The Full Story

CHAPTER TWO

MICKEY GAZED at Dan O’Neill and his gun, trying to think of something brilliant—or at least semi-intelligent—to say.

Before she could, he said, “Go ahead and answer your phone. I’ll put my decision about whether to shoot you on hold.”

She gave him a look to say she didn’t find him even remotely amusing. Then, telling herself that in future she should think twice about sneaking into someplace where she knew an armed man was lurking, she pressed the phone’s answer button and said, “Mickey Westover.”

“Hi, it’s Eric.”

Terrific. Her boss. Who, an instant from now, would be asking how things were going.

“Hi,” she said, trying to sound surprised but unperturbed. “What’s up?”

“Oh, just calling to make sure you’ve connected with Billy Brent.”

She glanced at Dan and felt a twinge of relief when she saw that he’d tucked the gun away, even though she was pretty sure he hadn’t really been thinking about shooting her.

“We’ve almost connected,” she told Eric. “I’m at his place and he’s expected any minute now.”

“But you haven’t actually seen him.”

“No, he was out when I got here.”

“You did make a firm appointment, though.”

“Yes. Of course.”

When Eric didn’t immediately reply, she couldn’t stop her gaze from returning to Dan.

He rolled his eyes; she assumed it was the “expected any minute now” that he’d found a bit much.

As she pointedly turned her back on him, Eric said, “Mickey, I’m afraid this interview with Brent might have gone south.”

“Pardon me?”

“Someone just told me that he’s making an appearance on the Sherry Sherman Show tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Apparently, she announced it this morning. And if he intends to be in New York for that, he’s probably already on his way.”

Oh, rats. Surely Eric’s someone had misinformed him. Surely she hadn’t missed the interview boat.

She turned toward Dan once more, gracing him with a grade A glare as she said, “Mr. Brent’s associate assured me that he’d be here shortly. So let me just go check with him and I’ll call you back, okay?”

“Okay. But make it fast.”

“As fast as I can.”

She clicked off, then said, “You’re certain he’ll be here tonight?”

“Uh-huh. Why?”

The man was lying to her again. Billy wasn’t going to be here anytime in the near future.

He was en route to the Big Apple. And when she ended up home in San Francisco with no interview, she’d be so far into Eric’s bad books that she’d never get out.

If the Post couldn’t even count on her to file a story as mindless as this one, the next thing she knew she’d be kicked off Arts and Entertainment and assigned to writing obits. Assuming she still had a job at all.

But regardless of that, she wasn’t about to let Mr. Dan O’Neill think he was getting away with something.

“You’re absolutely positive,” she said to him, “that Mr. Brent couldn’t be…oh, maybe on his way to New York?”

Dan suddenly didn’t look quite so self-assured, which made her feel a little better. Why should she be the only one who wasn’t entirely happy?

“Oh his way to New York?” he repeated. “What would give you an idea like that?”

She watched his annoyance level rising while she made him wait before summarizing what Eric had told her.

“The Sherry Sherman Show,” he said when she was done.

“Right. Tomorrow morning’s Sherry Sherman Show. Which airs live on NBS at nine o’clock. Eastern time. So if you’re seriously expecting him to show up here late tonight…well, the timing hardly works, does it?”

After eyeing her uneasily for a moment, Dan said, “You wait right where you are. Don’t move an inch,” he added, heading for the house. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

DAN MARCHED INSIDE, telling himself that, regardless of what Mickey’s boss had heard, Billy would not be appearing on any talk show in the morning. He’d be staying exactly where he was, holed up with Ken Heath in that sleepy little New England town they sometimes used on this sort of job.

Reaching the kitchen, he paused to scan the wall of surveillance monitors.

The retreat might have a rustic exterior, but its interior was filled with just about every modern luxury that had been invented—including state-of-the-art electronics. Cameras blanketed the entire area within a hundred yards of the house, and at the moment there was no movement out there.

For a couple of seconds, he let his gaze linger on Mickey Westover, who was still standing exactly where he’d left her.

Good. Everything was cool. And he likely had nothing to worry about as far as Billy was concerned. Not with Ken on the job.

He grabbed his phone from where he’d left it on the counter and punched in Ken’s cellular number, thinking that the man was competence personified, the type who put one hundred percent into his assignments.

So since his current assignment was to keep Billy Brent under wraps, and not let the guy out of his sight, there was almost no chance of their star doing anything he shouldn’t.

However, almost wasn’t the same as no chance at all. And when it came to Billy, you just never knew.

The man was forty—probably older since you couldn’t believe an actor’s PR—but half the time he behaved like a fourteen-year-old. And although he probably wasn’t crazy in certifiable terms, despite the fact that a lot of people might argue the point, he was definitely a loose cannon.

He seemed to come up with a hundred bizarre ideas a day, which meant that deciding to take off on his own, even though his life was in danger, would be just another in a long string of poor judgment calls.

With Ken keeping an eye on him, though, that should never have happened.

Dan was beginning to think Ken wasn’t going to pick up when he finally did.

“It’s O’Neill,” Dan said. “Tell me that Brent’s right there with you.”

He let the silence last two seconds before saying, “Dammit, Ken, what’s going on?”

There was another moment of dead air, then Ken said, “I’m in New York looking for him.”

“Oh, shit.” Why did Ken—Mr. Competence himself—have to pick now to screw up?

“Yeah, exactly,” he was saying. “I’ll find him, though. I was just hoping to do it before I had to tell you there was a problem.”

“And he’s planning to appear on national television in the morning?” Dan asked, hoping at least that part was wrong.

“You’ve got the entire story, then,” Ken said.

So much for hoping.

“No, I’m sure I’m missing some,” he said. “You’d better run the whole thing by me.”

“Ah…yeah, okay. What happened was, he phoned Sherry Sherman last night. Apparently, they’re buddies—go back to when he was on Broadway. She always used to have him as a guest then, so he could hype whatever show he was in. Which means he figures he owes her.”

Dan silently began urging Ken to get on with it.

“At any rate,” he continued at last, “when he called, she was upset because some big guest had just canceled. So our boy told her, no problem, he’d fill in.”

“You aren’t serious.”

“’Fraid I am.”

“Jeez, I don’t believe it. He comes to us because his life’s in danger, then turns around and agrees to be on national TV? What the hell does he figure the words in hiding mean?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. But his theory was that he’d just do the show and then drop out of sight again.”

“It didn’t occur to him that Sherry would announce he was going to be on? Give the killer a day’s advance notice?”

“Well, to be fair, he didn’t expect her to say anything. He assumed he’d be a surprise guest.”

“Oh, sure. She’s having one of the hottest stars in the galaxy on her show, and he didn’t think she’d tell her viewers to tune in and see him?”

“Hell, Dan, who knows how the guy thinks?”

If he actually had to answer that question, he’d have to say he doubted anyone did. As far as he could tell, Billy’s mental processes constituted a total enigma—and the only predictable thing about him was that he could be counted on to do the unpredictable.

Even so, going on TV when a killer was after him was crazy—even for Billy Brent.

“Anyhow,” Ken continued, “after we’d discussed the fact that Sherry’s little announcement made an appearance out of the question, Billy said he’d call her back and get himself out of it. Only the next thing I knew he’d taken a hike. Obviously changed his mind about reneging.”

“So now he’s wandering around New York. Ken, if—”

“Look, I’m going to find him. Worse comes to worst, I’ll catch up with him when he arrives at the studio in the morning. Hustle him out of there and—”

“No, that just isn’t good enough. If he shows his face anywhere near that studio he could end up dead. You’ve got to track him down today.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do. He told me a lot about what he does when he’s in New York and I’m checking all his favorite haunts. I was only saying if worse comes to worst.”

Dan drummed his fingers on the kitchen counter, thinking that Billy could be just about anywhere in the city. With just about anyone.

He’d performed in New York theaters for years before the megabucks of the movies had lured him to L.A. And he still spent a fair amount of time in Manhattan. Even referred to himself as “bi-coastal.”

Which all added up to the fact that if Ken figured the odds on finding him today were good, he was deluding himself.

So what was the best move in light of that? Did it make more sense to stay put for the moment? Or should he head straight to New York and help Ken with his search?

Two people looking for Billy would be better than one. Yet if he left right now, he’d be forgoing his chance to wrap up this job if the killer did arrive at the retreat.

“Well?” Ken said.

“I’m thinking,” he muttered.

Dammit, this wasn’t one of his tougher assignments. At least, it shouldn’t be. All he had to do was insure that Billy stayed alive and determine who wanted him dead.

And by far the simplest way to do that was to nail the hit man. Then, with a little persuasion, he’d convince the guy to reveal who’d hired him. But if he didn’t nail the killer, the job could turn into something immensely more complicated.

Talking with Billy, he’d realized that there were a lot of people who might want the star dead—obviously, at least one of them badly enough to hire a contract killer.

Billy apparently alienated every second person he had much to do with, and alienated most of them pretty seriously. And then there was the greed factor.

The man was worth a gazillion bucks, even a small piece of which would be enough to keep most people happy for the rest of their lives. So between the motives of greed and revenge, and all the downright hatred…

He was getting off track, though.

The point was that if he could just get his hands on the killer, and make him say who’d hired him, none of the rest would matter.

Whereas, if he abandoned that plan, he’d have a whole list of suspects to work his way through. Plus, the hit man would still be walking around free, which would leave Billy’s life in danger.

“I want to hang in here for at least a few more hours,” he told Ken at last. “My gut’s been saying that our guy’s going to show up today. Of course, that was before I knew about Sherry Sherman.”

“Yeah, well what are the odds he was watching her show?”

Probably not high, yet not zero, either. That was the trouble. However, there was no sense getting into a discussion about something they were both aware of, so he simply said, “I’ll check with the airlines. See how late I can leave here and still make it to New York before show time. There must be a redeye I could catch.”

“Okay,” Ken said. “But hopefully you won’t have to. With any luck, Billy will be in the next place I hit.”

“Right. If our killer doesn’t show here, though, and you don’t find Billy in the next little while…”

He rapidly thought through his plan one more time and concluded it had to be the best option.

“Well, I’ll check in with you later,” he said. “See where we’re at then. And good luck.”

“You too,” Ken said before clicking off.

Dan put down his phone and scanned the wall of monitors again. At the exact instant he realized Mickey Westover was no longer standing in the yard, she said, “Sounds as if you’ve got a problem.”

MICKEY MIGHT CONSIDER herself the queen of glaring contests, but the look Dan skewered her with when he wheeled around almost made her shiver.

“How long were you listening?” he demanded.

“A couple of minutes,” she said, setting her things on the counter so she could break eye contact without obviously backing down.

“I got chilly waiting outside,” she added, even though there wasn’t a chance he’d buy that. This was the middle of July and it was a hot day.

She didn’t feel even a twinge of guilt, though. Not when he’d been lying to her since the moment he’d hit her with that tackle. And especially not when an awesome story had just fallen into her lap.

But she’d better be sure she had all the blanks filled in right.

“So somebody’s out to kill Billy Brent,” she said. “And you’re expecting the guy to show up here.”

“Forget you heard that.”

“It’s not an easy kind of thing to forget. Are we talking a hit man? A hired killer?”

When Dan didn’t reply, she said, “Don’t you know?”

Wow. She could actually see him getting madder. Obviously, he didn’t like the implication that he was even marginally in the dark.

“It’s probably a contract,” he muttered at last.

Good, she was getting somewhere.

“And has this guy already tried to kill Billy? Or did someone warn him that there was a contract on him? I mean, how did he know he was in danger?”

Dan remained silent again, so she decided that asking him direct questions wasn’t the way to go. She might be better off just hypothesizing.

“I gather Billy’s been in hiding,” she pressed on. “But now he’s gone to New York. And if the killer’s heard about that TV appearance, he—”

“Look,” Dan snapped. “First, this is none of your business. Second, I don’t intend to discuss it with you. And third, just keep it entirely to yourself.”

She stared at him for a moment, wondering whether he actually thought there was even a remote chance of that.

For a journalist, a scoop like this one was heaven-sent. And she was the only journalist who had even an inkling about it, which made it that much better.

“Obviously,” Dan added, “Billy is thousands of miles away, and that means you’re not going to get your interview. So since I am expecting the killer to show up, the sooner you get out of here the better. Where’s your car?”

“Down the road.”

“Fine. I’ll drive you to it. Let’s get going.”

“Uh-uh. I’m staying.”

“What?”

His expression said he didn’t believe he could have heard right, so she said, “Look, whether the killer comes here or you go to New York to help your friend find Billy, this is a major story. And I want it.”

“What?” he said a second time, giving her an even more incredulous look.

“I said I want the story. Don’t you think I have aspirations beyond Arts and Entertainment?”

“How the hell should I know? We’ve barely met.”

“Well, I do. I want to see my byline on the front page every now and then. Preferably, more than every now and then. Dan, this is the kind of story that will do a lot to make that happen, and I might never get as good a chance again. So however things play out, I want an exclusive for the Post.”

“Listen to me carefully,” he said, enunciating his words clearly. “There is no story. There are only the two of us heading to your car. Period.”

Telling herself it was time for another change of tactics, she shrugged and reached for her laptop.

“Okay. If that’s the way it is, then I’ll have to simply write up what I have and e-mail it to my editor. It won’t be nearly the scoop I was hoping for, but just the fact that somebody’s trying to kill Billy Brent will sell a lot of papers.”

“Fine. If selling papers is so important to you, go right ahead and put Billy’s life at even greater risk than it already is.”

“How would I be doing that? If somebody’s already trying to kill him, how would my reporting it put him at any more risk? In fact, it could do the opposite. The publicity might make the killer back off.”

Dan was clearly annoyed by her logic, but he didn’t try to argue with it.

Not arguing, though, was a long way from cooperating. And without his help she wasn’t going to get the whole story, which she desperately wanted.

“Do whatever you like,” he muttered at last. “It doesn’t really matter, because by tomorrow’s edition this will be over. Either the killer will have shown up here, in which case I’ll have taken care of him, or we’ll have Billy back in hiding.”

“Tomorrow’s edition?” she said in her best puzzled manner.

“Well, you’re too late for today’s—unless the Post comes out hours after most papers.”

“But I wasn’t talking about the print edition. This is what we call breaking news. If I give the story to my boss it’ll be the lead in our online edition within minutes. So…well, maybe you’d like to reconsider. Because if you promise me an exclusive of the entire thing, I’ll hold back now.”

“You’re trying to blackmail me,” he snapped.

“No. I’m only negotiating a deal.”

“I HAVE TO KNOW whether I can trust her,” Dan said into his cell phone.

As Lydia said “No problem,” he glanced at the library door.

He’d closed it tightly before making his call, because he already knew there was at least one thing about Mickey Westover that he couldn’t trust. She had no compunction when it came to eavesdropping.

However, he was speaking quietly and that was a solid-core door.

“So check out her reputation in general,” he continued. “And specifically contact some of the other celebrities she’s done these articles on. See if anything appeared in print that she assured them wouldn’t.”

“No problem,” Lydia said again, her tone amused this time—letting him know that she didn’t need him telling her how to do her job.

And she didn’t, of course. All of the research operatives at Risk Control International were good, but she was the best.

“I need to hear back soon,” he added, although he probably didn’t have to tell her that, either.

“You’ve got it, Dan. I’ll call and let you know whatever I can learn fast. Then, if it’s necessary, I’ll start digging more thoroughly.”

“Good. Thanks, Lydia.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Dan clicked off and started back to where he’d left Mickey in the kitchen.

He was feeling marginally better, but only marginally.

Oh, hell, who was he trying to kid? He was still fit to be tied.

As clichéd as that phrase might be, it was the best one he could think of to describe how he was feeling—although downright homicidal was certainly a strong contender.

He didn’t recall ever having seriously considered murdering someone before, not even any of the low-life he’d dealt with during his years as a cop. But right this minute he could cheerfully strangle Mickey Westover.

She was trying to blackmail him into agreeing to what she wanted—regardless of how she put it. And as much as he disliked the idea of agreeing to a damn thing…

Ken Heath had been right. The odds were low that whoever was stalking Billy had caught this morning’s Sherry Sherman Show.

However, if news about a hit man being after Billy went online it would immediately be picked up by every TV and radio station in North America.

And it was far too easy to picture Billy’s would-be killer driving through the mountains, almost here, when the car radio told him that he was heading straight into a trap—because Mickey had included that information in her story.

Yes, downright homicidal was definitely right up there with fit to be tied.

Eyeing Mickey’s slender throat, he imagined his hands wrapped around it.

All that did, though, was start him thinking that if her pale skin felt as smooth as it looked, then once he’d touched it, strangling her would be the last thing on his mind.

He told himself to lose that thought.

Mickey Westover might be a good-looking woman, and he’d admit there was something awfully sexy about her, but she was annoying as hell.

Of course, she was just trying to get ahead, which wasn’t something he’d fault her for under different circumstances.

And now that he’d had time to consider, he realized that she didn’t really represent a serious problem. Not short-term, at least.

At the moment, all he had to do was prevent her from calling her boss back. Or using her computer to e-mail him.

But sending her packing wasn’t the way to handle things. Even if he confiscated her laptop and cell phone before showing her the door, she’d find a pay phone.

So he’d have to negotiate, to use her term. He only intended to negotiate a little, though.

CHAPTER THREE

ONCE DAN GOT BACK to the kitchen, Mickey eyed him expectantly.

“Okay,” he said. “Here’s the deal I’ll go for. If the killer shows up, you get your exclusive this afternoon. If he doesn’t, if I have to go to New York and find Billy, you don’t breathe a word about any of this until the situation is resolved. Then, you get your exclusive.”

She looked suspicious, so he added, “Either way, you win.”

“And what if you end up in New York and another journalist gets wind of what’s happening?” she said. “Where would my exclusive be then?”

“Don’t worry about that, because this will be over and done with today. Now, give me your laptop and purse.”

“Pardon me?”

“Your laptop and purse,” he repeated. “Just for a minute.”

She hesitated, then handed them over.

“Oh, and one other thing,” he said.

“What?”

“When you get down to writing your story, you can report the facts of what happens. And Billy’s a public figure so he’s fair game. But my name doesn’t show up in print.”