Coming Soon / Hidden Gems. Jo Leigh

thing this morning.

      The universe had a wicked sense of humor.

      He had to stop. This was the job. She was his informant. There was no way he could mix that with anything personal. Not just because it might taint her as a witness but because it would be completely inappropriate.

      Not that such things hadn’t happened. He knew one cop, a good detective by the name of Wilson, who’d been assigned to protect a witness. She’d been married at the time, and so had he, but three months after the trial they both filed for divorce. He’d gone to the wedding.

      No one ever asked Wilson if they’d started screwing around while he was on the clock. No one had to ask. Wilson was still in the department, only now he was a desk jockey. Probably because his new wife didn’t want him protecting anyone else.

      It didn’t matter that Bax was leaving. He wanted his career to end as it had begun. With self-respect. With a sense of pride. He just wished he didn’t find her so damned attractive.

      With a shake of his head he banished thoughts of Mia and focused once again on Danny Austen’s world. On the table next to him there was a script for this movie, a couple of other scripts and a boatload of tabloid magazines, most of them with Austen on the cover.

      Bax wondered if any of the cover shots had been taken by Gerry Geiger. Danny Austen was connected to Bobbi Tamony on two covers, but several other stars on other magazines. Was any of it true? Or were these just convenient lies to hide another side of the famous heartthrob? The last thing Bax wanted to do was give those rags a moment of attention, but they might play a key role in this investigation. That horrible fact made his head hurt worse.

      “You want a drink?”

      Bax looked up to find Danny standing in front of the refrigerator. Danny got himself one of those high-energy drinks with loads of sugar and caffeine.

      “You have any coffee?”

      Danny offered a smile so brilliant it made Bax wince. He had to give it to the guy—he looked every inch the movie star. He was tall and it appeared that he was religious about his workouts. Still, there was something slightly off about him. The hair, the eyes, the teeth, they were all perfect. Had the perfection come first, or was it a natural progression of becoming a star? Not that it mattered. Perfection at any time wasn’t natural. People were flawed. If Austen’s blemishes weren’t on the outside, they were surely on the inside.

      “Hold on.” Danny picked up a walkie-talkie and pressed the button. “Riva?”

      A voice came back, a woman, very clear. “I’m here.”

      “Can you bring me some coffee?” Danny turned to Bax. “Cream? Sugar?”

      “Yes,” he said.

      “A whole service,’ kay?”

      “Right there,” she said.

      Danny put the walkie-talkie down, then sat across from Bax in a matching chair. “So, hell of a thing, Gerry getting killed, huh?”

      “Yeah,” Bax said. “A hell of a thing.”

      Austen widened his eyes. “You have any suspects?”

      “Lots. Let’s try and make you not one of them, shall we?”

      The guy winked at him. “I like your attitude. How can I help?”

      Bax wondered whether the wink was a facial tic, or just something movie stars thought made them seem more accessible. Personally, he preferred to think it was a tic. “Want to tell me what you were doing the night of the murder?”

      “Nothing special. I was released at ten, then I went to my suite and took a shower.”

      “Released?”

      “Yeah, I was finished shooting for the day. They try to release me before we go into overtime.”

      “You get overtime?”

      “Sure. I’m SAG.”

      “Screen Actors Guild.”

      “And our hours are monitored. Not only do they have to watch our daily work times, but weekly as well. It’s pretty expensive to go over with some of us. Well, me and Bobbi. The last thing Oscar wants is for us to go even a penny over budget.”

      “You’ve worked with him several times over the last six years, haven’t you?”

      Danny nodded. “He’s done a lot for my career. I owe him. Which doesn’t change the fact that he’s notorious when it comes to the budget. Especially now.”

      “Why now?”

      “Check the grosses over the last three years. The Reformer? Black Sunset? They both hemorrhaged money. He’s got a lot riding on this picture.”

      “So after you showered…”

      “I stayed—”

      His recitation was interrupted by a knock on the trailer door. A second later, a young woman entered, carrying a tray with a carafe of coffee and all the accoutrements, including some donuts and muffins.

      She was pretty, but then most of the people working on the movie were. Even those who would never be in front of the camera.

      She set the tray on the table, then turned with a big smile to Austen. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

      He touched her in a way that made it perfectly clear her offer extended way beyond coffee. “No, thanks, Darlin’. We’re all set.”

      With a coy glance and a slight blush, Riva left the building.

      Bax wondered what it would be like to have any woman, any time. Exhausting would be his best guess. He poured himself a cup of coffee, the smell alone making his head feel better. Before he drank, however, he pulled Austen back on track. “You stayed…?”

      “In. My room.”

      Bax settled back in his chair. “You stayed in your room all night?”

      “All night.”

      “Alone?”

      Austen laughed. “No, not alone. I was with Riva.”

      “The woman who was just here.”

      “Yep.”

      Bax sipped his coffee. He had no doubt Austen had been with Riva, but on that particular night? Something told him no. “Did you order room service?”

      “As a matter of fact, we did.”

      “Great. What did you have?”

      The actor smiled brightly again. “Nothing special. Dinner.”

      “What time?”

      “I didn’t look at the clock, Detective.”

      “But you didn’t leave the room until morning.”

      “My call was at seven. But then we had the force, so—”

      “Force?”

      “Majeure. Because of the murder. We were shut down through no fault of the production company. They call it that, you know, for insurance purposes.”

      “I see. So you didn’t know about Gerry Geiger’s death until seven that morning.”

      “That’s right.”

      “When was the last time you spoke to Geiger?”

      Again, the smile. “That day. He tried to get some pictures. Just like he always did.”

      “What kind of pictures?”

      “Nothing special. Coming out of the hotel. That kind of thing.”

      “You didn’t know him, aside from him trying to take your picture?”

      “That’s