Kylie Kendall Mystery: The Wombat Strategy Part 21

I looked at her, astonished. "He's putting the hard word on you? Of all people, Fran, you should be able to deal with someone like Rich Westholme."

She shook her head impatiently. "No, it's not that. Of course I'd rip his b.a.l.l.s off. What he's doing is sniffing around anything to do with Jarrod Perkins. I don't know what he's after, but I don't like it."

"Did you say anything to him?"

Fran rolled her eyes. "Quip doesn't want me to upset Westholme, because he thinks he's going to be his meal ticket to the big time."

She glared at me as though somehow all this was my fault. "Now you know."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Her wicked smile flashed on for a moment. "You're the P.I. I'll leave it all to you."

I decided to front Melodie about Rich Westholme, but she brought up the subject herself. "Kylie, I'm not convinced Rich is really supportive of my career." She jutted her jaw resolutely.

"We're going out tonight, and I'm going to have it out with him."

I sat on the edge of the reception desk and put on a sympathetic, interested expression. "Why do you say he isn't supportive?"

"He told me that first weekend that I'd have a part in Primal Appet.i.tes"

"You're talking about a movie? Or was that the menu for the weekend?"

Melodie gave her tinkling laugh. "That's so funny." Then her face grew stern. "This is so tragic. My chance to be in a movie with Jarrod Perkins attached. Like, how often does that happen?"

I clicked my tongue in empathy. "That's awful for you. But how was Perkins involved, exactly?"

"Rich told me Jarrod Perkins just loved his Primal script. Said it needed some work but that he was willing to put his name behind it. To produce it while Rich directed!" She sighed dolefully. "Then something went wrong."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure, but I know Rich is very, very angry. He said he hadn't trusted Perkins from the beginning. That he'd had insurance that Perkins couldn't back out of the deal."

"What did that mean?"

"I don't know. When I asked, he yelled at me."

"I'd dump him," I said.

Melodie was appalled. "Kylie! He's a director."

Thinking of my conversation with Fran, I said, "Has Rich been asking questions about anything in particular?"

A shadow of guilt crossed Melodie's face. "Maybe he has."

"About Jarrod Perkins?"

"I didn't see the harm in telling him we were keeping some stuff here."

"You mean the therapy sessions from Deerdoc."

She bit her lip and nodded. "Don't tell Ariana, will you? She's very strict about things like that." She wriggled her shoulders. "Anyway, what does it matter if Rich knows? He had a lot to do with Perkins. Why wouldn't he be interested?"

I went away and thought about it, then just as Melodie was collecting her things I came back to the reception desk. She gave me a sunny smile. "I'm leaving early tonight, okay?"

Slapping down a fat manila envelope I'd sealed with multiple strips of packing tape, I said with authority, "I think it's better if we send those records back to Deerdoc."

I hadn't checked with Ariana, but she giving a deposition in San Francisco and I'd rationalized it was better not to disturb her.

Melodie stared at the envelope, fascinated. "Is that what we were talking about before?"

"Jarrod's therapy sessions." We both looked at the envelope as though Perkins might materialize and hover over it. I thought it unlikely, though, since the envelope contained blank computer disks and sheets of paper. The real material was secure in Kendall & Creeling's safe.

"It's a bit late for a pickup," said Melodie, checking her watch. What she really meant was she was keen to get out of there.

"Tomorrow morning's fine. There's no real hurry."

I knew, as sure as my name was Kylie Kendall, that Melodie would not be able to resist telling Rich Westholme about the envelope. I was betting that tomorrow morning Rich would make some excuse to turn up here early. He would see it as his only chance to get those disks.

And why? Because according to my theory, the insurance Rich had said he had was blackmail. He'd paid Randy Romaine to get the material on Perkins from the Deerdoc files. And now he'd probably paid Randy to go into hiding.

Ariana was coming home tonight. I'd call her later and tell her what I'd done. Then she could be here when Rich Westholme incriminated himself.

But by the time everyone had gone and I'd checked that the building was secure, I'd had second thoughts about my plan, which had seemed so smart that afternoon. Imagining myself telling Ariana about it, I blushed. She'd say, "What does it prove if he does go for the envelope?" She'd be right. Rich could talk his way out of it easily.

I was out of my depth here. Training for a few days wasn't enough to make me a RI.'s bootlace. Disgusted with myself, I retrieved the envelope, emptied out the contents, tore it up, and put the pieces in the nearest wastepaper basket.

I'd have to come clean with Ariana. I'd tell her tomorrow, and she'd laugh at me.

"I'm a total f.u.c.kwit," I said to Julia Roberts. She just blinked.

TWENTY-ONE.

Embarra.s.sment made me thirsty, so I made a pot of tea. While waiting the four minutes it took to get strong enough, I selected Julia Roberts's dinner. Tonight I was serving chicken. I hoped she'd approve. The ill.u.s.tration on the can made it look quite delicious.

Suddenly I sensed someone was looking at me. Rich Westholme stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

I jumped. "Jeez! You gave me a fright." I looked past him without much hope and said, "Is Melodie with you?"

This couldn't be good. He must have let himself in with Melodie's keys. The way Rich stood, balanced on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet, was menacing enough to set my heart racing.

"Would you like a cup of tea? I've just made it."

He didn't bother answering. "Melodie tells me you've been asking questions about my work." He narrowed his eyes. "A lot of pushy questions."

"Primal Appet.i.tesa I said.

He glared at me. "My script. What of it?"

"Melodie said you were developing it with Jarrod Perkins. That the agreement was he'd produce and you'd direct. She was thrilled because you told her she'd have a part. But it never happened."

"That stupid b.i.t.c.h." I thought how she'd hate to hear the scorn in his voice. "Christ, I'm so sick of hearing her chatter on about her f.u.c.king career."

"The latest project Perkins was developing is called Primitive Obsessions." I sounded quite calm, though inside I wasn't. "He mentioned it in every interview he gave after his Hummer exploded."

"So?"

"So Primal Appet.i.tes and Primitive Obsessions are awfully similar. I'm thinking maybe they're the same script with different names."

"You're a stupid b.i.t.c.h, like Melodic You can't keep your mouth shut."

Right now I was tending to agree. What did I think I was doing, needling him like this? I'd persuade him to leave, then call Ariana, the cops, pizza delivery, anyone who'd come.

"Look, Rich," I said reasonably, "it's been nice chatting with you, but I think you should go."

His smile wasn't rea.s.suring. "Do you? You think I should go?"

"Well, yes. You obviously don't have a high opinion of me, so why spend more time in my company than necessary?"

"I'm here to collect something. An envelope."

"If you come back tomorrow, I'm sure someone can find it for you."

He shoved me hard against the counter. "Shut up."

The physical confrontation with Randy Romaine had taught me the disadvantages of being without a weapon. I scanned the counter but saw nothing promising. I'd keep him talking, maybe get him off guard so I could make a run for it. "I saw the Hummer after it was blown up. Perkins was totally spaz."

"Was what?"

"He lost it completely. He was raving mad." Rich's momentary look of satisfaction encouraged me to add, "You planted the bomb, didn't you? Pyrotechnics from a film set?"

"Smart little b.i.t.c.h, aren't you?"

Shaking my head with fake admiration, I said, "You were taking a h.e.l.l of a chance."

He shrugged. "If you look like you know what you're doing, n.o.body pays any attention. Perkins never locked the Hummer. I just opened the door. I was fifty yards away before it blew."

"Why bother?"

Rich laughed. "To put the motherf.u.c.ker on edge," he said, "so he'd roll over when I upped the ante."

Julia Roberts came into the kitchen; it was her dinner time. It was quite unfair. I knew Rich abhorred cats, but she was totally minding her own business when Rich saw her. An expression of deep loathing crossed his face. He aimed a kick that connected with her ribs. Jules did a sort of somersault and landed on her feet, hissing.

"Get outta here!"

Julia got.

That was the final straw. Julia Roberts did not deserve this treatment. I fair d.i.n.k.u.m looked for a weapon this time. Something substantial enough to wipe the smirk off this b.a.s.t.a.r.d's face. The TV set? Too heavy. There were knives in the drawer, if I could get to them. And cans in the cupboard. Kitchen cleaners under the sink...

"b.i.t.c.h! Answer me!"

"What?"

"I'm asking you once more, and that's it. The recordings of the sessions Perkins had with that quack, Deera"where are they? Melodie said they were in an envelope at the front desk, waiting to be picked up by UPS. There's nothing there."

I spread my hands. "Can't help you."

He reached into the pocket of his jeans. The flick knife made an obscene little click as it sprang open. "Wrong answer."

My gaze was drawn magnetically to the gleaming blade. Rich jabbed at my face. I recoiled. He laughed.

"Get the h.e.l.l out of here!" I yelled, not having much hope that he would.

"The envelope."

I shrugged. He moved like a striking snake. Blood sprang from my left breast where he'd p.r.i.c.ked me, spreading a bright red stain on my white T-s.h.i.+rt. It wasn't deep, but it stung like h.e.l.l.

"Fair crack of the whip," I said. "It was only last week I got a black eye and a b.l.o.o.d.y nose. Now you're stabbing me?" I heard the tremor in my voice.

So did he. "Gee, Kylie," he said mockingly, "am I scaring you?"

I was backed up against the counter. Jammed against me was one of the kitchen stools. I slid my right hand behind me and tried to get a good grip on it. To distract him, I said, "During his therapy, Jarrod Perkins said something about stealing your movie concept, didn't he? Probably discussed how you'd threatened him."

"Smart little c.u.n.t, aren't you?" I shrank back as he took a step closer to me. "Last chance," he said. "Where's the envelope?"

"Rich, think this through. If you stop now, it isn't too serious. If you really hurt me, you're in big trouble."

Rich chuckleda"not a nice sound. "Sweetheart," he said, "I've done two. Three won't make any difference."

"Randy Romaine's dead?"

"Romaine was a disaster from the get-go. I paid him to take disks of Perkins's sessions, but he got creative and took some of Bart Toller's too. Then the b.a.s.t.a.r.d thought he'd go into business for himself, so he swiped Lorelei Stevens's file. He was getting to be a real liability, and he knew far too much about me." I ducked as Rich again jabbed at my face. "Like you," he said.

"And you killed Jarrod Perkins?"

"You want the details?" He showed his teeth in a smile that gave me the w.i.l.l.i.e.s. This bloke was having fun.

I nodded.

"It wasn't difficult. I waited until his a.s.sistant left, then walked in on Perkins getting dressed. I gave him one last chance to cut me into the deal he had for Primitive Obsessions. I was more than generous, since it was my story and my script. The p.r.i.c.k laughed at me. So I mentioned the disks and told him I was also asking for a substantial up-front payment. He told me to go to h.e.l.l and lunged for the gun he kept in his bedside table. No trouble to take it from him."

I tightened my grip on the stool. I'd only have one chance...