Killing Kelly

  “How embarrassing that would be. Like begging for a position. I’m a professional!” Jane protested. “That would be obnoxiously aggressive. They could say no and then I’d want to hide under a rock.”

  He laughed. “Jane, that could be seen as assertive rather than aggressive. And they will most likely say yes.”

  “It’s all scripted. And they are the backup dancers,” she said, pointing to the crowd now hovering around Kelly Trent, who was dutifully signing cocktail napkins and whatever else people could get their hands on.

  “Scripts have been known to be rewritten,” he said. Jane was staring at him with her huge, dark eyes. “Okay, how about I suggest you want to dance in the thing?”

  She rewarded him with a bountiful smile. “That works for me.” She grabbed his hand. “Now, introduce me to Kelly Trent.”

  They walked over. Kelly was signing someone’s address book, using the fellow’s back as a desk. She glanced up, realizing that someone else had arrived. She managed a smile, but he thought that it was a very wary one.

  “Good morning, Miss Trent,” he said politely.

  “Hi,” she said, then, finishing with her task, returned the address book to the tall, tightly muscled and striking black man for whom she’d been signing.

  “Thanks! My girlfriend is going to be so jealous!”

  “Want something for her, too?” Kelly suggested.

  “Wow, would you? Cocktail napkin, I guess.”

  She smiled, asked the girlfriend’s name, signed and gave him the cocktail napkin.

  “All right, people!” Herb called out then, apparently remembering what they were there to do. “Back on the floor!”

  The others moved back to their positions as Herb called out the order of the routine that had been given to the group before their impromptu break. The music started.

  “Tango to Terror.” Looking a little pale, Kelly Trent watched the action as she stood by Mel’s side. Alton reached over and shook Doug’s hand, wishing him a good morning.

  “Miss Trent, Mr. Alton, I’d like to introduce an associate, Jane Ulrich. Jane, Kelly Trent, Mel Alton.”

  Mel instantly smiled, not a lascivious smile, just an appreciative one. Jane was very attractive.

  “How do you do, Miss Ulrich?” Mel said.

  “Hi, nice to meet you,” Kelly said, offering Jane a smile and sincere interest.

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how excited I am. You’re on my favorite soap,” Jane told her.

  Kelly glanced at Mel, her beautiful eyes—a strange, hypnotic blend of blue and green with something like a touch of gold right around the pupils—somewhat questioning, but she went ahead and said, “Well, thank you. I’m going to be off it for quite a while,” she told Jane.

  “No!” Jane gasped, horrified.

  “I’m afraid they’ve got me in a coma. Apparently, Marla’s venom has been a bit too scary lately,” Kelly explained.

  “No!” Jane gasped again.

  Kelly smiled deeply at that, a full, rueful grin. “I’m afraid so.”

  “No!” came from Jane’s horrified lips one more time.

  “Yes, but hush on that, please,” Mel said, putting a finger to his lips. “They want to keep the audience guessing just when she’s going to come back.”

  “Ah, so you’re moving on to bigger and better things while you take your break,” Jane said.

  As Kelly Trent looked at the dancers, Doug could tell that she wasn’t at all sure she was moving on to bigger and better things, but she wasn’t about to say so.

  She turned to Jane. “Quite frankly, I’m watching these people and feeling a surge of pure panic. I can’t do that—any of that.”

  “Oh!” Jane waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Don’t worry, he’s just making them show their stuff right now. The song is, amazingly, an excellent tango. That’s what you’ll be doing. And you’ll learn it in no time! Doug will make you look good. Honestly.”

  Kelly’s kaleidoscope eyes fixed on him and she didn’t appear in the least certain. “Well, we can hope,” she murmured, smiling at Jane again.

  “I promise you, Doug is great,” Jane said.

  “Unfortunately, I somehow missed ballroom dancing entirely while growing up,” Kelly said. She seemed to honestly like Jane because, once again, her smile appeared deep and sincere. “I had so many friends who at least went to cotillion…but not me.”

  “I’m willing to bet you’ll be amazed at how quickly you learn,” Jane assured her.

  A security guard entered the ballroom right behind them, looking around. He approached their group a little hesitantly. “There’s a phone call, a gentleman calling about something important having to do with the video. Could one of you take the call?” he asked apologetically.

  “I’ll take the call and see if I’m able to help,” Doug offered.

  “Thanks,” the man said, looking relieved. “There’s a house phone on the wall over there.”

  Doug excused himself and the man walked with him, indicating the phone. “Sorry, I couldn’t quite figure out what he was saying. Sounds as if he’s on a cell phone or something. He might have been asking for Kelly Trent, but since I’ve no idea who this guy is, I thought I should get someone involved with the project on the phone.”

  “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Doug said. “If it’s a kook, I’ll hang up. If it’s important, I’ll either get Miss Trent or make sure the right people get the message.”

  “Thanks!” the fellow said, and, turning, left Doug at the phone.

  He picked up the receiver. “Hello, can I help you?”

  There was a strange sound in the background, like a whooshing noise. Then a voice came on. “I need to speak with Kelly Trent.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll see if she’s available. Who is this, please?”

  “She’s going to be doing the video, right? We’ll be able to see her? Can she speak now? That entire Valentine Valley thing is…well, her character could be dead!”

  Doug took a breath. “Excuse me, who are you and just what do you want?”

  “Kelly Trent!” Suddenly the caller wheezed with laughter. “Kelly is going to be dead, Kelly is going to be dead!”

  “Hey—”

  There was a sudden click. The line went dead.

  CHAPTER 6

  When Doug O’Casey returned from having taken the phone call, he had a strange look about him.

  “Who was it? Is there a problem?” Mel asked.

  O’Casey shook his head. “Whoever it was…asked for you, but then hung up,” he said, looking at Kelly. He added, “Sorry.”

  A bit puzzled, Kelly shrugged. “I doubt it could have been anything important. I’m certainly not managing any part of this. Actually, Mel and I just stopped by, so no one even knows that I’m here. If friends are trying to reach me, they have my cell phone number.”

  “Sure,” O’Casey said, but his eyes still seemed intense. He was staring at her as if trying to fathom some mystery, and she found it unsettling. She didn’t think she’d ever seen eyes of such a dark intense blue. And the way that he watched her made her feel a bizarre combination of heat and unease. There was a wired energy about him, as well as a taut composure, as if he were watching, waiting, all the time. Like a snake, he seemed coiled, ready to strike.

  At the same time, there was something about him that offered a sense of security. He was definitely toned, almost to a fault. Agile, muscled, with tiger-quick reflexes. And she realized—with more than a bit of dismay—that he awakened a sexual core within her. That was, in itself, frightening. She was actually afraid of the man, she thought. No, not of him, exactly, but…She was afraid to be around him. Afraid of herself, maybe.

  Mel cleared his throat and Kelly realized uneasily that she and Doug had been staring at each other too long. Not a great deal of time, surely, but too long. Enough for Mel to notice that there was a touch of friction in the air. She pulled her gaze from the man and looked at Mel.

  “Is
this group the rest of the cast, then?” he asked.

  The auditioning dancers had been called back to the floor. They were working their hearts out.

  “A few of them, at least,” Doug said.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Kelly heard herself murmur uneasily. She winced. She’d been honest about her lack of experience, but she hated that she sounded so pathetically uncertain.

  “Oh, don’t worry. You’re not going to have to do those kicks and contortions,” O’Casey said.

  Great. She’d be okay because they weren’t really expecting anything out of her.

  “Actually,” she said, feeling her lips twitch, “I can kick.”

  “Good for you,” Doug said. “That’s right. You’re from California. Pilates, yoga, Tae Bo, the exercise of the week, huh?”

  “Doug,” Jane murmured, an almost imperceptible note of reproach in her voice. Maybe he wasn’t aware of the way he had sounded.

  Why the hell was he giving her such a hard time? The guy was a dancer himself. A performer. A man with no right to make it sound as if she were living in an entirely plastic, worthless world.

  “You’ve never seen the inside of a gym, have you, Mr. O’Casey?” she inquired, letting the sarcasm drip just slightly.

  “Touché,” Jane offered, so softly that Kelly wasn’t quite certain she had heard the note of support.

  “Hmm. You’ve a point there, I imagine,” O’Casey murmured.

  “Hey, Doug…Jane!” the dance coach called from the floor.

  “Excuse us, will you?” Jane said sweetly. Doug had his hand on her arm, ready to draw her away. “Miss Trent, I really am your biggest fan. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, though I suspect you must hear that all the time. I sound like an idiot—”

  “You sound just fine, and I’m terribly flattered. The pleasure is mine,” Kelly told her.

  Doug O’Casey nodded to her—a little curtly, she thought—then went on toward the floor with Jane. Kelly found herself wondering about the relationship between them. They seemed to know each other backward and forward, and yet…

  “Can we go now?” she asked Mel softly.

  “Sure, except…don’t you want to see a little more?” he asked.

  “Why? I’m already daunted, and my cowardice is growing,” Kelly told him dryly. “You’re a good agent, you know. You’ve taught me that I’m never supposed to voice my pathetic uncertainties to anyone, right? And I think I’ve already given away my cowardice enough.”

  Mel laughed. “Kelly, you haven’t. I swear. I know this has really shaken you, but when one door closes, a new door opens. And this is a great door we’re entering.”

  “I haven’t actually left anything yet,” she reminded him.

  “Quite right. That’s why this is going to be so good. Think of it as an adventure.”

  “Right! It’s going to be great, Mel! I’m grateful for the support. You sound like a scruffy-jawed Mary Poppins! But you know what? I am going to be good. It’s going to take some hard work, but I know how to work hard. It’s going to be an education.” She squared her shoulders suddenly and looked at him. Screw the dance instructor. She hadn’t asked to do the video; she’d been aggressively pursued.

  “They’re dancing something of what you’re going to be doing now,” Mel told her. “Let’s just hang in a few minutes more, okay?”

  The music was playing again. Doug O’Casey and Jane Ulrich were on the floor alone. They might have been one entity, they were so close. The woman’s position was perfect. They were smooth as silk—and sharp as tacks, head movements exact, on the split second, arms, bodies, every piece of musculature attuned. Inwardly, Kelly groaned.

  “Never!” she whispered to Mel.

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Mel, those two have obviously danced together forever. They’re like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. You think I can look like that in a matter of weeks?”

  “It will be video. Mistakes are edited. There will be close-ups, backup dancers, and the band themselves. This isn’t half of the choreography.”

  “That’s reassuring!” she murmured.

  “It will be fine.”

  “Right. I can tell. Maybe I can play pro football in a movie after this!”

  “Kelly, Kelly, Kelly!”

  “Mel, Mel, Mel!”

  “You got a better idea for the immediate future?” he inquired.

  She looked at him. “No,” she admitted.

  He grinned deeply. “Okay, kid, enough torture for today. Think of it this way—after the video, you’ll just have another talent to add to your résumé. How’s that?”

  “Lovely,” she assured him.

  Mel glanced at his watch. “I’ll leave you to pack up. I have a few things to do, a few bases to touch, and then we need to head for the airport.”

  “Home!” she said with an appreciative sigh.

  “Sanctuary?” he teased lightly.

  She laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”

  Mel gave a wave toward the group on the dance floor. Barely noticed, they slipped out.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Hey, kid. What’s happening?”

  Doug grinned, shaking his head. Quinn couldn’t see him, since they were talking over the phone. But to Quinn, Doug knew he’d always be “kid,” even if they both made it past ninety.

  “I’m heading out. The 6:00 p.m. flight to L.A.”

  “Cool. When are you coming back?”

  “In a week.”

  “Where are they putting you up?”

  “Someplace on Sunset.”

  “Sounds like a good gig to me.” Quinn could almost see his younger brother shaking his head. “I’ll bet it’s a decent place.”

  “You used to travel a lot more than me.”

  “Yeah, on taxpayer dollars. We didn’t get much in the way of hotels.”

  “I guess there is big money behind this,” Doug agreed.

  “You almost sound as if you’re feeling guilty.”

  “No,” Doug said. “Just a little disturbed.”

  “How come? What’s up?”

  “Well, it was probably some kind of a crank call, but at the dance auditions, I took the phone when the person on the other end asked to speak with Kelly Trent. The man—or woman—definitely sounded deranged. At first, he just wanted to talk to her, but then he wanted to know if she was really in the video. The call ended with ‘She’s going to be dead, Kelly Trent is going to be dead,’ or words to that effect.”

  “Did you tell Kelly that she got a threatening call?”

  “I just said that someone had asked to speak with her, but then had hung up. I called Jake, asked him if he could trace the call. But it will be nearly impossible, because it came in on a switchboard, with hundreds of other calls. So, what do you make of it?”

  Quinn was silent for a minute. “What did you make of it?”

  “I just asked you that question! You’re the damned P.I.”

  “Well, yes, but you were a cop.”

  “Right. It probably meant nothing. When I talked with Ally Bassett, she admitted that soap stars get crank and threatening calls all the time.”

  “But this one bothered you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, so think like a cop. Jake will do what he can, but it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. For you, it’s a gut-level thing. So keep it on the front burner.”

  “If I hadn’t been with you guys and heard all this stuff about advice divas dying, I would have believed it was just a crank. Hell, she’s an actress, not a therapist. But we both know there are enough whacked-out psychos out there who may not make such a distinction. I don’t want to be an alarmist, but it’s something to definitely keep on the front burner.”

  “You’re still a cop at heart, you know,” Quinn said.

  “Whatever, big bro,” Doug said, then hesitated. “Listen, you know Jake is great, but he’s a cop, bound to certain ethics and rules. Everyone knows it can be a different thi
ng for a P.I.”

  “Good God, you’re not suggesting that I’m unethical?”

  Doug laughed. “You’re just in a better position than Jake or I am right now to do some digging.”

  There was silence at the other end, then Quinn said, “I’ll do some checking around, see if I can get someone to find out where the call originated.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “I’m willing to bet it came from a pay phone.”

  “Me, too. But I wouldn’t mind knowing.”

  “All right. Have a good flight, then. Keep in touch.”

  Doug hung up, then picked up his jacket and headed out to the living room, where Jane was waiting. She’d offered to take him to the airport.

  “All set,” he told her.

  She’d been holding his ticket.

  “First class, huh?” she said, looking up at him.

  “Yep.”

  “Why did I go into dance instead of music?”

  “Because you move like a symphony, how’s that?” he responded.

  “This whole thing is wild, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Different, anyway. By the way, I mentioned that you’d like to be in the video,” he said.

  “And?”

  “Well, some other poor female is going to be out of a job.”

  “Really? I’m in?” She threw her arms around him, giving him a big hug.

  “Jane, you’re championship material. This isn’t that big a deal!”

  She shook her head. “Are you kidding? Championships are hours and hours of hard work. And no matter how hard you work, you can reach a competition and be knocked out by someone else. But a video, a sure-shot at my fifteen minutes of fame? This works for me.”

  “Well, then. Good.”

  Jane studied him. “It really doesn’t matter that much to you, does it?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. Anyway, let’s head out.” He grinned. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on first class by being late.”

  “Aha!” she said. “So first class is cool!”

  “A big seat and a free beer? You bet!”

  Matt Avery sat in his richly upholstered desk chair and stared out at the superb skyline view of Hollywood offered by his floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Life was good. Well, today it was good.