you think?" His eyes shown in the candlelight as he raised his wine gla.s.s.

Darla tried to lift her head and couldn't. It was made of concrete, and inside a hammer smacked her skull. She opened her eyes and saw Randy dressed in a suit, straightening his tie. Where was she?

Ohhh, yeah. His apartment. His bedroom.

She closed her eyes, moaned, and curled up like a cat.

"I am so sorry," Randy said, coming to her.

She put a hand to her forehead.

The bed sagged under his weight. "Here. I've got some Excedrin ready."

She opened her eyes. He held a gla.s.s of water and a pill. She took both. "What happened?"

"I shouldn't have given you wine."

"Mmmm. Oh." She swallowed the pill.

"You never drank before, did you?"

She shook her head delicately. "I'm seventeen." She gave him back the water gla.s.s.

"I just thought, with a sister like Lacey, well. I'm an idiot. No more wine."

"I remember now. I threw up."

"Outside the restaurant. n.o.body saw."

"I spoiled the evening."

"No. I spoiled the evening." He put the gla.s.s on the nightstand. "The good news is, we get a do-over so I can be on my best behavior."

She rubbed her hands down her body. She was fully dressed except for shoes. She looked at him shyly. He was perfect. Gorgeous and a gentleman. He was as wonderful as any guy in those books she read. Not only that, but the Reverend Irene approved. And her mother.

"You were on your best behavior." She smiled shyly.

No more wine. When they made love for the first time she wanted to be fully aware. It would be heavenly. The most wonderful thing she ever experienced.

Her head pounded again, interrupting the romantic thoughts. She'd get back to them when she felt better.

Seventeen.

AT NINE THIRTY in the morning, Lacey walked into the reception area of Stark's office and raised an eyebrow at the sight of the buxom, tight-bloused receptionist seated behind a desk. Lacey half expected the big-haired brunette to whip out an emery board and start filing her nails, except her nails were an inch long and fake.

"Hi. I'm Marnie," the s.e.x-pot said in a breathy voice to the mirror she held up to her face. "I'm twenty-two and I've kissed a lot of frogs looking for my prince." She giggled, waved her hand, and adjusted the tone of her voice. "Hi. I'm Marnie and I'm looking for true love."

"Reality TV?" Lacey switched the heavy tote she was carrying to her left hand.

Marnie lowered the mirror. Her smile faded and she gave Lacey the once-over. "May I help you?"

Lacey gave her the once-over back. "Tell your boss that Edward Bouquet's granddaughter is here to see the blackmailer."

Marnie picked up the phone. "There's a female here. She wants to talk to you."

That's interesting. Confirming his Modus Operandi.

Marnie listened and answered, "Somebody's granddaughter." She listened again and hung up. "He's not in."

Lacey moved to Stark's door as Marnie watched without protest. She opened it and caught sight of the back of Stark as he swung a tennis racket with no ball. Lacey turned to the wannabe reality star and wrinkled her nose with a phony smile. "Thanks. You've been super." She went in.

The office was cla.s.sy. Sleek furniture. Real plants and a large bank of windows with an expansive twelfth-story view of Los Angeles.

"Blackmail must be lucrative." Lacey closed the door.

Stark turned. Now that she wasn't seeing him from fifteen feet away, she determined he was probably forty, had a great tan and white teeth in a wide mouth that was too big for his face.

"Blackmail?" He raised his hand, threw high an invisible ball and smacked it directly at Lacey.

Lacey raised her hand and caught it. "I'm ready for anything you can deliver."

Stark smirked. "That I'd like to see." He put down the racket and moved to the black leather chair behind his desk and sat. "Okay, Ms. Bouquet . . . Lacey."

"So you know me." She stepped toward him.

"I'm an investigator. I investigate." He motioned for her to take a seat. She took it. "What can I do for you?"

"Tell me what you've got on Edward."

"What I've got? You have things a bit mixed up. Your father hired me to do a job. I did it. I want to get paid."

"I'll pay you. Tell me what it is."

He looked her up and down and she felt her stomach lurch for the door. Something about this maggot made her want to heave. Flirting was out of the question.

"That's an interesting offer. You haven't heard my price."

"One-hundred-thousand. I heard."

"Two-hundred-thousand."

"You told Edward one-hundred."

"The price just went up."

"You'll never see a Was.h.i.+ngton from Edward. He doesn't have money."

"Oh, he has his ways."

Lacey wondered what that meant. Maybe Edward had something stashed away. He did have a Rolex or two or three he could p.a.w.n.

The maggot leered at her b.o.o.bs. "I'm sure you have your ways too. We could work out some sort of payment plan."

Her skin crawled. This required action. She moved to his side of the desk, sat on it, and pulled him toward her with his tie. He reached for her breast and she grabbed his hand before it arrived.

"Listen, Maggot. There will be no payment plan. I've come with cash. I figured you might try to screw me." She flinched. "Scratch that. Extract more money and I've brought more. One-hundred-twenty-five." She nodded toward the tote on the floor and his eyes followed. She shoved him back and retrieved the bag, then slapped a couple of bundles of money on the desk. "Ten thousand. Twenty thousand." Her hand went in the bag for more and stopped.

He looked at her. He looked at the money. He looked at her. "Well, I can't tell you everything."

She slapped another bundle down and he let out a short sigh.

"I can tell you one thing."

"The price just went down."

"Nope. I accept your offer. One-hundred and twenty-five."

Her brain went into calculation mode. Why wouldn't he tell her everything? Because he intended to still get money out of Edward? Maybe the stuff he wouldn't tell her was more damaging. Something she might tell the police and then he would never get money from Edward.

She stared at Stark. His expression was solid. He wasn't going to budge. "Fine."

Stark moved to the tote and emptied the rest of the cash. After a quick count, he took a key from his pocket and unlocked a door to a walk-in closet. She heard the sound of a metal drawer opening. Heard it shut. When he returned he had a couple of photographs in his hand. "Why not make the best of things, I always say." He grinned.

She frowned and took the photos. One showed a group of people waiting at a bus stop. "What's this? What am I looking at?"

Stark pointed at a woman amid the crowd. "Her."

Lacey took a closer look. "Her who?"

Stark grabbed the photos and had her look at the second one. The same woman was exiting a fleabag hotel, only in this one her image was prominent and clear. She appeared to be in her early forties, had sallow skin and medium-length bleached-blond hair. She wore a tight, knee-length skirt and low-cut tank. Lacey looked up. "Okay. So?"

"Your father paid me to find her."

"Why?"

"Didn't say why and I didn't ask."

"But you know."

He smirked. "This is what you get for your money. A name and an address unless you want to bargain for more."

Lacey gave him a sour look. "What's the name?"

"Tiffany Cla.s.s."