

## REEL

## Hollywood

### Jenna Baker

Copyright © 2015 Jenna Baker

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 0692532706

ISBN-13: 978-0692532706

Cover Design: Lauren Borgersen Ras

Copy Editor: Keidi Keating

### DEDICATION

To Lynn and Roy – my biggest fans

### Chapter 1.

His hands were in my hair, pulling me to him. His lips were at my neck, then my chin, then my mouth. I moaned, loving the feel of Reid's touch and enjoying the hunger he felt for me. We were finally going to do this. We were alone and there were no distractions. There was no one to barge in on us, no one to stand in our way. I knew I wanted him and I could feel how badly he wanted me. I felt his tongue sweep across mine and every pore of my body swelled. Damn, this guy was hot.

I ran my hands along the thick muscles in his arms and up to his shoulders. I grabbed them, rolling over on top of him, wanting to take advantage of him in every way possible. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain against my forehead. Then the ground fell out from under me and I was going down, fast and hard.

I awoke to find myself sprawled on the floor of Reid's living room, alone. Rubbing my head I realized that I had rolled off the couch and hit my head on the side table. Now I was seeing black spots as I tried to make sense of what had, or rather _hadn't_ happened. Weren't we about to have sex? Why was I sleeping on his couch instead of his bed? I tried to reconstruct the night before in my mind piece by piece. I remembered watching the premiere episode, _my_ episode of _Murder Live!_ It was a new reality show in which I, as lead producer, along with my crew followed around two detectives as they solved a murder. Detective Reid had been one of the cops assigned to the case, and while our working relationship had started off rocky, it definitely heated up at the end. Spending nearly every waking moment together for a week straight could have gone one of two ways. Reid and I both learned that the initial dislike we had for each other was easily overcome by an intense sexual desire that needed to be fulfilled. This outcome was preferable to the alternative, which involved killing each other by the end of the shoot.

Reid had invited the cast and crew over to his place to watch our episode's debut and afterwards we waited impatiently for everyone to go home. It wasn't our first romantic encounter, but it was the first time we would be truly alone. Thus far our timing had been questionable. Our first kiss was at my sister's wedding in front of my entire family. Our first sexual interlude had been interrupted when my cast and crew barged in on us. But last night we were alone, with no interruptions or complications, and most importantly, a lock on the front door. We had been kissing and then...well...I couldn't remember. I had a sinking suspicion that I'd fallen asleep right in the middle of things! The hours that we'd spent working to solve the last case had been brutal, not to mention all the hours I'd spent in the edit bay trying to pull the show together. It wouldn't have surprised me if my body's need for sleep had superseded my horribly neglected libido.

"Reid?" I called out, still rubbing the bruise on my head. I got up and looked in the kitchen. He had left a note on the table that simply read: _To be continued_. Damn! I _had_ fallen asleep. I really was an idiot sometimes. Somehow my mind needed to get the message to my body that if it wanted sex badly enough to dream about it then it should probably stay awake when the opportunity presented itself!

I looked at the clock and saw that it was eight-thirty. I figured Reid had gone to work and I knew I needed to check in with my boss too. The reality of reality television was that you killed yourself to get your story and then had to jump right into the next one. If you didn't jump at each and every opportunity, you'd be replaced by someone younger, more eager, and more willing to work for peanuts. I was thirty now and my tolerance for the go-go-go mentality was waning. I had been working in the biz for eight years and sometimes I wondered if I should have my head examined for it. Reid had been a nice side effect of my current project, but there had been other men and other shows, and I knew from experience that these types of things didn't last. Still, I really liked this guy and I wanted to be careful not to screw this one up.

Reid was a little taller than I was with a chiseled chest and pecks that looked like firm pillows. His jaw line was hard and his eyes were dark, framed by thick eyebrows and the most amazing long lashes. He was a cop by trade, but he came from money just like I did. My mother was the former host of _L.A. Incorporated,_ a popular entertainment news show, and Reid's father, ironically, was her agent. We had never met prior to the assignment, but in this town, the six-degrees-of-separation game was usually more like one or two. Everyone in LA was in the "business" and connected to each other in one way or another.

As for me, I was pretty average. I wasn't too fat and I wasn't too thin. I was tall, but short enough that I could wear heels. Not that I did of course – jeans and sneakers had become my work uniform. My eyes were blue and my hair hung just past my shoulders on the rare occasion that I wore it down. It was blonde, my natural color, which meant I couldn't stand up against the bleached bombshells in this town. Considering how incredibly hot I found Reid, I was still baffled that he was interested in me at all. Maybe it was because he was a cop, but Reid seemed to understand how my mind worked, which was a rare trait for most men. He understood my jokes, he laughed along with me at my mistakes, but it wasn't love yet. We hadn't even crossed home base so I wasn't going to let my head start worrying about feelings and emotions until my body had a chance to test the waters.

I picked up my cell phone and dialed my boss, Lenny. My episode was delivered and I needed to know what my next assignment would be. The network had ordered a total of thirteen episodes and they were already talking about season two. There were four producers on the rotation and I wanted to snag as many episodes as I could get. It wasn't because I loved my job – far from it. I had a little rivalry going with Missy, one of the other producers, and I was determined to beat her in every way possible.

"If it isn't my star producer," Lenny sang into the phone. He was a short, balding, perverted little weasel who had a tendency to get under my skin. "Did you have a nice evening with that detective? Is he nuzzling your neck right now?"

"That's none of your business."

"Sharpe, do you know what the number one rule in reality television is?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes Lenny, I do."

"Care to share?" he baited.

"Participants aren't our friends," I said blandly.

"That's right. So why is it that you and Detective Hot Pants are riding the big wave?"

"You only know about that because Missy has a big mouth," I retorted.

Missy was ninety pounds at best with long stringy hair and a stick-up-her-ass attitude. She was in constant competition with me and willing to do almost anything to win. Her first case was an open and shut murder case with a ton of witnesses and everyone willing to talk. No suspense, no drama, no nothing. They bumped her episode when I swooped in with a doozy that won the hearts of the network executives. I should have known that Missy would tell Lenny about my relationship with Reid.

"Not true," Lenny teased. "I was at your sister's wedding, remember? I saw everything."

I felt my face growing hot. Obviously Reid and I had chosen a poor location for our first kiss. We had just cracked our case and we were dancing closely and, well, one thing led to another. We were deprived of food and sleep, and we'd been flirting back and forth for days. It was nearly impossible to resist. Unfortunately the guest list at the wedding had consisted of my parents, Reid's parents and, oh right, my boss.

"Cat got your tongue? Or perhaps that detective does." Lenny laughed and then cleared his throat. "Anyway, I need to reassign you. Missy's Hollywood cops were bad for TV so the department is giving us a new team. One's a chick so that'll be interesting."

"Does that mean Reid is off the show?" I asked.

"No. Your lover boy played well last night, plus the network wives liked his butt so we'll keep him around. Missy will take over Receda."

"You'd better be kidding," I said through gritted teeth. It infuriated me to no end to know that Missy would be taking over Reid's Receda district. It was ridiculous to think that because she blew it with the Hollywood cops she should be handed my division and the cops that went with it.

Detective Reid had been a hard nut to crack. His police chief "elected" him to be on the show. She was a friend of Lenny's and owed him a favor. She ponied Reid up because he was gorgeous and a good cop to boot, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. For the first several days he either refused to talk to me, called me every name in the book or acted like a complete asshole. His partner Foxy was a bit more gracious, but still didn't approve of my constant meddling and _slightly_ unethical approach to getting information. It wasn't until they realized that a camera crew following them around might help solve the case that Reid began to warm up to me. Throw in a couple long stakeouts and more than one jaunt to Mexico and we were in love. Well, in lust at least.

"This is completely unfair!" I told Lenny.

"Sorry kid, those are the brakes. Next time don't cross that line, unless it's with that chick on your new assignment. Then make sure you videotape."

"You're disgusting." I said and hung up. "Err!" I called out. I was seething. Missy was a snake and a cockroach and I couldn't stand her. I felt sick as I thought about her spending day and night running around town with _my_ man. I was staking my claim and I didn't want her boney ass anywhere near him.

*****

I lived under a mile from Reid's place so I decided to stop at home to freshen up before heading to work. The trek to the office was a long one and even though I waited until almost ten to get on the freeway, I still crawled the whole way there. My car was a white 1992 Miata convertible and I loved it. Yes it was old and yes the A/C was broken, but you really can't have a convertible and drive with the top up anyway – it's a sacrilege. Luckily the San Fernando Valley was only about ninety degrees this morning and so the sweat on my back, though present, wasn't plentiful enough to soak my shirt. Peeling myself off the sweat-soaked seats after a long ride tended to put me in a bad mood.

I checked my phone a couple times to see if Reid had called, but he hadn't. I knew he was busy chasing down murderers, so I told myself not to get paranoid. After all, he wrote: _To be continued_ on the note he left me, so he obviously wanted to see me again. I was sure he wouldn't hold it against me that I'd fallen asleep as we were about to get busy. That kind of thing probably happens all the time.

I arrived at the office at around eleven-thirty and saw my crew waiting for me. The production office was a modern warehouse that was all tricked out and funky for us creative types. There was a long row of cubicles on the ground floor on the left and edit bays on the right. Upstairs there was a kitchen area, a few more edit bays, and Lenny's office. It was a cool space but I was rarely there. The only time I got to experience it was between shoots or when I was chained to my edit bay. Beyond that I was out in the field, working around the clock, chasing down stories.

Mac and Manny were in the break room upstairs sitting at a table. As my camera and sound operator respectively, they didn't have an official desk in the production office. Their place was in the field. The office was nothing more than a pit-stop for them to restock on tape or equipment and grab a free cup of coffee. Mac and Manny were two guys I worked with a lot and I was grateful that Lenny hadn't given them to Missy too.

Mac was short for MacGyver. Of course that wasn't his real name, but rather one that he'd earned through a history of being the type of guy you wanted to have around in a tense situation. He had filmed reality shows and documentaries all over the world and was never shy to brag about his experiences. He existed on a diet of wheatgrass and bulgur wheat and was in perfect physical condition. Mac always had a survival kit with him and like a true boy scout, he was always prepared. He typically dressed in canvas pants that broke away at the knee and a tightly fitted T-shirt. He wore a fanny-pack too, but somehow he made it look macho. Mac and I respected each other, but we also got on each other's nerves. I didn't like his arrogance and he didn't like my bossiness.

While Mac and I would often bicker, Manny and I got along great. Of course Manny got along with everyone. He enjoyed a dose of reefer daily, which made him extremely laid back. He was a good sound operator and didn't mind working long hours either. I wasn't a huge fan of marijuana but he was able to function just fine so I turned a blind eye. Mac, on the other hand, liked to lecture him constantly about his body being a temple and all that.

I trudged up the steps to find my guys hunched over, sipping coffee. It wasn't morning, but I reasoned they were still feeling the effects of last night's celebration. "Rough night?" I asked them, already knowing the answer.

Manny looked up at me and smiled. He was a third generation Mexican American but still spoke with an accent. His long hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and braided in the way his mother had taught him. He was about my height, but stocky and he wore ripped jean shorts and a concert T-shirt for a Latin band. "Nah, Mamma Ganja got me through it," he answered. "What about you, chica?"

"Actually my night kind of sucked. I guess you guys weren't getting my not-so-subtle hints that you should leave?"

"Did you see any hints?" Manny asked Mac, smiling. "Chica, we didn't see any hints. Besides, we were having a good time."

"We left at like one," Mac said to me. "You and Reid had the whole rest of the night."

"Yeah, well it didn't exactly go that way." I frowned.

"Hang on, you didn't close the deal?" Manny asked me.

I rolled my eyes. I had a habit of over-sharing and then embarrassing myself as a result of it. "Just forget it."

"Don't worry babe, you'll get some," Manny said with a smile. "Maybe you and Reid could go into one of those interrogation rooms and Mac and I could film you."

I wasn't sure I was comfortable with where this conversation was going. I looked at Mac to see if I could read his expression, but I couldn't. Mac and I had kissed once a long time ago and we both had agreed it was a mistake. But when things started heating up between me and Reid, a bit of a jealous side had come out in Mac. He'd apologized and we'd gotten past it, but I didn't think enough time had passed yet for me to be sharing the intimate details of my love life with Reid.

"I wouldn't count on that happening," I said, steering the conversation in another direction. "We're not even gonna be paired up with Reid and Foxy anymore."

I looked at Mac again, still not getting a good read on his reaction. He looked confused if anything.

"So who are we working with then?" Mac asked.

"Lenny assigned us to a new team at the Hollywood precinct and gave Reid to the ice princess."

"Missy?" Manny asked with a frown.

"I hear my ears ringing," Missy said from behind me. I stiffened, having a visceral reaction to the sound of her voice. "Thanks for warming up Detective Reid for me, Sharpe."

I turned to face her spinney beak as she looked down at me. "Do you enjoy sloppy seconds?" I asked, keenly aware that I was stooping to her level.

"Sloppy they are. I heard about your _relationship_ with him. When will you ever learn?"

"Don't try to act all high and mighty," I snapped, making no bones about my feelings for her. "You screwed up the Hollywood division so now we have to go in and clean it up. I saw your story in the edit, real suspenseful."

"I guess nailing the talent gets you a better story. Maybe I should try it."

The nerve in my forehead started to twitch and I felt my face getting flushed.

"Shut up puta," Manny said from behind me. "You don't know what you're talking about." He placed a warm hand on my shoulder, which both gave me comfort and held me back from clocking her in the face.

"Have you spoken to Reid yet?" I asked Missy through a clenched jaw, slightly concerned that I hadn't heard from him yet today.

"I figured you would have told him, Sharpe. Or was it just a one-time thing?"

I decided I'd had enough of her. "He's not broken in, just so you know. He is going to make it very difficult for you, trust me." I spun around and walked toward the coffee pot, finished with this conversation. I stood there for a while waiting for her to leave, but I didn't hear her moving. I felt stupid just staring at the coffee pot so I started making myself a cup even though I really didn't want one. I stood there for a minute while it brewed, still sensing she was there.

Finally I turned around and saw her right behind me. "Can you just get out of here Missy?!"

"I'd like a cup," she said, pointing to the coffee pot.

I handed her mine. "Here you go, enjoy."

"Wow, thanks Sharpe," she exclaimed and set about adding milk and sugar to it. I rolled my eyes and sat down at the table with the guys.

"That one's psycho, eh, chica?" Manny said.

"I can hear you." Missy chided from behind us.

I threw my hands in the air and banged my head on the table in response.

### Chapter 2.

Lenny sat at his oversized desk watching a cut of one of the other producer's episodes. He had stacks of files and papers piled on his desk but it was just for visual drama. We didn't exactly spend a lot of time on research and fact checking in this industry.

I walked inside and sat across from him. "How did the show do last night?" I asked. I knew it was well produced, of course, but the number of people that actually watched channel six hundred and twelve was still in question.

"Good as it could," Lenny told me. The network is really pushing the promos and getting a buzz around the show. The viewership last night was high, likely due to those slow motion shots of your boyfriend they keep airing.

"Yeah, Reid isn't exactly loving those," I told him.

Lenny shrugged, not caring. I didn't really care either. He was hot, so let America know it! Lenny tossed me a thin file across his desk. I opened it to see the names of two police officers from the Hollywood division and some basic stats on each of them.

"Meet your new team," Lenny told me.

Looking at the file, I wasn't convinced these two were any better than the original two from Hollywood division. The male cop, Dennis "Hollywood" Johnson, had a photo included. Actually it was a professional headshot. He was African American and in good physical condition with short hair, large biceps, and a tough demeanor. I turned his headshot over to learn that he was 5' 11'', thirty-six years old, and had done some bit parts on soap operas and sitcoms. I had a pretty good picture of who I was dealing with – a major pre-madonna. His partner Terry didn't have a picture, but her stats stated that she had been a cop for nine years and a detective for one. She was unmarried and lived alone. I had a feeling Terry was probably more interested in girls than boys and made a mental note to tell her I was already seeing someone. Then again who I was kidding? I wasn't that irresistible!

"What's my deadline?" I asked.

"Last night the network doubled the order. They want to see episodes twice a week," Lenny said.

"You didn't tell me that!" I squealed feeling a mixture of excitement and pressure at the same time. "That's crazy!"

"No kidding. Everything's moving up. Missy's got her gang-banger episode going tomorrow and I have to air this piece of crap Roy put together next Wednesday," Lenny told me, motioning towards the TV screen. "Get me your story by Wednesday for air on Friday next week."

"Wow, no rest for the weary," I said.

In a perfect world, I would have two weeks or more to sit with my editor and craft my piece after the shooting wrapped. In this world, I had a week. It was Thursday today so that gave me almost seven days to get my footage and cut it together. So much for weekends! Build into that time for Lenny's edits, the network's edits, rendering time within the edit system, color correction, product logo blurring, naked body-part blurring, and final tweaks and I basically had a day to cut this thing together. Plus my story needed to be compelling. I didn't want my episode being described to the other producers as a "piece of crap" like Roy's was.

"Okay, I'll make sure a bunch of people die in the next few days," I told Lenny.

"They will. Three people are murdered every day in this town. You know where I learned that? Your episode! Who says reality shows aren't educational?!" Lenny cackled. He waved his hand towards the door and I took that as my cue to exit the premises. I'd been expecting praise for my episode pulling in good ratings for the series premiere, but I guess my show doing "as good as it could" would suffice for now. I knew deep in my heart that the network doubling the order had a lot to do with me. My episode was the only one that had aired so far, so that was a clear indicator. I made a mental note to call my father later, as he would give me the praise I needed.

I walked outside to find Mac and Manny loading up our production SUV. It was a large eight-passenger vehicle with three rows of seating and tons of storage in the back.

"Sharpe, check this out," Mac said holding up a brand new ARRI video camera. "Lenny finally moved out of the dark ages. This thing records on a chip."

"So no more running out of tape?" I smiled at Mac, recalling the confession scene he almost missed because his camera had run out of tape during the last shoot. "I just found out the network doubled the order. Lenny was probably feeling generous."

"Works for me. This thing is way lighter too," Mac said.

"Yeah, but it also means more work. The episodes are going to be airing twice a week now. We have to lock up the next story by Wednesday."

"Twice a week?" Manny said, overhearing the conversation. "Mierda."

The guys threw in the last remaining items into the trunk while I jumped in the front seat and put the A/C on full blast. Mac got behind the driver's seat and Manny sat in the row behind us.

"So, who did they pair us with?" Mac asked me.

"A male cop who goes by the name Hollywood," I explained. "Get this...he has an acting headshot with his profile."

I pulled out the picture and flashed it to Mac who shook his head. "Shit. He's gonna be a major pain-in-the-ass."

"Yup," I agreed.

Of all the bad things I knew about reality show contestants, the worst was when their heads started to swell and they convinced themselves that they were actually famous. Someone like me for example, might take thirty minutes to get ready, while a reality star would require two hours. Filming would constantly be delayed or stalled so they could stop to greet their adoring fans or check on their hair and makeup. It was very frustrating. I once worked on a makeover show in which the contestants weren't allowed to look in the mirror at all. It was one of the best experiences I've ever had.

"The other cop is a female," I announced.

"Say what?" Manny said from the backseat.

"I wouldn't get too excited Manny," I said. "She's probably more of a man than you are. Her name is Terry. It might as well be Randy or Pat. Do you know what I mean?"

"Oh yeah," Mac agreed. "Terry is a bad one."

"So I guess it'll just be a role-reversal," I surmised. "Hollywood will be the woman and Terry will be the man. Maybe that's why they're partners."

"A lot of crazy shit goes on in Hollywood." Manny added. "Bunch of sickos."

"Well then we should get an active case fast," I said. "Let's hope so, we only have a week to get this in the can."

We pulled onto the 405 and headed north towards Hollywood. It was a little after twelve and the traffic was relatively light. I looked down at my phone to see if I had any missed calls. I didn't.

*****

We arrived at the station just before one o'clock. The station was covered in brick on the outside with the words LOS ANGELES POLICE DEPARTMENT HOLLYWOOD STATION written in long metal letters. There were a bunch of cop cars parked on the tree-lined street and a banner hanging across the building that called for civilians to join the reserve LAPD force. We pulled the SUV in to the back lot and hopped out.

We walked inside the lobby, which looked exactly as one would expect it to. There was a long desk with a metal countertop that stretched the length of the room with two cops at computers standing behind it. The desk was on an elevated platform, forcing you to look up at the cops, letting you know right away who was in charge. The floors were yellow linoleum tiles, which were dirty and old, and the ceiling was a drop-ceiling with florescent lighting. There was a faint smell of either urine or alcohol in the room and nobody looked happy to be there.

We approached a tall cop with graying hair standing at the desk and announced ourselves. He grunted, placed a call to our hosts, and escorted us through a locked door into the bowels of the building.

We walked through a narrow hallway filled with small offices on both sides. The yellow linoleum was now gray carpet but the florescent lighting remained. I was learning quickly that the flashy police stations you saw in the movies, didn't really exist. The stations I'd been in lately were dingy, smelly, and the kind of places that made working out in the field chasing criminals seem pretty darn appealing.

We came to the end of the hall and walked through a doorway into a large open room. There were maybe ten black desks arranged in two rows with computers at each. A few cops were sitting at them, typing on their keyboards.

"Over there." The cop who was escorting us grunted and pointed to a policeman seated at his desk.

I recognized Detective Johnson right away from his head shot. He was dark skinned with strong muscular arms and a short, neat haircut. He had sunglasses resting on his head and wore a pair of fitted jeans with a tight gray T-shirt tucked into them and a flashy belt. I wasn't exactly a fashionista, but I knew the designer jeans he was wearing cost at least two hundred bucks.

"Detective Johnson?" I asked.

Johnson looked up at me with a big smile. "You must be my TV crew."

"Victoria Sharpe," I said extending a hand. "I'll be your producer. And this is Mac your camera man and Manny your sound operator."

Hollywood stood up. He was close to six feet and had a really powerful presence. Usually actors lied about their height on their headshots, but not his guy, as he didn't have to. Hollywood was tall and strong and was going to play great on TV. "You can call me Hollywood," he said, shaking my hand.

"And you can call me Sharpe," I told him.

He seemed enthusiastic and happy to be a part of this show, but I was cautious. While my last shoot ended well, it didn't start that way. I'd gotten a little over-zealous in my quest to find a good story and may have crossed the line a time or two. If you asked Reid about my producing technique, he'd probably use words like "bossy," "unethical," maybe even call me a "menace to society." I knew I needed to play it cool with these cops and tone back any instincts I might have to push the story forward.

"I hope we're not interrupting you," I told him. "We don't want to get in the way."

Hollywood smiled at me. "Not at all. I'm looking forward to working with you. I actually have a little bit of experience in this area."

"Yes, I saw your headshot. You played a cop on TV and now you do the real thing, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks for noticing that. Hey, what did you think of my headshot? Did you like it?" Hollywood wanted to know.

"Oh, yeah it was very nice."

"Very nice shot composition," Mac added giving me a wink.

"Wow cool, thanks," Hollywood said smiling widely. "So where do we start?"

He had a pleasant demeanor and was movie-star perfect. It was surprising that he didn't get more acting work with those good looks, but looks weren't everything – you needed luck too. Perhaps _my_ luck was changing and this might work out just fine. "You can start by introducing us to your partner. Is she around?"

"Oh yeah, she's here." Hollywood looked at me and lowered his voice. "Terry's a little camera shy, do you know what I'm saying? It's probably best that I do most of the talking on screen."

I nodded imagining viewers would probably prefer looking at Hollywood anyway.

"Hey Terry?" Hollywood called out. "Film crew's here."

"One second," I heard Terry say from behind her computer screen. She was seated across from Hollywood, one desk back, and wrapping up a call. We waited a moment before she stood up and walked over to us.

As she came into view, it was as if the world had started spinning in slow motion. She wore a black police uniform with a belt on her waist and a gun on her hip. She had a pair of aviator glasses hanging from a button on her shirt between two enormous breasts. Her long hair was auburn and her eyes were emerald green. She looked to be about my age, but much sexier. Her hair was wavy and pulled back loosely in a clip, and although she wore almost no makeup, her complexion was flawless.

I looked over at Mac and Manny who both had eyes bugging out of their heads. "Hummina-hummina!" Manny chanted.

Terry gave me an awkward smile and held out a limp hand. "I'm Terry Perkins."

I stood there holding her hand and not saying anything. I had such a different image of her in my head that I couldn't even determine if the person standing in front of me was real or not. Was this a bad joke someone was playing on me? It wouldn't be the first time.

"Sharpe, you're going to cut off the girl's circulation," Mac said to me.

I snapped out of it and released her hand. "I'm so sorry," I said, turning red. "It's very nice to meet you."

"She goes by Sharpe and I'm Manny," Manny said, swooping in. Instead of a handshake he went for the European double cheek kiss, even though he was Mexican.

I got my wits about me enough to reprimand him. "Don't hit on her."

"Don't be jealous baby," Manny told me. "I've got lots of love to give."

I rolled my eyes at him. I wasn't interested in Manny and I wasn't jealous either. I was just a little surprised.

Mac stepped forward next and greeted Terry with a warm hello. "Hi, I'm Hank, but everyone calls me Mac," he said. "I look forward to working with you."

"It's nice to meet all of you," Terry said, looking down. "You all have cool nicknames like Hollywood does. I'll have to come up with something." She struck me as a little introverted, but perhaps I was imagining it. Perhaps I was just desperately trying to find fault in her. "I've got a couple things to take care of, but I'm sure Hollywood can get you whatever you need," she said and retreated back to her desk.

I turned to Hollywood. "Would it be okay if we set up some of our equipment in here? We'd like to do some interviews with you and Terry. Also, do you have an interrogation room that you use?"

"Sure thing, follow me." Hollywood smiled.

Hollywood walked us around, giving us the lay of the land. He offered us two desks that weren't in use to serve as our work stations. One was right across from Hollywood's seat while the other was a few desks back. Each of the desks featured a metal bracket attached to the side of it and a guest chair. Hollywood explained that the bracket was so they could handcuff the bad guys to the desk while they were interviewing them.

Mac and Manny hung some lights around Hollywood and Terry's desks, wired the interrogation room for sight and sound, and set up an interview confessional area in an un-used office. They also rigged their police car with a camera suspended from the rear view mirror so we could tape the cops as they headed to crime scenes. Terry worked the phones and her computer while Hollywood was engaged and interested, asking lots of questions.

By two o'clock we were ready to roll. Mac and Manny had lit the un-used office with moody lighting and some choice cop memorabilia in the background. The shot looked nothing like an office, but rather a dark cave where the cops could do their deepest crime fighting.

The camera was positioned close to the subject, which allowed the background to fall into soft focus. My seat was an apple box located directly next to the camera's lens to give the illusion that the subject was speaking to camera, even though they were really speaking to me. I also kept a log of the footage we were capturing. We set the camera's time code to run according to the time of day, which made logging easy. I could simply write notes about what activity was happening and when. Whenever I heard a good sound bite I was sure to log it so the editor could find it easily later.

If this were a network show I would have had an associate producer to take care of silly things like getting releases signed and logging notes and time code, but alas this was cable, so I got to do it all.

Hollywood went first. He let me know that he had brought several different wardrobe options to choose from. He wanted to look his best. Actors could be annoying but they were also malleable and easily influenced. I asked if he would consider simply wearing his white undershirt. It made him look tough and hugged his muscles. Hollywood was game for whatever I suggested, which was refreshing and scary at the same time. "Sharpe, I was thinking about a tattoo. Would that make me look more street?" Hollywood asked. He pulled out an assortment of temporary tattoos.

"Nah," I said trying not to laugh. "It's a good thought but it'll be too hard to maintain continuity if you have it in some scenes and don't in others."

"Wow, you're good at this. I hadn't thought about that," Hollywood said and put them away.

"Okay so during this interview I want you to talk to me," I told Hollywood. "When I ask you a question, I need you to incorporate it into your answer because my voice won't air on the show. So if I say _Where did you grow up?_ You should answer by saying _I grew up in..._ wherever you grew up. Make sense?"

"Yup." Hollywood nodded.

Mac's camera was on a tripod and he sat in a chair behind it. This was easy stuff for him. He had his shot, he just needed to press record. Manny had rigged a boom mic above him as it would capture the cleanest sound. He'd keep his headphones on to make sure the sound was clear because sometimes minor things like airplanes flying overhead could really mess up the audio.

"Let me get some tone," Manny said. We all hushed and sat still while Manny recorded the silence. It was important to record room tone, especially when you were cutting someone's words together in an edit. It filled the void and made fragmented sentences that we had spliced together sound much more natural. After a minute or so, Manny stopped recording. "Great, thanks," he said.

"Okay let's start rolling," I said. Mac pressed record and Manny re-fired his sound equipment.

"Speed," Mac told me, which was my cue to begin.

With interviews I liked to be relaxed. We had all the time in the world and there was no need to rush. I needed to ensure I got enough information to edit my piece, and that my subject was in a relaxed state of mind. "Okay Hollywood, tell me your name and where you're from," I began.

"My name is Detective Dennis Johnson, but everyone around here calls me Hollywood. I'm from Atlanta originally, and I've been a cop in Los Angeles for two years."

"Great," I said. "And what do you like about being a detective?"

Hollywood sat there for a moment, thinking. He shook his head and started smiling. "Uh, that's a tough one Sharpe." He let out a laugh. "I mean, this isn't really what I want to be doing. I guess we get OT and a lot of vacation days. That's probably not a good answer, right?"

I frowned. "Well, it's an honest one," I said. "But probably not one you would want your boss to hear when he watches the show. That's okay, we can skip that question. Let's talk about how playing a cop on TV made you want to be one in real life."

"Yeah sure," Hollywood said. "I, uh, I moved to Los Angeles when I was eighteen. I was just a baby with all the hopes and dreams that most actors have when they move here. Back home I did pretty well with the ladies and so I thought I'd have a leg up in this town, you know based on my looks. Turns out the competition is intense. It's all about being in the right place at the right time. I landed a couple of gigs on soap operas and TV pilots, nothing major. I worked behind the bar at night to pay the bills, but I knew I couldn't do that forever. After fifteen years of struggling I realized I needed a job that was a little more permanent. I could always take a day off here and there if I had an audition. So I thought about police work. I'd played a cop on a soap and everyone told me how convincing I was. I figured why not try the real thing? Anyway that was a few years ago and I'm still here."

"Do you find that your acting skills help you with your police work?"

"My acting skills definitely help with police work. I can "act" like I'm really upset, or about to go crazy on somebody to scare them. Also, when I'm acting it makes all of the shit we see not seem so real, you know?"

I nodded. "Watch the language okay, but that was a great line. Can you re-say it without the swearing?"

Hollywood put on a serious face, getting into character. "Acting makes all the stuff I see... oh, sorry can I do that one again?"

I nodded.

"My acting makes all the garbage I see on this job not seem so real," Hollywood said with some grit in his voice. "How was that? I'm liking this tortured cop angle."

"That was great. Let's keep going. Tell me about your love life."

"I was a ladies' man back home in Atlanta, but in LA I live a life of solitude. I don't date much, I haven't for a while actually." Hollywood paused. "Wait, does that make me seem like a loser?"

I was glad Hollywood was a team player and all, but his pre-madonna side was starting to come out. "No, it's working for you. The women watching this will go crazy for you. Let's keep going. Why don't you date?"

"I don't know why I'm still single. I guess I haven't found the right girl. Maybe this job is making me jaded, seeing the bad in everyone. I don't know."

We continued back and forth for another hour and a half. Hollywood seemed to land on a dark, tainted soul angle, which was playing very well. In the moody lighting, this hunky muscle guy who was so affected by his work was about as good as it got. Even I wanted to go give him a hug and I knew everything he was saying was bullshit. Hollywood described his desire to please his father who worked hard his entire life and couldn't imagine a career where you got paid to have your picture taken or to say a few lines. He made up a story about a woman he dated in high school who was the love of his life and how he compared every woman he met to her. He said he hadn't been back to Atlanta since he left and doubted he'd ever be back. He wasn't going to return home a failure.

We wrapped up the session and Mac and Manny reset for Terry's interview.

*****

I approached Terry who was sitting at her desk looking through a file. "Terry?"

She looked up at me with perfect hair and a sweet expression on her face. I may have been imagining it but I swore the light sparkled in her eyes. "Yes?"

"We're ready to interview you if you have time."

Terry studied my face making me feel ugly and small all at once. "Victoria, I'm okay with you taping me, but this is really Hollywood's time to shine, you know? I don't want to take away the spotlight from him."

Beautiful and a martyr? I couldn't take much more of this one. "You won't Terry, I just need you to answer a couple questions. This can't just be the Hollywood-show. You're part of this team too."

"Okay then, sure."

Terry sat in front of the camera looking gorgeous. I had the urge to spit in her hair to make it look greasy but I held myself back. I needed to put my emotions aside and focus on this interview.

Mac had set his frame in a medium shot capturing the top of her head to the bottom of her heaving breasts.

"Maybe go a little higher on the angle," I told Mac.

"Sharpe come on, this looks great," Mac responded.

"Just try it my way," I said, tilting the angle to exclude her bosom. "There, that looks better."

"Sharpe guys watch this too," Mac whispered to me.

"Yes, but she doesn't want to be portrayed as a sex symbol," I whispered through clenched teeth.

Mac grabbed the camera away from me and tilted it back to the original angle. I gave him a dirty look, but finally relented. I was in charge, but sometimes Mac prevailed. I looked over at Terry and smiled. "Okay, ready to get started?"

"Sure," Terry said, adjusting her hair.

"You look great baby. Don't worry about it," Manny told her. He was sitting on the floor next to the camera and she smiled down at him.

I sat down on my apple box and started my line of questioning. I started with the obvious stuff. She told me that she had been a cop for a long time and she joined the force because she wanted to work on her confidence. She had always been shy and thought the police force would toughen her up.

"Did it work?" I asked her.

"Yes I think so," Terry admitted. "As a kid it was the family joke that my dad could always find me behind his legs, hiding from the world. I was so shy that I wouldn't travel anywhere without my security doll, which I carried until I was in eighth grade. The kids used to tease me and if anyone ever spoke to me I'd turn bright red and run."

"Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "You don't seem that way to me at all now."

"As I got older and a little more developed I started to get some attention from the opposite sex." Terry looked down, embarrassed. "I can't believe I am telling you this. I guess this feels like a therapy session. When I talk to my shrink stuff like this pours out."

"That's okay, it's great. Keep going," I told her, slightly encouraged that she had a little bit of crazy in her.

"Yeah, so anyway, after high school I enrolled in the academy. They gave me a really hard time when I first joined. The sergeants said I'd never survive as a cop. As a woman I was a minority and so I knew I had decent odds that I'd get hired after the training. My instructors would have me scream in their faces, or put me in charge of team drills, anything to build up my confidence. It worked. I knew I had to learn to be intimidating if I was going to survive."

"What else do they do to toughen you up?" I asked.

"What didn't they do? I had to do all these obstacle courses, shoot every type of gun. We used to have boxing matches with each other. They even unleashed one of the K9s on me one day to see how I'd do in an emergency situation. They made me clean up blood and guts from real crime scenes to test my resolve. I mean it was pretty brutal."

"But you survived."

"Yes, I survived and am stronger for it. I know I probably don't come off as being very aggressive, but I'm light years away from where I started."

"What do you think it was that made you shy as a kid?"

Terry smiled and looked down. "Look, I know the answer to that question. I've been in therapy most of my life, but I have no intention of stating it on a television show. Okay?"

"Whoa, I just felt some of that aggression, Terry," I said smiling. I was truly intrigued by her and knew the audience would be too. "So tell me about being a female police officer," I asked.

"Being a woman on the force can be hard sometimes. I have to let a lot of things roll off my back. The men can be pretty disrespectful at times. Not Hollywood of course, but some of the other cops."

"Why don't you just tell them to go to hell?" I asked.

"I will if they push me far enough. You have to understand that my version of aggression would probably seem like nothing to a normal person, but it's still hard for me to do. I have to be pushed really hard to get to a _Go to Hell_ kind of point."

I interviewed Terry for a while longer. She said that she was also single and hadn't dated in a while. I didn't know what her psychological issues were and I didn't want to get too personal. Something had obviously happened in her past to make her so shy, and I didn't see the need to bring her back to that place. I wasn't sure if whatever it was affected her relationships with men. She seemed to like the attention she was getting from Mac and Manny but I wasn't sure if she would let it go beyond that. I wondered about her and Hollywood too. Did they have a past? They were both good looking people and would make a gorgeous couple. I wasn't picking up any of that vibe between them. They had more of a brother-sister thing going on.

My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed Hollywood running towards me. "We've got a body," he screamed excitedly.

It took me a minute to process his words. "Wow, that was fast."

Mac winked at me. "Three murders a day in this town."

"So they say," I agreed. "Okay, let's pack up this gear and roll out!"

### Chapter 3.

Hollywood, Terry and I jumped in the police cruiser while Mac and Manny rode in the SUV. I turned on the camera mounted to their rear view mirror and fired off a few questions. "What can you tell me about this homicide? Do they have any leads? Can you describe the victim?"

Hollywood cleared his throat. "Call came in at four forty-seven p.m. The victim is African American, said to be in his mid-twenties. Cause of death is believed to be a gunshot wound to the chest."

"Nice," I complimented him. This guy was a pro.

The crime scene was located on Oxford Avenue off Santa Monica boulevard in Hollywood. This area could get a little seedy. Come nightfall prostitutes would be all over the place along with pimps and drug dealers. This probably wasn't going to be a real high-class murder. We pulled up to a run-down apartment complex and surveyed the scene. There was the outline of a man lying on the lawn in the front courtyard with a white sheet over him and yellow caution tape surrounding him. Several by-standers had gathered around, interested to find out what had happened.

There were two cops standing on the lawn talking to each other. Their patrol car was parked in the driveway with the blue and red lights flashing and I could see that someone was sitting in the back seat. The case was still fresh and the medical examiner hadn't yet arrived. I spotted the SUV parked across the street and indicated to Hollywood that he should park behind it.

Hollywood pulled down the visor to examine himself in the mirror. He adjusted his hair with a comb and straightened his eyebrows. When he was done, we jumped out of the car and walked over to the crew. "Let's get you mic'd up," Mac said to Terry approaching her.

"Bro, that's my job," Manny whined.

It didn't surprise me that these two were fighting over this particular task. The mic pack attached to the back of the subject's pants and I knew they would be checking Terry out for tattoos. Everyone wanted to know if she had a wild side. The microphone's cord would be threaded up her shirt and usually clipped to the bra to keep it in place. With breasts like Terry's, I didn't blame the guys for fighting. They wanted to know the same thing I did – were they real or not?

"Back off man," Manny said and forcibly pushed Mac.

"Sorry," Mac said raising his hands and stepping back.

"Let's focus guys," I said loudly, trying to draw some of the attention off Terry. Terry gave me a small smile and Mac and Manny glanced in my general direction. "I'd like to go over some things before we go inside," I continued. "Hollywood and Terry, the most important thing for you to do is to act natural. I don't want you looking at the camera at all. You'll be wired for sound so we'll hang back a bit so you can do your work. Also, I'm going to need to get releases from anyone that appears on camera but I'll worry about that. It isn't your concern. We need to avoid anything with product logos too, so if you notice a subject is say, drinking a Coke, get them to put it away if you can. Keep the profanities to a minimum, and the more you can describe what you're doing naturally, the better. Thinkers don't play well on camera. Any questions?"

"No questions from me," Hollywood said excitedly. "Let's do this!"

"Great!" I exclaimed. The cops were listening to my direction and taking my advice. It was exhilarating!

"I feel a little nervous," Terry said quietly to Hollywood.

"Just let me do the talking. Follow my lead," Hollywood told her.

"Want to hook up the dude's mic?" Manny asked Mac, teasing him.

After Manny put a mic pack on Hollywood we did some tests. Hollywood was very professional throughout the whole thing and continued to reassure Terry that he would handle things. Once everything was ready to go I said to the cops, "Okay, let's do this!" and off they went.

I held Manny back and whispered in his ear. "Tramp stamp?"

Manny shook his head, a little disappointed that Terry didn't have a hidden tattoo.

Hollywood walked in front with Terry in tow. He was walking normally, but I visualized him gliding across the screen at half speed. His muscles were flexing and his jaw was tight. Eat your heart out ladies, I had another stud on my hands and I was going to exploit him in every way I could. I pictured Hollywood leaning over the perpetrators intimidating the hell out of them, spit flying from his mouth as the veins in his huge neck and forehead flexed. This guy was power and perfection, everything about law enforcement that you could hope for. This guy was the real deal America, and he was all mine.

Hollywood and Terry advanced towards the two cops, prepared to take over the scene. This was good stuff and I was already scribbling in my notebook the date and time so I could have my editor start pulling together the footage.

The two cops on the lawn looked up as we drew near. The first cop looked to be Italian and in his late thirties. He was tall with a broad chest and slicked brown hair. The second cop was shorter and chubby. He was wearing a regulation police uniform that probably fit him five years ago. Now the two bottom buttons were hanging on for dear life, trying desperately to stay closed.

The tall cop smiled, glancing at his partner. "Look Joe. The cavalry's here."

"And they brought an audience," Joe said. "This will be rich. Now all of America can see how dysfunctional these two are."

Suddenly the action-star music I was playing in my head screeched to a halt. Dysfunctional?

"Come on Joe," the taller cop said to his partner. "Maybe Hollywood can _act_ like he knows what he's doing."

"Very funny Pauly," Hollywood said. His back was to the camera so I couldn't tell if he was laughing with them or genuinely uncomfortable.

"Hey, remember the time when Hollywood let a murder suspect walk free because he was late for an audition?" Pauly asked.

Joe laughed. "Oh yeah! Hey, what about the time these two bozos accidentally tripped and dropped evidence into the toilet?"

Both men cackled at their joke. Terry didn't seem amused at being called a "bozo" and glared at Joe.

"Don't get me wrong girl, you're hot as hell," Joe continued. "But you're not going to get brains _and_ looks in the same package."

"Shut up," Terry said quietly, looking away.

I was maybe ten feet away, listening to the conversation through my headset. This was strange. Hollywood was a big, burly cop. His biceps were rock solid and he looked like he could take these two suckers out with a single punch. He was a tough-guy, so why were they joshing him?

"Guys, knock it off," Hollywood said. "They're filming. Can you just tell me a little bit about the case?"

These two were making Hollywood look like a chump and he knew it.

Joe and Pauly exchanged a glance and then put on serious expressions. "It's a murder." Pauly pointed to his police cruiser. "That guy in the back seat killed the guy under the sheet."

"There you go movie stars – you solved the case!" Joe teased. "Hey Pauly, I think this is a first for these two. Congrats!"

Hollywood shook his head and walked away from the men. Terry followed behind with her head down and her pride beaten.

"They've got witnesses. This case is open and shut," Hollywood told me. "Damn it!" he exclaimed and then threw his notepad on the floor dramatically.

"You gonna let those fools push you around like that?" Manny wanted to know.

Terry shrugged. "We don't let it bother us. It's fine, okay?"

Hollywood placed a firm hand on my shoulder and stared at me. "You guys can get out of here. Terry and I will stay behind to clean this mess up. Don't worry Sharpe, we'll get you your case, even if I have to kill someone myself."

*****

I shook my head as Mac pulled the SUV out onto the street and we headed back to the station. In the back seat, Manny rolled down the window and lit up a joint.

"Seriously man?" Mac said to him. "Do you know how bad that unfiltered smoke is for your body?"

"Come on bro, it has medicinal qualities. It's proven," Manny argued.

"If we get pulled over I'm not going down for you," Mac told him.

"Relax," Manny said. "We're working with the cops. Nobody is gonna mess with us."

This particular argument was one that Mac and Manny had frequently, and one that I had learned to tune out. Instead, I was replaying what had just unfolded in my mind. "Did you see how those other cops treated Hollywood and Terry?" I said to the guys, interrupting them. "They're like rent-a-cops."

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting that, especially given the way Hollywood looks," Mac said.

"I'm worried they paired us with a bunch of pansies," I lamented. "We're not gonna get anything out of these two if those stories were true."

"Sharpe, you think Terry's all damaged and shit with that shyness thing?" Manny asked me.

"Sounds like it," I answered.

"I think she has it together pretty well," Mac said. "You can't be a cop if you're screwed up mentally."

Manny and I looked at Mac like he was crazy. "Right," I said. "So the term 'crooked cop' just came out of nothing, right?"

Mac considered that. "Hollywood _did_ offer to murder someone for our show."

"That was creepy, right?" I asked.

Mac laughed. "Um, yeah!"

I started to giggle too. This was just too much.

"I don't think you guys should be worried," Manny said, puffing on his joint. "Sharpe can fix it all in the edit. They'll look like heroes."

"Yeah sure," I said. "If we can get a decent story."

*****

Twenty minutes later I was getting into my Miata back at the production office. It was early still and I hadn't heard from Reid, so I decided to give my mother a ring. Her house was only fifteen minutes from the Culver City office, which beat sitting in traffic for the next two hours to get home. I was starving and she usually ate dinner around six anyway. Ninety-nine percent of what she "cooked" was take-out so I knew adding another person for dinner would be no big deal.

### Chapter 4.

My parents lived in a house on the Venice Canals. Venice California was noteworthy for its man-made canals built in the early 1900s by a developer as part of his Venice of America plan. They were meant to resemble the canals found in their namesake, Venice, Italy. The houses were gorgeous with one more spectacular than the next. My mother, Evelyn Sharpe, had been a television host for a long time and was now doing public appearances and commercials. She had made a lot of money in her day and lived well. My father was a retired set designer who had made our house his personal masterpiece, redesigning every inch of it. Their house was Spanish in style and quite opulent. The front entrance featured large floor tiles with a balcony looking down from the second floor. The house was on a crumbling road with terrible parking but once you were inside you were ensconced in luxury.

I walked inside and found my parents sitting at the kitchen table along with a man I'd never seen before. He looked to be in his forties with black straight hair tucked behind his ears. His face was chiseled, tanned and hard, yet he wore a spacey expression that told me he wasn't firing on all cylinders. On his chest, a tank-top exposed a physique that was probably impressive when he was younger but looked kind of gross now. He sat close to my mother, while my father sat on the opposite side of the table.

"Sit down honey, the food just got here," my mother told me.

"Who's this?" I asked my mother pointing at the man.

"Oh I'm sorry," my mother said, jumping to her feet. "Victoria, this is Vincent. He's my new boyfriend."

"Oh, nice to meet you," I said glancing at my father.

"Isn't he adorable?" my mom whispered in a voice loud enough that everyone could hear.

"Victoria, right? Hi," Vincent said, wiping his face with a napkin and then extending a hand to shake mine."

In many households the scene I had just walked into would be an alarming one, but I was used to it by now. My parents had decided to separate several years ago, but neither one of them was willing to move out of the house they loved so much. Sure the spark had disappeared, but they still liked each other well enough so they decided to continue living together. They were permitted to see other people and slept in separate bedrooms but didn't have to live with that lonely, divorced feeling. The trend was becoming more and more popular in LA. At first my parents told people they were living together "for the kids" but then after a couple of years they got used to the arrangement and never changed it.

My mother was incredibly flirtatious and dated a lot, while my dad preferred to fly solo. They usually ate dinner together, engaged in a little small talk, and retreated at night to their separate corners. My dad thought he made out well in the deal. He got a hot meal and an opportunity to curl up with a good car magazine. As for the parade of men my mother brought home, he didn't pay them much mind.

For my mother, the men were plentiful and came in all shapes, sizes, and ages. She wasn't picky – if the guy made her feel beautiful and young, she was happy. She wasn't looking for another husband, just looking for some fun. I considered myself to be quite the opposite from her in this area. I was not promiscuous or flirtatious or even confident when it came to my looks. But coming from my sixty-something year-old mother, it was endearing. I had stopped being embarrassed by her long ago and instead chose to accept her for who she was.

I shook Vincent's hand and grabbed a seat next to my dad at the table. Tonight my mother had ordered Oaxacan fare. It was becoming more and more popular in LA as it was authentic Mexican cuisine and had a real spicy kick to it. Given that the number of Mexicans in Los Angeles equaled or rivaled the combined number of all other nationalities, authentic food was quite accessible. My mother had ordered chicken mole and a couple of varieties of burritos. The mole was made with chocolate so that was a winner with me.

My father had prepared a pitcher of margaritas and poured me a glass.

"So Vincent, how did you and my mom meet?" I asked, trying to make small talk.

"The beach," Vincent answered plainly. "She looks hot in a bikini." Vincent smiled but then realized who he was talking to. "Oh, sorry. I know that's your mom." Vincent looked over at my father. "Uh, and your wife." He looked over at my mother. "This is kind of weird."

"It's okay, honey," my mother told him, rubbing a hand on his leg. "They understand."

"We _understand_ as in we accept this arrangement, but we don't _understand_. You follow me, Vincent?" I said.

"No," Vincent said honestly.

"Don't tease him honey," my dad told me. "You're fine, Vincent. We're happy to have you for as long as Evelyn will." My dad gave Vincent a reassuring wink.

Vincent's eyes darted around the table before they rested on the margarita in front of him. He decided to take a sip in lieu of saying anything else.

"So what brings you here tonight honey?" my dad asked.

"Free meal," I admitted.

My cell phone buzzed on the table and looked down to see that Reid was calling. My heart jumped in my chest and I suddenly felt very nervous. I looked at my family and smiled. "Um, excuse me, I have to take this."

I picked up the phone and answered it while I walked out of the room. "Hello?"

"Hi," Reid breathed into the phone. His voice was husky and masculine and I detected that he was smiling.

"Hi," I said back, also smiling.

"Honey, I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner. I got caught up in this street-walker case and didn't have a free moment until now."

Calling me "honey" instantly got me giddy. The butterflies were fluttering in my stomach and I felt like a schoolgirl. "Don't get too friendly with any of those hookers," I teased.

"I just might. You left me high and dry last night," Reid said, his voice sounding heavy.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I don't really know what happened."

"I was kissing your neck and I felt your body go limp. I didn't have the heart to wake you although I did think about undressing you for bed."

"I'll have to make it up to you," I told him.

"Tonight?" he asked. "I can be home in an hour. I can pick up some dinner."

I smiled, excited that I would be seeing him. "I'm actually eating dinner with my parents right now. But I can still come over if you want. I can bring you some leftovers."

"Okay great, see you then," he said and hung up.

I skipped back into the kitchen with a big smile on my face. My mother looked up at me suspiciously as I sat back down at the table.

"That was Reid," I explained. "I'm going to meet him later."

"That's the fellow you were tonguing at your sister's wedding, right?" my dad asked.

I felt my face turn crimson.

"Honey, don't get embarrassed. I'd tongue him too if you'd let me," my mother told me.

"Mom, don't talk about kissing my boyfriend when yours is sitting right next to you," I reprimanded.

"Boyfriend? I didn't know it was that serious," my mother said.

"It's not, he's not. That was a poor choice of words. Just show a little respect to Vincent okay?" I said.

Vincent looked up at me, seeming to only just realize there was a conversation going on.

"Vincent and I were tonguing a little while ago on the back deck," my mother teased. "I'd be willing to share him."

I saw Vincent's eyebrows raise while I nearly threw up in my mouth. My father placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and diverted my mother's attention. "So Evelyn, how's your commercial going?"

Years of being married to Evelyn Sharpe had taught my father a thing or two. He knew that allowing my mother to brag about herself would surely deflect the conversation away from me. All actors were the same, they wanted nothing more than to talk about themselves and their accomplishments.

"I filmed the first spot for Bert's yesterday," she told us. "Next week I shoot the next two spots. They're hoping with my name attached it can catapult their product into the number one position."

"Sounds great," my dad told her. "Hey, have you heard about that new decking material they're using these days? It'd be a hell of an improvement to those tired old boards out there."

My mother nodded, considering it. Bert's was a hemorrhoid cream and my mother was their new spokesperson. It was a national campaign, which meant big bucks for her upfront, and then smaller payments every time the commercial aired. It was the kind of coup that could put a nice extension on their house and my dad knew it.

"Whoa, hot!" Vincent cried out after biting into an orange pepper. His face turned red and he took a large swig of his drink. "I thought the orange ones were sweet!"

"No honey," my mother said patting his leg. "You're thinking of bell peppers. You just bit into a habanero."

"Holy God – that is hot!" Vincent continued, standing up from the table.

"Grab a sugar packet from the drawer," my dad instructed him nonchalantly. "That'll cut the heat."

My mother leaned in and spoke to my father and I in a low voice. "I know he's kind of dumb. You don't have to say it."

"After he passes out from the pain, I'll meet you on the back deck. We can talk about composite materials," my dad suggested.

"You're so transparent, Nick. I know you only love me for my money."

Vincent returned to the table sucking on a sugar packet. "Whoo! That'll wake you up!"

"Indeed," I agreed, looking at my watch, suddenly anxious to leave.

"So how's work?" my mother asked me. "Anyone die today?"

"Yes but unfortunately there were witnesses to the crime so I couldn't do much with it."

"That's a bummer," my dad said.

"But they doubled the episode pick-up. We're going to be airing twice a week now."

"Wow honey, that's wonderful!" my dad said. "I'm sure it has a lot to do with your episode being a blockbuster."

I smiled, finally getting the praise I was looking for. "Thanks Dad."

I told my parents about my new team in Hollywood. I mentioned that Hollywood used to be an actor and asked if my mom knew him. She didn't recognize the name, but was curious to know if he was cute. I was about to warn her about being respectful of Vincent again, but then I thought better of it.

*****

I spent the next forty-five minutes sitting in traffic, deep in thought about Reid. I didn't know if I should run up to him when I saw him or play it cool. Should I kiss him? Hug him? It annoyed me that I had to play these silly games with Reid. I liked him, why couldn't I just admit that? Fear of rejection was the resounding reply. We just needed some more time together, to get to know each other better. Surely after sex these encounters wouldn't be so awkward, right?

As I neared his house my grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly. I was so consumed with the play-by-play I was enacting in my head that I forgot about the alignment problem my Miata had. If I didn't hold the steering wheel tightly it would veer off to the side sharply. Before I could react, I felt my car jerk right and I went careening onto Reid's front lawn. "Shit!" I screamed as I slammed the breaks and stopped just inches from his front stoop.

This was not the first time this had happened. This was actually now the second time and it also the second time I had been invited to his house. Literally every time I went there I destroyed his lawn. I quickly threw the car into reverse, hoping he hadn't heard the commotion. My car was light and with luck there wouldn't be any tire marks. As I pulled into Reid's driveway I caught a glimpse of him standing in the doorway, shaking his head.

"Shit," I muttered again. I turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car carrying the Mexican leftovers. I gave Reid a big smile. "Hi."

"Do you always have to make such a big entrance?" Reid asked smiling back at me.

Reid was dressed in jeans and a brown soft T-shirt that hugged his pecks and biceps and his feet were bare. He was close to six feet with dark hair and dreamy brown eyes. He was in shape, with a body that looked naturally toned, not overworked. I felt a butterfly in my belly as I walked towards him.

"Sorry about that," I smiled, unable to disguise my excitement at seeing him. He was at the top of a set of three stairs and I walked towards him.

"It happens," he told me. "Somewhat frequently actually." He opened the door behind him and I grazed his body as I walked past him. His shirt was really soft and he smelled amazing.

Inside, the house was a modest two bedroom ranch. It had an open floor plan with the kitchen and living room all in one large space. Reid had re-done the kitchen himself by hand, a fact that made it that much more impressive. The man was good with his hands in more ways than one.

I dropped my purse on the couch and turned to face Reid. I was surprised to see that he was right behind me. "Oh, hi. Um, here's your dinner," I said holding up the brown paper bag.

Reid took the bag looking a little uncomfortable. "Listen, I want you to know that I have a lot of respect for you. I know I gave you a hard time when we worked together, but I want to be clear on that."

"Okay. Are you having a hard time with Missy or something?"

"No, I just wanted to get that straight."

"Well, great. I respect you too," I said, slightly confused.

"Great," Reid said and placed the doggie bag on a nearby table. "I'm really not that hungry, for food at least." He snaked his hands around my waist and pulled me towards him.

So much for my carefully calculated plans! This would work just fine. He kissed my lips, gently at first, and then with more intensity. I kissed him back and ran my hands over his back. The one butterfly in my stomach was turning into a swarm of them. He tasted like sex. His tongue was warm and soft, like molten chocolate lava. There was a couch behind us and we both flopped onto it. Reid laid on top of me, his lips traveling to my neck. He was definitely a neck-man and I wasn't complaining. I felt a shiver run down my entire body as he nibbled and sucked. I squeezed the back of his neck, enjoying the sensation until something suddenly clicked in my head.

"Hang on," I said, pulling his lips off me. "Were you just giving me that respect crap so you could get in my pants?"

Reid looked at me sheepishly.

"Oh my God!" I said. "What are you, fifteen? Next you're going to ask me to wear your high school pin."

"Hey, I've been out of the dating scene for a while. I just thought it was a little weird that I invited you over here to basically screw you. I didn't even buy you dinner. In fact, you bought me dinner."

"Well when you say it like that I sound like a slut," I said pushing him off me. I sat up and thought a moment. "Does the fact that I want to screw you have any bearing here? I mean, we're adults and we can eat some dessert after if you want."

Reid laughed. "Okay that sounds like a good plan. I _respect_ that decision." Reid jumped back on top of me and I fell back down on the couch. On one hand I wanted him to rip my clothes off so we could do this, but on the other hand I wanted him to take it slow. Especially after he had just called me easy!

Reid straightened up and pulled his shirt over his head exposing a muscular torso. His chest was hairless except for a small patch under his belly button. It was like an arrow to the goods below. I pulled my shirt off too, revealing a purple lacey bra. I had taken the right precautions that morning, including shaving my legs and underarms and wearing proper underwear, just in case.

Reid kissed my lips gently. I reached up for him but he pulled away, teasing me. He moved his lips to my neck again and then down to my chest. "I've been thinking about this all day," Reid whispered as he moved my bra aside and tasted my nipples.

I wrapped my legs around him and moaned both loving the sensation and the fact that he had been thinking about me. I could feel the bulge in his pants and knew how much he wanted this. I wanted it too – maybe even more than he did. The two of us had both been on a major dry streak in the sex department and needed to get back in the game.

Reid reached behind my back and undid my bra strap, then pulled it off over my arms. Then his lips were back at my nipples, tasting and sucking. I felt my purse in my back and realized I was lying on it. I pulled it out and dropped it onto the floor at our feet.

"Maybe we should go in the bedroom," I suggested.

Reid looked at me with lust and hunger in his eyes and nodded. He helped me to my feet then kissed me again passionately and intently. We were both topless now and our bodies pressed together. He ran his large hands up and down my back and kissed me with gorgeous, plump lips that encased mine. He kissed in a way that no man had ever done before and it drove me wild.

As he grabbed my hand to lead me to the bedroom, I heard my phone ring. We both froze. "Sorry," I said. "I just have to check." I grabbed my phone, praying it was my mother or sister or someone I could ignore. It wasn't, it was Hollywood. I quickly answered the phone. "Hollywood, what's up? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

Reid decided not to waste any time and ran his tongue down my neck as I listened to Hollywood speak. I got chills down every part of my body and could hardly concentrate.

"We've got a winner," Hollywood said excitedly.

"Huh?" I asked, running my hand through Reid's hair again.

"An actress in the Hollywood Hills. She was discovered dead in her bathroom in the tub," Hollywood told me.

I stood up a little straighter and pushed Reid off. I held up my finger in the "one moment" gesture. "Is she anyone famous?" I asked.

"She did commercials. She's not A list, but she's recognizable."

I thought about it. Assembling my crew to shoot a crime scene was the last thing I had on my mind right now. I had a super hot guy panting over me and I was going to have to reject him once again. I toyed with the idea of quitting my job immediately, but that seemed impulsive. Plus it would be hard to rationalize when I wasn't in such a heated state.

I realized I didn't have much of a choice in the matter - I had to check it out. "Okay, I'm in the Valley right now and I have to call the guys. Can I meet you at the station? I want to make sure I'm in the car with you so we can record you pulling up to the crime scene."

"Sure Sharpe, I'll meet you there."

I hung up my phone and sighed. "I shouldn't have answered that. That would have been an excellent call to miss."

"You have to go?" Reid asked. I frowned at him. Reid sighed grandly and flopped back down on the couch. "I think my balls are beyond blue at this point, they're purple right about now."

I frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Call me if you get home before twelve okay? Maybe one."

"Okay." I smiled and leaned over to kiss him, taking one last taste of those ripe lips. We probably kissed for five minutes before I finally broke away. "I'll call you," I said and pulled my bra and shirt back on. I walked to the front door and Reid followed me.

At the door he kissed me once again, pressing my back against the door and driving his tongue into my mouth, kissing me with all the passion he could muster. I felt my knees go weak and was grateful the door was there to support me. This guy was definitely good.

I walked, or rather, hobbled out to my car. I didn't know how this relationship was going to work with both of us being on-call all the time. Reid would have to quit his job one of these days. His parents were big-time talent agents and he had a trust fund. I did too, but I was too proud to use it. We both were.

I turned on my car and started making calls – first to Manny and then to Mac. Manny was so laid-back that he almost never said no, while Mac gave me a harder time. He had been doing circuit training for the past two hours and was about to step into the sauna when I called. He whined that I was interfering with his routine but I didn't care. Stepping away from something I had been deprived of for months was way harder than a damn sauna. Mac finally agreed to meet me at the station in twenty minutes and we hung up.

### Chapter 5.

When I pulled into the station Hollywood and Terry were sitting in their squad car, both in full uniform. Manny was smoking a joint behind the dumpsters and Mac was sitting in the SUV meditating. I parked the Miata and quickly jumped into the backseat with Hollywood and Terry.

"Thanks for waiting for me," I said.

Terry smiled and Hollywood threw the car into gear. "Let's do this!" he exclaimed.

We peeled out of the parking lot with Mac and Manny following us in the production vehicle. I flipped on the video camera in the car and threw out some questions.

"Hollywood, can you talk about where we're going?" I asked.

"Sure," Hollywood said as he turned off Wilcox onto Sunset Boulevard. "We got a call about thirty minutes ago...Sharpe let me redo that. I don't want us to seem like we are slow or lazy, okay?"

"Sure," I said slowly, once again remembering the cons of working with actors.

"We got a call five minutes ago that a woman was found dead in her bathtub. We're not sure about the cause of death so we're going to investigate," Hollywood said.

"The ME is already on-site," Terry added. "Hopefully he can give us a better idea of what happened."

Hollywood glared at Terry for a moment while his GPS clicked, leading him along the way. I appreciated a man who used a GPS. Mac would never be caught dead using one, but I thought they were great. I had been lost in this town far too many times not to appreciate them. Hollywood turned the car up Laurel Canyon and we started driving into the Hollywood hills. I liked this area much more than the prostitute-ridden location of the earlier murder. Hollywood was a funny town – you could go from poor to rich within a matter of blocks.

"Do you know anything about the victim?" I asked Hollywood.

"I'm told that she's an actress – C-level. Mostly commercials," Hollywood answered.

"This is a ritzy neighborhood," Terry commented. "She must have done pretty well."

Once again, Hollywood turned and glared at Terry. He seemed annoyed she was taking away his spotlight. Out of nowhere Terry screamed and I saw a human form fly onto the windshield. I heard a loud thud as the body fell onto the pavement next to our police cruiser.

"Shit! Damn it!" Hollywood shouted and slammed on the brakes. When we stopped Hollywood threw the car into park and opened his door. "Damn bikers, we don't have time for this!"

Hollywood got out of the car while Terry and I sat there frozen. I looked out of the window and saw a young guy slowly standing up, dusting himself off. His bicycle was lying next to him in a mangled heap. He seemed okay, just a little dazed and surprised that a policeman had just hit him.

"You're okay, shake it off," Hollywood said to the young man.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" the guy demanded.

"I should ask you the same question. Are we done here?"

The young man stared at Hollywood in utter shock. "But you totaled my bike."

"I can't acknowledge blame here, you understand. You have a nice evening." Hollywood held his hand to his head giving the guy a quick salute and got back into the cruiser.

The kid was still staring in disbelief as we pulled away. Luckily he was so bewildered by the situation that he didn't remember to write the license plate number of the police cruiser down.

"Sharpe, you can erase that footage for me, right?" Hollywood asked.

"Uh, sure," I answered, a bit bewildered myself. "You almost killed that guy you know."

"He's fine. We can't afford any more delays. We need to get to the crime scene."

I looked down at my phone to see a text coming in from Manny. _Did he just kill that guy?_ the text asked.

_Not killed, just maimed_. I wrote back.

I saw Terry stifling a laugh from the side mirror. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

*****

We followed the numbers on the mailboxes until we found house 365. From the front it looked like a simple, modern little house. It was really just a garage door and a tiny front entranceway. Most of the houses in the hills were built down the mountainside with only the tops peeking out at street level. While the houses didn't look like much from the street, inside they had million dollar views.

Out front there were several cars parked, including the medical examiner's van. There was caution tape across the front door, preventing onlookers from entering the dwelling.

Mac jumped out of the car and grabbed his camera. We needed an establishing shot of the crime scene. Hollywood and Terry let Manny mic them up while I got the lay of the land. I thought about the dead woman in the bathtub. She was probably naked and I worried that her family might not let us film her. Then I thought about the motley crew that I was working with – I hoped we could make a story out of this.

Once the cops were all wired up, I asked my crew to follow them into the house.

"Sharpe, do I look okay?" Hollywood asked.

"You look fine, Hollywood. Come on, let's go," I answered.

We entered the house with cameras rolling. I marked my log with the date and time and location of the scene. There were a couple cops milling about in the front foyer. The house had a sitting room, a bathroom, and a garage on this level. There was a staircase off to the right, which led to the floor below.

"Hollywood Homicide Division," Hollywood said to one of the officers. "Where's the body?"

"Two flights down," one of the cops said to him.

I was relieved that the cop had answered him honestly, without any jabs or sarcasm thrown in.

The house itself was quite odd. The floors were totally open concept and relatively small in size. The views, on the other hand, couldn't be beat. The next floor down was the sleeping area and consisted of a massive bed with some furniture around it, and one of the biggest bathrooms I had ever seen.

We stepped into the bathroom that was the crime scene. It began with a long hallway that had four shower heads in it. The walls were covered in tile with drains in the floor. The whole thing struck me as extremely odd. It looked like some sort of elaborate torture chamber. Once we had passed through the showers, the bathroom opened up to reveal an ornate antique white vanity with gold leaf trim filled with cabinets and drawers that were stuffed to the brim. There was makeup, hair products and the like filling every opening. Above the vanity was a large glass mirror that went all the way up to the ceiling. The tub was in the center of the room – a large claw-foot tub with gold fixtures. The actress was lying in the tub, undressed, with her hands hanging over the sides. Her head was underwater and her eyes were open. The scene was freakish. She had auburn hair and full lips, and because I could see her body so completely, I knew she had a slim figure. Too slim.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" I heard a voice ask.

I looked up to see the officer in charge glaring at me and the crew. "I can handle this," Hollywood said and walked over to the cop. Based on what I had seen from Hollywood thus far, I didn't have much confidence that he could handle this at all. They spoke in hushed tones and Hollywood did some hand gesturing, pointing at me and the crew. While they talked I analyzed the face of the woman in the water. I recognized her from somewhere, but couldn't quite place her.

"She's the Mood girl," Terry told me, reading my thoughts. "Rachel Roads."

"Yeah that's it," I exclaimed a little too loudly. My voice reverberated in the tile bathroom. "I knew I recognized her."

Mood shampoo was popular for a while. It essentially turned your hair into a mood ring. If you were sad your hair would droop. If you wanted to party, your hair would have lots of volume, and if you were angry it would bunch in tight curls. They had to take it off the market after numerous customer complaints started rolling in. Sometimes women's emotions were best kept a secret. "More than one woman got in hot water using that product," I commented.

Terry, Mac, and Manny glared at me.

I looked down at the dead woman in the bathtub and realized how poorly I had phrased that. "Uh, I, uh, sorry. That was in poor taste." Still, I knew it would be a great line for the promo piece so I noted it in my log book.

Hollywood walked over to us a moment later with the officer in charge following. "Everyone, this is Mike Ripshaw. He's going to let us take over from here."

I stepped forward holding out a hand. "Thanks Mike. I'm Victoria Sharpe with the show _Murder Live!_. I'd love to capture you on camera if you would permit me?"

Mike stared at me for a moment then shrugged. "Okay, sure. Is this gonna be on the news?"

"No, but Hollywood here can let you know when it'll air. Can I get you to sign this release?" I pulled a clipboard out of my bag with a stack of releases on it. I grabbed a pen and handed the clipboard to him.

"What does this say exactly?" Mike asked.

"That we can use your name and likeness in connection with the show," I answered.

"My likeness? What does that mean?"

"Your image." When it came to contract questions I liked to be sufficiently vague. I wasn't a lawyer, and honestly if Mike read the release, he probably wouldn't agree to sign it. It said things like: _I grant the right to the unrestricted, absolute, perpetual and worldwide right for any purpose to create, reproduce, copy or modify my photograph, voice and image_. It was my job to get them to sign the release as quickly as possible and then take it away from them so they wouldn't have time to read it. "You can just sign over here," I told Mike.

Mike did as he was told and I quickly tucked the release back into my bag. Mac moved behind me with his camera and Manny followed with the boom. "Can you please tell me your name and title?" I asked Mike.

"Mike Ripshaw. I'm the commanding officer at this crime scene. But now I'm going to turn it over to these guys," Mike said gesturing at Hollywood and Terry.

"What can you tell us about what happened?" I asked Mike.

Hollywood and Terry leaned in, listening to his response. "The victim's husband called this in. He found her in the tub, dead. He didn't try to revive her, he just called us."

"Does that behavior strike you as odd?" I asked him.

"Kind of. I mean if my wife was in a tub like that I'd at least pull her out and try to save her. But he said she looked pretty dead so he just called us. We found a pill next to her on the floor that we're having analyzed. Right now this is looking like an OD."

My heart sank. Was I ever going to get a murder? I had a deadline and couldn't spend day and night chasing dead ends. I needed something real here.

"At least that's one theory. The husband says she had a drug problem so that's his assumption too. But you can talk to Arnie. He just stepped out to reload his camera," Mike said.

I frowned. "Okay thanks."

"Well I'll turn this over to you now," Mike said to Terry and Hollywood. "The husband's name is Eric and he's sitting on the balcony. Have a nice night."

Mike headed out, leaving the five us of standing in the room with the dead woman. I had to admit I was getting a little better at looking at bodies and this one wasn't that gruesome. She looked like she was taking a nap under water, with her eyes opened.

Hollywood looked like he had been kicked in the gut by the news of the OD. He stared down at the red capsule on the floor that had a evidence marker next to it. Terry placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on guys, we have to go through the motions here. We don't have confirmation on the cause of death and I don't think we should rule anything out yet," Terry said.

Hollywood and I both nodded. A moment later Arnie came in with his camera. "Hey Terry, how you doing girl?"

"Hi Arnie," Terry said. "You remember my partner?"

"Sure, Hollywood, right?" Arnie asked.

Hollywood nodded and reached out a hand. "I'm working on a TV show with my crew here and I'd appreciate it if we could talk to you on camera. Is that okay Arnie? It'd mean a lot to me."

"Oh, sure," Arnie said, seemingly aware of the show we were filming.

I whipped out the release and had it signed moments later. Mac powered on his camera and Manny held up the boom. "Go ahead guys," I told the cops. "Just act natural and talk about what you've found."

"Mike told us the cause of death is looking like an OD," Hollywood said.

"I don't know about that. There were a couple of indicators that some fowl play may have been involved. For one, there are some scratches around her face. They could have been self-inflicted or from something else, but they're a little strange. There's also her nail beds. They're very yellow in color, which can sometimes indicate poison in the system. Of course a large quantity of drugs can also act as poison and produce the same effect. We found a pill next to the tub that we'll have analyzed, but even so that might not be the same pill she took."

"Thanks Arnie," Terry said, "We'll take a look around her bedroom and maybe we'll find something."

Arnie had boosted my confidence slightly by saying there was a chance the actress could have been murdered. It meant we had a shot.

Terry and Hollywood walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. The cameras were still rolling as they talked about next steps. "We have to interview the husband," Hollywood said to Terry.

"I say we don't mention anything about the poisoning," Terry suggested. "We'll go the OD or even suicide route and see what we can get from him. It seems weird to me that he was so cavalier about her passing – you know?"

Hollywood started at Terry for a moment before he finally spoke. "Let's search her room first and then we can find the husband."

The two of them moved slowly around the large, expansive bedroom. They opened drawers and looked in closets. Terry pulled an android phone out of the side table drawer. She unlocked it and looked through the phone. "I've got something here," she announced. Hollywood rushed over to her and whispered in her ear.

"Hey, no secrets guys," I said.

Terry looked confused, but then nodded and replaced the phone in the drawer.

"We're just going to redo that one," Hollywood said to me. "Ready, action!"

I looked at him sideways. What the hell was this guy doing?

"I got something!" Hollywood exclaimed as he pulled the phone from the drawer.

"Oh come on," I said under my breath.

Terry ran over. "What?" Her acting skills weren't very good and this whole thing was feeling totally staged.

"She's got a list here in the notes. It's titled _Suspicious Characters_ ," Hollywood announced. "Whoa, look at this. It says in here: _If I am ever found dead the following people should be investigated_."

"You're making that up!" I said breaking the invisible wall that existed between cast and crew.

"Sharpe, I swear!" he said passing me the phone.

I looked and saw a series of strange descriptions such as: _hulking man in car – license plate DHV 677_ and _woman always on my street – plate RW3 143_. I shook my head. It was one thing to lie on camera about his love life or the relationship with his parents, but it was another to fake evidence at a crime scene. I knew we had been with him the whole time so it wasn't likely that he had planted it, but after almost killing that cyclist on the way here, I wouldn't put it past him. "Just keep talking to each other," I instructed.

"She's an actress," Terry said. "I guess she gets a lot of people stalking her or looking at her. This is probably nothing, but we should check it out."

"Agreed," Hollywood nodded.

While the cops continued to look around the room, I pulled out my phone and typed Rachel Roads' name into the internet. A bunch of search results came up that I looked through. She was married to Eric Roads and had taken his last name. Prior to that her last name was Moore. She was the daughter of Cecil Moore – one of the wealthiest and most successful producers this town had ever seen. He had been dead for a couple years now after a heart attack, but he was still a legend. I looked around. Having Cecil Moore as a father certainly explained the fancy address that Rachel had.

"Guys, do you know who Rachel's father was?" I asked. "Cecil Moore."

"No way!" Hollywood said, pulling my phone away to take a look. He scrolled through some of the stories, reading more.

I whispered to Mac, "Should it concern us that these two didn't think to look Rachel up on the web?"

"Yes," Mac agreed.

After Hollywood finished reviewing my research, he and Terry spent a little more time looking around the room. There were bottles of diet pills in various places, and Hollywood and Terry made sure Arnie had a sample of each for analysis.

Although the odds were that this was an OD, we still decided to continue filming on the off chance that the husband had anything to do with this. Besides, with such a famous father this story could be big news. I wondered if her husband would be willing to sign my release. He might want to get his big fancy lawyer involved and then we'd never get his sign-off.

*****

Eric Roads was in his mid-thirties. He was moderately good looking but also a disheveled mess. His button-down shirt was oversized and he wore khaki pants that looked like they had been crumpled up on the floor for a while before he had put them on. He had a bit of a gut and his hair was light brown and fine. I knew after discovering his wife dead he wouldn't look his best, but the wrinkles were probably there well before he had found her. They had a beautiful house and lots of money so it was weird that he was dressed like a poor man.

We were one floor below the bedroom now, on the lowest level of the house. This floor contained a kitchen and eating area as well as a bathroom and office. Eric sat on the back deck, seated on an outdoor wicker chair, smoking a cigarette. The night air was calm and the view was beautiful.

"Mr. Roads, I'm detective Johnson," Hollywood announced. "We'd like to speak to you for a few minutes."

Eric looked up at me and my crew. "Am I on _Cops_?"

"No this isn't _Cops_ ," Hollywood said, with an heir of disgust. This is for _Murder Live!_ which is a very high-end program."

"There was no murder committed here," Eric said flatly.

Hollywood had made a big mistake by revealing the name of the show because it instantly flagged Eric that he was under suspicion. "We don't just handle murder cases," I lied. "All sorts of crimes actually. _Murder Live!_ is just the title."

"Well I don't want to be on television," Eric said taking another puff. He exhaled and threw the cigarette over the side of the balcony.

"You'll sign that release or I'll break your damn arm," Hollywood roared.

Everyone turned to look at Hollywood like he was a mad man. I understood he wanted a good story, but it wasn't necessary to go to such lengths. If he didn't watch it, he was going to be stripped of his badge before the week ended.

Terry placed a comforting hand on Hollywood's arm. She spoke to Eric. "Uh, what my partner meant to say was that we'd love to film you for the show. If you don't want to appear on camera that's perfectly fine, however we'll have to write you a ticket for throwing a lit object into the hills. This is a brush fire zone, but I'm sure you know that."

I was starting to like Terry's style. Eric thought about it for a moment. "Fine, I've got nothing to hide."

"Great!" I said and handed him my agreement. While Eric signed, Hollywood and Terry pulled up two wicker chairs and faced him. Mac threw his camera on a tripod and starting rolling while Manny held the boom.

"Let's start from the beginning," Hollywood said. "When did you find Rachel?"

"I got home around eight," Eric began. "Rachel and I co-existed. We didn't like each other much so I didn't make much effort to find her right away. Besides, she basically lived in our bathroom – it was her sanctuary." He held up his fingers making air quotes as he said "sanctuary" and rolled his eyes. "Rachel didn't like me to come in there. She had a lot of problems, and a lot of fears, too. For some reason that room made her feel safe."

"What kind of problems did she have?" Hollywood asked.

"An eating disorder for one. She was really thin, grossly so. I never knew if she was puking in there or what. She took pills too. Diet pills mostly, I think."

"So when did you discover her?"

"Maybe eight thirty. I had to use the john and I found her lying in the tub, you know, not breathing. So I called you guys."

This guy was being really nonchalant about the whole thing which was really eerie and awesome at the same time.

"Did you try to resuscitate her?" Terry asked.

"She looked pretty far gone. I poked her a couple times with a toothbrush and she didn't flinch so I figured she was lights out."

I think my mouth must have been hanging open with a look of disgust because he straightened up when he caught my eye. "I don't mean to sound like an asshole here, I guess I was expecting for this to happen eventually. Some people handle grief differently, right? I mean you guys have probably seen it all."

Terry and Hollywood didn't acknowledge his question, they just kept moving the interview forward. "What did you think was the cause of death?" Terry asked.

That was the second question she had thrown out there and Hollywood snapped. "Are you doing this or am I?"

Terry didn't want to argue. She threw up her hands and motioned that he should proceed.

"Dude, don't talk to her like that," Manny shouted out, once again breaking the invisible wall. "Come on man, you're partners."

"My _partner_ and I have an agreement," Hollywood countered.

This bickering was getting on my nerves. "What the hell does it matter?" I blurted out. "This is an OD case, right? Who the hell is going to care about watching an anorexic shampoo girl who offs herself?" I looked at Eric. "No offense. I don't mean to sound like an asshole, but people grieve differently, right?"

"All right everybody knock it off!" Terry said with as much gusto as she could muster. "We have to explore all the facts, as that's what _investigators_ do. Now if you three want to leave that's fine, but Hollywood and I need to complete this interview. Am I clear?"

Everyone was silent including Eric. Finally we all nodded and continued rolling.

"Answer the lady's question, pal," Hollywood ordered Eric.

"What was the question again?" Eric asked, confused.

"Did your wife OD or what? Don't screw around with me either," Hollywood said, switching into a tougher character.

"Yeah I think so. I mean, that's what I thought when I found her. I figured she took too many of those diet pills finally."

"And what if I told you the medical examiner found evidence that could prove otherwise?" Hollywood asked.

Eric looked like he wasn't buying it. "Yeah right."

"Did your wife have any enemies, Sir?" Hollywood asked.

"Wait, are you being serious? You think she was murdered?"

"Did your wife have any enemies?" Hollywood asked again.

"I don't know man. She was crazy. She was always paranoid that people were watching her or following her. She said being a celebrity came with a price. I told her she wasn't famous enough for anyone to stalk her, but maybe they were after her money. You know who her father was, right?"

"Of course we do. We've thoroughly done our research," Hollywood said.

"Murderer!" a woman's voice screamed from behind us.

We all turned to see a woman in her early sixties running towards us. Mac swung his camera around to capture the scene. The woman had on a pair of gray designer jeans and gray silk top with a jeweled necklace. Her hair was black with a streak of gray and fell to her shoulders with just the right amount of wave to keep it stylish. She looked wealthy and well put together but her face read pure hate.

"I knew you'd do it! I knew you'd take my baby away from me!"

Eric jumped up, holding his hands out in front of him. "There are police here, Mona. Don't say crazy shit like that. I had nothing to do with this!"

Mona ran over to him, backing him up to the edge of the patio. She was in such a rage that she didn't seem to notice the crew of three people filming her.

"Did you get one of your girlfriends to do it?" Mona spat at him.

"Are you insane? I didn't do this. These people are the police. Don't start making up stories like that!"

Mona, for the first time, noticed that Hollywood, Terry, and my crew were all standing on the patio, watching. Mac was having trouble getting them both in the shot so he snapped the camera off the tripod and stepped back. Mona looked up slowly, almost menacingly to look at the boom Manny was holding over her head. Her eyes, red with rage focused on Manny. He shrunk in his skin, trying desperately to escape her gaze.

"What the hell is going on here?" Mona asked, staring at Manny.

"Um..." I said, stepping in. "Ma'am, we're working on a television show where we follow some police officers while they conduct an investigation. I'm guessing you're Mona Moore? I'm a huge fan of your husband's work."

"Thank you," she said blandly then looked me over, waiting.

Terry jumped up. "Ma'am, why don't you and I talk inside, okay?"

Mona thought for a moment and then nodded her head. Eric was standing silently, pinned against the railing while Terry led Mona into the house.

I tapped Terry's shoulder and whispered. "Wait for us okay? I need to get your conversation on tape."

Terry craned her neck towards Hollywood then glared at me. I knew she felt uncomfortable taking away Hollywood's spotlight but we couldn't worry about hurting his feelings all the time. They were a team and should act that way. "We'll finish with Eric and then come meet you," I told her.

Terry reluctantly nodded her head and took Mona inside.

"That was some crazy shit," Manny said, finally breathing again.

"Is this like one of those shows were they prank people?" Eric asked hopefully.

"No man," Hollywood told him.

Eric's face sank. He moved away from the railing and sat back in his chair. "Are you guys done with me?"

"Not even close pal," Hollywood said.

The interview went on for twenty more minutes. Hollywood stayed in his tough cop character and was pretty convincing at it. Eric explained that his mother-in-law, Mona had never thought he was good enough for her daughter. Rachel's father had passed away and so Rachel was all Mona had left. It was no secret that Cecil Moore was extremely wealthy and so Mona would often provide financial assistance to Rachel while she was struggling with her acting career. Eric said she hadn't worked in close to a year. She had become depressed and lived a life of solitude, mostly in her bathroom.

Hollywood asked if Rachel had a will or life insurance and Eric said that she did. He would stand to inherit the house and the money on the policy – about half a million dollars. Although that was a decent motive coupled with Mona's accusation that he was a murderer, this still felt like an OD case to me. Eric didn't strike me as the murdering type. If he was, he was downright psychotic playing it this cool.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Hollywood asked him, referencing Mona's earlier outburst.

"No one special," Eric said. "I'm married you know."

"Did you ever cheat on your wife, Sir?" Hollywood asked, leaning in.

Eric nodded. "All the time."

*****

I grabbed Hollywood for a quick on-camera interview with the hills as the backdrop. "Do you feel you have enough evidence to bring Eric in?" I asked.

"I'd do it Sharpe, but Terry will kill me. We don't even know that this is a murder yet. My instincts are telling me he's connected to this somehow, but I don't think we're going to find blood on his hands."

"Do you guys need any music for your show?" a voice asked from behind me.

I turned to see Eric standing there holding a tablet. "That's what I do. I write scores and jingles, mostly commercials. That's how Rachel and I met. I was just thinking if you were looking for a soundtrack I might have something for you." Eric pressed some buttons on his tablet and a haunting tune played.

I think I must have had my mouth hanging open again because he quickly straightened up. "I didn't mean to come across as an asshole or anything. You know this town. You never know where you'll find your next hookup. I just thought I should ask."

Mac bobbed his head to the beat. "That's not bad. It's got a real sinister feel."

I gave Eric a slanted smile. "Don't call us, we'll call you."

### Chapter 6.

Terry had managed to calm Mona down. I found them sitting in the kitchen sipping a cup of tea at the table. I pulled up a chair. "Is it okay for me to sit?"

Mona nodded. "Sorry about my behavior earlier."

"No need to apologize. You had a very good excuse."

"That son of a bitch is probably thrilled to death," Mona spat.

I shrugged. I couldn't deny that he seemed to be. "Maybe you'd like to tell us your side of the story?"

" _Us_? Meaning your television crew?"

"Well yes. Eric appeared on camera, I think it's only fair that you should have a chance to tell us about your daughter and what she meant to you," I said.

"If he's a suspect, we need to know about it," Terry added.

"That's not a good idea," Mona said. "I think you know who my husband was. I can't be involved in something like this."

"You're involved whether you want to be or not," I pressed. "Eric said some pretty horrible things about you. I want you to be able to have a voice too." I was lying of course, but I needed to pull out all of the stops to get her to sign my release. In the reality TV business we used this technique a lot. You could manipulate people pretty well if they thought someone else was speaking ill of them. I knew it was low and I wasn't proud of it.

Mona thought for a while, considering my words. Finally she nodded.

I whipped out my release before she could change her mind and handed her a pen. Once she had signed, I stood up from the table in search of my crew.

I grabbed Hollywood and told him he could take the lead on this interview. My phone vibrated and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was a text from Reid that asked _Almost finished?_ I had forgotten about him for the past few hours. Between Eric's callousness and Mona's hysterics, I had seen enough excitement to keep my mind occupied. I frowned and texted back: _No, sorry. Get some sleep._ Foiled again!

Mac and Manny set up Mona's interview right there in the kitchen out of sight from Eric who was still outside on the back patio. Hollywood and Terry sat at the table with Mona, while I hung back with the crew. Mac grabbed our handheld camera, which was small and lightweight. It was typically used if we need a second angle or a less conspicuous camera. Mac set it up on a tripod to get a shot of Hollywood and Terry while the shiny new ARRI was pointed at Mona. These two angles would allow us to intercut the video.

"State your name and occupation," Hollywood began.

"Mona Moore. I'm, a, I don't work. I'm a philanthropist."

Translation: super rich.

"I understand you're a widow," Hollywood continued.

"Yes, it has been three years now," she said flatly. "Cecil and I had a wonderful life together."

"And what did your husband do for a living?" Hollywood asked.

Mona gave him an annoyed look. "Cecil was a television producer."

"Tell us about Eric's relationship with your daughter," Hollywood said.

"They've been married for six years," she began. She shook her head and looked down for a moment, still processing what had just happened. "I guess I should say they _were_ married." She took a deep breath and looked up at Hollywood, trying to regain her composure. "My husband was very opposed to Rachel getting into the business. He said that if she wanted to do it, it would have to be on her own. He didn't want his success to enable her. He wanted her to learn to do things on her own. Rachel was just as stubborn as her father and so she pursued acting against his wishes. She met Eric who was struggling too and they hit it off." Mona looked at Hollywood and then Terry. They were attentive and listening so she continued.

"After a while, Rachel starting booking commercials and Eric's music career began to develop. But as Rachel became more famous, Eric started getting angrier and angrier. He was doing okay but he was never going to make money like she was writing those silly jingles. Every time a Mood commercial aired she'd get a check. Rachel was starting to get recognized on the street and booking more gigs, and that fueled Eric's jealousy. He started seeing other women but rather than leaving him, Rachel convinced herself that it was because she wasn't good enough or pretty enough. She started dieting and hiding at home. She missed auditions and withdrew herself from the spotlight. She couldn't stand the embarrassment of being in a failed marriage. Cecil had never approved of Eric but Rachel was too bullheaded to let her father be right, even after he passed away.

"So she got paid a royalty each time a Mood commercial aired?" Hollywood asked, completely missing the point of the interview.

Mona nodded. "It helped but it wasn't enough. She needed to keep working but couldn't bring herself to. She was so depressed."

"What kind of money are we talking? I always wanted to get into commercials myself, but it's a tough business to break in to."

Mac turned to look at me, his eyes bulging, shocked by the insensitivity. I wasn't close enough to kick Hollywood so I cleared my throat really loudly instead.

Hollywood straightened up and changed his line of questioning. "You said he was seeing other women. Did Rachel have evidence of that or are you just speculating?"

"Everyone knew. He was so blatant about it. We called them _Eric's whores_ , but really he was the whore." She frowned. "I know that isn't a dignified way to speak, but there was no other way to describe them. He'd come with Rachel to set and then hit on the other actresses. It wasn't for lust either as he used women to get work. He thought if he could get a gig writing jingles on a national campaign that it would open all sorts of doors for him."

"Did Rachel have affairs as well?" Hollywood asked.

Mona looked shocked by the question. She straightened up in her chair. "Never."

Terry was ringing her hands, clearly frustrated that she couldn't participate in this interview. She knew Hollywood would snap if she jumped in but she didn't seem to like how the interview was going.

"Do you think Eric hated her?" Hollywood asked.

"No. To hate someone takes some effort, some emotion. Towards Rachel he felt nothing."

I looked at Mona's weathered fingers and saw a diamond wedding ring on her right hand, a memento of a marriage lost years ago. On her left hand she wore a thick diamond band and a gold ring with a large ruby stone. A gold bracelet studded with rubies hung from her wrist. She certainly wasn't hurting financially.

"Were you giving Rachel money?" Hollywood asked, possibly reading my mind.

"Yes," Mona nodded. "Just enough to pay the mortgage, get groceries, and that sort of thing. When she fell into her depression she could barely get herself out of the house. I had the money and I wanted to help."

Terry jumped in, no longer able to stop herself. "Ms. Moore, we're not sure what caused Rachel's death at this point. She may have overdosed on pills, or she may have been poisoned. What we need to know from you is if, in your opinion, Eric should be considered as a potential suspect?"

I expected Hollywood to glare at her but he kept his cool. Maybe he had run out of questions to ask.

"You heard me call him a murderer, right? I meant what I said. I wouldn't put it past him," Mona told us. She turned to the camera and quite deliberately whispered, "He's a monster."

"Does he have anything to gain by her death?" Terry asked.

"Freedom, this house, her money...he has everything to gain."

"And where were you today? Can you account for your whereabouts?" Terry asked.

Mona stiffened in her chair. "I was at my garden club, where we have weekly meetings. After that I played tennis. I'm sure someone can corroborate that for you detective."

"Can you think of anyone else who might want to harm her?" Terry asked.

Mona shrugged. "I don't know. She used to tell me she felt like she was being watched, sometimes by men and sometimes by women. I told her that's the price that comes with being a celebrity."

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Moore. I'm very sorry for your loss. We'll contact you once we have more information on the case," Terry said.

"Are you going to arrest him?" Mona asked.

"Not tonight."

*****

We walked back to the bathroom and Hollywood and Terry spoke a little more with the medical examiner Arnie. He said he would have everything analyzed and would be in touch. They thanked him and headed for the front door.

Before we left we asked Eric and Mona to keep Rachel's death quiet for now. She wasn't a huge celebrity but her father was and if this story leaked, our investigation would end even before it began. With social media as rampant as it was this was a big ask, but both Eric and Mona committed to keeping the secret for now. I hoped we could trust them.

Outside Hollywood turned to me and the team. "It has been a long day. Let's get some sleep."

Although sleep sounded good, I was more than a little surprised by this. I could see by Mac's face that he was too. On our last case we worked non-stop until it was solved. Were we seriously about to call it a night?

"We can re-group in the morning. How does nine sound for everyone? We can meet at the station?" Hollywood asked.

I looked at my watch – it was almost midnight. "I have to give these guys twelve hours between shifts, but I'll be there."

"Okay. Sharpe do you want to ride with us?" Hollywood asked.

"No, that's okay, I'll ride with the guys. Thanks."

I climbed into the front seat with Mac behind the wheel. Manny laid down on the back seat and within minutes was sleeping. "So what do you think?" I asked Mac.

"I know we need a story but I'm not sure we've got one. This feels like an OD."

"I know," I agreed. "It really stinks because this is a quasi-celebrity case. Plus, we had some good drama back there with Mona screaming. Something like this could get our ratings way up."

"Even if it's an OD, it's possible that someone gave her the drugs deliberately. Maybe it wasn't diet pills that she took," Mac offered.

"That's true," I said hopefully. "Maybe we should do a little digging. I'm not confident they can solve this on their own."

"I don't want to go around them Sharpe," Mac said firmly.

"Why, because you have a crush on Terry?"

"Well, yes," Mac said flatly.

I paused. I wasn't expecting him to admit it. Mac was typically private when it came to matters of the heart. It shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. I felt a pang in my chest as I realized that my Mac was falling for another girl. It wasn't that he was my property or anything, in fact I had no claims to him at all, but that didn't change the fact that it stung.

"We have a job to do here Mac," I snapped. "I can't have you distracted the whole time. I hope you can focus enough to realize that." I knew I was reacting harshly to his admission about Terry but the words came out before I could stop them.

"Maybe you could give me some lessons, Sharpe. Because you didn't run around drooling after Detective Reid on the last shoot, right?" Mac blasted back. "You know everything about staying focused. Weren't you screwing him while we were booking our suspect in the case? Was that focused?"

"All right, all right!" I relented throwing up my hands. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Take it back," Mac ordered.

Sometimes he could act like an annoying older brother. "I take it back," I recited. "For the record, we weren't screwing when you guys busted in on us. We hadn't gotten to that part yet."

"I think you're missing the point," Mac told me.

"I know. Look, we need a story here. All night I've been trying to figure out if I can paint this as a murder, even if it isn't. Maybe if we offer Eric a jingle on the show, then he'll let us implicate him."

Mac looked at me like I was crazy. "You think he's going to be okay with us publicly accusing him of murder in exchange for a jingle gig?"

I shrugged. "Maybe I won't ask him. I mean, we can just spin the story, you know?"

"You'll get sued. Come on, you're being stupid now," Mac told me.

"I know," I relented. "I know."

### Chapter 7.

At eight o'clock, the morning sun was baking my apartment window with its rays. Nothing puts you in a bad mood like waking up covered in sweat and realizing you forgot to turn your A/C on overnight. My mother had purchased a set of silk sheets for me after she found out Reid and I were seeing each other. They were meant as a seduction tool, but as I peeled my body off them I realized just how far from that they actually were.

It was hot and the air was stale and dry. I couldn't seem to get my morning shower cold enough, washing the night sweat from my body. As I showered, I thought about Hollywood. I had to have a conversation with him that might be a little unpleasant. I appreciated everything he was doing to make the show work, but there was no Emmy award at the end of this thing for him. This wasn't an acting job. He needed to get over his need to be in the spotlight and focus on his police work. Plus if he truly wanted to be an actor he would have to learn to stay in character. I'd seen a tough guy, a crazy guy, a bullied guy, and a nice guy and it was getting really confusing.

After my shower I opened the freezer door and stood in front of it for a while cooling down and checking my email. I opened up an email from the _Daily Buzz_ and scrolled through to see if there was anything of interest. Most of America read the newspaper in the morning to catch up on current events, but in my world the _Daily Buzz_ was the newspaper. It was a quasi-reliable source for Hollywood gossip and was all anyone would ever talk about. I stopped scrolling when I saw the headline: _Daughter of Cecil Moore found dead in her bathtub_.

"Huh!" I gasped as I clicked the link to read the article. So much for Eric and Mona keeping their silence! The article described how police had found Rachel dead in her tub and cited the reason as an apparent drug overdose. I felt all of the air go out of my sails. Now that the media had their hands on this story our police work would be in jeopardy. We wouldn't be able to surprise suspects by telling them she was dead, and we wouldn't be able to discretely ask questions without raising suspicion. Then again, what police work? These cops didn't know what the hell they were doing anyway. The final line of the story mentioned that a camera crew was there to capture the incident for the _Murder Live!_ show. That tidbit made me smile – I was part of the _Daily Buzz_!

An hour later I was escorted into the station by the guard at the front desk. In the back I found Hollywood sitting at his desk sipping a coffee and munching on a protein bar. He was dressed in a tight T-shirt with an army pattern on it and black pants. I guessed today he was going the Rambo-route with his character.

"Hi," I said to him curtly.

"Oh Sharpe, I'm glad you're here. I was running some lines last night at my apartment. I feel like I need some sort of tag line when I get the bad guys. What do you think about, 'Don't mess with the fuzz!' Is that too corny?"

"Hollywood, we need to talk. Outside?"

A panicked look crossed Hollywood's face. "Sure, of course."

We walked in silence until we got outside. We headed down the front walkway and then started to make laps around the parking lot.

"You leaked the story, didn't you?" I asked him directly. I hadn't considered it at first but the more I'd thought about it on the drive over, the more I was convinced I was right. In his quest for celebrity Hollywood seemed to be willing to do just about anything.

Hollywood gave me a sheepish glance. "Don't be mad. I actually gave this a lot of thought."

"Hollywood, we're supposed to be solving cases here. This isn't all about you," I scolded.

"Just hear me out," Hollywood pleaded. "I know we told Eric and Mona not to tell the media, but all night I kept asking myself why not? It would mean great ratings for the show and it could probably help my career too."

"Because it interferes with police work, Hollywood. Oh my God, you're so egocentric I can't take it!"

"I told them it was an overdose! If anything it'll get them off our backs. The story was going to leak anyway, Sharpe. At least this way we controlled the message," Hollywood countered.

He had a point there. And the story _did_ mention the show. And where the hell did I get all of these morals and ethics anyway? A few weeks ago I would have done the same damn thing. Maybe Reid and Mac, the two boy scouts in my life, and my concern with how they perceived me was interfering with my usual ruthlessness.

"You're right," I admitted.

Hollywood looked up, confused.

"You're right," I repeated. "That was the right move."

"Damn right!" Hollywood smiled and slapped me on the back. "I knew you'd see it my way."

"This time. But we still need to establish some ground rules. First, no more secrets – okay?"

"Agreed," Hollywood said.

"Second, this isn't an acting gig. You're treating this like you're on a scripted show and you're not. In real life you don't get a second take at every line you say. When you do take-after-take it comes off as stale and phony."

Hollywood stopped walking and looked at me. "I just want to ensure it's perfect."

"The first take is perfect, the natural take. And I have news for you, those are the ones I'm going to use no matter how many more you do. Just be yourself. America will get hooked on someone who makes mistakes and falls down, not someone who's perfect all the time. You understand?"

Hollywood nodded. "Yeah, I get it." We walked a little in silence. The sun was beating down on us but I wanted to keep talking.

"There's a buzz on this story now, we're actually _in_ the _Daily Buzz_ , but I don't think we have a case."

Hollywood grinned, trying not to seem too excited that we were top news this morning. "Don't give up on this case just yet. I called my buddy at the lab last night and asked him to put a rush on the results." Hollywood turned and smiled at me. "I told him I'd break his arm if I didn't deliver them asap."

I smiled back. "Yeah, you're good at that."

"Do you remember Rachel's Android Phone? The one with the list of suspicious characters?"

I raised an eyebrow and smiled. I'd forgotten about that list.

"We've been doing some digging and there are a few we want to check out. Care to join us?"

"You bet," I said, feeling both surprised and pleased that the cops were pursuing some of the clues. The phone was a good angle. Maybe I could mold and shape this thing into a story after all.

*****

One of the "perps" we planned to interview lived in Santa Monica so we decided to stop by the production office on the way. It wasn't really on the way, but I wanted the opportunity to tell Lenny about our brush with fame via the _Daily Buzz_.

"This is where the magic happens," I told the group as we stepped inside of the building. I knew Hollywood would enjoy seeing the production office and I knew Lenny would enjoy seeing how attractive my new team was. I pointed up to the exposed steel railings surrounding the second floor loft space. "My boss sits up there and the edit bays are down here on the first floor."

"Can we check one out?" Hollywood asked me.

"In a minute, as I want you to meet Lenny first." I grabbed Hollywood by the hand and pulled him up the stairs. "We'll be right back." I told the team.

I had considered bringing Terry upstairs as well but she wouldn't be as comfortable talking about the media leak. Hollywood, on the other hand, would be all in.

I knocked on Lenny's door and entered before he could respond. He was on the phone while Hollywood and I sat in front of him. He was short compared to most men and had a scrunched up nose like a rat. He wore a dark purple button-down shirt tucked into black jeans and sported a comb-over hairstyle. He looked like a moron, and sounded like a weasel.

Lenny raised his eyebrows. "Yeah come on it Sharpe," he said sarcastically then spoke into the phone. "Yeah honey, let me call you back...No you're sexy – no you are." Lenny made some kissy sounds into the phone before hanging up. My face must have had a sour expression on it because he looked right at me and smiled slyly. "That was the babe I banged at your sister's wedding."

I folded my arms across my chest and sat up straight, disgusted. Lenny had claimed to have hooked-up with one of the guests at my sister's wedding but I was in denial about the whole thing. It seemed nearly impossible to think that someone would actually want to see him naked.

"Lenny, this is Hollywood. He's one of the new cops I'm working with," I said.

Hollywood stood up and extended a strong hand to Lenny.

"Wow, you're a big guy, aren't you?" Lenny said shaking his hand. "Sharpe, you have a knack for bringing the viewers eye candy. You gonna hook up with this one next?"

I picked up a file from Lenny's desk and threw it at him. "Knock it off." As a woman, you really had to have a tough skin in this industry. Kind of like Terry's troubles in the cop-world.

"Sir, I'm very excited to be part of the show. Thank you for the opportunity," Hollywood said politely.

"You're welcome." Lenny smirked.

"Did you check out the _Daily Buzz_ today?" I asked.

"Yeah, did you read about Keith Brooks' new mistress?" Lenny asked.

"She's like seventeen, right?" Hollywood smiled, leaning in.

"No," I interrupted. "Did you read about the Hollywood starlet who died in her bathtub? Cecil Moore's daughter, Rachel?"

"Yeah so?" Lenny asked.

"So, read the last line of the story," I told him, passing my smart phone.

Lenny read for a moment before a huge smile spilled across his pointy face. "This is you?"

"This is us," I told him. "We found the body last night."

"But this is an OD," Lenny said.

"We don't really think so," Hollywood chimed in. "Just a technique to keep the media out of the investigation. We do it all the time."

He was lying of course and full of shit, but Lenny was buying it. Hell, I even was!

"This is unbelievable. Sharpe, you did it again! This is going to blow our ratings up! I have to call the network. Hollywood, I need this story in the can by Wednesday. Can you deliver?"

"You bet your ass I can," Hollywood smiled.

I beamed, knowing that my partner Hollywood and I were in it together on this one. A moment later I felt a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. Once again I was guaranteeing a story I might not be able to deliver. But this time, the cops were on my side. Hollywood had the morals of a common criminal and I knew we'd figure something out.

We headed downstairs to find Terry, Mac, and Manny. I found them sitting in an edit bay with my editor, Rob.

Inside, Rob had Reid's image on the screen and my heart jumped. He was doing a talking-head interview for Missy and the editor was trying to piece it together. Mac wasn't one to criticize other camera operators but I could tell by his expression that he wasn't pleased with the shot.

"Hi guys," I said from the doorway. "Hollywood, this is my editor Rob."

Hollywood stepped inside to shake hands with Rob. "Aren't you going to introduce _me_?" I heard Missy say from behind.

I turned to see her standing in the hallway wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a button-down shirt tied at the waist. Because she was so disgustingly skinny the image of her stick legs and exposed midriff was enough to make me want to run out and buy her a hamburger. She made Rachel Roads look like a heavyweight!

Missy sauntered past me into the edit bay. Terry, Mac, and Manny were all scrunched together on the small guest couch so Missy grabbed the open chair next to Rob. "I see you're checking out my footage," she said. "I've been keeping Rob busy."

"You're gonna see me up there pretty soon," Hollywood told her, not sure who she was, and if he should be sucking up to her. "Hey Rob, make sure you get my best angles."

"Can we watch a little?" I asked casually, wanting to hear what Reid was saying.

Rob selected a clip from the computer's hard drive and rolled it. Reid was standing in front of the police station staring at the camera. "I got into police work back in...you know Sharpe already asked me this. Can't you just use that footage?" Reid was saying.

Missy glanced in my direction and then pressed the pause button on Rob's keyboard.

"Hands off!" Rob scolded her.

"You did tell me he'd be hard to tame," Missy teased. "But I'm enjoying the chase."

I took a deep breath, not wanting her to ruin the high I'd just gotten when I told Lenny that we were big news in the media. She was trying to make me jealous but I wasn't falling for it. Reid wouldn't be interested in her – no man would be. She was built like a ten year-old boy.

"Did I tell you that we've already got a case?" Missy asked. "Lenny told me that if I deliver by Wednesday, I can take the Friday slot."

Okay, now I was starting to get mad. Lenny had promised me the Friday slot. I tried to play it cool. "I have a case too. We should be wrapped up well before Wednesday so we'll be taking the Friday slot."

Missy narrowed her eyes at me and leaned in. "Oh yeah? What's your case about?"

"Check this out," Hollywood said and handed her his smart phone with the article from the _Daily Buzz_ pulled up.

Missy was silent for a minute while she read the article then she burst out laughing. When she saw that we weren't laughing with her, she stopped. "Oh, you're serious? Oh, you poor things. Maybe next week you can target an old person who dies of natural causes. That would be another winner."

"It's not like that, Missy," I told her. "It's not really an OD."

"Reid and Foxy and I have a great case," she continued. "A prostitute found dead and tons of suspects. When we found her she was in pink lingerie with black garter belts and pink bunny ears. It is going to play really well on the show. Lenny is going crazy over it. I've never spent so much time with hookers, but Reid and Foxy seem to be enjoying it."

I looked around to see everyone listening to our conversation. I was annoyed and uncomfortable and wanted to end it. I looked at the video monitor then at Reid. I'd have to thank him for giving Missy this fabulous case. Thanks so much, dear! I decided to use a technique my dad liked and changed the subject. I turned to Hollywood and Terry. "Do you two know Reid?" I asked.

"Not really," Hollywood answered. "But I saw his episode. That was some good stuff."

"Well, this team is going to be great too," I reassured Hollywood. I turned to Rob, completely ignoring Missy now. "We're on our way to interview some suspects."

"Cool," Rob said. "Bring me back something good."

"I'd better head out myself," Missy said. "I'd hate to leave my boys waiting. Nice meeting you all."

"You too!" Hollywood called out, still clearly confused if she was a friend or foe.

Missy gave me a wink, turned on her heel, and walked out.

We stuck around for a few more minutes watching Rob work. Hollywood was fascinated by the process.

"What kind of effects can you do on that thing? Can you make the camera add more than ten pounds? To my pecks maybe?"

Rob shrugged. "I suppose so. But we can also play with lighting and contrast. We can even transpose images." Rob took an image of Reid's face and put it on top of his partner Foxy's head. Foxy was a pale, overweight Irishman and the contrast was pretty extreme. We all got a good laugh out of that.

After answering some more of Hollywood's questions, I could tell Rob was ready to get back to work. Hollywood seemed content to stick around indefinitely but I finally managed to drag him out of the room.

We assembled in the main entryway while Manny grabbed some extra memory chips and batteries from the supply room. "Sharpe!" I heard from above my head.

Lenny was heading down the stairs towards us.

"I didn't know you brought two friends. Who do we have here?" Lenny asked, walking towards Terry.

"Lenny, this is detective Terry Perkins. She's Hollywood's partner."

"Enchantee," Lenny said to Terry. "Wow, I was expecting a dyke!"

"Come on man," Mac said to Lenny.

"What? I was complimenting her! The network execs are going to eat you up," he told her.

"I'm not here to be eye candy for your TV friends," Terry said meekly.

Lenny stared at her, probably trying to make sense of why a police officer was so timid.

"We have to go," Mac jumped in. "We have to interview a suspect now."

"Okay, well don't let me keep you then," Lenny said still staring at Terry. "I look forward to seeing more of you very soon."

On that uncomfortable note, we turned and headed out the door.

Outside, Mac was at Terry's side. "I'm sorry about that. Please don't let Lenny warp your opinion of the rest of us. He's just a lonely guy."

"He's an asshole," Manny interjected. "Next time hit him with your taser."

Terry smiled, but seemed embarrassed. "We'll meet you in Santa Monica."

Terry and Hollywood got in his car while Manny and I jumped in the SUV with Mac.

"That wasn't right," Mac said, still lamenting the altercation between Lenny and Terry.

"She's a big girl, she can handle herself," Manny said.

"She takes enough abuse from the other cops – she doesn't need it from our people too," Mac said.

"Come on man, she's a cop. You have to be tough. It's part of the job," Manny countered.

I could hear the conversation going on, but I wasn't listening much. I was too focused on my own priorities. The altercation with Missy didn't sit well with me. Not only did she make me look like a chump in front of my team, but she also got me nervous about Reid and these hookers. I knew he wasn't going to actually have sex with them, but I didn't like them tempting him either. "I can't believe Lenny promised Missy the Friday slot too," I told the guys.

"He has to cover his bases, Sharpe," Mac told me. "We don't really have much of a story here."

"Lucky for him, Reid is coming to the rescue again with a great story," I said sarcastically. "With Missy by his side."

"Don't get jealous of her, chica," Manny told me. "You're way hotter. She's just a bunch of bones."

"Thanks Manny," I said, brightening.

Manny thought a little while. "Well, not today, really. But when you do your hair and take a shower and shit you're hot."

"I took a shower! I had a problem with my air conditioning this morning and it's really hot out. Jeez!"

Leave it to a man to say the wrong thing!

### Chapter 8.

We jumped on the 10 freeway and headed to Santa Monica. The first suspect we were interviewing was described in Rachel's phone as: _Hulking man in car – license plate DHV 677._

We arrived at an apartment complex located a few blocks from the ocean. It looked like a new build with white stucco walls and black trim. There were flower boxes hanging from the windows and the front lawn was well-manicured with an assortment of shrubs and greenery. I estimated there were about twenty apartment units in the two-story building. We parked out front and started to get our gear ready. Mac connected the battery to the camera and loaded fresh tape stock while Manny set to work mic-ing Terry and Hollywood. The guys were flirting with her again and she seemed to be growing weary of all the attention she was getting.

We pushed through the front gate and entered a large outdoor courtyard. I signaled for Mac and Manny to start filming while I hung back, trailing behind them to stay out of the shot. The layout was similar to most complexes in Los Angeles – the apartment units surrounded a pool in the center of the courtyard, and there was a gym off to the side. In this town everyone was an actor. Being tanned and in-shape was mandatory, and this building satisfied those needs all within steps of your doorway. I had the same layout at my own apartment building, but location was everything. This place probably cost double what I was paying, and while my place was also home to a bunch of struggling actors, these inhabitants were actually booking jobs. Either that or they were living off mommy and daddy.

This particular pool had five or six hard-bodied men and women sitting around it, tanning and reading the latest editions of the celebrity gossip rags. I always felt overdressed in these situations – me wearing clothing and them not. It was like crashing a party I had no business attending.

We scanned the apartment numbers until we reached number sixteen. "This is it," Terry informed us. "Guy's name is Lance Applewood. No priors. His current employer is a gym here in Santa Monica."

As usual, Hollywood seemed annoyed that Terry had spoken on camera, but he took a deep breath and tried to let it go. "Okay, let's do this," he said and knocked on the man's door.

A minute later a big body-builder type opened the door and stood at it blinking at us. He was probably six feet tall, with a small patch of blonde hair at the top of his head formed into a perfect curl. He wore a blue tank top that barely covered his massive nipples and a pair of grey shorts. You didn't need to tell me that this guy worked at a gym – it was written all over him. He looked a little surprised to see two police officers and a camera crew standing at his front door.

"Lance Applewood?" Hollywood asked.

"Yes," Lance said in a voice that was way more feminine than I'd expected it to be.

"My name is officer Johnson, but you can call me Hollywood." He smiled a toothy grin, breaking character for a moment. He straightened up, cleared his throat and continued. This is officer Perkins. We'd like to speak with you for a few minutes. Can we come in?"

"Um, okay. Am I on TV?" Lance wanted to know.

I stepped forward with a huge smile on my face. "Hi Lance, my name is Victoria Sharpe and I'm producing a show for television about police officers cracking cases. We're here today to speak to you about a particularly interesting case that we need your help to solve."

Lance's expression seemed to soften a little so I pulled out a camera release and pen from my pocket and pressed on.

"You can sign right here granting us permission to film you and then we can get to the good part where you help us solve the mystery. Sound good?"

Lance seemed like he was having a great debate inside of his head. He looked at Hollywood who had a big smile on his face and was nodding. "Okay, sure," Lance said in his squeaky voice and signed my release.

I bent the paper so Lance didn't see the _Murder Live!_ name on the release. No one wanted to be a murder suspect. Still, with Hollywood's big smile and my speech about how he was about to save the world, how could this guy say no?

"Come in," Lance said and stepped away from the door.

I hung back and let the cops enter first, followed by my crew. Inside, the apartment looked more like an old lady lived there than a burly guy. The couches were covered with plastic and there were cats everywhere. I counted at least five of them. Lance beckoned the cops to sit on the couch so they could talk.

I felt Manny's hand on my shoulder, squeezing. I turned around to look at him just as he pulled his head back and blasted a huge sneeze into my face.

I didn't want to ruin the scene by telling him to cover his damn mouth, so I settled for giving him an icy glare. Jerk.

"Do you live here alone?" Terry asked Lance after getting settled.

"Ahh-choo!" Manny blurted out again. Everyone turned and looked at him. Manny's eyes were starting to redden and his nostrils were swelling up. "Ahh-choo!" he called out again. "Ahh-choo!"

"Bless you," I whispered to him with a tone that told him he needed to stop.

"Ahh-choo!" Manny sneezed again. "It's these damn cats Sharpe – Ahh-choo! I'm allergic – Ahh-Choo!"

"Okay, okay!" I hissed. What a pain in the neck Manny was. "Give me your equipment. I'll do it."

"Sorry Sharpe. Ahh-choo! Ahh-choo!" Manny continued. He pulled off his head phones and pulled the heavy shoulder strap of his sound bag off his arm. He handed it to me and I pulled it over my shoulder and across my chest. It was damn heavy. "Ahh-choo! Ahh-choo!" Manny continued.

Personally I loved cats. They were adorable and smart with just a touch of evil inside. A cute little tabby seemed to understand exactly what was going on as she made her way over to Manny and started rubbing her face against his leg.

"Sharpe, get him out of here!" Mac yelled at me.

"I'm trying!" I yelled back. I reached under the belly of the cat and picked her up. Her fur was so soft and fluffy. I resisted the urge to cradle her in my arms and snuggle her. Instead, I tossed her towards the kitchen and away from Manny who was now wheezing.

Manny threw his headphones at me hurriedly. "I'm not gonna make it! Ahh-choo! Ahh-choo!" Manny fell to the floor sneezing uncontrollably.

Within seconds, the tabby was back and she'd brought one of her friends. They were all over Manny.

"Get them off of me!" Manny wheezed.

The sound bag was heavy and I struggled to maneuver with it hanging across my chest. I pulled one cat off Manny and then another but not before getting a nice scratch on my arm in the process. They kept coming back for more and they were multiplying. Now these cats were cute, damn cute, but this was getting serious.

Terry jumped to her feet and Mac threw down his camera. Manny was still sneezing, crawling along the floor, inching towards the door. The three cats were nuzzling him and rubbing their bodies against him. Mac and Terry each grabbed one of Manny's hands and pulled him out of the apartment and into the courtyard.

"Huuuhhhh!" Manny gasped as he breathed in the fresh, smoggy air. Mac pushed the cats into the apartment and closed the door. Moments later Lance came running out carrying some allergy medicine and poured it down Manny's throat.

I stood inside Lance's apartment, looking like a jerk, trying to hold the heavy equipment without falling over. Hollywood, on the other hand, sat on the sofa unfazed, patiently waiting for the scene to resume and the cameras to turn back on.

Behind me, Lance ran back into the house and grabbed some water from the fridge, then raced back out to give it to Manny.

"Guess he doesn't do well with cats," Hollywood said to me absently.

I dropped my heavy equipment on the floor and made my way outside.

The medicine was starting to kick in and Manny was breathing normally again. They pulled him onto a chaise lounge so he could rest and sip on the water Lance had provided. The other pool-goers were starting to take an interest and were coming over to see what all the commotion was.

"You okay Manny?" I asked.

He nodded, paying little attention to me and lots of attention to the two bikini-clad beauties that were walking toward him.

I sighed. As the crew our job was to be invisible when we were shooting – to not interfere with the "reality" that was going on around us. Sometimes though, we couldn't help but become part of the action.

"I should have warned you that I had cats," Lance said.

"It's okay man," Manny told him.

While I appreciated that Manny had just nearly died, we were also on a time schedule. I knew I had to get the group back on track or we'd be sitting by the pool sipping piña coladas all day. "Okay guys, let's go back inside. Manny, you stay out here while we talk to Lance, okay?"

Manny nodded.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Terry asked Manny and he nodded again.

Mac stood up and walked past me into the house, but not before giving me that look he liked to give me when he disapproved. I threw up my hands – not everything was my fault!

Inside, Mac showed me which buttons to push on the sound equipment to get it rolling. The cops were wearing mics, but I had to hold a heavy boom microphone up in the air to capture Lance's audio. The boom coupled with the sound bag over my shoulder proved to be extremely difficult to manage. Mac stood alongside me, coolly holding the camera as if it were light as a feather. Hollywood remained in his spot on the couch and Lance and Terry joined him.

"Okay, action," I called out in a strained voice as I struggled to hold everything up. Manny's physique was thick with strong arms and legs – he was built for this sort of thing. I wasn't.

One of the cats jumped up on Hollywood's lap and he stroked it as he began his interview. "Do you live here alone?" Hollywood asked Lance, plagiarizing the question that Terry had asked earlier.

"Yes, I do," Lance answered, dispelling the myth that he was living with his grandmother and her plastic-covered couches. A second cat jumped in Lance's lap, and a third sat on his shoulder, nuzzling his face. Lance seemed to enjoy it. "I'm a cat-lover," Lance continued. "That doesn't make me gay."

"Of course not," Terry assured him.

A fourth cat tried to snuggle next to Terry but she gently shooed it away. This was supposed to be an intense interrogation scene, well sort of, but all these cute cats were really screwing up the vibe.

"Do you know this woman?" Hollywood asked, taking out one of Rachel Roads' headshots.

Lance took the picture and looked at it carefully then smiled. "Yeah, this is the Mood girl, right? Hey, I tried that shampoo."

"Yes she's on TV, but have you ever met her?" Hollywood asked.

Lance shrugged. "I don't think so."

"You work at a gym in Santa Monica, right Lance?" Terry asked.

Lance nodded. "I'm also a personal trainer. I go to people's houses for private sessions."

"Are any of your clients in Hollywood?" Terry continued.

"Yeah, I have a few clients in the hills."

"Any on Elrita Drive?" Hollywood jumped in.

"Yeah, Tico Collins is on Elrita. Why?"

Terry and Hollywood exchanged a look. "Because that's right next to where Rachel lives," Hollywood answered.

"So what?" Lance said, not following. "Is she dead or something?"

"Yes she is," Hollywood said, sounding annoyed. "Don't you read the _Daily Buzz_ man?"

"I guess I missed that story," Lance offered. "That's too bad."

Hollywood shook his head, clearly annoyed that his claim to fame had been overlooked. "It's big news. It's all anyone can talk about!" Hollywood paused to glare at Lance before delivering a firm message. "Your license plate number was written in her phone as someone who was stalking her. How do you respond to that?" Hollywood's tone was rough and it immediately put Lance on the defensive.

Meanwhile, the sound equipment was really getting heavy and my arm was killing me from holding up the boom. I slowly switched it from one hand to the next, trying not to make any noise or strain too loudly. I wasn't cut out for this. I felt something at my leg and I saw a white Persian moving between my legs in a figure eight pattern. I tried to shake her off, but she wasn't having it.

"Whoa, I don't know what you're talking about," Lance said putting his hands up. "I've never met that woman and I'm sure not stalking her. Look, you can call my client. My work is legit, okay?"

Things were getting heated and Lance was starting to freak out, which was always good for TV, even if he was covered in cats at the time.

"Let me get you Tico's number and you can call him right now. I can call him too. I can't believe this. You think I murdered her?" As he babbled on and on his voice got higher and higher.

I was enjoying the show but at the same time, I didn't think my arms could hold out much longer. The Persian was still twisting around my feet and causing me to lose my balance. Mac wasn't far from me so I tried to signal to him that I wasn't going to make it. He was such a tough guy he could probably handle both sight and sound all at once anyway.

I waved my free hand to try to get Mac's attention, but his eye was pressed into the viewfinder and he didn't see me. I inched a little closer to him so I could tap his shoulder. I placed the boom in my right hand and strained really hard with the left to grab Mac. The boom weight was intense and my arm gave out, not able to hold it any further. My arm came down like a guillotine, bringing the boom down with it and knocking Lance in the eye. "Ow!" Lance screamed, gripping his eye.

The Persian wouldn't give up and finally managed to trip me as I was reaching for Mac to gain my balance. Mac didn't see me coming but when the combined weight of me and the sound equipment hit him, his legs gave out and we both toppled over. We fell down hard, crashing into a wooden side table and smashing it to pieces. Mac strained to protect the camera while my head slammed directly into his family jewels. "Yoww!" Mac screamed, in a voice as high as Lance's.

All the commotion set the cats in an uproar and they started hissing and growling at us, protecting their master.

"What the hell kind of a show are you people trying to put on here?" Lance squealed, his voice straining.

Terry looked humiliated. "I think we have all the information we need," she said, standing up. "Thank you for your time."

Terry walked out the door, with Hollywood following her. I could see tears in Mac's eyes and I knew my head had really hurt him. "You always say I'm hard-headed," I joked to Mac, but my humor didn't help the situation.

I slowly stood up, hauling the sound equipment off me, then holding out a hand to help up Mac. I looked at Lance who had a red, inflamed eye. "I'm really sorry about your eye...and your coffee table."

"Just get out of here!" Lance squealed.

"Part of that document you signed is a confidentiality agreement." I told Lance. "If you let anyone know about Rachel, you'll be interfering with police work and liable for a fine up to five millions dollars." I was lying of course, but I wanted to be careful about protecting our investigation. For now, we needed people to believe it was an OD.

Lance turned a little pale at the news I had presented to him.

"You're the only one who knows the truth other than us," I continued. "If this gets public, we'll be coming back, this time with handcuffs for you."

I was such a badass sometimes! Mac limped out of the door with me following. The brief adrenaline rush I experienced giving Lance hell was quickly quelled at the sight of Mac hunched over.

Outside, Manny was still on the lounge chair and the two bikini beauties were sitting with him, tending to his wounds. He had a joint in his hand now and was passing it to the one of the ladies. I dropped the sound equipment on the floor. "We're leaving Manny."

"Why's Mac crying?" Manny wanted to know.

"I hit him in the nuts, okay? It was an accident."

Walking back to the car I was starting to lose hope. It wasn't just the cops that were misfits and rejects, we were too. We were a traveling clown car. At this point it was going to take a miracle to get this story delivered.

### Chapter 9.

That evening I headed back to my apartment alone. I should have been grateful that I had the evening off. I should have appreciated that this new team of detectives seemed to care more about their beauty sleep than solving the case. Maybe the clues would find their way to us and Reid and his partner Foxy had been going about it all wrong. Try as I might to pretend otherwise, I knew that solving a case took effort, skill, and determination. My current team seemed to be lacking in all areas. Add to that the pressure from Lenny to deliver my show quickly and the pressure I was putting on myself to beat Missy, and I was ready to pop.

I parked my car in the underground garage of my apartment building and headed upstairs. It was Friday night and I realized that I didn't have any plans for the evening. Did that make me a loser? The sad truth was that when you worked nearly every day of the week, Friday night and Tuesday night weren't much different. I hadn't heard from Reid, but that was okay as I could handle a little bit of solitude.

When I was producing, my life was consumed by my job, leaving little time to sleep or shower or lounge around watching television. Tonight was a rare opportunity and even though I was stressing about solving my case, I knew I had to find a way to enjoy it.

As I walked down the hallway to my apartment, I found that my evening plans had already been decided for me. On my door I found a note from Kelly who lived down the hall. It was an invitation to join her for a concert at the Hollywood Bowl. This was the type of thing I usually turned down because I was either too busy working or too exhausted from working, but tonight I had no excuses.

I skipped past my apartment and headed a few doors down to number 117. I knocked on the door and a moment later Kelly answered.

"Yes!" Kelly said at the sight of me. "You were my last resort."

Kelly was in her late twenties with long brown hair and a voluptuous figure. She was short, compared to me at least, and wore turtle-shell rimmed glasses. I examined her outfit, using it as a gauge to determine what I should wear to the concert. Kelly sported a pair of army pants paired with a black plunging tank top that exposed her breasts in all of their glory. Her eveningwear was the complete opposite of her typical day-look, which was professional and polished.

"I'm flattered," I told her sarcastically. "How did you score the tickets?"

"Mark wasn't using them so they were up for grabs. It's new age music and he isn't into that," Kelly explained.

In truth, I wasn't into new age music either, but the idea of a night out was too appealing to pass up. Kelly's boss Mark Stosky was one of the most successful and notorious producers in Hollywood. He had a reputation for being a tyrant and a bully but unfortunately he also happened to be brilliant. In this town, what studios cared about was that movies could make them money – nothing more. Mark had a sixth sense when it came to knowing what the public wanted and had brought them millions. The fact that he was a complete and total asshole was irrelevant.

The man had four assistants in each of his three offices in London, New York, and LA and he despised all of them. The feeling was mutual of course but most were too afraid to ever challenge him or speak ill of the man. Mark had been known to banish his assistants to the storage closet if they did wrong by him and their tasks ran the gamut from shopping for his family's holiday gifts to having his underwear dry-cleaned to plating his take-out food on fine china and serving him.

Kelly wasn't an assistant luckily – she worked in development. Kelly's job was to seek out good screenplays, books or talented writers with ideas and then to present them to Mark for consideration. Mark had won Golden Globes and Oscars and was always looking for ways to top his previous project with something bigger, more compelling, and more meaningful. Understanding what would and would not appeal to Mark was extremely difficult as his tastes fluctuated like his moods. Kelly had the impossible task of finding the perfect story at the perfect time, while taking no credit and letting Mark believe that he had found it himself. She was given no respect and lived in constant fear of losing her job.

It seemed insane that Kelly would want to subject herself to such a life, but I couldn't judge Kelly for her career choice. I had made some questionable choices myself! The bottom line was that working for Mark Stosky would open numerous doors for Kelly. She needed to hang on for two years and then get the hell out. Most importantly, when she did find that big project for him, it would solidify her career for a very long time.

The bright spot in Kelly's chosen career was that it came with some major perks. Tickets like the ones we had gotten tonight were common. Whether it was because people had a desire to work with Mark or just a great fear of him, he seemed to be constantly showered with gifts. Shipments of bottles of champagne, show tickets, airline tickets and the like arrived at the office almost daily. But with all of his wealth and power, Mark had little need or want for any of them. So he let his staff divvy up the booty and reap the rewards.

"Well I'm glad I could make it out tonight," I told Kelly, still grateful to be considered.

"I know Sharpe, you never say yes."

"Let me change my clothes. What time do we have to leave?"

Kelly looked down at her watch. "Fifteen minutes?"

I smiled. "Okay."

I headed back to my apartment to get changed and freshen up. Luckily for Kelly I wasn't the type of girl that needed a lot of time to primp and polish. I slapped on some mascara, ran a brush through my hair, and threw on a loose orange dress that stopped at my knees. I pulled a shiny belt over my waist to give my look a little sparkle and I was ready to go.

We decided to take Kelly's Mercedes as opposed to my dumpy car with the broken air conditioner. Yes, Kelly lived in a hovel like I did because she wanted to be able to afford the rent if Mark ever fired her, but she did splurge on her car. She drove a shiny new leased S-class that had monthly payments that rivaled the rent costs. Kelly reasoned she could always turn the car in if she had to and that she deserved to ride in luxury to and from the job from hell.

Traffic was heavy, but it was always heavy when there was an event at the Hollywood Bowl. At least I had the pleasure of enjoying plush leather seats, premium surround sound, and freezing cold air conditioning. We pulled onto the 101 freeway and moved slowly towards the Highland Avenue exit.

"I'm surprised I got you tonight," Kelly told me. "Are you still working on _Murder Live!_?"

"Yeah but the cops I'm with don't work nights," I explained.

"Well that's a good thing, right? You shouldn't be working on a Friday night anyway."

"Should I be working on a Saturday or a Sunday? Because I'm pretty sure I'm gonna have to this weekend to have any chance of getting my episode wrapped up."

"Yeah, well I'll be working too. Mark has a studio pitch meeting on Monday and he wants to have at least three backup projects just in case they don't like what he's pitching. He's tasked me with finding the next Hollywood sleeper hit," Kelly said punctuating the words _Hollywood sleeper hit_ as she spoke.

"And can you?"

Kelly shook her head. "Who the hell knows? I hate reading scripts. Did you know that? I work in development and I hate reading scripts!"

I looked at Kelly and smiled sympathetically.

"I'm just a slow reader so it takes forever to get through them," she continued. "I don't know why I even bother. All that matters is who's attached. You have a big name, the movie gets made. That's it. No one cares what the hell it's about anymore. People have the attention spans of guppies these days with their fancy phones and their smart watches. No one reads anything, so why the hell do I get myself so worked up?"

"Because heaven forbid, Mark ask you a question about a project that you can't answer."

"Exactly," Kelly said.

Kelly's cell phone rang. A sultry woman's voice came from the car's control panel and said, "Call from Mark. Do you want to answer?"

My eyebrows raised. "Wow, seriously? This car is like your secretary."

"Shit," Kelly mumbled. "Yes answer," she told her car. The call connected and Kelly put a big smile on her face. "Hi Mark," she sang into the phone.

"Kelly, did you give me version six of the _Lucifer Twins_ script?" Mark asked.

Kelly's eyes shot to me. "Yes Mark, I gave you version six as you requested."

"I spent three hours making script notes on the version you gave me, only to find out that it was the WRONG DRAFT!"

"Mark, that's impossible, I know I gave you version six."

Kelly looked at me and winked, muting the phone. "I totally gave him the wrong version," she announced and then un-muted the phone again.

"No, you think you gave me version six Kelly, but you gave me version five. How could you be so stupid? Do you not think my time is valuable?" Mark yelled into the phone.

"Mark, of course I know how important your time is," Kelly said grandly. "If I gave you the wrong version it was a complete accident I assure you."

Kelly extended her middle finger at the phone and jabbed it in the air as Mark continued to wail.

"Failure will never overtake you if you have the will to succeed, Kelly!" Mark barked. "A creative man is driven by the will to succeed, not the will to beat others!"

Kelly threw her head back and shook it. She turned to me, muting the phone once more. "Mark and his wisdom."

"Don't watch the clock, do what it does. Keep going," Mark continued.

"I'll do that, Mark," Kelly said smiling as artificially as she could muster . "I'm going to be working all weekend to find you those great projects for your pitch session."

"You'd better deliver or you're done with me," Mark said and hung up the call.

We were both silent for a moment as we continued to slowly approach the exit ramp for Highland Avenue.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

Kelly took a deep breath and then let out a primordial scream. "Ahh!!!!"

At first it shocked me, but then I decided to join in with her. "Urrrgghhh!!" I screamed out.

The two of us screamed for a good minute. Every time I ran out of air I thought about stopping but then found my voice again. It felt good, damn good actually. I was a great stress reliever.

When we finished Kelly turned to me. "I'm sorry you had to listen to that. I knew I gave him the wrong version, but if I'd told him after I realized it, he'd have gotten just as angry, so I decided not to tell him. Do you think my subconscious is trying to get me fired?"

"Maybe," I said, pretty sure her conscious mind was trying to do the same thing.

We headed down Highland Avenue then got in line behind the hundreds of other cars doing the exact same thing as we were. We inched closer towards the main entrance while scores of pedestrians crossed in front of our car.

"Watch the paint," Kelly yelled out the window as people grazed the hood of her car as they squeezed by.

"Oh my God, that's Kyle Belamy!" I said pointing to a man walking past our car.

Kyle was one of the most famous porn stars of all time. I didn't watch pornography very often, but even I recognized him.

"Kyle!" Kelly said waiving, acting like she knew him.

Kyle looked over at Kelly and smiled. He probably wasn't sure if he knew her or not, as he had been with hundreds of women. Who was to say she hadn't been one of them?

We pulled inside and found a decent parking spot. We jumped out of the car and headed up the hill towards the entrance of the theatre. It was a perfect night – clear and cool and buzzing with new age excitement.

After having our tickets scanned we entered the large outdoor pavilion. There were some ritzy merchandise shops and some equally ritzy food outlets.

I turned to Kelly and placed a hand on her arm. "Okay look, we're here to have a good time, right? No more thinking about Mark, no more worrying about your job. Let's just have fun."

Kelly smiled. "Sharpe, I deal with that lunatic and his antics every day. I'm okay, I'm used to it. And you know what? If he wasted three hours reading the wrong script then it makes me feel a little better about giving up my free time to work over the weekend."

"I like the way you look at things," I told her.

"Hey, did you eat?" Kelly asked me.

I shook my head no.

"Me neither and I'm starving. Let's grab something," Kelly said.

"Okay but I'm paying," I insisted.

We found a semi-indoor wine shop that was selling chilled wine, cheese and French bread. Seriously, could it get any better? I walked over to the wine fridge and opened the door to pick out the perfect sauvignon blanc.

"Victoria?" a man's voice said to me.

I craned my neck to see Tyler Woodward standing on the other side of the refrigerator door. Ty and I had gone to high school together in Venice Beach many years ago. He was wearing a pair of khaki pants with a button-down plaid shirt tucked into his belted pants. He had light brown hair and green eyes and the hints of freckles on his cheeks. He looked extremely preppy for this type of new age scene, but that was Ty for you. When you come from wealth sometimes it's hard to camouflage it.

"Ty? Oh my goodness."

I was still holding the glass door open and realized I was freezing cold. I closed the door and shivered.

Ty put his arms on my shoulders and looked me up and down. He shook his head. "You look great, Victoria."

I looked down to see that the cold air had my nipples standing at full attention. They were practically breaking through my top. I blushed and awkwardly covered my chest with my arm. "It was cold in there," I said, leaning back. I underestimated the distance between my body and the fridge and stumbled over my feet. I slammed back against the door with a loud thud. I managed to hold my footing so at least I was still standing upright.

"Um, excuse me," a man said from behind me. "I need to get in there."

"Right, sorry," I said. I moved away from the fridge so the man could pull out a bottle of wine. This chance encounter with Ty was turning into a disaster and I was acting like a fool.

Ty and I had dated briefly one summer in high school. We both played tennis at the same country club and our parents had been friends. It wasn't a lifelong love or anything, but we had a lot of fun sneaking around the cabanas. I hadn't seen him in a long time and for some reason he was making me nervous. I needed to pull myself together, quickly.

I laughed, almost maniacally. "It's weird for someone to call me Victoria. Everyone calls me Sharpe now."

"Well, they did in high school too," Ty confirmed. "But I always thought Victoria suited you better."

"Who's this?" Kelly asked walking up to us.

I smiled, grateful for the distraction. "Kelly this is Tyler Woodward. He's an old friend from high school."

"I was more than a friend." Ty winked at me.

I blushed again. What was wrong with me?

"Ohh, old flame?" Kelly enquired.

"Something like that," I told her, feeling uneasy.

"So what have you been up to?" Ty asked me.

"Oh this and that. I'm producing reality TV shows now."

"That's cool," Ty confirmed. "I'm working in TV too. I've been doing AD work for the past few years but I just got my first directing gig. I'm part of the DGA now so it pays pretty well."

I should have been annoyed that Ty was throwing around stats on his income, but that was pretty common actually. Crass, but common. An AD was an Assistant Director. If you were able to get into the Director's Guild of America as Ty had apparently done, you were pretty much set for life. Most people had aspirations of directing films but honestly TV was really lucrative and if you could get on a show with a good story line, you were basically shooting a mini-movie every week anyway.

"Is it a show we would know?" Kelly asked.

"Have you seen _Vampire Wisdom_?" Ty asked.

"No way," I said, unable to control my enthusiasm. "I love that show!"

Ty smiled. "Yeah, they let me do a few trial runs and they finally just offered me the job. I have creative input and everything. It's really amazing."

"Wow," I told him. I was jealous, I couldn't hide it. I'd gone to USC film school in the hopes of becoming a film director myself. Instead I ended up "directing" contestants on junky reality shows living their trashy lives. If I could have seen into my future when I was learning about character arcs and lighting styles back in college, I would have been very disappointed. "That's amazing," I told Ty. "You're doing something I've always wanted to do."

"Well maybe I could help you out with that," Ty offered. "Sometimes it's all about who you know."

Ty smiled and I swear his white teeth sparkled.

"You two should exchange numbers," Kelly suggested.

Ty looked over at Kelly and grinned. "I think you read my mind. Victoria, it's so good seeing you. It's like those old feelings are coming back or something. It's like a chance to go back to my youth."

I smiled, unsure of what to say. I didn't know if the nervous knots in my stomach were because I was feeling guilty about Reid or because I was excited to see Ty too.

"What's your number?" Kelly asked Ty.

As he told her she typed it into her phone and then texted him my contact information. "There you go – Sharpe's stats. Common hon," She said to me. "We have to get to our seats."

I nodded. "It was good to see you Ty."

"I'll give you a call." He smiled.

I opened the wine cooler again both to grab a bottle of wine and to cool myself off. I was feeling a little flushed.

*****

"I kind of wish you hadn't given Ty my number," I told Kelly when we got to our seats.

The Hollywood Bowl's stage was at the bottom of a hill and consisted of a white scalloped backdrop shaped like a half moon. The seating was built into the landscape and stretched up the hill and into the stars. Our seats were very good, of course. We placed our wine and cheese and bread on our laps and started to dig in.

"Why?" Kelly asked. "He was cute."

"I know but I'm kind of seeing someone," I explained.

Kelly looked up from the piece of bread she was stuffing into her mouth. "You are? Who?"

"He's a cop from the show I'm working on. Did you watch the first episode?"

"Yeah, of course. Wait, was it the hot one or the fat one?"

I gave Kelly a sideways glare.

"Whoa, you're with the hot one? Oh my God! Are you guys dating?"

"I don't know if I'd say we were dating exactly."

"Screwing?"

"No. We've tried to do that but something always seems to get in our way."

"But you want to screw each other?"

"Well yes of course. He's really hot."

Kelly sipped her wine and sighed deeply. "Okay, so when you two are together, what are you doing? Talking or making out?"

"Making out. I mean we want to have sex, believe me we do. Something just always seems to prevent us from closing the deal."

"Okay but his focus when he's with you is on sex, right?" Kelly asked.

"Yes. We both want it."

"Okay. Is sex ever _not_ his priority when you're together?"

I frowned. "Well, no. That seems to be his focus. Are you trying to make me feel bad?"

"No, I'm just trying to relieve you of the guilt trip you seem to be giving yourself. It sounds like the guy wants to stick around long enough to screw you, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't keep your options open."

"Kel, it's not like that," I defended.

"Okay, then if Ty calls you just don't answer the phone. No big deal."

I smiled weakly. "Okay, I guess you're right."

The lights dimmed and an instrument that sounded like a didgeridoo filled the amphitheater. The audience cheered and swayed to the beat. I took a sip of my wine still thinking about what Kelly said.

I knew she was completely wrong about Reid and my relationship with him. Yes he seemed to be focused on sex but I had the same focus. Hell it had been so long since I'd been intimate with a guy I was worried there were cobwebs growing inside of me.

I was feeling guilty that Kelly had led Ty on when I knew I wasn't going to return his phone call. Then again, his offer to see if he could get me into the directing world was pretty appealing. I felt angry with myself that I was considering pursuing this guy for a career opportunity. This town! If someone dangled the right carrot, you could be rendered defenseless.

Kelly pulled out her phone which was buzzing in her purse. She eyeballed a text message she had received then passed it over to me to view.

"It's from Mark," Kelly explained shaking her head.

I looked down at the text message:

SERVICE THE CUSTOMER (ME!) AND GET RESULTS! WIN AS A TEAM BUT LET YOUR MASTER LEAD THE PACK. CONFIDENCE WONT PAY THE BILLS – MAKE IT HAPPEN! I NEED THREE OPTIONS BY MONDAY MORNING – NO SLEEP!

If ever I thought my career was hard, I just needed to live in Kelly's shoes for a day.

"Nut job," Kelly said frowning.

I reached down and refilled her wine glass. "Let's enjoy tonight. Tomorrow is a new day."

We clinked glasses, sat back, and listened to a three hundred pound topless man on stage chant to the Gods of Hollywood.

### Chapter 10.

On Saturday, we followed up on some more names in Rachel Roads' smart phone. The cops questioned a local Hispanic gardener who didn't speak English, a twelve-year-old responsible for the block's paper route and two sanitation workers. We were wasting our time pursuing dead ends. I concluded that Rachel Roads was paranoid and nuts.

"Maybe some of the other cops have a case we can mooch off," I said to Hollywood. I was sitting in his guest chair, my elbows resting on his desk and my head perched in my hands.

Hollywood was at his computer researching some of the final names and license plate numbers in Rachel's phone. Behind me, Mac was sitting at Terry's desk, wiping the lens of his camera and talking about all the international travel he had done. Manny, having given up on Terry, was taking a nap in the car.

It was another hot day in Hollywood and although it was early in the morning I was already feeling suffocated by the heat. The air conditioning at the station was mediocre at best and I was feeling drained of energy and life. The fact that I was working on a Saturday was also irritating me. Today was a day better spent at the beach.

"We can't take another case," Hollywood reminded me. "Lenny wants this case."

"Maybe someone has a case that's even better," I offered.

"The douche bags around here aren't going to give me a good case," Hollywood replied. "You know as well as I do that they're just waiting for me to screw up."

"Now that's a given," we heard a voice from behind us say. "It's just a matter of when."

We turned to see Joe and Pauly approaching us in full uniform. "What's going on girls?" Pauly asked us.

"We were just talking about douche bags," I retorted.

"Careful there. Don't get sassy now," Joe said to me. He had a smirk on his face and seemed to be checking me out. The guy was short, fat, and pushing forty. Not exactly what I was looking for in a mate.

"How's the case going, detective?" Pauly asked Hollywood, crouching down and glaring into his eyes.

Hollywood tried not to react but he definitely looked uncomfortable sitting at his desk while this behemoth tried to intimidate him. "It's going fine," Hollywood told him. "We have some pretty good leads."

"Ha!" Pauly laughed. "Aren't you fools working an OD case? What are you gonna do, arrest the drugs?"

"Oh wait, I got it," Joe smirked. "Lock up the water for drowning her!"

These guys were a bunch of idiots for sure. As an adult I should have been above this childish heckling, but I couldn't help but feel stupid. I felt my face growing red.

"Whoa, she's gettin' all hot and bothered," Joe said pointing at me. "Honey, if you need to cool off, I've got a shower at my place."

My face showed disgust, I knew that, but I was having trouble formulating the words to go with my expression. "Eat shit," I blurted out. Not exactly witty, but it got the point across.

A big smile spread across Joe's face. "Firecracker."

"Just get out of here," Hollywood said with some force.

Joe put his hands up in the air, in a defensive gesture. "Hey man, don't get mad. I'm just trying to be friendly."

Joe walked past us, while Pauly, who was still in his crouching-tiger position continued to glare at Hollywood for a moment more before slowly standing up. Suddenly Pauly jerked forward, lunging at Hollywood and causing him to jump back in his chair. Pauly laughed, thrilled with his intimidation skills and walked away.

"Holy cow., I said. "I thought bullying stopped at high school."

"People become cops for different reasons," Hollywood said. "Mine aren't so admirable either."

"Yeah, but they're better than theirs. I didn't realize they worked at the same precinct as you."

"We try our best to avoid them."

I watched Joe and Pauly as they walked down the row of metal desks and stopped at the two in the back. They pulled out their chairs and sat down.

"They sit right there?" I whispered. "Seriously?"

Hollywood shrugged.

"Why don't you just punch that big guy out? You have bigger muscles than him."

"I'm not a fighter, Sharpe. I can't compromise my looks. You never know when an audition may come up."

"Right." I nodded absently.

Mac walked past me and I jumped up to follow him. I hooked an arm around one of his and walked with him.

"I'm just getting something from the truck Sharpe," Mac told me.

"Okay I'll join you then." I kept my arm where it was and followed his lead. I missed the usual closeness I had with my crew, especially Mac. This shoot had been a strange one so far and I was feeling like the bond I usually had with my team was straining. I was still feeling slightly jealous that Mac had taken an interest in Terry. He wasn't blatant about it, but they seemed to be spending a lot of time together, which was taking away from my Mac-time. Gripping his arm made me feel a little closer to my pal.

We approached the car and Mac opened up the trunk. A puff of smoke wafted out and Mac had to wave his hand back and forth to keep from getting high. "Come on Manny!"

Manny sat up in the back seat looking like he'd been asleep. "Are we shooting?"

"No," I told him. "There's nothing to shoot." I looked over at Mac who was pulling some filters out of the camera bag. "Listen, I'm sorry about your balls. You know that was an accident, right?"

Mac chuckled. "You sure about that? You haven't seen Reid in a while. I thought you might be getting lonely."

"Ha ha. If I wanted a cheap thrill I could have grabbed Manny."

"That's true chica, I'd let you," Manny told me. "Hey, where's my apology? I almost died yesterday."

I knew I hadn't been especially caring in that moment and was big enough to admit it. "Manny, I should have been more sensitive to your allergic reaction. I'm sorry for that."

"Oh baby, I didn't know you cared. You wanna join me for some funk?" Manny asked, holding out his joint.

I smiled back at him. "Nah, I'm good."

"I got an email that they're looking for producers at Barnacle," Mac told me.

Barnacle was a production company in the Valley that specialized in home improvement shows. It was low drama and low pay, but at least the working hours were somewhat predictable. Plus working in the Valley would be ideal considering the money I was spending on gas lately.

"Oh yeah?" I said. "Maybe I should apply."

"I'll send you the lead," Mac told me.

"Worth a shot," I said. "When I miss my deadline for this story I'll probably have to look for a new job anyway."

*****

I was deep in thought when Hollywood popped his head around my desk. "I think we should search his house."

"Huh?" I asked, surprised by the suggestion.

"Eric's house – let's break in," Hollywood repeated.

I looked at him sideways. The next logical question for me to ask should have been, "Isn't that illegal?" but I knew that was a question better left unasked. I reminded myself that my job as producer was to follow the lead of the detectives. So why question them? "Okay," I agreed. "Do you think Terry will be okay with this?"

"I'm not planning on telling her," Hollywood said.

"Well then I don't think we should bring the whole crew. We'll be too conspicuous. Plus Mac will probably squeal to Terry."

Hollywood considered that for a moment. "How are you with the camera? Are you properly trained?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'll bring the handheld. I don't know how to use Mac's new camera. Plus, he'll know something's up."

"Okay, just try to keep a steady shot," Hollywood said and went to get ready.

I walked over to Mac and Manny who were sitting together at one of the desks. "Hollywood and I are stepping out. If anything comes up give us a call."

"Where are you going?" Mac wanted to know.

"Um, we're gonna grab some smoothies," I lied.

"Oh cool. Can you get me a wheat grass shot?" Mac asked.

Uggh. This lie was backfiring already.

"Get me a mango smoothie, okay Sharpe?" Manny said.

I walked over to Terry, figuring I might as well get her order too. She was at her desk working on a court order for Rachel's medical records. She was looking to determine what Rachel had been prescribed and if there might have been some sort of deadly mix that she had ingested. She gave me her order and then a quick wave as Hollywood and I headed out.

*****

I offered to take my Miata but Hollywood thought it would emasculate him so instead we settled on an unmarked cop car.

It was nearly two o'clock and the sun was shining bright. It would have been the perfect time to drive with the convertible top down. The temperature was in the high seventies and there was a nice breeze. Hollywood wasn't saying much so I sat back and enjoyed the quiet, lost in my thoughts.

The view as we drove up Laurel Canyon was always a spectacular one. We were climbing out of the smog filled pit below and into the hills. There was wealth up here, amazing views and amazing history. We were a few roads over from Coldwater Canyon and Mulholland Drive, which had become famous for drag racing, lost lives, and breathtaking views. For some, it was a place to sit and think about your dreams and feel like you were on top of the world. For others, it was a place to hide your secrets.

My cell phone chirped and I pulled it out to see a text from Reid: _Dinner 2nite?_

I smiled and texted back that I would love to. I knew Kelly was wrong about Reid. He obviously cared about my mind just as much as my body.

"So how we gonna play this?" Hollywood asked, breaking the silence.

"We're not," I told him. "I don't think we should tape the break in. Having evidence that you illegally searched a suspects' home is probably not going to do much for your career."

"I don't care about that, Sharpe."

"You're aware this is against the law, right? Whether you're a cop or not? I'm fine with breaking in, but I think we should do it to look for clues, not to give you more airtime."

Hollywood frowned and looked at me. "Sometimes I get carried away. Thanks for reeling me back in."

"Yes, I've noticed." I said patting his shoulder. "So what are we looking for?"

Hollywood shrugged. "Drugs would be good, a hidden diary, taped confessional, anything like that."

I smiled and nodded. "How do you think Terry likes all the attention from the guys?"

Hollywood looked at me, seemingly embarrassed. "I really hadn't noticed that. What guys, your crew?"

I shook my head. "You really are something man."

We drove uphill onto Eric's street and slowly cruised by his house. His car wasn't in the driveway but it might have been in the garage.

"How do we know if he's home?" I asked.

"We could call him," Hollywood suggested. "Hand me my hello phone."

"Your what?" I asked.

Hollywood smiled. "Wow, am _I_ about to teach _you_ something about police work? I'm more than just looks you know."

I tilted my head and stared at him, trying to stifle my smile.

"It's a phone that isn't associated with my name or the police department. I usually use my personal phone for work – it's just easier, but when you're calling a bad guy you want to use an untraceable phone. We call it the "hello phone" because that's how we answer it. We don't identify ourselves to the caller."

"Cool." I nodded. I opened the glove compartment and pulled out the cell phone that I found inside. I handed it to Hollywood and watched him dial.

"It's ringing," Hollywood told me then flinched when he heard Eric pick up the phone. "Uh...Mr. Roads, hi, it's detective Johnson. We have some documents we need for you to sign down at the police station. Yes, they're regarding the will. How quickly can you come down to the station? Great." Hollywood hung up the phone and looked at me with a smile. "He should be leaving any minute now."

Sure enough, within five minutes the garage door opened and Eric drove down the hill. With a flat career and seemingly nothing else to do, I guess it wasn't hard to get him out of the house, especially when money was on the line.

Hollywood and I ducked down in our unmarked car as Eric drove past us. Once he had driven out of sight, Hollywood put the car in park and we stepped out. We crossed the street towards the house, then heard a loud crash behind us. We spun around to see a metal trash can rolling down the hill, clanging and thrashing as it went down. Next, we saw our car slowly creeping down the steep hill we had parked on. Apparently the car had hit the can and sent it flying. Without missing a beat Hollywood ran to the car, pulled the door open, and jumped inside to slam on the brakes.

I froze, certain a neighbor would come out after hearing the commotion. Having stopped the car, Hollywood pulled up the parking brake and jumped out. "Did anyone see that?"

Behind us I heard a voice say, "What the hell is going on out here?"

"Yes," I told Hollywood. "Someone saw."

We turned around to see a man in his late sixties rushing towards us from his house. He was short and hunched over with big black spectacles on his eyes and gray thinning hair.

"Was that your garbage can?" Hollywood asked the man.

We could hear the can continuing to clatter down the hill until it crashed into something and a car alarm went off. My heart sank.

"What the hell are you two doing? You're gonna pay for that can!" The man yelled.

"Whoa, whoa. I think there's a misunderstanding here, Sir," Hollywood told him. "We didn't hit your can."

"Then who the hell did?" the man wanted to know.

"Um, we live up the street and our can was thrown down the hill too," Hollywood lied. "We were walking down the hill to find it."

"I've lived here for forty-seven years," the man said. "And I've never seen you before."

"Well we're new. We're in the house up the street – the one with the great views," Hollywood said.

"In Agnes' house?"

"Yeah, exactly," Hollywood said. "But we would have never moved to this neighborhood if we knew vandalism was so rampant."

"Agnes didn't move. I saw her just yesterday!"

I was trying to go along with the story but we weren't doing very well with this guy. We either needed to convince him we were legit or jump in our car and get the hell out of here.

"Look Agnes doesn't want anyone to know we're living with her," I said. "Dennis here is her personal trainer. She's trying to turn her body around."

The old man raised his eyebrows.

He seemed interested so I continued. "She has her eye on someone so she wants to make a change."

"Like her husband?" he asked.

"Maybe," I said, smiling.

"Hey!" A man's voice called out from down the hill. We turned to see a man in his forties wearing a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt lumbering up the hill. "Who's garbage can was that?"

"It was mine," the older man answered. "But I didn't knock it down the hill."

"You hit my damn car!" the man yelled.

"Did you see another can down there? " I asked, trying to play along. "Some jerk threw our can down there too."

"The only jerks I see are you three. Now fess up! Somebody is paying for the damage to my car!"

"It wasn't us," Hollywood said, raising his hands. "But I did see somebody running into that house across the street." Hollywood pointed at Eric's house.

I didn't know what Hollywood's plan was, but I was starting to get nervous. The neighbors were surely going to tell Eric we were snooping around. We weren't exactly inconspicuous.

"Roads did this?" the old man asked. "That sick son-of-a-bitch. It's bad enough he can't keep the music down at night, now he has to mess with my trash?"

"And my car!" the other man said.

"That's why we're here. Agnes has had enough. She wants me to go in there," Hollywood said, pointing to the house.

"Well we're going with you," the forty-something man said.

Hollywood looked at me and raised his eyebrows. "Let's do it!" he declared and stormed towards Eric's front door. I didn't know what the hell he was thinking. We couldn't break into Eric's house with these people watching us!

The two men followed Hollywood as he marched up to Eric's front door. Hollywood banged on it loudly, knowing full-well he wasn't home to answer.

They waited for a moment, but there was no sound. "Coward!" the older man called out.

Hollywood peered in the window. "He's in there. I can see him. I'm going around back."

Hollywood walked around the side of the house with the three of us in tow. I still had no idea what the hell Hollywood's plan was here and suspected he didn't either. When he got halfway there Hollywood stopped walking and turned to face us.

"Look this could get ugly inside. I don't want everyone going down for this. Let me and my friend here handle this," Hollywood said, pointing to me.

"What are you going to do?" the forty-year-old wanted to know.

"I'm just gonna talk to him," Hollywood said calmly. "Just gonna talk."

The two men looked like they didn't know what they should do.

"Go wait out front," I instructed. "We'll handle this."

The two men looked at each other, hesitating until they finally relented and walked back towards the front of the house. Hollywood took my hand and led me to the back.

"Hollywood this is stupid," I whispered. "We can't bust into this guy's house now. They'll tell him."

"No they won't," Hollywood assured me.

Around back, there was a small outdoor deck at street level and then several larger decks attached to the hill's slope. We climbed over the fence railings onto the back deck. Hollywood tried the back door, followed by several of the windows. Everything was locked.

"Do you know how to pick a lock?" I asked.

"I don't normally do this Sharpe."

"So what are we gonna do now?" I asked.

Hollywood looked around and then grabbed a large rock off the deck. By now I could recognize the crazy look in his eye and stopped him just before he tossed the rock through the window. "Stop," I whispered. "Come on, there has to be another way. Let's go lower."

"I'm coming for you, Mr. Roads!" Hollywood called out so the men out front could hear him.

We scaled the hill, moving from the street level down to the level below and then the level below that. We were standing on the same deck where Eric admitted he hadn't even tried to revive Rachel when he found her. The same deck where Mona came out screaming and accusing him of murder. Remembering the scene reminded me how good this story would be if we could pull it together. It was on this same deck that we finally found our opportunity. There was a small bathroom window that was open just wide enough for me to get in.

"I need a boost," I told Hollywood.

He lifted me up and pushed my head into the glass on the window. "Ow!" I winced. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Sorry," Hollywood whispered and angled my head through the window's opening.

I used my arms to grab the inside of the window and hoist myself up but I didn't have the strength to pull up the lower portion of my body. "Push me up," I whispered.

Hollywood put two big hands on my butt cheeks and pushed me hard.

"What are you doing down there?" We heard a voice from above call out. It was the old man looking down from the top deck.

Hollywood looked up, his hands still firmly planted on my ass. "Uh, my friend here is an acrobat. She always likes to enter houses through the window. It's kind of a turn-on for her."

"Pull me in Eric," I called out loudly, pretending Eric was aware I was entering in this fashion. I pulled up my body with all of my strength and thrust myself through the window. My legs scraped against the side of the window as I landed on the floor with a thud.

"Eric open the door for me," Hollywood called out, maintaining the lie. "I'm not as flexible as my friend here."

I jumped to my feet and quickly blotted the blood now oozing from my thigh with some toilet paper. I ran out of the bathroom and through the kitchen to open the patio door for Hollywood.

"Eric, we need to talk," Hollywood exclaimed as I opened the door and he stepped inside.

I closed the door behind him. "Hollywood, this is a disaster. We're gonna have to be quick."

The floor we were on contained a kitchen and dining area. We knew the layout well as we had just been there. We headed to the kitchen and started opening drawers looking for something, anything that might help.

"Do you think they're gonna call the cops?" I asked Hollywood.

"Not yet. They'll wait out there for a while."

I opened the spice cabinet, which seemed like it would be a logical spot to store drugs but there was nothing of interest in there. We were doing something illegal and wrong and I had to admit I was feeling a bit of a rush.

"This is kind of exciting, no?" I whispered to Hollywood.

"I know! I should do this more often."

Suddenly I grabbed Hollywood's arm. "Did you tell Terry that Eric was on the way?"

Hollywood turned as white as me as he returned my stare. My phone chirped and we both jumped. I pulled it out and saw a text from Ty: _It was good seeing you the other night. I'd love to get together some time. Ty_

"Oh Jesus!" I said.

"What is it?" Hollywood asked.

"Nothing, just this guy I ran into last night. Forget about it, just call Terry."

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and started dialing. "Yeah Terry, hi, it's me. Listen, Eric Roads might be stopping by the station looking for me – just have him wait. In fact, maybe get some lunch or something...no, nothing is going on...no nothing...I'm with Sharpe. Yes we're getting the smoothies. They're out of wheatgrass so we're going to another store. Just stall him, okay? Thanks." Hollywood pressed a button, disconnecting the call.

I was still shaking my head that Ty had texted me. You'd think he'd at least have the guts to call. It didn't matter though, as I had no intention of contacting him.

We headed one floor up to Eric and Rachel's bedroom. We'd explored it before, but we needed to see if anything new had turned up. I checked Eric's nightstand drawer and found a variety of pills and some white powder which I presumed was cocaine. "Bingo," I said to Hollywood.

We opened up the bottles to see if any of the pills looked similar to the gel cap the Medical Examiner found near Rachel, but they didn't.

"Do you think these are his drugs or hers?" I asked.

"Maybe both," Hollywood said. "These weren't here the night of the crime. He probably hid them before calling us."

"He did seem a little...sloppy. Maybe she OD'd with him and then he tried to make it look like he wasn't home when it happened."

Hollywood smiled. "I knew this was a good idea!"

"Yeah, except for our accomplices that are waiting outside," I reminded him.

"Give me your wallet," Hollywood said.

"Huh?"

"Just give it to me."

I handed it over and Hollywood pulled sixty bucks out.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm gonna go pay the guy for the garbage can. I'll tell him Eric feels sorry about it."

"What about the guy with the busted car?" I asked.

"Just trust me. You keep looking around."

Hollywood turned and ran out of sight. I knew trusting him was the last thing I should do. How did I let him get me into this situation? This was bad, even for me.

I moved into the bathroom where I found several more bottles of pills scattered around. They were mostly prescriptions for Rachel. I knew the ME had taken careful note of all the pills that Rachel had in the cabinet already and that none of them matched the pill beside her on the floor.

The tub was empty now and drained. No sign of the Starlet who had lost her life while resting inside of it. It was as if it had never happened.

I must have been staring at that tub for a while, deep in thought about Rachel because I jumped when Hollywood walked up behind me.

"All taken care of. I told them Eric regretted his actions and gave the old guy the money for a new can, and told the other guy Eric's mechanic would call him. I got his number."

"What happens when he doesn't get the call?" I asked. This plan was filled with holes.

"I know a mechanic so he'll fix it. Your show can cover the cost."

I sighed. I was going to have a lot of unexplained expenses this time around. I would have to write the costs off as bribes, and it wouldn't be the first time.

"Okay whatever," I told Hollywood. "Let's keep looking around before Eric gets back."

We walked to the large walk-in closet that was next to the bathroom. We stepped inside and went through Rachel and Eric's clothes. I didn't know what I was looking for but searched through all of the pockets anyway.

"Sharpe check this out," Hollywood said opening a wooden box that was buried behind a clothing rack.

I sat down next to him on the floor as we looked through the box. Inside we discovered a number of photos of Eric with other women. Some of the photos looked to be quite old, while others looked more recent. I pulled out a photo of Eric standing with a tall brunette with their arms around each other.

"I know that girl," Hollywood said. "I've seen her at industry parties. She does those restless leg commercials."

"You're right," I said examining the picture. I pulled out another one behind it. It depicted Eric and a petite brunette on the beach in someplace tropical. "She does those beer commercials, right?"

Hollywood nodded, looking through the rest of the pictures. "This guy definitely had a type."

I shook my head. "What a pig. Rachel probably wanted to die. He humiliated her so blatantly."

Hollywood shrugged. "Probably. He wasn't real shy about saying he'd cheated on her."

"What if one of these girls killed Rachel? It could have been a jealousy thing."

Hollywood pulled out his smart phone and started snapping pictures of the photos. "We can try to figure out if any of these other girls are famous too."

In total there were fifteen pictures, some old, some new. We finished snapping the shots and stood up. Above me, I heard a door open and shut. I froze. "Oh my God, he's home," I whispered. We stared at each other for a moment before quickly locking ourselves in the closet.

"He can't find me here, Sharpe, it will ruin everything," Hollywood shrieked, finally panicking about the ridiculous situation he had put us in. "You have to go out there, tell him you broke in on your own. Or tell him you left something here. Just make something up, but keep me out of it."

Hollywood was starting to freak out and physically pushed me towards the closet door. "Stop! Stop!" I pleaded.

Hollywood's phone rang in his pocket. "Shit!" Hollywood squealed, trying to cover the sound. He looked down to see it was Terry calling and answered the phone. "I told you to stall him, damn it," he said into the phone. "Oh, okay...um, no nothing is wrong...tell him I mixed up my cases and I called the wrong person about the will...Just tell him...Yes I'm still getting the smoothies!" Hollywood pushed a button and ended the call.

"That isn't him upstairs?" I asked.

"Maybe it's the neighbors?" Hollywood said, eyes wide.

"I thought you'd handled them." I said through gritted teeth.

Above our heads we heard a vacuum turn on. "It's the maid," I told him, breathing a huge sigh of relief. If she was on the top floor, we could sneak down to the bottom floor and out the window.

We slowly opened the closet door and peered out into the room – there was no sign of anyone. We each took a deep breath and ran like hell out of there.

### Chapter 11.

That evening Reid and I sat across from each other at the dinner table. He had selected a casual Italian place called Vitos that I hadn't been to before. The interior was tacky but charming with roman columns painted on the walls and artificial flowers on the tables. The place certainly smelled good but I was more excited by the company than the food.

He had dressed up for me a little tonight, swapping his usual T-shirt for a navy blue polo. He had khaki pants on and brown loafers. I loved that he'd made an effort to look nice for me. I wore a low cut emerald sleeveless tank paired with a mid-length black skirt and a necklace dangling between my breasts. Drawing Reid's attention to them wasn't such a bad thing.

I was feeling a little guilty about behaving the way I had with Ty the night before. Why was I blushing and fumbling over my feet when I had Reid in my life? The whole thing was Kelly's fault. She had tried to convince me to keep my options open and she had given Ty my number. I needed to put the whole thing out of my mind and focus on what was in front of me.

"How's the case going?" Reid asked me.

I wasn't sure what to say about the case. When Reid and I were paired together on our last case he'd nearly had me fired when I had tried to tamper with an official police investigation. In this case, Hollywood was going along with me. In fact, he was leading the vigilante charge, but I knew Reid wouldn't approve.

"It's okay," I began. "We still don't really know if we have a case."

Reid stared at me with those dreamy brown eyes, examining my face. He stared for so long I started to become self-conscious about it. "Is that...blood?" he asked me, pointing to my ear.

I quickly slapped my hand over my ear and then examined it. There was something glistening and red coming out. Shit, I must have scraped it earlier. "Um, I guess so." I patted my ear with a napkin. "So, how's your assignment going?"

Reid titled his head, not wanting to change the subject yet. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No," I said in a voice higher than I was hoping for. "We went on a stake-out today, and I guess I scratched my ear on a branch or something."

"So what's this case about?" Reid pressed.

"It's an OD case. The only reason we're semi-hanging on to it is because the victim is like a D-list actress. It could be good for TV."

"And you were doing field work today in branches?"

Reid wasn't letting up so I decided to go on the offensive and glared at him. "Don't talk to me like you're my father. Whatever I was doing to get this injury involved police participation. Okay?"

"What happened to your arm?" he asked, eyeing the scratch.

"That was a cat," I answered. "That was before the stake-out."

Reid sat back. "Do I need to make a call to the Hollywood precinct to check up on you?"

I gripped the sides of the table and leaned forward. "This overbearing thing isn't exactly a turn on."

Reid leaned across the table until his lips grazed mine. "How about that?" he whispered. "Does that turn you on?"

"Maybe," I confessed, a tingle running through my body.

"Are you ready to order?" We looked up to see an older man standing at the table holding a small notepad.

We pulled apart at the sight of him. We hadn't looked at the menus yet but judging by the man's scowl I was afraid to admit that.

"Um, you can order something for me Reid," I said. "Just no fish."

"Are you sure? I don't want to be too dominating."

"Overbearing," I corrected.

Reid ordered chicken parmesan for himself and before he could place my order I told the waiter to make it two. We got a carafe of white wine, which was probably from a box, and nibbled on the bread and butter the bus boy placed on the table.

"I stopped by the production office today," I told Reid. "Missy said your case is going really well."

"Ah, she's a pain in the ass. Kind of like you were."

"Don't you go falling in love with her," I told him and then felt my cheeks turn crimson. What a stupid thing to say. He wasn't in love with me. This was our first real date!

"I wouldn't worry about that Sharpe," Reid told me, pretending not to see how embarrassed I'd become.

I blotted my ear again – the blood seemed to be clotting. "Missy said your case involves a dead hooker?"

"Yeah. The usual garbage they give me. We've been questioning some of the girls that worked on the victim's corner." Reid smiled and laughed. "Take a look at this. I think you'll find it amusing." Reid pulled up a picture on his phone of Missy wearing black fishnet stockings, stiletto heels, and a vinyl black mini-dress. Her hair was teased and she was wearing a ton of black eyeliner. She looked like a deranged runaway teenager.

My eyes widened. "What the hell?"

"Missy's trying to blend in. She thinks if she dresses like a whore they'll relate to her."

I laughed. I couldn't fault her for trying to do what was needed to get the story, but she looked ridiculous nonetheless. "You have to send me that picture."

"No way." Reid laughed back. "I'm mean, but I'm not totally heartless."

I frowned thinking about Missy and all those other half-naked floozies flirting with _my_ man, offering him sex or hand-jobs or who knows what else. I think Reid sensed my concern because he pulled his chair around the side of the table so that he could sit closer to me. "That's better," he murmured. Every time I was feeling low on confidence Reid seemed to do something that changed my mind.

I looked at him smiling. "It's hard to believe we're on a date together. It's almost impossible these days to line our schedules up."

"I know," Reid told me placing a hand on my leg. He looked down to see the scratches from the window incident earlier.

"Uh, shaving accident," I lied.

Reid stared at me for a minute, clearly not convinced.

"Do you know Dennis Johnson?" I asked, diverting his attention. "They call him Hollywood. He's the cop I'm working with. He said he didn't know you."

Reid shook his head no and then leaned in to kiss my neck. Oh how he loved necks! Luckily my blood-soaked ear was on the opposite side.

"He works very differently than you," I told Reid. "He doesn't pull all-nighters. He likes his beauty sleep."

Reid continued to kiss my neck, which raised goose bumps on my skin. He squeezed my leg and I winced from the pain. Reid pulled back. "Those are some bad nicks."

"New razor," I answered, sounding like an idiot.

The grumpy waiter came over with our plates of chicken. He gave us a disapproving stare and walked away. I felt slightly embarrassed that onlookers could see us, but Reid didn't seem to care. He moved to my lips and kissed them, tugging on them with his.

"Are you hungry?" I asked Reid.

"Not really," he said, this time enveloping my lips in his. His hands moved to my face and he held me there, pressing his tongue inside my mouth. I felt my entire body fill with warm heat. I placed a hand on his thigh and dug my fingers in. His kiss grew deeper, more passionate.

"We have to stop doing this in public," I warned, remembering our first kiss on the dance floor at my sister's wedding.

Reid signaled for the check then placed a hand on my face. "You're right. I just can't keep my hands off you." He stroked my cheek for a moment and stared into my eyes. He had heard my warning, heard me ask him to stop. But now it was me who was leaning in, me kissing his lips. His hand on my cheek was warm and as I thought about what those hands would be doing later, my loins began to pulse with pleasure. I leaned in to him, pressing my tongue into his, enjoying his smell and his taste. I wanted him as much as he wanted me.

"For God's sake, this is a family place!" a large man yelled from another table. He was sitting with his large wife and two large boys who were staring at us wide-eyed.

Reid held up an apologetic hand. "Sorry. We're leaving. She's uh...I couldn't resist."

Even though I was being personified as a sex trinket, Reid's words made my heart skip a beat. We both straightened and pushed aside our dinners. Reid pulled some cash out of his pocket and paid the bill.

Reid's cell phone chirped and we both froze, afraid to know who might be calling. "Maybe it's your mother," I offered.

Reid looked down at the phone and shook his head no before answering. "Reid."

I watched Reid as he listened to the person on the other end. Likely it was his partner Foxy with a good lead. I knew Reid wouldn't let things wait until morning, it wasn't his nature.

Reid took out a pen and jotted down some notes, thanked the caller, and hung up. He looked up at me with puppy dog eyes.

"Let me guess, you got a break in the case and you have to go?"

Reid didn't say anything, possibly unsure what to say.

"Go," I said. "At least you bought me dinner this time." I pulled my chicken parmesan dinner towards me, preparing to eat alone. There was almost a full carafe of wine left over and I hated that to go to waste.

"This _will_ happen," Reid said pointing his finger from me to him. "I want this to happen."

"I know," I said.

Disappointed, I refilled my wine, cut into my chicken, and ate alone. I watched a young couple walk into the restaurant and stop at the host stand, waiting to be seated. They were holding hands and giggling and hugging each other. The man whispered something in the woman's ear and she playfully pushed his chest and kissed him. I rolled my eyes as I watched the display of affection before me.

Get a room people, seriously.

### Chapter 12.

I rolled into the station a little after nine, groggy after drinking most of the wine carafe alone the night before. I had only been on this assignment for four days, but in that time a lot had gone on both with the case and with my love life. Sadly, neither had hit the climax I was hoping for. Hollywood was looking chipper for a Sunday morning, standing to greet me while Terry typed away on her keyboard behind him. "Crew here yet, Sharpe?" Hollywood asked me as I walked in.

"Yeah, I saw them out in the parking lot," I answered absently.

"I have something I think you're going to want to get on tape."

I raised my eyebrow. "Can you elaborate?"

"Just get the crew."

Hollywood escorted me outside to grab the guys and bring them into the station. Within a few minutes we were rolling. I sipped on my coffee and watched, wondering what big revelation Hollywood was about to drop on us. He had probably landed a big audition or something.

Hollywood picked up a piece of paper and flashed his bleached white teeth at the camera before assuming his tough guy character and sauntering towards Terry's desk. Terry looked up just as Hollywood slammed a piece of paper down in front of her. "Cyanide poisoning," he announced grandly. "Looks like we've got ourselves a murder, partner."

It took a moment to register, but finally Terry's lips curled into a big smile. Behind the camera I was in disbelief. Was this for real? Was this actually a murder case? I was beaming. It took everything I had to wait for the scene to play out. "Cut!" I screamed and then squealed with delight as I jumped on Hollywood giving him a bear hug. "You did it!"

"That was awesome man," Manny said, slapping Hollywood on the back.

"This is for real, right?" Terry asked suspiciously.

"Of course it is. What are you saying?" Hollywood teased.

Terry held her hands up in defense and smiled.

"This changes everything," I said to the team. "We have to deliver this story by Wednesday, which gives us four days. Can we do it?"

"Hell, yeah we can," Hollywood shouted.

"All right, let's solve this thing!"

The team cheered and we all felt a rush of excitement as we thought about piecing together the clues. There were big smiles all around and a sense that we were doing something good here. Most cops would have tossed this case aside, passing it off as an OD. Not us! We were determined and committed to bringing Rachel's killer to justice.

Our adrenaline rush lasted about two minutes until we realized we didn't know what to do next. We didn't have enough evidence that Eric had poisoned his wife, so where should we start?

Hollywood had a blank stare on his face. Terry's eyes shot back and forth between Hollywood and me. She didn't seem sure either.

"Cyanide is rat poison, right?" Hollywood asked, looking unsure.

I smiled at him and nodded.

"Let's look it up," Terry offered, walking over to her desk and logging in to her computer.

I signaled to Mac and Manny to start rolling while Terry typed in the name of the poison. She searched the web and found that cyanide was an extremely strong poison, used throughout history in different forms to kill people. Terry's research told her that cyanide poisoning occurs when a living organism is exposed to a compound that produces cyanide ions when dissolved in water. It made sense the pill next to her body was a gel cap as that would easily dissolve in her stomach and poison her.

"Look at this," Terry said, pointing to the screen. "It says that cyanide works better with higher stomach acidity so it should, in theory, work best with an empty stomach."

"The girl was anorexic," Hollywood said. "So her stomach was as empty as can be. Plus combined with all those diet pills..."

"Her body couldn't survive," Terry said morbidly. She looked at the camera, then caught herself and turned back to Hollywood. "This could be a suicide you know. Maybe she took the pills to kill herself."

Hollywood looked like he might punch Terry in her pretty face, but quickly caught himself. "There was no note and no sign that she'd want to do that. We can consider it, but we need to pursue all leads."

"What leads do we have, Hollywood?" Terry asked him, forgetting about the camera. "I know her mom thinks he did it, but that isn't good enough without proof."

Hollywood looked at the camera. "You can cut Mac."

Mac did as he was told while Hollywood walked over to his desk.

"I'm supposed to say cut," I whined.

Hollywood walked back over to Terry holding his smart phone with the pictures we had discovered the day before.

"Where did you find these?" Terry wanted to know.

"Don't worry about where. The point is that this guy had ladies on the side, a lot of them. Maybe he didn't do it but his girlfriend did. Maybe they planned it together."

"Some of these women look familiar," Terry said.

"They're commercial actresses, just like Rachel was."

Mac looked over at me. "Should I be filming this?"

I shook my head no. "We didn't exactly obtain those photos legally," I whispered.

Mac stared at me for a moment, clearly disappointed both that I had done something dishonorable and that I'd done it without him.

"Okay, we need to get in touch with these girls, but let's do it the right way. The _legal_ way," Terry said. "Let me call Rachel's mother to see if she knows if any of them were still in his life."

"Terry, we really don't have time for that," I interrupted. "Can't you pretend you got that information during your research and start contacting the women now?"

Terry stared at me for a moment without blinking. I think she was shocked by my suggestion but we were pressed for time. Why spend time trying to get the answers you already have?

"I have an idea," I jumped in, trying to spare myself the lecture I was about to receive. "My mom works in commercials. Maybe her people would recognize Eric and know some of the women he was seeing."

"Wait, who's your mom?" Hollywood asked.

"Evelyn Sharpe, the former host of _L.A. Incorporated_ ," I told him.

"What?" Hollywood squealed. "How have you not told me that?"

I shrugged.

"Oh my God, I'd die to meet her! Sharpe, you have to introduce me." Hollywood squealed.

I figured I at least owed him that. Plus, it would probably help the case. My mother would be happy to help off camera, but she'd never sign a release to be on my show. She was big-time and appearing on a crappy cable reality series was a sure ticket to the D-list. Plus, I didn't want anyone to know that I was using my famous connections to get this case solved. I wasn't supposed to be involved in solving the case at all. I was supposed to be observing it. Of course, we all knew that reality didn't always unfold before your eyes, and sometimes you had to make things happen, especially if you had less than a week to deliver your cut.

"Okay we can split up then. Hollywood and I can go talk to my mother and Terry you can place phone calls to Rachel's friends and family to try to get more solid evidence."

"I'll stay here, Sharpe," Mac told me. "Your mother makes me a little uncomfortable."

I understood where he was coming from. She tended to get a little touchy-feely with my guy-friends. Hell, during our last conversation she had asked me if she could give Reid a test drive. Mac could barely get in the door without getting his ass squeezed. Plus, I was sure the alone time with Terry was at the top of his mind too.

"He gets a little star struck, huh?" Hollywood whispered to me about Mac.

"Something like that." I smiled.

*****

Manny drove the SUV with Hollywood sitting next to him in the front while I stretched out on the back seat.

"Is Mac making any headway with Terry?" I asked Manny innocently. I knew Mac didn't kiss and tell but Manny wouldn't mind.

"I don't know, chica but last night after we wrapped, Mac told me I could take the van home alone. Said he was getting a ride."

"No!" I said jumping up in my seat. "Hollywood, does Terry date a lot?"

"Terry? No, I don't think so," Hollywood said. "She's kind of shy."

"Well maybe Mac is bringing that inner tiger out of her," Manny growled. "That woman is hot, man. How could you work with her all this time and not try to hit that?"

"Why would I?" Hollywood asked. "She's not in the business."

He was referring of course to show business. For Hollywood, that seemed to be all that mattered. Manny raised his hands up in exasperation. "This town! You people kill me! You hit it 'cause she's hot man. 'Cause you want to bang your bodies together. That's why!"

Hollywood seemed genuinely confused. "I guess I never noticed. She's not really my type."

"I know, you prefer actresses, right? Don't you know they're all crazy and shit man? They can barely get out the door without looking in the mirror a hundred times. Plus they always need you to say they don't look fat and that you like their new hairstyle. And then they make you sit there while they try on fifteen different dresses and you know which one they pick? The first one! They get nervous when you look at other chicks too. No man, they're not worth it those actresses."

I laughed. "Manny, you realize Hollywood acts just like that, right?

"I don't take that long to get ready," Hollywood rebuffed.

"Never met a mirror you didn't like," I teased.

"All I know is that if Mac's not hitting that and I'm not hitting that, you'd better be!"

"Stop with the _hitting that_ expression already," I yelled.

Manny turned around and pointed a finger at me. "And Reid better start hitting _that_ or we're all gonna suffer."

I had to agree with him there.

*****

We arrived at my mother's house about thirty minutes later. I called ahead to let her know we'd be over for lunch. I loved eating over there as the food was always perfectly suited to the occasion.

My father designed the kitchen and everything was top of the line. The appliances sparkled and gleamed and were in mint condition. This was mostly because my mother didn't know the first thing about cooking. But even though the wood burning stove wasn't used or the gourmet pasta maker or the dual ovens, Evelyn did make good use of the phone.

My mother prided herself on her local knowledge of food outlets and delivery services, and always knew exactly what to order. When I told her Hollywood was an aspiring actor, she suggested we order "California fare." It consisted of healthy wraps filled with avocado and wheatgrass, and steamed edamame with salt. I knew Manny would probably make a fuss about it, but my body would thank me. One cannot survive on coffee and junk food alone.

We pulled up to my parent's house and stepped inside. "Hello?" I called out.

"Wow," Hollywood said, noticing the wall of awards my mother had displayed in the living room off the front foyer.

"There's my other daughter," my mother said as she glided across the floor from the kitchen. She gave me a big hug and kiss. I was a little confused as to why she was referring to me as her "other" daughter until she whispered in my ear. "Your sister is here. They had to cut the honeymoon short because they needed Bob back at the office. Don't cause a scene."

I winced, a strange pain coursing through my body as I anticipated seeing Ginny again. I wasn't mentally prepared to listen to all of her stories right now.

"I'm baaack!" Ginny said, running from the kitchen. She threw her arms around me. "Did you miss me? Oh Vicky, we had such a great time!"

"Ginny, hi," I said, pulling away from her. "Um, let me introduce you to Hollywood. He's one of the cops I'm working with on the show. Hollywood, this is my sister Ginny, and my mother Evelyn."

Hollywood's face lit up as he extended a hand to Evelyn. "Oh wow, this is an honor. I'm a huge fan."

"Oh, wonderful!" my mother giggled, acting like a little school girl. "Wow, look at you, what a big burly cop you are." She ran a hand over his shoulder and down his arm, squeezing as she went. "I bet women commit crimes intentionally to get in your handcuffs."

Hollywood smiled and blushed. "Thank you. I try to keep in shape for my acting. I'm still trying to get my name out there."

Ginny grabbed my arm. "I can't watch this."

Growing up, it did get kind of boring watching men and women alike suck up to my mother. We could be anywhere – a grocery store, Ginny's ballet recital, a funeral, and strangers would come up to her. For me, the worst part was when we would have to stop what we were doing (like getting on a ride at Disney Land) so that my mother could pay the proper homage to her fans. But as the years went on it became the norm and I grew used to it. Ginny, on the other hand, always held a bit of resentment towards my mother for her fame. As the baby of the family, Ginny wanted people fawning all over _her_ , not her aging mother. The scene between my mother and Hollywood was a bit too much for Ginny to bear, especially considering that _she_ had just come back from her honeymoon.

"Say hi to Manny first," I told her, standing my ground.

"Hi Manny," she said, pulling me into the kitchen. "Let's eat."

I walked into the kitchen with Manny in tow to see my new brother-in-law Bob sitting at the table drinking a beer, and my father sitting next to him reading the newspaper. On my father's right side was Vincent, my mom's new beau. His dark hair was slicked back today and he was wearing an ultra-fitted exercise shirt and skimpy black gym shorts. Neither garment was doing him any favors.

"Wow, the gang is all here," I said unenthusiastically. "Vincent, you're still sticking around?"

"Victoria, hi. Yes, I'm still here," Vincent said cheerfully.

I exchanged a glance with my Dad, who just smiled.

"How about a hug for your new brother?" Bob asked me, standing up.

I gave him my best death stare, indicating that I had zero intention of hugging him, then pointed Manny to an open seat. When I realized that my mom and Hollywood were still in the foyer I turned to get them, then stopped myself. Yes, my mother usually made a fool of herself hitting on younger men, and yes it often made men uncomfortable, but in this case I had a feeling Hollywood was eating it up. I decided to give them a few minutes. I wondered how Vincent would feel about all of this.

On the table before us was a variety of healthy wraps, salads, and assorted, flavored mineral waters. Mac really blew it by staying behind. This was vegan dining at its finest!

My dad put down his newspaper and started shooting the breeze with Manny. "How's life in the sound world?" he began.

Bob picked up his beer and drank the whole thing in one sip then stood up to grab another from the fridge.

"Still in vacation mode?" I asked Bob as he sipped his second beer.

"No, I'm back at work," he told me absently, "I'm just here for lunch."

"Can you believe they have him working on a Sunday?" Ginny asked me.

"I'm working on a Sunday," I responded back.

"They can smell that stuff on your breath dude," Manny told him. "You should try some jimmy instead."

"We can smell that too, Manny," I informed him.

My mother and Hollywood sauntered in, having a grand old time together. "Hollywood, why don't you sit next to me?" my mother said, escorting him to the table.

Vincent looked up, confused by the new guy who was taking my mother's attention away.

"Everyone, this is Hollywood. He's a police officer that Victoria is working with," my mother announced to the group. "Hollywood, this is my daughter Ginny and her husband Bob, my husband Nick – we're separated – and my boyfriend Vincent."

Hollywood smiled and greeted everyone, completely un-phased by my a-typical American family.

My father looked at Vincent with a knowing smile. "She grows tired of us all pal. Don't take it personally."

Suddenly Vincent looked very uncomfortable with his eyes darting from my mother, to my father, to Hollywood.

"Okay everyone stop your chit chat so that Bob and I can tell you about the honeymoon," Ginny announced. "I don't want to have to repeat this story."

I rolled my eyes and leaned in to whisper to Hollywood who was sitting between me and my mother. "This is going to be torture."

"We were married by Guru Motgi," Ginny explained to Hollywood. Motgi was the spiritual healer of the stars and he knew the name instantly.

"He's my personal healer," my mother told Hollywood who was absolutely loving this conversation. He was a burly guy but in this environment he was nothing more than a drooling puppy who wanted to please his new friends.

"Regarding the honeymoon, all I can say is that Bob and I are truly the lucky ones in this life," Ginny began. "The hotel was of course extremely expensive, and it really made me step back and count my blessings. The servants seemed like they were actually very poor. They weren't like the ones here who look poor, but aren't really. You know, the ones who go shopping in Burbank."

"You mean the Mexican people?" Manny asked, annoyed.

"Yes exactly. I see them driving cars around here so how poor can they be, right?" Ginny explained. "But these people seemed really poor. Like, when we tipped them, they were so happy, you know?"

I looked at Manny. "They were in Europe by the way. Paris and Milan are meccas for the impoverished."

"Bob wanted to go to an island somewhere, but I wanted to shop. I mean, what's more romantic than that?"

"Hell if I know," Vincent chimed in, trying to participate.

My sister wasn't totally artificial, but she could certainly get caught up in it if she wasn't careful. Being a snob was generally acceptable social behavior so Ginny didn't take much notice when she was offending people or, in this case, just sounding stupid.

"So tell me about the case you're working on," my Dad said, directing his attention to me and the guys.

"Daddy, I wasn't finished," Ginny pouted.

"I know sugar but we have guests and I don't want to bore them with these stories."

"No Sir, not boring at all," Hollywood said, loving the fact that he had just entered this alternate universe. "I'd love to hear more."

Ginny gave Hollywood a big smile and then went on and on and on.

*****

Two hours later, the torture ended. Bob, three beers in, had to go back to the office, and Ginny had some dry cleaning to drop off. On her way to the door she pulled me aside.

"Would you mind if I stayed at your place tonight?"

"Why?" I asked.

"Bob and I have been together constantly for the past week. I just need some space."

I shook my head in disbelief. "I've just had two hours with you and now I need some space."

"Come on, I want to hear about that hunky cop you're dating."

Her offer was tempting as I would have liked talking about him with a friend but who was I kidding? She would monopolize the whole evening talking about herself. "Can't you call up Sarah or Julia?" I asked.

"Yeah right Vic. You know I can't talk to them about this stuff."

Both of her best girlfriends were the children of celebrities and much like Ginny were incredibly shallow and clueless when it came to the real world. I knew that confiding in them about her already less-than-perfect marriage would never be something Ginny would entertain.

I considered Ginny's offer for another second or two before making up my mind. "Sorry no," I said and escorted her out the door.

Hollywood and my mother were in the living room now, looking at her awards. Vincent was standing awkwardly behind them, trying to listen.

"This one was a total surprise," my mom said holding a golden statue.

"Unbelievable," Hollywood said, caressing the award.

Manny was out back sitting on the canal, smoking up. It was the middle of the day and there were probably little kids out there, but nothing seemed to phase Manny when it came to his needs.

I walked into the room behind my mother. "Speaking of awards," I told her, "Kelly is looking for new scripts for Mark Stosky. Do you have anything worthwhile?"

"Only if he promises me a starring role," my mother jibbed.

"No guarantees there," I said. "Kelly has to find him the next big thing by tomorrow or she's out of a job."

My mother thought for a moment. "I have a couple that might be promising I could give to her."

My mother received scripts all the time from writers hoping to attach her to their next project. I figured she would have a stash lying around.

"I have a few as well," Hollywood offered.

"Great." I nodded.

I walked over to Vincent, feeling sorry for him as he stood there alone, excluded from the group. "Why don't you go meet Manny out on the back deck. He could use some company."

Vincent nodded and walked out of the room.

My mother noticed and smiled. "Oh, I thought he'd never leave," she joked to Hollywood, squeezing his muscles.

I plopped down on the living room couch and tried to break up the conversation. "Mom, the reason we're here is to ask you about a potential suspect in this case."

My mother turned to me, intrigued. "Is it someone I know?"

"I don't know, maybe."

Hollywood pulled a picture of Eric Roads out of his pocket. "Do you know this man? He writes jingles for commercials."

My mother looked closely at the picture, studying it. "I don't think so but I have plenty of friends in the biz. I could ask the producers over at Dreamline. They might know him."

"That would be wonderful," Hollywood gushed.

"His wife was Rachel Roads – you know, the Mood girl," I said.

"Oh sure, Mona's daughter. I saw that article in the _Daily Buzz_. "

Hollywood gave me a knowing stare. "Glad to hear you read the article."

"Mom, come on, you didn't read it. If you had you'd have seen that our show was mentioned in it."

My mom looked at me and smiled. "Whoops, sorry honey. I didn't exactly read it, but I saw the headline."

"So you know her mother?" Hollywood asked.

"Not really. When Cecil was alive we went to a few industry events together. They were such a loving couple. What a tragedy that now her daughter is gone too. Wait – wasn't she an OD?"

"Not anymore. It turned out to be cyanide poisoning. But keep this between us – official police business and all." Hollywood winked.

"So you think her husband killed her?" she asked.

"We're not sure. We think he had some mistresses that could be responsible."

"Wow, very Hollywood-esque. Can I keep this picture?" Evelyn asked.

"Of course," Hollywood said.

"Thanks for lunch Mom," I said. "We have to get back."

"It was an absolute pleasure," Hollywood told my mom.

"The pleasure was all mine," my mom said kissing him square on the lips.

I grabbed Hollywood by the hand and pulled him towards the front door and outside. He stumbled a little, swept off his feet by the kiss.

"I'll get those scripts for you honey," my mother called after me.

"Thanks."

We walked around to the back of the house to check on Manny. He was laying on the wood dock on his back, eyes closed, asleep. Vincent had disappeared. I hoped he wasn't too disappointed by the fresh bait I had brought home for my mother.

I kicked Manny gently to wake him. Instead of a subdued stir, he jumped, startled by my kick. He lost his balance and rolled over the edge, right into the canal. He hit the water with a big splash!

"Shit! Whoops!" I yelped.

Luckily Manny surfaced and neither myself nor Hollywood had to jump in to rescue him.

Manny slowly pulled his wet body up the ladder on the side of the dock. "Not cool Sharpe," he told me.

He didn't sound mad, but I knew Manny. Saying 'not cool' was the equivalent of 'eat shit and die bitch.' I was in trouble.

### Chapter 13.

On the way back to the office, I texted Mac and asked him to be ready with the camera rolling when we arrived. I wanted him to record Hollywood returning to the office and interacting with Terry. By this point the whole thing had become so staged that I was concerned about how it would read on camera once I cut everything together. The dynamic for this shoot was a strange one; I seemed to be as involved with the investigation as the cops were.

When we walked into the office, Mac was already rolling his camera and Mona was sitting across a conference table from Terry. She was dressed in a red blazer with sleeves that flared at the arms and a purple blouse underneath. She was wearing her rubies again and a pair of purple capri pants. Her hair was delicately styled into a loose bun. Everything about her looked perfect except her eyes, which carried years of sadness.

I gestured to Manny and Hollywood that they should be quiet as we approached the scene. "Okay, walk over to them and ask Terry what's going on," I whispered to Hollywood.

Manny fired up his sound gear and walked towards the scene as well.

"Hi, sorry I'm late," Hollywood said and sat down in a chair next to Terry.

Mona turned around, surprised to see me and Manny also walking towards her.

"It's okay, keep going," Hollywood whispered.

Terry cleared her throat. "I called Mona to ask a few more questions and she offered to come down to the station." Terry handed Hollywood a photograph taken by a camera with a very long lens. It looked like a surveillance shot. "Do you recognize this picture?"

"Yeah, she's on those hot dog commercials, right?"

"Right," Terry answered. "Mona gave me the lead. I just got off the phone with the woman."

"As I told you, there were several women in Eric's life," Mona said. "At one point I hired a private investigator to follow him to convince Rachel he was cheating. I brought Officer Perkins the photos he took for me. I was trying to prove to Rachel that I was speaking the truth. Hell, Eric even told her, but she couldn't bring herself to leave him. Couldn't let Cecil be right."

"The woman admitted to seeing him," Terry continued. "She told me that she met him on the set of a commercial she was filming and they became intimate. She said she later discovered that he was just using her for her connections, trying to get a job writing jingles."

"Eric's whores," Mona said under her breath.

"I asked her if she knew he was married and she said yes, but that everyone in this town is either married or gay anyway."

"Ain't that the truth," Hollywood confirmed.

"I asked if she thought he was capable of harming his wife and her response was odd. She said, 'why not?' as if that's the norm in this town."

"Infidelity maybe, but not murder," Hollywood pointed out.

"Agreed," Terry said. "She's willing to come down and talk to us if we need her. Maybe this woman poisoned Rachel, who knows."

"My gut tells me that isn't the case," Hollywood said.

"Mine too," Terry confirmed. "But you should never say never in Hollywood."

As I watched the exchange I jotted down Terry's line 'You should never say never in Hollywood.' I planned to use that in the trailer for their episode, assuming we got this thing solved of course.

"I'm just glad to know the truth, as horrible as it might be," Mona said.

Terry looked over at Hollywood. "I had to tell her about the cyanide."

"That's fine," Hollywood agreed. "She has the right to know."

"I can't even imagine the pain you must be going through," Terry told Mona. "I can tell you loved her very much. I wish my mother had been half the woman you are."

"Thank you, that's very sweet." Mona slid a manila folder across the table towards Terry. "You can keep these photos. Let me know if you need anything more." Mona stood up and looked at Hollywood. "Find my baby's killer, please." With that she turned and walked out.

I signaled Mac and Manny to stop rolling. "Wow, what a scene! Great job, Terry!"

Terry tried to hide the smile that was forming on her face.

Mac looked over at Manny who had been recording the audio. His long hair had gotten curly and frizzy and his clothes were still damp. "What the hell happened to you?" Mac asked.

"Sharpe pushed me in the canal," Manny answered matter-of-factly.

I hadn't expected him to blurt it out like that. "It was an accident," I whispered to Manny.

Manny shook his head, before walking past me to the men's room. Mac raised his eyebrows at me, but I wasn't in the mood for a lecture from him.

"Sharpe, I'm going down to the gym.," Hollywood told me. "I'll be back in an hour."

Before I knew what was happening Hollywood was heading out the door. I was annoyed at first, but then I decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

I grabbed Mac and Manny and walked over to Terry's desk. "Terry, would you mind if I asked you a few questions on camera?"

Terry looked around before answering me. "Won't Hollywood mind?"

"He went to the gym," I explained.

I could see the frustration on Terry's face and I really did feel bad for her. She was paired with a lousy partner and had to carry more than her share of the workload. Plus, she was taunted daily by other cops because she happened to be gorgeous. It wasn't fair. The first two things at least.

Terry straightened up. "Well, his loss is my gain, right? Let's roll."

Mac and Manny fired up their equipment while I fired out questions to Terry. "Can you tell me what your next steps are going to be?"

"I placed a call to the private investigator Mona hired, but today is Sunday so I probably won't hear from him until tomorrow," Terry explained. "Tonight I'm going to continue to track down Eric's past girlfriends to see if I can find some sort of connection to either drugs or a history of violence or someone that might have had motive. I'll check if they have any priors too. So far the women have been actresses in the field, but there could also be female producers or directors in the mix. Honestly, if Eric was smart those would be the ones he'd target."

"Where's your head at in terms of possible suspects?" I asked.

"I still think Eric had a lot to gain from Rachel's demise, but until we have more concrete evidence to prove that, we have to explore every avenue."

"Thanks guys, you can cut," I said to Mac and Manny. Manny immediately skulked off but Mac stayed behind.

"Do you want my help?" I asked Terry. "I could make some phone calls."

"I could too," Mac chimed in.

Terry smiled. "Thanks, but impersonating an officer probably isn't the best idea."

"Okay, I'm gonna get my notes together," I said. "Mac, if Terry makes another call can you capture the conversation on tape? Just make sure they consent first."

"Sure," Mac said, seeming quite pleased to watch over Terry.

"Thanks," I said and headed over to the extra desk in the back of the room.

I wanted to catalogue some of the scenes we had captured for my editor. So far, I had a disinterested husband, a paranoid recluse, a grieving mother, and a chain of ex-girlfriends. The poison was good and I loved that I had a scene of Mona accusing Eric of murder, but I still needed more. We needed a big break in the case that would change everything. It was basically plot point two (in film terms) of my story. It was an event that turned everything upside down and broke up the narrative. I needed something big to happen in the story to keep the audience engaged and interested and to get us to our climax. Could I cast enough suspicion on Eric to fill up an hour of content? Maybe. But it would be a stretch.

I looked through my notes to piece together the story for my editor. If we didn't get more content I was going to have to fill the void with talking-heads. This meant I would have to get more interviews with Hollywood and Terry recorded. I might have to dig into those demons Terry had. At least that might be an interesting sidebar for my audience.

Up ahead I heard some hushed voices and a giggle from Terry. Whoa, maybe something was really happening with these two. She seemed so shy and reserved that I almost found the idea hard to believe. Then I started to wonder if Mac was taking advantage of her, but I knew that wasn't his style.

I leaned forward, trying to see what was going on. Mac was sitting awfully close to her. Were their hands touching? I was sitting three desks back from Terry and while I could tell something was going on, I couldn't see exactly what.

"Stop," I heard Terry whisper and then laugh. My curiosity was killing me and I knew I couldn't take this much longer. It was then that I had a brilliant idea. I would use the camera on my cell phone to zoom in and get a better view. They would never know.

I readied the camera and lifted it slowly and deliberately up into the air. I pulled my finger back to press the zoom button when I heard a loud ring. I pushed some buttons on the phone, trying to stop the ringing and the camera's flash fired. Apparently this office had low lighting. Worse still, the phone continued to ring, announcing itself to everyone.

I pulled the phone down to see that Lenny was calling me. "Shit!" I said for so many reasons.

I looked up and saw Mac staring back at me. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Sorry, nothing, it's a new phone. I'm still learning to use it," I lied. "It's Lenny, I have to answer," I said, grateful for the diversion. "Yeah Lenny, hi."

"Where the hell is my story?" he yelled into the phone.

What a jerk this guy was. Sometimes I was convinced he was living in another era. It was like he was channeling the 1940s, acting like a newspaper publisher hounding his staff for big stories.

"It's coming," I said.

"By deadline?"

"Listen, I'm doing my best with what I've been given. This isn't exactly the A-Team."

"Honey, you got lucky last time. This time it's your job to get in there, get the story, and get out. I don't care how you get it, just get it. Understand? If these cops can't do it, get your boyfriend to help out."

"That isn't how it works and he's not my boyfriend," I whispered. "Look, I'm working on it. I'll keep you posted."

I hung up, not wanting to engage with him anymore than I already had. The guy was a slime ball and sometimes even speaking with him over the phone made me feel like I needed a shower. I glanced at the picture I had just taken with my phone. Terry was sitting at her desk typing on her computer and Mac was glaring at the camera. So much for my plan.

I gave Manny the night off early, hoping to earn some goodwill with him. Mac didn't seem in any rush to leave and Terry was still working. I headed to my apartment building a little after six o'clock hoping to catch _L.A. Incorporated._

I stopped at Kelly's place first with a stack of scripts from my mother and Hollywood. Her eyes were bloodshot and she looked like she hadn't slept in days. I wanted to sit on my couch and veg out all night with a glass of wine, but my heart went out to my friend who was desperately trying to hang on to her job.

"Do you need help reading these?" I asked her, hoping she would say no.

Kelly smiled. "Yeah Sharpe, that would be great."

### Chapter 14.

I spent the night reading crappy stories about sea monsters, incest, a dog who played the harmonica, and a family living in the year 2030. I didn't think any of them had much potential, but Kelly seemed to think Mark would like the incest movie.

While the night had taken my mind off things, the morning reminded me of how little time I had left. I had less than three days now to pull my story together and I was starting to panic. Lenny's call to me the night before didn't help matters. As I drove past the police station I looked up at the sign that said, "Join the LAPD reserves." I felt like I was the LAPD reserve at this point and I wasn't happy about it. If the solving of this crime was left up to me we weren't in for a good end result. Then again, if the crime solving were left up to Hollywood and Terry we were sunk there too.

A few minutes later I was standing in the lobby of the precinct with Mac and Manny, waiting for the guard to escort us to the back room where Terry and Hollywood sat. They didn't like us wandering around the station alone. We had been in and out of the station a lot lately and most of the people seemed to recognize us, but rules were rules and we weren't in a position to challenge them.

At the moment, the two cops at the desk were busy helping other people so we leaned against the wall and waited.

"You and Terry have a good night?" I teased Mac.

"Knock it off," he told me. "I don't go around asking you about your personal life."

"Sorry. Jeez," I responded. "So, um, I was thinking about calling Reid."

"Yeah, hit that Sharpe. You deserve some downtime," Manny said.

"Not for that Manny! I want to get his advice on this case. Maybe he can give us some tips for Hollywood and Terry. I just feel like they don't know what steps to take next."

Mac stared at me for a moment, considering the idea. Finally he spoke. "Yeah, these cops kind of suck."

I wasn't expecting that from Mac. I looked at Manny and the two of us burst out laughing. We laughed hard and long. It was exactly the type of tension breaker we needed after the canal-incident the day before.

After several more belly laughs, I managed to catch my breath. "Yeah Mac, they kind of do."

"You saying that about your girl, Mac? Really?" Manny asked, grinning.

"She's not my girl. Stop saying that," Mac fired back. "Anyway, of the two Terry is certainly the better one. I just don't have a lot of faith that they're going to solve this thing by Lenny's deadline."

"I hate to admit it," I told them, "but calling Reid was actually Lenny's idea."

"Well then you know it's shit," Manny said.

"I'm desperate. We air in a few days and I can't figure out a way to piece this thing together. We need to do something."

*****

Two hours later we were sitting across the table from Reid and his partner, Foxy. They were working day and night on their case, yet when I offered the two cops a free lunch in exchange for some advice, they came running. I'd told Hollywood that I was driving around with the crew to grab some location shots. I didn't want him to know we were going behind his back.

We grabbed a long booth at a local lunch spot. My crew and I sat on one side with Reid across from me and Foxy next to him. Foxy and Reid had been partners for a few months and in that time had become quite close. Foxy was round and gooey and every bit the teddy bear he appeared to be. He had the good fortune of marrying a woman who thought he was the sexiest man alive. But with that good fortune he had also paid a price. Sherry was constantly paranoid that both women and men alike were trying to steal her man. She had once told me about her theory that Reid had a secret crush on Foxy, and when I laughed she nearly ripped my head off.

Although Sherry was a little nuts, Foxy had developed a good sense of humor about it. He was actually quite the comedian and his favorite pastime of late was poking fun at the relationship that Reid and I had developed. I hadn't seen Foxy in a few days since the reassignment and I could tell he was bursting to give me and Reid a hard time.

"So you guys miss us yet?" Foxy wanted to know.

"I don't miss wiring your sweaty ass for sound," Manny joked.

"No one asked you to stick that thing in my ass pal," Foxy retorted. "You went there all on your own."

"It's kind of hard to get around Papi," Manny jibed.

"So what's this about?" Reid asked. "Is your new team giving you trouble?"

I looked at Reid and smiled. I was excited to see him, even if it was technically a business meeting. "The cops we're assigned to aren't exactly as _diligent_ as the two of you were. I have to deliver my story by Wednesday and I think they need some help," I explained.

Reid smiled. "Sharpe and her deadlines."

"You're with Hollywood right?" Foxy asked. "And that hot chick? Yeah they suck."

"We're aware of that," I said matter-of-factly. "That's why we wanted to talk through the case with you and see if you had any suggestions."

Reid sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Shoot."

It was hard to talk to Reid in a casual way. In a way that said I didn't want to jump across the table and into his lap, but I tried my best. I explained that Rachel Roads, aka the Mood Girl, had died in the bathtub after being poisoned. Her husband didn't seem to care much about it and told us that their relationship was pretty much over. We discovered that he was sleeping with other women, but seemed to be using them for job opportunities as opposed to lust or love. The women he was involved with might have had motive if they were crazy enough to think he cared about them, but I wasn't sure they did. Eric seemed to be the obvious suspect as he stood to benefit in the will. She was a pill popper, but not of poison pills. Her mother was also convinced that Eric committed the crime.

"What color was her hair when she died?" Foxy asked, making a joke.

"Mood shampoo would change your hair style, not your hair color," I corrected.

"Maybe you should watch the husband's interview tape," Reid suggested. "Sometimes you can find clues in there that you might have missed the first time around. That's probably the one good thing that came out of you guys tagging along."

"One good thing?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at Reid.

Reid smiled at me. "Okay, two."

"Don't forget about my stardom," Foxy interjected. "I was stopped on the street the other day and asked for my autograph."

"Seriously?" Mac asked, not believing him.

"Okay, the autograph part isn't true, but someone was looking at me like they recognized me."

"Did the cops bring the guy in and shake him up?" Reid asked, still trying to provide solutions.

Good cop, bad cop was a routine Reid and Foxy played often, trying to scare their victims into honesty. I blurted out a laugh thinking about Hollywood roughing someone up. "That would be Hollywood's greatest acting challenge yet," I said. "He can't even stand up to some of the guys in his department."

"A couple years ago the victim's mother hired a PI. We called him last night but we haven't heard back. Terry thinks he'll need written authorization from the victim's mother before he's willing to talk," Mac said.

"The PI is a good route if he's an honest one," Reid said. "Why did the mother hire him? Was she worried the husband was going to hurt her daughter?"

"No." I shook my head. "She wanted to prove to Rachel that the guy was cheating on her. But I don't think it helped much. It may have made her self-loathing worse."

"Do you guys know Pauly and Joe in the Hollywood division?" Mac asked. "They seem to like bullying Hollywood and Terry."

"You know, bullying stems from insecurity," Foxy said. "Perhaps they had a rough home life."

We all stared at Foxy, a little surprised.

"My kids are learning about bullies in school. Anyway, that's just cops for you. It's like an initiation – like what we did with you guys."

When we had first been assigned to Foxy and Reid they played a prank on me and the crew with a phony murder scene and a lot of fake blood. I was arrogant and stormed onto their scene with all the machismo I could muster. The result was me slipping and falling in a pile of blood and both me and Manny screaming like little girls. It was a hazing ritual and we didn't appreciate it. In fact, I felt a twinge of anger just thinking about it.

Reid shuffled in his seat. "Look, we've all been messed with here and there. They key is to prove 'em wrong."

"Well, I don't think it's right what they're doing. Especially to someone as innocent as Terry," Mac added.

Foxy looked up at him, smiling. "MacGyver, am I detecting a love interest?"

Now it was Mac's turn to shift uncomfortably in his chair. Reid stared directly at me, probably trying to gauge my reaction. Mac and I had kissed once in the past, and when Reid and I started flirting Mac threw a bit of a hissy-fit about the whole thing. I was sure Reid was trying to see if this was making me jealous. I wanted him to know that it wasn't. Well, maybe a little.

"She's a pretty girl," Foxy continued. "She certainly appealed to this stud," he said, pointing at Reid.

It wasn't a conscious move, but I sat straight up, reacting quite physically to Foxy's words. Reid looked at me, sensing my reaction. He was good at reading people's body language, as it was part of his job, but you also didn't have to be an expert to read mine.

"Sharpe, he's just kidding," Reid said.

I could feel the blood rushing to my face. I was in shock and I didn't know what to say. I had asked Terry point blank if she knew Reid when we were in Rob's edit bay and she said nothing.

"Did I put my foot in my mouth? I mean you know he's not a virgin, right Sharpe?" Foxy said.

Now Reid started getting red. "Dude, shut up."

Mac and I looked at each other. What the hell kind of crazy love triangle had we stumbled into? This wasn't the intent of the meeting and now everyone was getting upset.

"Oh look at the time. We have to get back to the office," I said, trying to play it cool. I threw fifty dollars on the table to cover the meal that we had yet to order and stood up.

"No, don't do that," Foxy said, pleading. "I made this weird, right? Cause Mac and Reid went after the same girl?" Foxy raised his eyebrows. "Kind of like with you Sharpe. I guess you guys have the same taste."

"I went for her too man," Manny admitted. "Terry, not Sharpe. But she only likes that vegan shit that Mac eats."

"Ready guys?" I asked, pleadingly.

Mac jumped up and stood by my side. "Yes, very."

Now Reid jumped up. "Victoria can I talk to you for a second?"

"Nope I'm good," I said coldly. "Thanks for the advice."

With that, I turned on my heel and power walked out of the restaurant with Mac and Manny behind me. This wasn't the first time I had been humiliated in front of this group, but I didn't care about that. I was upset because the truth really hurt.

*****

We drove in silence feeling frustrated, embarrassed, and grossed out. Terry had lied to us, outright. She betrayed whatever trust she and Mac had plus her little secret had compromised my relationship with Reid. I knew Terry wasn't the only guilty party – Reid was equally to blame. I thought back to the last time I had seen him. At dinner I had specifically asked him if he knew Hollywood – he had to know she was his partner, so why not mention it? Or had he been so casual about the sex that he didn't even bother to get to know her?

When we arrived at the station, Hollywood and Terry seemed to be expecting us.

"Where the hell have you been?" Hollywood snapped.

"I told you we were getting location shots," I fired back.

"Well we've got another crack in the case. Another girlfriend who has agreed to let us interview her. We're on our way to her house now."

Mac looked at his watch. "Now? It's almost four. I didn't think you two punched a clock after five."

It was hurtful, especially coming from Mac. I could see Terry wince from the comment. She had no idea what we had just learned or the icky feeling it had left on all of us.

"Do you want to come with us or not?" Terry asked.

"We're coming," I relented but I wasn't happy about it. If I had my way, I would have marched straight home to lick my wounds.

*****

We drove up Shoreham Drive off North Doheny into some of the hills just behind the Sunset strip. The houses on this street were mostly hidden by hedges and fences, giving the inhabitants as much privacy as landscaping could afford. In these hills, houses were close together but charming and well maintained. In Los Angeles, location was everything and these plots were prime real estate commanding big bucks. The woman we were about to meet must have been pretty successful in her career to live on this block.

I sat in the backseat of the cop car with Terry driving and Hollywood in the passenger's seat. I pressed record on the small camera fastened to the rear view mirror and threw some questions out at Terry and Hollywood.

"How did you find this woman?"

"Through Mona and the pictures she provided us from the PI. Her name is Emma Reynolds. When I called her she confirmed that she dated Eric for some time and was willing to talk to us," Terry answered.

"Next time please answer in the form of a question," I complained. "Has the PI called you back yet?"

"Not yet," Terry answered.

"You mean, 'no the PI hasn't called me back yet.' Can you please answer in the form of a question, Terry?" I barked.

Terry glared at me in the rear view mirror but didn't say anything in return.

We continued to ascend and then stopped at a mailbox numbered 97. It was hard to see the house from the street as the perimeter was lined with tall Cyprus trees. We parked on the street and stepped out. Manny and Mac parked behind us and unloaded their gear.

Manny walked up to the cops with two lavaliere microphones in hand. "I have to mic you up."

Terry took the small microphone from Manny and threaded it up her shirt while he tucked it into the back of her pants. Hollywood preferred the star treatment so he raised him arms to allow Manny to mic him. Manny groaned as he threaded the mic up his shirt, trying to avoid feeling him up in the process.

Mac threw the camera over his shoulder. "I'm ready," he said without any expression or emotion. He was all business this evening.

I glanced at Terry and saw that she seemed annoyed. This day had a bad vibe to it.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and I pulled it out, hoping it would be Reid. Instead it was a text from Ginny, asking if she could come over tonight. I shook my head and put my phone back in my pocket. I pulled out my log book and noted the date, location, and time. I also pulled out a legal release for this woman to sign so we could use her image on TV.

"Is she expecting us?" I asked Hollywood.

"Yeah she's cool," he replied.

"Let's go," Terry said and hustled towards the house.

We walked up the driveway towards the house. It was a beautiful gray cottage with white trim and ivy growing along the sides. The front lawn was filled with flowers and vines and was absolutely perfect. There was a woman bending over pulling weeds out of the ground who I guessed was the gardener.

"Hello?" Hollywood said to the woman.

The woman turned around and stood to face us. She was probably in her sixties but had a nice figure and a pretty face. She was wearing khaki pants with a pink button-down shirt tucked in, and some pearls hanging around her neck.

"You must be the police I spoke with earlier," the woman said. "I'm Emma." She extended a hand out to Terry and then Hollywood.

I hadn't expected Emma to look like this! I turned to make sure Mac and Manny were filming and luckily they were. Manny pulled out his boom microphone and held it over her head to capture her audio.

Emma looked up at the boom. "Well, good thing I put some makeup on."

I stepped forward. "Miss Roberts, my name is Victoria Sharpe and I'm a producer for the show. Can I ask you to sign this release before we go any further?" I held out the release to her.

Emma took it without hesitation and signed. "Sure, I'm used to signing these things. This won't be my first time on television."

I stepped back and let the action continue. I looked over at Hollywood who seemed as surprised as I was at the woman's age. This was Eric's girlfriend?

"Why don't you come inside?" Emma asked.

"For some tea?" I blurted out and then felt stupid for it.

Emma looked over at me. "Well, sure. If you'd like tea I can make some."

"Yes, I um, have a sore throat," I said, trying to recover from such an ageist comment. I could feel Mac glaring at me from the corner of my eye – as usual. It was odd to me that Mac didn't get along with my mother, as he clearly wanted to _be_ her. Honestly it took everything I had to not throw my hands in the air and scream, "Can I do anything right by you?"

Emma led us inside the house where we stepped into a large living room that featured aged wooden floors, a white oversized country-chic couch, and lots of knick-knacks.

"Please sit down and I'll make that tea," Emma said to us.

She shuffled into the kitchen while Terry and Hollywood sat on the couch. Mac turned off the camera but remained standing while Manny and I stood in the background.

"Why the hell did you ask for tea?" Hollywood said, clearly annoyed.

"Sorry," I whispered. "Gosh, give me a break."

Emma returned a few minutes later. "I put the kettle on. It'll just take a moment."

Hadn't this woman ever heard of a microwave? Perhaps they didn't have them back in the stone ages.

Emma sat on the couch and looked at me. "Do you want me to just act natural?"

"Yes, that would be great," I told her. "The officers will ask you some questions and if you can speak to them and try to avoid looking at the cameras."

"Oh, I can do that. I've been doing commercials for much of my life. I'm completely at ease," Emma confirmed. "By the way, what network will this be on? Do you know the air date?"

Actors were so predictable. Hollywood's ears seemed to perk up – he wanted to know this answer too.

"Assuming we can solve this case, it'll air this Friday on the HOBO channel," I explained. "But a lot of that depends on what you can tell us so let's get started."

"You mean I'm a key witness?" Emma asked.

I pointed to the police. "Ask them, okay? Pretend I'm not here."

"Right, of course."

Terry opened up the line of questioning. "On the phone you mentioned you'd dated Eric Roads in the past. Can you tell me how recently?"

Emma thought for a moment. "Gosh, it has probably been six or eight months."

"And how serious would you say your relationship with Eric was?"

Emma thought about that. "Not very. It was mostly sexual. He said his wife was an anorexic and that they never did it. I think he just needed to take the edge off with me, you know?"

"So you were aware he was married?" Terry asked.

"Yes I was. Wait, is he divorced?"

"No his wife is dead," Hollywood chimed in.

Emma sat up straight, processing the comment. "Oh."

"Have you ever met his wife?" Terry asked.

"No," Emma said, crossing and then uncrossing her legs. "I didn't even know her name."

"It was Rachel Roads. The Mood Girl," Hollywood told her.

Emma thought for a moment and then a light bulb went off in her head. "Wait, didn't she just die?"

"Yes," Terry answered. "Do you have any reason to believe that Eric would want to harm his own wife?"

Emma started to get pale. She placed a hand on her chest and took some deliberate deep breaths. "Wow, I'm in a bit of shock here. You think Eric killed his wife?"

"We don't think anything," Terry continued. "We're trying to get answers, that's why we're here."

Emma thought a moment. "He'd speak about her very negatively sometimes. He said if she wasn't so pathetic, he'd be out the door. I don't think her family accepted him either. Eric had a bit of a problem with drugs, but he had a good heart."

"What kind of drugs did he use?" Terry asked.

"I don't know, pills mostly. Uppers, downers, that type of thing."

"How did you two meet?" Hollywood asked.

"On the set. I was shooting an ad for a pharmaceutical pill. One of those ads where I pretend I'm happy and playing with my dog while they read off thirty lines of copy on all the side-effects. Anyway, he was there helping out and we hit it off. I ended up getting him a gig writing the score for the commercial. He was really excited about that. But I'm getting older now and my opportunities are few and far between. It's too bad as I wished I could have helped him more. He was a wonderful song writer."

"Was he seeing other women that you were aware of?" Terry asked.

"Gosh I hope not. I don't know. I'm still reeling from what you just told me. I could have been with a killer. Huh! That dead woman could have been me."

Leave it to an actor to spin a story around to make it all about themselves.

"Are you aware of any enemies that either Eric or his wife had?" Terry asked.

"I don't know. We didn't talk all that much, to be honest. We just, well...you know." She blushed.

I wasn't sure what was worse. Sleeping with a sleaze ball like Eric or an old lady like Emma. Okay, she really wasn't that old, I was exaggerating, but I was still surprised to see that he'd woo a woman almost twice his age. He was a regular gigolo.

"What about friends?" Terry asked. "Did he have friends that you knew of?"

"Honestly, I don't know," she answered. "I didn't have much exposure to his real life, just the fantasy."

"Okay, thank you for your time," Terry said standing.

Emma stood up and looked at me. "I'm sorry, I forgot about your tea. Do you still want it?"

"No that's okay. Thank you," I said.

"Do you think I'll make the cut?" she asked me.

"I'll do my best," I answered, knowing that the only reason I'd even consider using her would be to shock the audience. Learning that Eric was banging this dinosaur would surely peak their interest. This was the kind of filth people ate up.

We collected our things, thanked Emma, and headed out to the street.

When we reached the cars Terry looked at her watch. "Well it's after five so I guess that means we have to call it a day. We never stay out past five, right Hollywood?"

Her remark was directed at Mac but it seemed to backfire. Mac threw up his hands and headed towards the car. "Are we done, Sharpe?"

I saw Terry's face go red with anger. She stormed over to Mac. "What the hell is your problem, asshole?!"

"Whoa!" Manny reacted, smiling.

It did catch us by surprise that Miss Super Shy was now calling Mac an _asshole_. We were finally getting some emotion out of this woman.

"Just forget it," Mac said, opening the trunk of the SUV and loading his gear.

"No, Terry's right," Hollywood said, jumping on the bandwagon. "We've done everything you guys have asked us to do and now you're turning on us? I know the first team you were paired with wasn't this easy to work with, so what's the problem?"

"The problem is we're under a deadline, Hollywood! We're just spinning our wheels on this stupid case and making no traction! At least the other team made an effort to solve the damn thing!" I barked.

Terry turned and glared at me. "What did you say?" She could be pretty damn intimidating when she wanted to be.

"All right, all right, everyone calm down," Manny called out, raising his hands. "You guys need to chill and I have just the thing to help with that."

"Are you really offering cops pot, Manny?" Mac spat. "Are you that dumb?"

Manny shook his head. "You're crazy man, that's not what I was talking about. Dude, you need to get your head on straight – I know your prissy ass won't do that shit. No man, I was talking about a little relief of the alcoholic variety. There's a bar I like not too far from here."

I had to admit it wasn't a bad idea. After what Reid and Foxy had put me through earlier, a drink sounded like the perfect elixir. "I'm game," I said, more because I preferred to drink with a group than alone, crying in my apartment.

"Me too," Terry said.

We looked at Mac next. "Fine," he said dismissively. "I'll lead the way."

### Chapter 15.

We drove downhill towards the San Fernando Valley. As usual, Mac was behind the wheel and I was in the passenger seat next to him. The alcohol was a good idea, I could give Manny that, but it probably would have been more appropriate if it was just for me and my crew. The group bonding he was hoping to achieve was going to be a struggle. Mac and I had both been betrayed by two people we were close to. It wasn't a good feeling.

"Are you going to confront Terry about this?" I asked Mac.

Mac shook his head. "It's none of my business."

"Are you still trying to pretend you two aren't screwing around?" I asked. "Come on Mac, we're not blind."

"Drop it, Sharpe. It's not your concern," Mac told me.

"It's not like you're the only victim here. Reid totally lied to me."

"Drop it I said," Mac snapped.

"Whoa dude. Chill out," Manny said from the backseat.

"Just leave me alone, okay?" Mac said, frustrated.

I shook my head and grew silent. This bad day was getting worse.

The bar was in Studio City, which was a trendy spot with lots of shops and restaurants to choose from. It was right at the foot of the Hollywood Hills so the rich folks that lived up above tended to frequent the area. My apartment was only ten minutes away from here, but there was a notable difference between Studio City and North Hollywood. While this area was hip and cool, my area was considered cheap and dull. As Mac turned onto Ventura Boulevard, Manny directed him to a bar called _The Library_.

We waited outside for Terry and Hollywood to park their car and then walked in as a group. The bar was decorated like the type of library that you'd find in a billionaire's mansion. There was a long bar at the front with mahogany bar stools. Behind it, there was a library-like area complete with bookshelves on the walls, vintage books, and deep green wallpaper. There were tables and couches scattered throughout and some red velvet curtains hanging down that separated some of the seating areas for privacy.

I was wearing my usual uniform of dark jeans and a T-shirt. Today the T-shirt was an olive green V-neck and I had Dockers on my feet. I didn't look hip and I didn't look cool, but that was okay. Sometimes the people that tried to look like they were important were the most obvious outsiders.

It was odd to me that this was the type of place Manny would choose to frequent. He was so down-to-earth, so low key. I pictured him preferring joints that served five-dollar beers, not fifteen-dollar martinis. As I looked around I realized that this crowd was actually very mixed. I saw people wearing suits, I saw young actor hopefuls wearing vintage thrift shop clothes, and I saw biker-dudes dressed in leather and chains.

Manny led us to the back of the room where the couches and tables were. As we walked past one of the areas partially covered by curtains, I did a double-take. Keith Brooks was sitting at a table with no less than six ladies flanked around him. Hollywood and Lenny had just been talking about the article in the _Daily Buzz_ where he'd been caught with a teenage girl. These beauties looked like they were of drinking age, but with makeup sometimes it was hard to tell. Sometimes a sixteen year old and a twenty-two year old could look the same. That's probably how Keith got into trouble in the first place.

Admittedly, the celebrity sighting had brightened my mood just slightly. Seeing Keith was one of my favorite things about this town. You could bump into celebrities anywhere – at the supermarket, at the gym or the movies. There were so many of them it was hard _not_ to see them. But A-listers were an extra special treat. He may have been a pervert, but with his sandy blonde hair, green eyes, and toned physique, the man was damn fine eye candy.

I felt Hollywood grab my hand and pull me towards him. "Holy shit, holy shit!" he whispered excitedly looking at Keith Brooks.

I turned around and smiled at him. "I know!"

Manny planted himself on a pleated leather couch. There were two gold circular coffee tables in front of it, another smaller couch across from it, and a large leather chair on one side. I plopped down next to Mac and Terry on the larger couch across from Manny. Hollywood was standing halfway between Keith Brooks and our table, looking back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. I signaled with my hand that he should come over to sit with us in the leather captain's chair and finally he did.

"Wow, this is wild. I've never been to this bar before," Hollywood said, sitting down.

"Keith's usually here," Manny explained. "He's part owner. He doesn't like guys getting all goo-goo eyed though. Just girls."

Hollywood nodded, slightly embarrassed.

A waitress walked over to the table wearing a short black dress with red ruffles underneath. "Can I get you something to drink?"

There were drink menus on the coffee table in front of us so I picked one up. This wasn't the type of place you ordered a beer at.

"I'll have a beer," Manny said.

"Me too – an I.P.A. if you have one," Mac added.

I glanced at the martini list and decided to have some fun tonight. "I'll try the Basil-Vodka martini."

"Make that two," Terry said.

"Three," Hollywood added and the waitress nodded and walked away.

"I've heard a lot about herb-infused vodkas lately," I told the group.

"That doesn't mean it's healthy," Mac said.

I glared at Mac. "Are you serious right now?"

Mac shrugged. "Well it doesn't."

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and pulled it out, hoping for something from Reid. It was Ginny again asking where I was. I typed quickly: _At the library with my crew. Stop bothering me._

A moment later my phone buzzed again. _The library?_

I pulled out my phone and typed: _The bar I am at is called the Library._

As I hit send I realized that I had responded to the wrong text chain. I had just sent the message to Ty. "Shit," I said and quickly typed: _Sorry this was meant for my sister_ and sent it to Ty. Then I send another text to Ginny telling her the Library was the name of a bar and to leave me alone.

Damn, now Ty knew I had gotten his text and was deliberately ignoring it. Oh well, whatever!

I was agitated and annoyed. I looked over at Terry who was sitting on the couch with her flowing brown hair and big boobs looking like she didn't have a care in the world. Had Reid's hands been on those boobs? Had he kissed her neck the way he'd kissed mine? The thoughts were making me nauseous. I wanted to confront her but I didn't know how to do it. I needed an opening.

"I'm so sick of this draught," Terry said. "How about you guys? Every day I'm praying for rain."

I decided that was as good of an opening as any. "Why didn't you tell me you knew Reid?" I asked her.

Terry looked a little surprised. Good. Let her squirm. I looked over at Mac who raised an eyebrow at me. I didn't care, I was doing this for him as much as I was doing it for myself.

"I know lots of cops," Terry said. "Do I have to provide you with a list?"

Well now, I guess she wanted to get sassy with me. "Is there a list Terry? A list of the cops you _know_ really well?"

"Sharpe, lay off," Mac told me, under his breath.

"Hey, hey, come on now. We're supposed to be getting along," Manny interjected.

The waitress returned with our drinks and placed them on the table. I grabbed my martini and took a big sip. It was sweet and went down smooth. I knew Mac wanted me to bite my tongue, but I couldn't stop. Terry messed with me and she messed with my crew. This was war.

"So does it bother you that we've kissed the same men?" I pressed. "Or is that some sort of sick turn on for you?"

"What are you talking about?" Terry asked, glancing at Mac.

I saw Mac go as white as a sheet and start waving his hands to stop me.

"Did you two kiss or something?" Terry asked.

"Wait, you didn't tell her?" I asked him. "Then why were you so upset about Reid?"

"What is she talking about, Mac?" Terry asked again, blinking at him.

Mac shook his head dismissively. "Nothing. Sometimes Sharpe and I get our personal lives intertwined and it gets a little messy."

Terry didn't seem to like that answer. She stiffened and her body language changed. I had a feeling that angry girl that called Mac an asshole earlier was going to come out, but I was ready for her.

Terry glared at Mac. "So you kissed her?"

"Years ago!" Mac defended. "We were drunk at a party, it didn't mean anything."

"When were you going to tell me this?"

Mac shook his head. "Sharpe, you really are awesome sometimes."

"I'm trying to protect you," I shot back.

"Can I talk to you? Privately?" Mac asked Terry. Before she could reply he took her by the hand and led her away from the group into a far corner of the room.

I took another sip of my martini and leaned back in my chair.

"Nice job Sharpe," Manny told me sarcastically.

"I can't believe he didn't tell her about us. How could he get mad at her if he was telling the same exact lie?"

I looked over at Hollywood. "Did you know anything about this?"

"Huh?" Hollywood asked.

"Your partner slept with Reid – the guy I'm seeing. Did you know about that?"

"Really?" Hollywood asked, bewildered. "Wow, that's some crazy shit."

"Hollywood, I just had an argument with Terry about it. Literally just now, in front of you. Didn't you hear us?" I asked.

"Sorry Sharpe, I guess I wasn't paying attention. I'm trying to figure out my angle with Keith Brooks. Do you think I should go over there?"

I threw up my hands. "You're unbelievable!"

Manny looked over at Terry and Mac who were arguing in the corner. "Yup, they're definitely sleeping together. No woman would get that angry about a friendship."

"They might not be having actual sex," I corrected. "I mean, you can be in a relationship with someone without sleeping together."

"Not really," Manny told me. He looked at Hollywood and slapped his leg. "I still can't believe you never went for her man."

"Who Terry?" Hollywood asked.

Manny nodded. "She's a pretty girl."

Hollywood thought for a moment and then broke out into a smile. "I really am a dumbass sometimes, right?"

"Yes," Manny laughed.

I looked over at Mac and Terry. He seemed to be making some headway with her. I did hope the two of them could work it out, but then again, misery loves company.

"He hasn't been serious about a girl in a while," I told Manny.

"You're happy for him, right Sharpe?"

I straightened up. "Yeah, of course. I want him to be happy. I guess he can forgive her for sleeping with Reid, but it's different for me. The whole situation is such a mess."

"I get it babe," Manny reassured me.

"You know he hasn't even tried to call me? Not even a text."

"He's stupid," Manny said and moved over next to me. He placed a big arm around me and kissed my cheek.

"Should I say something to him?" Hollywood wanted to know, still focused on Keith Brooks.

"Judging by all the women around him, I don't think a conversation with _you_ is what he's interested in, Hollywood."

"You never know, we have a lot in common. Remember that movie he was in where the cop is injured in the line of duty? I'm a cop so I can relate to that kind of stuff."

"When were you injured in the line of duty?" Manny asked.

"I'll just make it up. I'm an actor, you know."

The waitress returned with another round of drinks. The first drink went down smooth and the second one went down even smoother. I was starting to feel a buzz now and beginning to relax. I grabbed a book off the shelf behind me and decided to pour myself into some good literature. I was at the library after all!

*****

One hour and two martinis later I was halfway through _War and Peace_. Why did people make such a big deal about how many pages it had? I was breezing through it. It was actually pretty funny!

Manny was at the bar trying to make some headway with some women and Hollywood had run out to his car to grab a few headshots to give to Keith Brooks. When he returned, he planted himself next to me and leaned in.

"Okay, here's the angle. We go over there and you start talking about a new reality show you're casting. Focus on the girls so it isn't obvious we're there to talk to Keith. Then while the girls are distracted I'll make small talk with him. What do you think?"

I thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "I need another martini first."

I was now three martinis in, walking over to Keith Brooks and his mistresses with Hollywood. I didn't feel drunk, just really confident. Normally celebrities intimidated me, but not tonight. I knew that what I was about to say was going to be awesome.

I pulled the red curtain back and grandly entered Keith's sitting area with Hollywood in tow. "Ladies, I've been watching you all night," I announced. "I'm Victoria Sharpe and I'm casting a new reality show about sexy singles. Anyone interested?"

Keith looked up at me, seemingly annoyed. The women on the other hand, barely acknowledged me. I stood there for a moment, awkwardly waiting for a response. Finally one of the girls looked up, her eyes covered in gray eye shadow and artificial lashes.

"Not interested." She was laying on her back across an ottoman looking incredibly relaxed. Her blonde hair was tied in a loose bun with tendrils falling down over her neck. She looked me over lazily. "Run along now."

I laughed inwardly. I wasn't sure what happened but for some reason my awesome speech had backfired. I looked over at Hollywood, not sure what to do.

"Um, I'm a police officer," Hollywood announced. "I'm here to check IDs." He whipped out his badge.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

Hollywood looked at me and shrugged.

"Officer, I'm an owner of this establishment," Keith said. "I can assure you these women are of age."

"Keith, is that you?" Hollywood said. "Oh wow I didn't recognize you! Dennis Johnson, we did that movie together a few years back." Hollywood put out a hand to shake Keith's.

Keith looked at him confused. "What movie was that?"

"The cop one. I was your body double," Hollywood told him handing him a headshot. "I haven't updated this thing in years but I figured you might want a copy."

Keith looked at the African American man before him. Keith was average height and relatively slender with white freckly skin and green eyes. It was pretty unlikely that the hulking man before him was his body double.

We were losing him, I knew that. I jumped in to try to turn the conversation. "Wow, you girls really know how to put on makeup. I mean, wow! I couldn't do that if I tried."

The rude girl glanced over at me again then slowly rose from her ottoman. She stood in front of me and examined my face. "You don't look like you try at all. Look at this Lucy."

Another woman with jet black hair and a silver floor length gown stood up and walked over to me. "Tragic," Lucy replied.

I felt my breath catch. I felt old and ugly compared to these younger and more significant beauties. Damn those martinis, they were really messing with my mind right about now.

I felt a hand touch mine and looked down to see Lucy holding on to me. "Come on," she told me and led me to sit with them. One girl pulled my hair out of the ponytail while another set to work putting gloss on my lips. I felt like I was in a dream. There were all these hands on my face, pulling on my eyelashes, fluffing my hair. I heard a rip and looked down to see that the V in my T-shirt had gotten significantly deeper.

"Would you like a hit?" Keith asked me.

I looked over to see Hollywood now seated next to Keith, putting some cocaine on his finger and running it across his gums. My eyes bulged. What the hell was going on here?

The girls were examining me now, pulling my face left and then right and making adjustments. I focused on Hollywood again.

"Hollywood, you're a cop," I whispered to him, or at least I hoped it was a whisper. It was hard to tell.

"It's fine," he told me, waving a hand.

"There you go," one of the women said to me and held out a small mirror. I looked in it to see my eyes perfectly lined with black eyeliner curling at the edges. My eye shadow was gold and slate gray, and my lips were deep red. It was more makeup then I had ever worn in my life, but damn it I looked hot!

"Wow," Keith said to me, winking.

I giggled like a little schoolgirl. Keith Brooks thought I was pretty!

I stood up on wobbly legs. "I'll be right back. I have to go to the ladies room."

I squeezed past the women draped all over Keith and headed for the bathroom in the back. I walked down a narrow hallway past a couple that was making out intensely.

I turned around. Was that Mac and Terry? Nah.

I pushed through the door of the women's room and looked in the mirror. Staring in the mirror I had no idea who was looking back at me. I felt like so much had happened in so little time. This morning I had butterflies in my stomach at the thought of seeing Reid, excited about where our relationship could go. Hours later I had turned to the dark side and become one of Keith Brooks' groupies. Pretty soon I'd be snorting cocaine off his stomach and wearing tops that exposed my midriff. I was thirty years old and I was drunk in a bar. Is this where my life was headed?

I walked out of the bathroom with my head down and plowed right into someone. I looked up to see that Keith Brooks was standing in front of me, his hands having caught me by the boobs. As our eyes connected I felt a slight pain as he smiled and squeezed.

"Wow," he repeated. "Au natural."

I couldn't help it, and I burst out laughing. I knew this was like a dream come true but sometimes it was amazing to see how ballsy celebs could be. I placed my hands over his and pulled them off my breasts. "Thank you for that," I told him. "I'll probably tell people this story for years to come."

"Right on," Keith nodded. He whipped his phone out of his pocket. "Take a picture, it'll last longer, right?"

He snapped a selfie of the two of us. I felt a hand on my right breast again as the flash fired. "You can show that to your friends," Keith told me and winked as he walked away.

"But that was your phone," I called after him, but he didn't hear me.

I walked back down the hall and this time I was sure Mac and Terry were making out. They were really going at it. Wow, it wasn't like Mac to be so bold.

I saw Manny sitting on the couch talking to a woman. As her face came into view I gasped. "What the hell?"

"Vicky!" Ginny said and jumped up to hug me. She stepped back and examined my face. "O-M-G, you look amazing!"

Normally I would have been annoyed that my annoying little sister had tracked me down, but not tonight. In fact, I was excited to see her. "Gin you'll never guess what just happened. Keith Brooks hit on me!"

"Sure Victoria." She smiled, not believing me.

"I'm serious! He just grabbed my boobs by the bathroom! Look he's right over there." I pointed at Keith who gave me a small wave.

"No way!" Ginny squealed.

Hollywood came running over to me and Ginny and starting jumping and squealing. "Keith Brooks totally likes me!"

"Wait, you too?" Ginny asked.

"He told me he loved my headshot. He's going to give it to his agent," Hollywood screamed.

"He grabbed my boobs," I added.

"Oh my God," Hollywood shrieked. The three of us grabbed hands and jumped up and down screaming.

"Would you three knock it off?" Manny called out. "You're grown-ass adults."

We managed to regain our composure and sat down on the couch. "Waitress," Ginny called out. "Catch me up with these guys, okay?"

"Terry and Mac are totally making out in the hallway back there," I announced.

"Told you," Manny confirmed.

"I'm so glad I came out tonight," Ginny announced. "I needed an escape from my dear old hubby. He works eighty hours a week but sometimes it's just not enough. I need space! All he wants to talk about is the office and his clients and briefings. It's total snoozeville."

"And what do you want to talk about Ginny?" I asked.

"The house," she said matter-of-factly. "My charity work. Important stuff."

It was amazing how Ginny had completely taken my mother's personality and I had completely taken my father's. I was the child who took nothing from her wealthy parents. I lived in a dump, I worked hard, and I barely made ends meet. I never asked for a handout no matter how tight money got between jobs. I was an adult with a sense of responsibility for myself.

Ginny and I grew up in the same house but in many ways we lived in different worlds. Ginny grew up in a life of luxury. She had never worked a day in her life and thanks to the success of her well-to-do husband, she probably never would. She had mooched off my parents until the day she was married and now she busied herself redecorating Bob's condo. She was living in a dreamland and it irked me to the core when she complained about it.

"Reid and I got in a fight," I told Ginny.

"About what?"

"He had a thing with my partner back in the day," Hollywood told her.

"No," Ginny said. "The way Vicky described her I thought she was like a nun or gay or something."

"Yeah, not so much."

"Maybe you should call him," Ginny suggested.

"No," I insisted. "He knows where I stand. It's his move."

In my mind, I pictured Reid and Terry kissing. I knew what he looked like when he kissed, sort of, and now I knew what she looked like doing the act. The image should have made me mad, but instead I started to laugh. This vodka was making even the worst things seem really funny.

The waitress returned to our table a few minutes later carrying four shots of something clear.

"No one in this place is interested in getting busy," Manny announced. "So let's get drunk."

Ginny, Hollywood, and I thought that was a fine idea. We took the glasses from Manny, lifted them high in the air, and downed the shots.

*****

An hour later, we considered ourselves successful in mission: Get drunk. I was on martini number four and everyone else was close behind. Mac and Terry were snuggled together on the couch giggling and whispering secrets to each other. I thought about how awkward it was for Mac when Reid publicly put his arm around me. Mac had been jealous and he didn't handle it well. Now the shoe was on the other foot and I was put in the awkward position of having to watch. I was grateful that Ginny had decided to show up. I needed someone to show me some love and she was willing to put her around me to snuggle.

"I want to know who that girl we saw today was," I said to Terry.

"What girl?" she asked.

"You!" I said. "I've never heard you raise your voice before."

"I can raise my voice when I need to," Terry said.

"That girl needs to come out more often," I told her.

"My mother didn't like to see that side of me when I was growing up. She did everything she could to hold _that_ girl back."

I leaned in, putting on my producer hat for a minute. "How did she do that?"

Terry caught herself and waved her finger in the air. "Oh no, you almost got me there. I told you Sharpe, that stuff's private. That was the vodka talking, but I'm not going to say anything more."

I sipped on my drink feeling quite good. I had decided to forgive Terry, for Mac's sake. It wasn't worth holding a grudge.

"So Terry," I began. "I kissed your boyfriend and you kissed mine. You know how they say when you sleep with someone that it's like sleeping with everyone they've slept with before? We're like that now." I smiled waving my finger between her and I.

"Victoria, who's this boyfriend that I kissed?"

"Him," Ginny said, pointing.

I looked up to see Detective Bradley Reid walking towards us. He was wearing a pair of dark denim jeans and a black fitted t-shirt. His hair was done, his biceps were flexed, he was good enough to eat. But I couldn't eat him, I was mad. I had to remember that.

"Well isn't this awkward," I said as Reid reached our table. "The current boyfriend and the ex-boyfriend fighting for the same auburn-haired maiden."

Reid looked a little surprised at the sight of me wearing so much makeup. His eyebrows raised before they landed in a sharp and angry crease.

"Sharpe, can I speak to you?" Reid said to me.

"These are my friends, anything you say to me you can say to them," I declared leaning back in my chair. Reid shook his head no, then grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the table.

"Hey!" I protested. "Stop man-handling me!"

Reid pulled me into a corner of the room and pushed me against the wall. He put his arms on either side of me boxing me between him and the wall.

"Sharpe, I never dated Terry. She probably has no idea what the hell you're talking about!"

"So it just a one night stand then?"

"No! Come on, I asked her out once a few years ago and she turned me down. That's it. What are you doing listening to Foxy anyway?"

I stood there between Reid and the wall, my eyes darting around in a million different directions. "Okay, so this was a big misunderstanding," I finally said.

"You think?" Reid said angrily.

Instantly, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. I was drunk and my brain wasn't functioning like it normally did. I should have been angry that he didn't call, angry that he didn't chase after me at the restaurant, but I wasn't. I didn't want to argue anymore or talk about the argument, I just wanted to enjoy the chance to spend some time with him.

"Wait, how did you know I was here?" I asked.

"Manny texted me."

I nodded. "Okay, so I feel like I'm over this argument. Can we just move on?"

Reid smiled. "Are you this easy sober?"

"No, you're getting lucky here."

He shrugged. "Cool."

With that, Reid moved me against the wall and crushed my lips with his. His hands went to my hips while mine found their way around his neck and into his hair. Every part of my body started to burn.

Reid pulled back and looked at me. "So, what's with this new look?"

I blushed. "Oh, just some girls I met. They used me as their canvas I guess."

Reid licked his lips and looked me over. "You look really hot."

I gushed. I was really popular with men tonight! His lips moved to my neck where he kissed and sucked. I felt chills throughout my whole body.

"I could take advantage of you pretty easily right now," Reid whispered.

"I wouldn't mind that," I whispered back.

He kissed me again, long and passionate, his tongue circling mine. I moaned, feeling a surge of desire inside of me. What had we been fighting about? I had forgotten already.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Reid asked.

I nodded. "Let me get my stuff. I'll be right back."

I stumbled over to the group to get my things. "Guys, I'm pretty toasted so Reid is going to drive me home."

"Oh okay, let me grab my purse," Ginny said standing up. "I'll stay at your place so Reid doesn't have to drive to the West Side."

"Ginny, are you serious?" I asked, wide-eyed.

"I can't drive home like this," Ginny protested. "I'll get a DUI."

"I'm pretty woozy too," Hollywood said, standing up. "Mind if I crash too?"

I felt the blood in my veins boiling at the thought. I was thirty years old. I was too old for slumber parties!

I felt a hand on my waist and turned, expecting to see Reid. Instead I came face to face with Ty. "Huh!" I gasped, unable to control my reaction.

"Wow, it's good to see you too," Ty said and hugged me. "I got your text and I figured, why not, right?"

"Um, Ty, I can't believe you're here," I said, my eyes darting around the room looking for Reid. "Um, you remember Ginny, right?" I said and thrust her towards him.

"Tyler Woodward?" Ginny squealed. "What are you doing here?"

"Victoria invited me," Ty answered.

Ginny looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "Wow, you don't waste time."

"No, there's a misunderstanding here. Ty, that text was for Ginny." I had a pit in my stomach that was growing larger by the moment. I needed to get out of this situation quickly but I didn't know how.

"Hi," Reid said from behind me.

"Hi," I said to Reid smiling brightly.

Reid smiled back at me. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I told him. "Reid, this is Ty. Ty this is Reid."

"Nice to meet you," Reid said extending a hand.

Uggh, now Reid was shaking the hand of the poor bastard that was trying to steal his woman.

"Ty and I were friends in high school," I explained.

"We were a little more than friends," Ty said.

I smiled, awkwardly. "You really need to stop saying that, Ty. Actually," I told Reid, "Ty and Ginny were an item. She was always going after the guys I liked."

Reid smiled, disinterested in Ty. "Sharpe, are you ready to go?

I turned to him, with sheer disappointment in my eyes. "Ginny and Hollywood are too drunk to drive. They want to crash at my place."

Reid looked at Ginny and then Hollywood. "Sure. I'll get the car warmed up." He squeezed my hand. "Uh, Ty, right? Nice meeting you."

When Reid was out of sight Ginny turned to me. "I didn't know you knew about me and Ty."

My heart sank. "I was making that up Gin."

"Oh right, of course." Ginny smiled. "I was just kidding."

"I hope I didn't cause any sister drama," Ty interjected.

I shook my head. "You didn't. Look I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, but I'm kind of seeing someone."

"I understand," Ty told me. "What about you Ginny?"

I shook my head. "Get out of here Ty!"

Ty held up his hands and smiled as he walked away.

"Victoria, it was just a little kiss behind the cabanas one time. It didn't mean anything," Ginny said.

"I don't care about that. What I care about it that you and Hollywood are preventing me from getting laid tonight!"

"Huh?" Ginny asked, looking confused.

"Reid was driving me home to my place. What are you not understanding here?"

"Oh Vicky, you two can still have sex. We won't listen or anything."

"Yeah right Gin," I exclaimed.

Before I left we all agreed to a ten o'clock call time in the morning. Given everyone's current state, we knew even that was pushing it. Mac was holding his liquor pretty well and agreed to drive Manny and Terry home. I headed out to the car with Hollywood and Ginny on my arms. I didn't care what Ginny said, there was no way I was having sex in my apartment while those two were sleeping on the couch. Foiled again!

### Chapter 16.

My alarm buzzed at nine thirty. I set it as late as I could while still allowing myself some time to shower. My head was throbbing. In the middle of the night I had awoken to a terrible churning feeling in the pit of my stomach. Reid was lying next to me so I snuck into the bathroom and proceeded to barf my brains out as quietly as possible. The last thing I needed was for him to hear me yakking up my guts up like a teenager. This wasn't normal for me. I didn't drink like this and clearly my body wasn't happy about it either. The only upside was that I felt better afterwards.

As my eyes came into focus, the taste of vomit was still in my mouth. I hoped Reid didn't plan to kiss me hello. I rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty. He had probably snuck out for an early morning at the office. I sat up and breathed in deeply.

I was annoyed with Hollywood and my sister for sleeping over and ruining my chances with Reid, but I also knew I had been in no shape for sex last night. I was sloppy and slurring my words and I wanted our first time to be memorable. We had kissed for a while when we got back to my place but Reid was too much of a gentleman to let it go any further. Well it was either that or he simply grew tired of my constant laughing every time he touched me. Sometimes alcohol made me ticklish.

I looked down to see I was wearing a pair of cotton of pajamas with cats on them. What the hell? Clearly my judgment had been impaired the night before. Maybe this was why Reid didn't want to close the deal! I stood up on wobbly legs and walked out of my room into the living room. Hollywood was sleeping on the floor and Ginny was lying on the couch. I had turned my second bedroom into an office so the couch was the only option for guests.

I walked quietly past them towards the kitchen to get some water. "Good morning," Hollywood said from the floor.

"Hi," I whispered. "I didn't want to wake you up."

My apartment consisted of a large room in the center that was my dining room, living room, and kitchen all in one, and then a bedroom and bathroom on either side. The kitchen had a breakfast bar with two stools against the counter top. Hollywood made his way over to one and sat down.

"Water? Coffee?" I asked.

"Just an orange juice."

I shook my head. "I meant those are the only two choices in this house, unless you want wine."

"Water please."

I filled two cups and we each took a big gulp. "Is the room spinning?" Ginny asked from the couch.

"Yes it is Ginny," I told her.

"Okay good," she said. She sat up, getting her bearings. "God, I'm so glad I don't have to go to work today – or any day for that matter."

I sighed deeply. She always said such dumb things. I made coffee while Ginny slithered her way over and perched herself on the barstool next to Hollywood.

"Where's your hunk?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I guess he had to get to work."

"Did you have an exciting night?" Ginny asked.

"No, my dear sister, I didn't. How could I with you two in the next room?"

"I'm talking about your shirt," Ginny told me. "Looks like somebody had a date with the toilet last night."

I looked down and saw vomit splatter marks across the front of my pajamas. "Oh Jesus!" I exclaimed, then winced from the pain as my head began to throb.

"Man, I was right there with you Sharpe. I haven't puked like that in years. I couldn't find the air freshener in your guest bathroom so it might be a little rank in there."

"You two need to learn to hold your liquor better," Ginny told us.

"Come on, we had at least three each before you got there last night," Hollywood said.

"I'll ask Bob for some tips on drinking," I said, taking a jab at her husband.

"Yeah you should," Ginny said. "He's very skilled at it."

My cell phone rang and I walked over to pick it up. It was Reid. "Hi," I said into the phone, sounding groggy. "You like to disappear in the mornings. Should I be worried?"

"I'm the one who should be worried. What were you doing with that jerk last night?"

My eyes widened as he said the words. Had he found out about Ty? I braced myself, quickly preparing a laundry list of excuses as to why Ty was there. Did he think that I'd intentionally invited him to join me last night? I didn't know how to begin. I was without words. I opened my mouth, but all that came out was, "Huh?"

"There's a picture of Keith Brooks feeling you up in the _Daily Buzz_ ," Reid explained.

"What?!" I exclaimed, both relieved, embarrassed, and thrilled all at once. Ty immediately evaporated from my mind, replaced by a feeling of jubilation. "Hollywood, get your phone – there's a picture of me in the _Daily Buzz_ with Keith Brooks!"

"No way!" Hollywood squealed and pulled out his phone.

He found the article and pulled it up. It was the selfie Keith had taken with me with his hand squeezing my boob. The caption read " _Keith Brooks seen hooking up with older woman_."

"Older woman?" I asked. "I'm only thirty!"

"Vic, your makeup looks amazing in this picture," Ginny told me.

"Oh my God, he totally leaked that. He's using me to clean up his image," I said wide eyed.

"Holy shit!" Hollywood squealed and we all grabbed hands and started screaming.

"Ow," I said, grabbing my head. Screaming wasn't a good idea. Still it was hard not to smile. This was so cool!

I realized that Reid was still on the phone. I placed it against my ear. "Um, yeah, I did kind of get felt up by Keith Brooks before you got there. But it meant nothing."

"Hang on. You nearly ripped my head off because you thought I hooked up with Terry and now you want me to be okay with the whole world seeing you get felt up by some movie star?"

Was this guy actually jealous? My heart swelled.

"And don't start telling me that he's on your list of guys you're allowed to cheat with. Those lists aren't allowed, not in this town," Reid continued.

"Reid, you know how last night I told you I didn't want to argue and we decided to move on? Can we do that again? I mean, you don't seriously think I'm having an affair with Keith Brooks, right? He's like super famous."

"Yeah, well you looked really good last night."

"Not good enough to close the deal though," I teased.

"Honey, you were three sheets to the wind. And the smell of vomit isn't exactly a turn on."

Shit. He'd heard me last night.

"Okay this is really embarrassing. Can we talk later?"

"Yeah, I'll call you," Reid said. "We nabbed our perp this morning so I should be free tonight if you want to come by."

I froze. "Wait, so Missy solved her case?"

"It's my case and I solved it, but yes we got our man."

I looked up at the ceiling and sighed deeply. "So she delivered her second episode before me. Great. Was it a good ending?"

"I don't know. The prostitute ended up being killed by her madam. Missy thought it was good stuff."

I sighed again. "Yeah, it sounds like it. Thanks for the added pressure – I appreciate it."

I took a deep breath and hung up the phone. Damn.

"I'm jumping in the shower," I announced to the group. I pulled out some bleach from under the sink and handed it to Hollywood. "Just in case you get inspired to clean the guest room toilet."

Hollywood smiled sheepishly and nodded.

The shower felt good and helped to clear my head a little bit. I hadn't missed my deadline yet, but I certainly wasn't feeling confident that I'd make it. Damn Missy – she had won this time and I didn't like it!

I took three aspirins and drank another few glasses of water. When I was younger a bottle of soda was an easy hangover cure, but as an adult, not so easy!

*****

I walked down to the parking garage of my building only to realize that Reid had left us without a car. Perfect.

We split a cab to the Library bar after waiting for Ginny to get ready for forty-five minutes to retrieve our vehicles. Ginny headed home while Hollywood and I drove to the station in my car. We grabbed some more coffee and a box of donuts on the way to jump start our bodies. Hollywood, who was very careful about maintaining his weight, had eaten two jelly donuts already. When we arrived, we found Terry and Manny looking equally as beaten up as Hollywood and I.

Mac was sitting at his desk, looking well rested and chipper. I wasn't sure what might have gone on last night with Terry, but I did know that this Boy Scout was awfully responsible. Manny was sitting at the desk I had been using with his feet in the air. I placed the box of coffee and donuts on the desk and announced, "Breakfast."

Terry's ears perked up and she walked over to grab some of the goodies. We all crowded around the desk and dug in for a while, but it wasn't long before we grew tired of standing and had to go back to our desks to sit and rest. It was Tuesday now and we were hung-over and tired. I told the group about Missy delivering her story, hoping it would motivate us, but it only served to depress us more. I doubted we would get anything accomplished today.

A few minutes later Terry popped over to Hollywood's desk carrying a fax. I watched her as she walked over, listening. "Did you go through this whole toxicology report?" Terry whispered to him.

"Cyanide poisoning. We already talked about this," Hollywood said chomping into his third donut.

"Yeah, but did you read the rest of the report Hollywood? Did you know they tested her blood for pregnancy?" Terry asked.

Hollywood looked up, surprised. At my desk, my mouth fell open and a piece of donut fell onto the floor.

"She was pregnant?" I asked standing up and walking towards them.

Terry turned and looked embarrassed that I had heard the conversation. "That's what the report says."

"I guess I must have missed that detail," Hollywood said under his breath.

I wasn't going to say anything out loud but in my mind I was thinking _You Suck! You Suck! You Suck!_ We had important information, seriously important information right under our noses! How did this guy ever solve anything?

"We've got to talk to Eric," Terry said.

"Agreed. Let me get the guys," I said, springing into action. Now this was the hangover cure. I didn't need soda, just a little kick of adrenaline to get me going. This was a new lead and a good one. We were getting closer to unraveling this mystery and there wasn't a moment to spare!

### Chapter 17.

The day before Reid had suggested that Hollywood should interrogate Eric to get answers out of him. This seemed like the perfect opportunity for Hollywood to channel his tough-guy persona.

"So you gonna scare this guy, Hollywood?" I asked.

Hollywood was in the passenger's seat and turned around to look at me. I had the camera mounted on the rear view mirror rolling to capture the scene. "What do you mean?"

"Pretend you're talking to Terry. The camera's on," I told him. "Hollywood, this is our chance to nail this guy. He told us he couldn't stand to touch her and now we find out she was pregnant? He lied about this. What else is he lying about?"

Hollywood turned around and looked at Terry. "I think I'm gonna scare this guy. He lied about his relationship with his wife. Is he lying about her murder too?"

Terry shrugged.

"It's so sick that he could do that to a woman, let alone his wife carrying his baby," Hollywood continued.

"Maybe he didn't know. She didn't look pregnant to me," Terry said.

"That's true. And we could see _all_ of her in that tub. Maybe he forced her against her will. This guy is a real sicko and I'm gonna shake him up."

Terry tried to lock eyes with me in the rear view mirror but I averted her gaze. I wasn't going to step in this time. If Hollywood wanted to mess with this guy, so be it.

We drove up the hill towards Eric's house. The air was crisp today, which was helping to clear our heads. If the hot sun had been beating down on us, the alcohol would probably have been oozing from our pours and stinking up the car.

Mac and Manny were in the SUV ahead of us, already parked outside Eric's house. We pulled up behind them and turned off the ignition.

"Remember to put on the parking brake," I told Terry.

"Thanks Sharpe," she said sarcastically. "I think I know that."

Hollywood turned around looked at me. "Just give me a moment to prepare."

I nodded, used to his antics by now. I stepped out of the car to allow him to get into character and Terry did the same. Mac and Manny started to unload their gear. Manny was dragging a little, but he wasn't complaining.

Manny walked over to Terry and started to mic her up. Mac glanced at Hollywood who was sitting in the car looking in the mirror and talking to himself.

"Is the talent ready?" Mac asked me.

"I asked him to be a tough guy. I think he's running lines or something," I explained.

A moment later Hollywood opened the car door. "Let's do this!"

Manny taped the lavaliere microphone to the inside of Hollywood's shirt and we were ready to go. Hollywood puffed his chest, ready to pounce.

"Hey there," a voice from behind me said.

I turned to see the Eric's nosy neighbor from across the street. My eyes bulged wide. "Hi." I smiled, nervously.

"What do you think?" he asked, pointing to a shiny new garbage can.

"Oh, very nice," I said.

"You two know each other?" Terry asked.

Hollywood walked over to my side. "Nice to see you again, Sir."

Terry and Hollywood were in plain clothes today so it wasn't obvious that they were cops. Of course there was the police car parked on the street that we had arrived in.

"What have you got going on here?" the man wanted to know. "Some sort of sting operation?"

"Oh, this?" Hollywood said, stepping in front of the crew, trying to hide them from sight. "This is nothing."

"It's the neighborhood watch we told you about," I chimed in.

"I went over and thanked Eric for the can but he didn't know what I was talking about." The man continued, looking increasingly suspicious.

"Well, that's the thing with druggies, right?" Hollywood answered. "We need to clean up this neighborhood. These degenerates are taking over and they don't even know it because they're so forgetful."

I tried to stifle a laugh. "Yeah, Arlene is really upset about it," I added.

"Annabelle," Hollywood corrected, smiling.

"Agnes is her name," the man told us. He looked us up and down and then craned his head towards the TV crew. "Something isn't right here."

"Sir, this is official police business," Terry said flashing her badge. "Can you step back into your house?"

"You guys are...cops?" the man asked, stumbling over his words.

"Step back into your house please," Terry told him with all the courage she could muster.

The man's eyes moved back and forth between me, Hollywood, and Terry.

"Step back into your house please Sir," Terry said again.

"Are you kidding me?" the man asked, still unsure what the heck was going on here.

"Stand down Sir," Terry ordered.

The man jumped from the force of her command and quickly retreated into his house. I looked over at Mac and raised my eyebrows. The chick could be pretty darn tough.

When he was out of sight Terry turned to us. "I'm not even going to ask what that was about."

"We appreciate that," I told her.

"Because if I did I'd probably discover that you two did something illegal," Terry continued.

"Well it's good you're not asking then," I replied.

"Damn, that guy totally messed up my mojo," Hollywood whined. "Let me get back into character." Once again he puffed his chest and flexed his muscles. Hollywood took a deep breath and without warning, charged towards the house. Mac fired up the camera and we followed the two cops up the driveway to the front door.

Hollywood banged on the door loudly. A moment later, Eric opened it. He was wearing a gray wrinkly T-shirt and a pair of pink and gray plaid shorts. "Oh hey," Eric said brightly. "I've been working on some music for your show. Hang on." Eric disappeared for a moment, leaving us standing at the door.

Hollywood rolled his eyes. "Come on!"

Eric returned carrying a jump drive and held it out to Hollywood.

"Oh, thanks." Hollywood said, accepting the item. "You've got some explaining to do, Son! Something's not adding up....Shoot!" Hollywood turned around and looked at me. "Sharpe, can I do that one again? Damn, everyone is messing me up today!"

My eyes grew wide. Was he being serious right now?

"Okay, one, two, three," Hollywood said, resetting himself.

"What the hell is going on here?" Eric wanted to know.

"You've got some explaining to do, Son!" Hollywood screamed again. "Something's not adding up in your story and we're here for answers."

"What are you talking about?" Eric asked.

"Hey, I ask the questions. Can we come in?"

"No," Eric said, annoyed.

"Fine, then we'll talk right here," Hollywood fired back. "You said you had a bad relationship with your wife, right?"

"Yes," Eric answered. "Don't you have what I said recorded?"

"Shut up," Hollywood screamed. His face was getting red and the veins in his neck looked like they might pop.

"Hollywood, cool off," Terry said, touching his arm.

"You said you didn't ever touch her, but she was pregnant. How do you explain that?" Hollywood demanded.

I looked over to Mac and saw him doing a zoom in to Eric's face. Eric looked pretty surprised. His lips curled into a slight smile and he shook his head, trying to process everything. Finally he looked up. "If she was, it wasn't mine."

The cops were silent for a moment as Eric's answer settled in.

"Was Rachel having an affair?" Terry wanted to know.

Eric was still smiling and shaking his head. "If she was, I wouldn't blame her. I wasn't paying attention."

"Too busy with your own indiscretions, right?" Terry asked.

Eric narrowed his eyes. "Something like that."

"Who's the father?" Hollywood demanded.

"Don't know," Eric said coolly.

Hollywood was really starting to get upset now. "Dude, I'll mess you up! I will mess you up!" He screamed and grabbed Eric by the shoulders, shaking him. "We're on a deadline, asshole. Missy's story is in and we need answers, so tell me!"

Eric looked scared at first, but then looked over at Mac. "Careful officer, you're on camera."

"No he's not. I stopped recording," Mac said without missing a beat. "You should probably tell him what you know so we can get out of your hair."

"Dude, I don't know. Seriously," Eric said.

Hollywood released his grip on Eric. "We'll be back."

Hollywood turned and we all headed towards our cars. Behind us we heard Eric slam the front door.

At the car, Hollywood turned to Terry. "Shit, what do we do now?"

Terry ignored the question. She had dialed her phone and was waiting for the caller to answer. Mac was still rolling the camera and I was staying out of sight. Finally the caller picked up. "Yeah, this is officer Terry Perkins, LAPD. You ready to talk to us yet? No more stalling...Great we'll be there in twenty minutes." Terry hung up and looked at Hollywood. "That was the PI that Mona hired to watch Eric. Mona gave clearance and he's ready to talk. Maybe he knows something about the man Rachel was seeing."

Hollywood blinked, staring at his partner. A big smile spread across his face. "Yeah! Good job Terry, let's do this!"

Terry smiled, grateful for the acknowledgement. Hollywood jumped into the driver's side of his vehicle while Terry got in the passenger's side. Hollywood turned on the ignition and sped the car down the hill. Mac filmed him as he sped away, getting a great shot as they kicked up dust down the hill.

"What the hell are they doing?" Manny asked.

Mac turned the camera off and looked over at me. "I don't have the address of where they're going. Do you?"

"Don't worry about it. He'll be back once he realizes he forgot us," I said.

Sure enough, a few minutes later Hollywood sped back up the hill and stopped in front of the SUV. "Come on Sharpe, let's go!"

I sprung into action and jumped into the back seat as Hollywood blazed down the hill once again.

*****

Mona's private investigator had an office in Santa Monica. The building was all glass and chrome and probably ten stories tall. The buildings in Los Angeles weren't built very high because of earthquakes so this was our version of a skyscraper. We walked into the lobby and the security guard directed us towards the elevator.

We stepped out of the elevator on the fourth floor and passed through a set of glass doors to "Silben and Associates." The woman at the reception desk was perky with golden bangs and a summer dress on. "You must be from the police department," she said to us. "Mr. Silben is expecting you."

The perky blonde stood up and led us to a glass conference room and asked us to sit down. Mac pulled a chair out for Terry and eased her into her seat. I waited for Mac to pull out my chair but no such luck. I pulled it out myself and plopped down on it. Looking around I could tell that Mr. Silben's services didn't come cheap. Mona certainly had the means to hire the best and she did exactly that.

A moment later, a stodgy older gentleman in a mustard-colored suit walked in the room carrying a manila folder. He was overweight and probably in his seventies, wearing a pair of spectacles. He cleared his throat as he entered. "Good afternoon, I'm Francis Silben."

"Officer Perkins," Terry said standing. "This is officer Johnson and this is...our film crew."

Francis Silben nodded and cleared his throat again. "Mrs. Moore told me about your friends. It's okay."

"Great," I said, pulling out a release. "If you wouldn't mind signing this? This says you are okay to appear on our show."

"This town is really something," Francis groaned as he scribbled his name on the paper. "My business is about staying under cover, not being on TV. But I'm getting older and field work is getting too hard for me anyway."

I yanked the release away and threw it in my purse before old Francis could reconsider. I cued Mac to start rolling while Manny pulled out his boom and held it in the air to capture the sound.

"Did you do the field work for the Eric Roads case?" Terry asked him, sitting down.

Francis slowly made his way over to the table and lowered himself into the chair. "Ouff. Don't get old. I don't recommend it." Francis placed the folder he was carrying on the table and held a wrinkled hand on top of it. "Yes, I followed Eric Roads. Mrs. Moore wasn't willing to let anyone else do it. She wanted the matter to be handled discreetly."

"And what did you find?" Terry asked.

"I think you know. Mrs. Moore gave you the pictures. As she suspected, there were women in his life and he didn't care much about hiding them."

"Did he have a favorite?" Hollywood asked.

Francis looked at Hollywood and breathed in deeply. "You want to know if one of them could have killed Rachel, right?"

Hollywood nodded.

"I don't know," Francis continued. "From what I saw there wasn't anyone special to him or anyone that he spent more time with than the others."

"What about his wife?" Terry asked. "Was Eric ever intimate or even affectionate with Rachel?"

Francis shook his head. "No."

"Mr. Silben, I'm going to tell you something that I need you to hold in confidence. As a professional, I trust that you won't reveal this information to anyone, not even your client," Terry warned. Francis glanced towards me and the TV crew. "I'm aware we're on camera," Terry added.

"Okay then. Your secret is safe with me and...your viewers," Francis said, signaling with his fingers to come out with the information.

"Rachel was pregnant when she died," Terry told him.

Francis leaned back in his chair and coughed. "I suppose you've realized that Eric wasn't the only one being unfaithful."

"Yes," Hollywood confirmed.

"Mrs. Moore didn't want to hear about that. She hired me to find out the truth about her son-in-law but her daughter was just as guilty. However, unlike her husband, Rachel limited herself to one partner." Francis opened the folder and passed a pile of pictures across the table to Terry.

Mac zoomed in the camera's lens on the photos while Terry and Hollywood looked through them. There were pictures of Rachel and a man kissing in the backseat of a car, on the balcony of her home, and through the window of someone's house.

"They looked happy," Terry said.

"I think they were," Francis agreed. "Guy's name was Brian Drake. He lived a couple blocks away from her."

"What do you know about him?" Terry wanted to know.

"Not much," Francis admitted. "Mrs. Moore told me she wasn't paying me to investigate her daughter and to stop following her. When I first got started in this business I was driven by my curiosity about people's secret lives. Now that I'm older, I just do it to make a living. When the client says to stop pursuing a lead you do. There's no money in curiosity. But I can tell you that the guy lives alone and wasn't seeing anyone else. They would meet at least twice a week. Oh, and here's the kicker, he's Eric's best friend." Francis cracked a smile after revealing that little tidbit.

As if on cue, I felt the ground beneath me start to shake. My eyes widened as I realized what was happening. I was in a skyscraper in LA and the building was shaking. Oh no, it couldn't be.

Everyone froze. There were some panicked glances across the table as the rumbling continued. I heard a rattle as the framed pictures on a corner shelf started to shake. Above us the lights hanging from the ceiling started to sway. "Earthquake!" Manny called out.

The word sprung us into action and within a moment we were climbing under the conference table. Like a stealth ninja Mac navigated his way under the table over to Terry where he threw a protective arm around her and managed to continue recording the scene. I was on my knees next to Manny while Hollywood and Francis Silben were down on the other end. I put my head between my knees and covered my ears with my hands.

"Mac, I'm scared," Terry called out, gripping a hand around his arm.

A moment later, there was silence. As quickly as it started, it was over. I pulled my hands off my ears and slowly opened my eyes.

"That'll wake you up," Francis growled, pulling himself out from under the table.

I looked around and saw that everyone seemed to be okay and nothing had been broken. Mac was stroking a hand across Terry's face and asking if she was all right. She was being coy, perhaps overly so, enjoying Mac's concern.

I had lived in Los Angeles my entire life and while this wasn't my first earthquake, I had yet to get used to them. Ever since I was a kid there were rumors about the "big one" that was going to destroy our entire city. For the past fifteen years people had lived in fear that it would hit any day now. It was easy to ignore the warnings, life had to go on, but moments like this were a bad reminder of the possibilities.

"Everyone all right?" Mac asked the group after confirming his girlfriend was okay.

"Yeah," I answered, pulling myself back up onto my seat.

"I don't think we should stick around here," Manny said. "There could be aftershocks."

"The aftershocks are always smaller and that first one wasn't too bad." Francis told us, waving a hand that we should sit.

I pulled my cell phone out and tried to text my mother to see if she was okay, but the service was all tied up. Probably everyone in Los Angeles was trying to do the exact same thing.

"Did you get that on your camera, Mac?" Hollywood wanted to know.

"Of course," Mac confirmed.

"Cool. That was like crazy drama, right Sharpe? He tells us about the boyfriend and then we have an earthquake! That's gonna play really well on the show," Hollywood beamed.

"Totally," I answered, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing. I pulled out my log book and made a note of the time the earthquake occurred. He was right, it would be great footage.

"Okay, let's get back to the scene," Hollywood said. "Mac, are you rolling?"

This got Manny to his feet. "Dude, we almost died just now! I saw my life flash before my eyes and you just want to get back to work?"

"Manny, it's okay. We're all okay," I assured him.

"Nah, it's not okay, it's not," Manny said, pacing the room. "I need to get out of here. I have something in the car to calm me down. Sharpe, you take over the audio."

I threw up my hands. "Oh come on! You know what happened last time I did that. Poor Mac's still recovering."

"No, he's all healed up," Terry said and then immediately blushed.

We all turned to look at her in surprise. It seemed Terry had firsthand knowledge regarding the condition of Mac's man parts.

"Yeah brother!" Hollywood said to Mac, slapping him on the arm.

Francis opened the glass door to the conference room and called out to the receptionist. "Everyone okay out there, Connie?"

"We're okay," Connie confirmed.

Francis turned to Terry. "Let's finish this up. I have work I need to get back to."

"Sure," Terry said and we all sat back down again.

I looked at Manny. "Five more minutes." As I spoke the earth shook again. It was small and brief but it was enough to send Manny flying.

"I'll be in the car," he announced and bolted for the door.

"Damn it!" I cursed. Maybe this was a sign that I should seriously consider becoming a sound operator. Hell, these guys were probably making double what I was anyway. There was something to be said for being paid hourly.

This time, Mac helped me put a lavaliere microphone on Francis so that I didn't have to hold the boom. I fired up the equipment, put on the headphones, and hoped to God that my levels were right.

"So, before we were so rudely interrupted by Mother Nature, you were telling us about Rachel's affair with her husband's best friend, right?" Hollywood asked.

Francis nodded in agreement. "That's correct."

"Did Eric know?" Hollywood continued.

"Not sure, Francis said, clearing his throat. "He was a little distracted with his own debauchery."

"Do you think Brian could be her killer?" Hollywood asked Francis.

"I don't know. As I told you I stopped pursuing the lead. This was probably a year ago now so I don't know what could have happened in the interim."

Hollywood and Terry spent some time asking Francis more questions about both Eric and Rachel. They wrote down the names and identities of the women that were involved with Eric, as well as some information on the mystery best friend that Rachel was involved with. Francis let us take some of the pictures of Rachel and Brian with us and offered to help in any way he could.

*****

I lugged the sound equipment down to the parking lot while Hollywood, Mr. Muscles, carried his car keys. I glared at him a few times, but I should have known that subtlety wouldn't work with this guy. Mac's new camera was much smaller and lighter than what he had used in the past but he had an arm around Terry and wasn't able to focus on anything else.

We found Manny in the SUV in the parking lot looking much more relaxed. "Get back to work," I ordered, tossing his equipment on the floor.

"Is your mom okay? Your sister?" Manny asked, reminding me that I hadn't been able to get through to them.

I pulled out my cell phone and saw texts from both of them asking if I was okay. I responded that I was and was glad to hear they were too. There was also a text from Reid, which made my heart flutter. When the ground shook my first thought was of my parents but Reid had taken the time to check in on me too. I was relieved he was okay and excited all at once.

A few minutes later, Mac filmed and Manny audio recorded as Terry told Hollywood that she wanted to visit Brian next. "We're going to have to approach this one carefully," she explained. "He could be our killer and I don't want to blow it."

I signaled to Mac that he should stop rolling the camera. "Guys, I know I'm not supposed to interfere with police work, I totally get that," I began.

"But?" Terry asked.

"But, we've got to confront Eric again! I'm sorry but this is just too good to pass up," I pleaded. "He already signed my release. We need to get his reaction when he finds out Rachel was sleeping with his best friend!"

Terry looked annoyed. "Sharpe, I realize it'd be good drama for your television show, but this isn't about drama. This is about solving this case."

"Come on Terry, Eric is a piece of garbage," Hollywood chimed in. "Let's knock him down a peg."

Terry relented. "Fine, let's go. Are you gonna do that tough guy thing with him again?"

"Absolutely," Hollywood smiled.

### Chapter 18.

Hollywood banged a meaty fist on Eric's front door once again. Eric opened it almost immediately. "This is bordering on harassment," he warned.

"Who's Brian?" Hollywood demanded.

"Brian? He's a friend of mine. Why?"

"Was he having an affair with Rachel?" Hollywood continued.

Eric stood there looking stunned.

"Is this him?" Hollywood asking, shoving a photo of Rachel and Brian kissing at Eric.

Eric took the picture in his hands and turned white as a ghost.

"That's your balcony, right?" Hollywood pressed. "Right under your nose those two were going at it weren't they?"

Eric shook his head. "Is this a fake?" He looked over at me. "You did this with your fancy cameras right?"

I shook my head no.

"This can't be right," Eric said, standing completely still, barely remembering to even breathe.

"She was a liar and a cheat. Just like you pal," Hollywood teased. "I bet it makes you sick looking at those two. And to think she was carrying his child. You knew that didn't you? You knew it and that's why you killed her!"

Hollywood was improvising and it was really good. And hell, he might even be right!

Eric shook his head rapidly. "I'm not talking to you guys anymore. You don't have my permission to film me anymore. I'm calling a lawyer." He backed up slowly, still holding the picture and closed the door.

Hollywood turned to me. "Make sure you delete that bit about us not being able to film him anymore."

"Not to worry, that release covers the lifetime of the show and he signed it. Sucker!"

As we walked back to the car Mac put a hand on my shoulder. "That was some good producing back there."

"I know," I gushed, proud of myself.

"That was fierce!" Manny told Hollywood. "When you accused that dude of being the killer, that was epic stuff!"

Hollywood smiled in spite of himself. "It's not all me. Sharpe's been a great coach. And of course I couldn't do it without my partner."

"Okay, okay Hollywood. Spare us the acceptance speech," I warned.

"Can we go to Brian's place now? Terry whined.

I nodded yes and jumped in the car with Terry and Hollywood while Mac and Manny jumped in the SUV.

In the car, I flipped on the camera that was mounted to the rear view mirror and stayed out of sight. "Can you guys talk about where you're going?" I asked.

Hollywood pulled Rachel's cell phone out of the glove compartment, ignoring my request. "I wonder if there is anything in here about Brian."

"Maybe in her email," Terry said. "But we don't know her password."

Hollywood pressed the email icon on Rachel's smart phone. "Huh, what do you know, it didn't require a password."

Terry looked at me through the rear view mirror and I tried my very hardest to suppress a smile. This had to be some sort of producer hazing ritual. They couldn't really be this bad, could they?

"Here we go – an email from Brian. "Miss you, need to see you tonight." He looked up. "This is from last week."

"Bingo," Terry said.

As hard as I tried, I couldn't hold back any longer and I burst out laughing. If I wasn't laughing I'd be crying at this point. These two were too much.

*****

The lovely thing about Hollywood was that so few people seemed to have steady jobs so you could usually catch people at home during the day. Brian's house was a few short blocks away from Eric and Rachel's place so it didn't take us long to get there. It would have been easy enough for Rachel to sneak over to Brian's place, especially considering that Eric didn't seem to be watching anyway. I pictured her sneaking over to his place at night after Eric had passed out from whatever drugs he was doing to have a secret rendezvous. The guy was Eric's best friend so she probably got an extra high in knowing what she was doing was really wrong. It probably made the whole thing that much more exciting.

The house was a similar build to Eric and Rachel's in that it appeared small from the street, but actually cascaded down the mountainside supported by enormous stilts. It was modern and expensive-looking with lots of windows and an all-black exterior.

"Shoot, he's rich," I muttered. "He'll have lawyers. He won't want to talk."

"Come on Sharpe," Mac said slapping me on the back. "Have a little faith in your abilities. You've done well so far."

"Besides if he won't," Manny said, "Hollywood will rough him up."

We walked up to the door, camera rolling, boom microphone in position, and rang the bell. Brian answered the door a few moments later. He was tall and slender with perfectly groomed eyebrows. His hair was brown and slicked back and he was dressed in army-green pants with a grey T-shirt. I couldn't help thinking there was something familiar-looking about him, but I couldn't quite place it. It was probably because I'd seen him in the photographs.

"Oh no," Brian said, holding his hand up to the camera. "You have to talk to my agent before I'll do any interviews. Come on guys, I'm not even dressed."

Hollywood and Terry looked at each other and then back at Brian. "We're the police," Terry said quietly.

"Oh," Brian said, surprised. "Are the cameras to protect us from police brutality or something?"

This was my queue and so I lunged forward. "Hi Brian, I'm Victoria Sharpe and I'm producing a TV show for the HOBO channel. We're investigating a case and we'd like to ask you some questions. Are you willing to appear on camera?"

Brian looked a little surprised. "Um, like I said, you'd have to talk to my agent."

"Okay so call him," Hollywood suggested. "Look man, I don't know who you are, but the more face-time on TV in your career, the better. Your agent will agree with me here."

Brian considered that and nodded. He invited us in while he called his agent from another room. We stepped inside and looked around. The living room was filled with natural light and was very sleek and modern. He had dark hardwood floors, white leather couches, a bear skin rug on the floor, and a yellow circular chair made from plexiglass hanging from the ceiling. It was warm outside, yet there was a fire going accompanied by central air conditioning to balance out the temperature.

"I don't think this is the type of exposure I'm looking for," I could hear Brian saying to his agent on the phone. "No, I'm not prepared."

They bantered for a little while longer until I heard Brian say, "Fine!" and hang up the phone.

Brian returned to the living room. "I'll sign your release," he said begrudgingly.

I handed it over and he signed.

"I have to get changed," Brian told me. "Orders from my agent."

I frowned. Damn Hollywood pre-madonnas! "Okay," I agreed. "We'll be waiting."

Brian disappeared into his bedroom to get ready. I asked Mac and Manny to set up their shot. Mac had brought along the secondary handheld camera which he locked into position on a tripod. This camera would capture the couch Hollywood and Terry were sitting on. Mac's main shot would be focused on a white chair with metallic silver arms that was sitting caddy-cornered to the couch.

The quality between Mac's camera and the smaller handheld was not comparable, however the American public had gotten used to shaky shots and grainy texture having spent years watching reality TV. They wanted drama and they didn't care what it looked like.

Once the angles were locked and the boom mic in place, we sat in silence and waited. And waited. And waited. After thirty minutes I was starting to worry.

"Do you think he snuck out the window or something?" Manny asked the group.

"Could have," Hollywood agreed. "It didn't seem like he was too keen to be camera."

"Maybe he's the killer so he fled," Terry offered.

I looked at his name again on the release – Brian Drake. "He looks so familiar but I can't figure out who he is," I said.

"If he's famous, I'd know him," Hollywood said. "And I don't know that name."

Hollywood hadn't recognized Rachel Roads' name either but I didn't think this was the right time to point that out.

A moment later we heard a door open and shoes clicking on the tile floor. I looked up to see Brian dressed in a sequined green evening gown with a red wig on his head and an enormous amount of makeup on his face. He had managed to make the eye makeup I was wearing the night before look natural in comparison. His eyelashes reached all the way up to his eyebrows and his lips were lined with red lipstick. He had put a fake black beauty mark next to his mouth and he wore white gloves that covered his arms up to the elbows.

I knew my mouth was hanging open and I was pretty sure I wasn't the only one.

"You're a dude," Manny said out loud. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"He's a drag queen Manny," I hissed, hardly believing it myself.

I glanced at Mac who was trying his hardest to stifle a laugh. I scrunched my nose at him and motioned towards the camera. Mac got control of himself and sprung into action to record the scene.

"Now I know why you look familiar," Hollywood said. "You're Misty Meadows!"

Brian, aka Misty, smiled and curtseyed before us. It took some effort but I managed to push up my jaw to close my gaping mouth. What the hell was this all about? Was the affair just a ruse to upset Eric or fool Mona? Maybe the PI should have worried less about getting a paycheck and more about getting his facts straight. Misty Meadows was huge in the drag queen community and a permanent fixture at gay pride parades up and down the west coast. What had he said to Rachel is his email? He missed her and needed to see her. That wasn't proof of an affair, not at all.

Hollywood motioned to the empty chair and Misty took a seat. "I know I'm a little overdressed," Misty said, "But my agent didn't want the public to see me out of costume."

"Totally get it," Hollywood said, thrilled to be interviewing a celebrity.

Misty Meadows was a regular on the lesbian and gay network and frequently guest-hosted _Liquid Lunch_ , the network's most popular talk show. She did reviews all around Hollywood and had lots of friends in high places. It explained to me why she lived in this ritzy area in this high-end house. But that was the only thing that was coming together for me at this point. The rest was still damn confusing.

Manny had his headphones on and was rolling sound, and Mac had his eye firmly positioned behind the camera lens. The group seemed to be waiting for a cue or something so I said, "Action" to get things rolling.

"Um, Misty, um..." Hollywood stumbled on his words. I wasn't sure if he was as stunned as we were or just star struck.

"How do you know Rachel Roads?" Terry asked.

"Rachel?" Misty said, seeming surprised. "Is this what this is about? Um, she's a friend. She's my best friend's wife actually."

"You're aware that she passed away, correct?" Terry continued.

Misty got a little misty-eyed. "Yes. Tragic what happened to her."

"Are you aware of how she died, sir...er...ma'am?" Terry asked tripping over her words. "Are you aware she was poisoned and then drowned in her bathtub?"

"That's not true," Misty said. "Eric said it was an overdose."

"Yeah, well we're here to tell you the truth. She was murdered, in cold blood," Hollywood said.

The room fell silent. The look on Misty's face showed everything. Her long appliquéd eyelashes blinked up and down as she processed the information. Her face seemed to contort, going through the stages of grief starting with denial and then moving to anger. She looked up at Hollywood, her eyes hot and red with rage. "He did this."

"Who?" Hollywood asked.

"Eric. He did this, didn't he?"

"We don't know," Terry commented. "That's why we're here."

Misty moved her gloved hand up to her head and started scratching her wig. She scratched so hard that the entire thing was moving back and forth across her head. "That bastard. That son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill him!"

The threat coming from a man in a dress wasn't exactly menacing, however the hatred in her eyes was clear.

Terry looked at Misty. "Were you having an affair with Rachel Roads?"

Misty's eyes moved from left to right. The wig was now completely off-center and she pulled off a white glove so she could bite her fake nails. "It wasn't my fault," she began, moving to the bargaining stage of grief. "You have to understand what a bastard he was to her. She needed an escape. There was nothing wrong about what we were doing."

"Misty – er, Brian," Terry said stumbling again, "Were you having an affair with Rachel? Is this you in this picture?" Terry handed Misty one of the photos that Francis Silben had given her.

Misty looked at the photo for a few minutes. It depicted the two of them kissing at Rachel's house. Misty shook her head, moving now to the depression stage. Tears started pouring from her eyes smearing her mascara everywhere. "It should have been me. She was the best person I've ever known. These past few days have been torture. How am I going to live without her in my life?"

Finally, Misty moved to acceptance. "I guess I knew this wouldn't last forever. It couldn't. It was forbidden."

I glanced over at Hollywood and Terry who seemed like their heads had just been put through a blender. Everything had become clear to me and I was in complete and total shock.

"You son of a bitch," I blurted out. "You're not even gay, are you?"

Everyone turned to me and I sunk back into my skin. The question seemed to jar Misty and she suddenly realized she had been on camera this whole time. This type of revelation wouldn't be good for her career at all.

Misty snapped back into character with a quick swing of her head. "Don't talk to me that way, bitch," she said to me snapping her fingers in the air. Misty looked at the camera. "I didn't know what this interview was about. We're done here." Misty began to stand up, prepared to walk off camera and not return.

I panicked. Based on experience I knew where this was heading. Misty would throw us out on our asses if I didn't think fast. "Did you know she was pregnant?" I asked, dropping another bomb. I knew this was totally against protocol but I didn't care, I needed this story.

Misty's eyes went wide. They darted from one side of the room to the next until she finally closed her eyes and sobbed.

We all waited in silence. It was hard to resist walking over and comforting Misty. The emotions were real and raw and I knew how bad she was hurting. My heart was breaking for Misty.

Finally she looked up and stared at me, snapping back into her drag-queen character once again. "I told you to leave. Now get your K-Mart clothes wearing, boney-ass out of my damn sight! And you can take Huckleberry Finn over here with you," she said, looking at Mac.

Misty stood up and pointed at the door. "Out!" she screamed.

"Okay, okay, look. We'll turn off the cameras," I announced. "We'll go but I need you to talk to the cops, okay? We have got to get this case solved for Rachel's sake."

Misty seemed to calm down a little when I said that so I motioned for Mac and Manny to walk out with me. Mac turned off the little camera and carried out his larger camera. Manny turned off the boom mic and carried out his equipment as well.

Misty pulled off her wig, exposing a bald cap underneath. She pulled off her eyelashes and her nails, revealing the damaged man that was underneath.

Misty, now Brian again, looked crushed. Truly crushed.

"I'm really sorry for your loss," I said.

"Just get out of here you two-bit whore," Brian snapped.

I knew he was upset but he didn't have to take it out on me! I headed out with Manny and Manny behind me, closing the door as we stepped out.

Once we were outside I snapped back into producer mode. "Manny, the cops are still mic'd, right?"

Manny nodded. "And I'm still rolling," Mac said pointing the camera at the door of the house.

"Perfect," I said and grabbed a set of Manny's headphones so that I could listen.

"Are you guys trying to ruin me?" Brian asked from inside the house.

"No of course not," Hollywood defended.

"Look cut to the case," Terry jumped in. "Were you having a love affair with Rachel? Yes or no?"

There was silence in the room. "Yes," Brian whispered.

"Did you know she was pregnant?" Terry asked.

"No."

"Did Eric know about your relationship with Rachel?"

"No one did," Brian explained. "That was part of the reason she stayed with Eric, to help cover our story."

"Why wouldn't she just leave him and run away with you?" Terry asked.

"Because I had a secret too. I'm not gay – obviously. But people can't know that or else it'll ruin me."

"Why do you think Eric was the one to poison her?" Terry asked.

"Because he hated her. He just married her for the money and even after her career dried up, her mother kept it flowing. She had a big inheritance coming once her mother died and he didn't want to walk away from that. I was his best friend. He told me about all the women he was seeing. He didn't care about Rachel. In fact, he told me more than once that he wished she would die. Just take too many diet pills or something and give him his freedom back."

I marveled at how hysterical this whole thing was. This town was filled with people who did everything and anything to pretend they were something they weren't. For Brian, he was a straight man pretending to be gay, terrified people would learn the truth. It was so ridiculous yet so plausible. There really was no place on earth like LA.

When we heard the cops wrapping up we moved away from the door and rushed over to the SUV to load everything inside.

"Huckleberry Finn, huh?" Mac said, remembering what Misty had called him. "That's a new one for me."

"Yeah, well at least you didn't get called a bitch and told your clothes look like crap," I countered.

"And that you have a boney ass," Manny reminded me.

I nodded. "I know she was upset, but that was really mean."

"Bitch, you better recognize," Manny joked in his best drag queen voice, snapping his fingers back and forth.

A few minutes later Hollywood and Terry walked out of the house and jumped into the van.

Hollywood had a huge grin on his face. "This is so good. This is so good! Sharpe, this is the type of story that could end up on _L.A. Incorporated_."

"Yeah, but we're no further than where we were," Terry said. "Another person that thinks Eric is capable isn't good enough to convict him on." Terry began to talk through the case, trying to recap everything she had learned so far. It was good for TV as a narrative, but I wasn't listening. I was too focused on what Hollywood had just said.

"Hollywood, you're absolutely right," I said, interrupting Terry. "I'm gonna call Rachel's agent. I think it's time we let the real story on Rachel Roads break."

### Chapter 19.

Back at the station I did some digging to figure out who Rachel's publicist was. It turned out she wasn't famous enough to have a publicist, but I did find her agent. Allison Melon was a Hollywood agent even I was familiar with. When I mentioned her name, Hollywood was all ears. She belonged to one of the top three agencies and had A-list clients like Dirk Jacobson who was a celebrity guest my sister's wedding, and my own personal fav - Keith Brooks.

It was after six o'clock now and I knew the office would be closed. It wasn't going to be easy, but I needed to find a way to contact her. I had a young starlet having a secret affair with one of Hollywood's most famous drag queens who had been murdered by her husband, probably. A story like this would get the show some major press and was exactly what both Hollywood and I needed to catapult our careers to the next level. I didn't think we would solve it as we had almost no evidence, but solving it didn't matter anymore. We had gotten a taste of the good life with our leak to the _Daily Buzz_ and now was our chance to soar. Missy, eat my dust baby!

I called the agency and listened to the recorded message. Fortunately they listed an after-hours emergency phone number to call. I dialed the number and waited until the after-hours service picked up. I explained that I wanted to leave an urgent message for Allison Melon. "I have a major story breaking about Rachel Roads and I need her to call me immediately before I call the press."

I gave the woman at the answering service my phone number and waited.

"Did you get through?" Hollywood wanted to know, walking over to my desk.

I opened my mouth to answer but grew silent when I saw the interior door open and close and Pauly and Joe stroll in. They were in uniform and looked sweaty and tired, like they had been in the field all day. When they saw us, Pauly straightened up.

"Ladies," he said to me and Hollywood by way of greeting.

I rolled my eyes and let the men pass, trying to ignore them. I could hear them whispering and laughing at whatever jokes they were telling as they walked over to their desks.

"She's going to call me back," I told Hollywood, continuing our conversation. "That was the answering service, but I told them it was an emergency."

"Okay good," Hollywood said. He sat down on the side of my desk and stared at my phone, waiting. He ran his fingers in a circle on the desktop. "Allison Melon is big time Sharpe."

"I know."

Terry was at her desk listening to some voicemails she had received from some of Rachel's friends and Mac and Manny were filming her.

"Yeah totally," Pauly called out loudly, responding to whatever Joe had just whispered. Then he burst out laughing.

I looked over at Terry who was covering up an ear, trying to listen to her messages.

"Can you keep it down?" Manny called out to the cops and pointed to the sound equipment he was holding.

"Sorry man," Pauly said, holding up his hands. "Don't let me interrupt."

Manny went back to recording the scene with Terry. It wasn't long though before Pauly and Joe were laughing again.

"Hey guys, come on," Mac called out. "Do us a favor, will ya?"

"Sorry," Pauly said, holding his hands up again. He thought for a moment and then shook his head. "You know what, I'm not sorry. I'm here to work and I don't need to apologize for doing my job."

"Five minutes and we'll be finished," Manny told Pauly. Manny had enough experience in this area to know that when people were upset by the cameras, it was best to try to keep the peace.

"No, I think you're done now," Pauly said, trying to bait the team. Joe was watching him, smiling as Pauly stood up and slowly skulked over to Terry's desk. Pauly leaned in to Mac and scowled at him. "You have a problem with that, camera boy?"

This was getting weird. Mac was no chump and no little guy either. Mac was a survivor. He had done tons of shows were he filmed in hazardous conditions, he had frequented the jungle, I think he once even wrestled a bear. Mac wasn't a fighter but when pushed he would push back.

"Don't speak to me that way," Mac said sternly. He was being challenged in front of his woman and he knew he couldn't back down.

Pauly lifted a meaty finger and placed in on Mac's shoulder. "I'll speak to you however I choose."

In my hands, my cell phone rang like a hot potato. It came up as a restricted number. "It's Allison Melon!" Hollywood announced.

I picked up the phone and answered, "Hello?"

"This is Allison Melon," the woman on the other end of the phone said. Her voice was firm and short, very business-like. I could tell this woman was a pro.

Before I could respond I saw Mac push Pauly's hand away. Pauly's face contorted then he forcibly pushed Mac's shoulders. Mac had to steady himself, nearly losing control of the camera. Slowly, Mac placed the camera on Terry's desk, then looked up, with fury in his eyes. My heart sank.

"Um, yes, um..." I was frozen, unable to speak, terrified that this idiot was going to hurt Mac.

Suddenly I hear a primal scream coming from Hollywood's mouth. "Knock it off!" he thundered.

Before Pauly could react, Hollywood charged him like a crazed bull. Hollywood flung Pauly against the wall with such force that he crumpled like a rag doll. Hollywood jammed a forearm under his neck and pressed hard. Pauly was gasping for air, completely shocked by the turn of events.

"She's on an important phone call," Hollywood boomed in Pauly's face. "If you make another sound I'll KILL you, you hear me?"

Pauly was struggling to breathe but managed to nod, telling Hollywood that he planned to oblige.

I gasped, audibly, incredibly impressed with Hollywood at this moment. He had stood up to his enemy and not in a little way. Mac and Manny looked equally amazed while Terry was looking at her computer, trying to disappear from the situation.

Hollywood pulled his arm off Pauly's neck and backed away. Pauly grabbed his throat and took a deep breath. He looked at Hollywood's face and then all of our faces, humiliated by what had just happened. Without saying a word, he turned and walked back to his desk. Joe was still seated, not sure what to say or do. Instead he looked down at his paperwork and tried to pretend he hadn't witnessed the fight.

"Go ahead Sharpe," Hollywood told me.

"Thanks," I laughed, still in shock by the scene that had just unfolded. I pressed the speaker phone button on my cell and spoke to the caller. "Um, sorry, are you still there?"

"Yes, is everything okay?" Allison asked.

Terry, Mac, and Manny turned, listening to the conversation. Hollywood sat on the edge of my desk, leaning in.

"Yes, sorry about that. I'm calling you from a police station so it's a little noisy. Anyway, my name is Victoria Sharpe and I'm with the show _Murder Live!_ I've been working with the detectives investigating Rachel Roads' death."

"Okay, we're not interested in speaking to the police or being part of your show. If I was I would have contacted you."

"Look, it's not what you think," I told her quickly before she hung up on me. "Rachel didn't overdose. She was murdered."

"Is this a prank?" Allison asked. "Because if it is, you're really sick."

"No," I pleaded. I was losing her. This wasn't playing out the way I had imagined.

Hollywood saw the fear in my eyes and spoke up immediately. "This is Detective Dennis Johnson of the LAPD," he told Allison. "We have important information for you concerning this case. If you don't want to hear it, then we'll go straight to the press. We happen to have a very good connection at _LA Incorporated_ if you prefer we break the story with them."

Hollywood signaled to me that I should continue. "You still there?" I asked.

"I'm listening," Allison told me.

"Okay, we have a huge break in the case but before I tell you I need you to make a deal with me."

"What kind of deal?" Allison asked.

"If I give you this exclusive story, I need you to give credit to the _Murder Live!_ show for breaking the story."

"I've never heard of your show. I only know about it from the article in the _Daily Buzz_."

Well at least she'd bothered to read the article. "It's on HOBO – channel six-twelve. We're just in our first season but we're gaining a lot of traction."

"Okay, sure whatever. What's the lead?"

"There are two things really. The first I already told you. Rachel didn't OD. She was poisoned with cyanide."

"By whom?" Allison asked.

"We're not sure yet."

Allison paused. "What's the other thing?"

"She was having an affair with Misty Meadows, the drag queen. His real name is Brian Drake and he was her husband's best friend. She was actually pregnant with his baby."

"Wait, are you serious?" Allison asked, suddenly intrigued. "Put that cop on, I want to hear this from him."

Hollywood cleared his throat. "I'm still here."

I looked over at Mac and Manny and signaled for them to come over and record the scene while I stepped out of view.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Melon," Hollywood began. "During my acting days I was desperate to get representation from your team but I was too small-time."

"Hollywood!" I snipped and slapped his arm.

"Sorry. Anyway I know I was gruff before but I needed to get your attention. I can confirm that everything our producer has told you is true."

Allison was skeptical of course and spent some time talking to Hollywood trying to verify that he was in fact a police officer and that this story was in fact true. She spoke to Terry for a while too, who further corroborated the story. It was probably twenty minutes later that she was convinced we were telling the truth. Once she believed us, she requested to speak to me.

"Okay, I'll give you the credit," Allison told me. "I'll break the story tonight."

"Okay," I answered.

"Is her mother a suspect?" Allison asked me.

The question had me stumped for a minute. I looked at Hollywood and then at Terry who shrugged, not sure where Allison was going with this. "You mean Mona?"

"You know who Rachel's father was, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"Rachel was writing a tell-all book about Cecil Moore that was going to destroy his reputation and her mother's. We've been working on it for months."

I was silent for a moment, absorbing the information. I looked at Terry and Hollywood who were both staring at me, wide-eyed. "Did anyone know?" I asked.

"I don't think so. Her mother didn't know about the book, although Rachel had threatened to write it for years. In fact, she was paying Rachel to keep her mouth shut."

"She was blackmailing her? She said she was giving her the money because of Rachel's financial problems."

"Twenty thousand a month solves more than just financial problems," Allison refuted.

"What's the book about?" I asked, intrigued.

"How Cecil molested her. Her mother knew all along and did nothing about it. Rachel was in therapy her whole life to reverse the damage. Anyway I was just thinking that Mona had a motive."

"No kidding! But if you knew all this, why didn't you call the cops?" I asked.

"About what? They said it was an OD."

I glared at Hollywood. Some strategy! It totally backfired. "Right, I forgot. Hey, did Eric know about the book?" I asked.

"No. There was a lot in there about him too. But nothing about Rachel and Misty Meadows! I was sure he was gay!"

"That's what he wanted everyone to think," I said. "Hey, are you going to release the book still?"

"Absolutely. Rachel would have wanted to the truth to come out," Allison said. "She was only a few chapters shy of completing it. I'm thinking we'll just end it unfinished – just as her life was."

"Right." It seemed like Rachel's death was going to mean major book sales for Allison. "Any chance you can stall on this press release to give us some time to talk to Mona?"

"Hell no," Allison answered.

"Give me an hour. It should take that long for you to figure out your angle anyway."

"Not a minute more. Thanks Victoria."

I hung up the phone and turned to the team and screamed. "Holy shit! This is so good!"

"Hey dude, way to go back there," Manny told Hollywood, referring to the Pauly incident. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Seriously man," Mac agreed. "That was amazing!"

"It really was," I said patting Hollywood on the shoulder.

It was probably weird that we were slapping Hollywood on the back and commending him when Pauly was only sitting a few feet away from us, but we didn't care. He was awesome!

Of course, Hollywood wasn't listening to us, he was lost in thought, mesmerized by the conversation with Allison Melon. "If she's gonna break this story, she's going to want to have a quote from the officer involved."

"Officers," Terry corrected.

"Excuse me a second. I have to make a phone call," Hollywood said and wandered off.

"Hollywood!" I called after him. "For God's sake, we don't have time for this." My opinion that Hollywood was awesome had changed within a matter of seconds.

"Let's just go," Mac said, anxious to wrap this story up. "I don't want to miss out on this scene."

"When's the last time you dropped off footage to Rob?" I asked Mac.

"Not since we went to the production office the other day," Mac told me. "I can't email it or the quality will suffer."

"Okay, we have to get them some footage. When this story breaks, they're gonna need to get promos running immediately. Let me call Lenny and see if he can send a runner."

"Victoria, we need to go to Mona's house now," Terry demanded.

"We will, we will. I'll call Lenny from the car. Mac, leave the video chip with the officer at the front desk," I ordered.

We spent the next few minutes quickly collecting our gear and packing up the footage for the office. I included the logs I had been keeping so that my editor Rob would quickly be able to grab the good stuff. I grabbed a marker and highlighted some scenes that I thought would be especially good for the trailers.

Ten minutes later we walked outside to find Hollywood in his squad car, on the phone. I ran over to him and knocked on the window.

"Sharpe, I'm on the phone," Hollywood told me, rolling down the window.

"What are you doing?" I asked him. "We have to get Mona."

Hollywood placed a hand over the phone's receiver so that the caller couldn't hear him. "Sharpe, they're going to do a live press release. They want me to be there."

"But we haven't solved the case yet. Hollywood, come on, we're almost there."

"It doesn't matter if we solve this or not. Not now. Sharpe, you know that. I'm gonna get major coverage for this and so will your show. Terry can handle getting Mona. I'm no good at this stuff anyway."

I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. Did being a cop mean so little to Hollywood that he was willing to throw away the chance of bringing Rachel's killer to justice? Was solving the crime so irrelevant?

"Just leave him," Terry said from behind me.

"Listen to her Sharpe," Hollywood told me and rolled up the window.

"I can't believe this," I exclaimed, throwing up my hands.

"Come on Sharpe, I'll drive," Mac said and led the group over to the SUV.

I felt bad leaving Hollywood out, but he had been quite clear with the path he wanted to take. I couldn't worry about him right now. I needed to focus.

I dialed Lenny's cell phone as I jumped into the SUV and we headed to Mona's house. "Yeah?" he said in my ear.

"Lenny, I need a runner to the Hollywood station right away. This story about Rachel Roads is gonna be really big about an hour from now and we need to be ready with the promos. You need to call the network too – they have to be on standby."

"Holy shit Sharpe, slow down. What the hell is going on?" Lenny asked.

I told him everything I knew, speaking quickly as I knew we didn't have much time. He agreed to send a runner to get the tapes and to call Rob at home and get him into the edit suite. It was his day off, but he would pay him double if he had to. He texted the executives at the network while we were talking, trying to disseminate the information as quickly as he could. He said he would pull Missy in to work with Rob on my promos as he needed a producer working on them. I relished the idea that Missy had to stop working on her episode to be my assistant. It was especially sweet considering she was working on a story about Reid. He was great for TV but even Reid couldn't help her beat me. My story trumped hers once again.

"Good work Sharpe. This is a big one," Lenny told me as we hung up.

I beamed. Score two for Victoria Sharpe!

### Chapter 20.

"I can't believe Mona would have anything to do with this," Terry said as we drove up the canyon towards Mona's house. "She seemed so hurt by what happened to Rachel."

"Terry, we don't know that Mona had anything to do with this," Mac reassured her. "It could be a coincidence. The agent said there was a lot of bad stuff in the book about Eric too."

"Sometimes mothers can go to extremes to make people think they love their kids," Terry continued. "The reality of course, is that their child's well being is the furthest thing from their mind."

"It sounds like you're speaking from personal experience," I said, switching into my producer mode.

"Knock it off Sharpe," Terry said. "I don't need you to psycho-analyze me."

Wow, Terry was really channeling the tough-girl persona lately. Between her and Hollywood, we had created monsters. Maybe the earthquake shook some courage into them or something.

We headed west towards Bel Air. Mona's husband had been deceased for quite a number of years now, but he had left behind a fortune and a mansion for her to live in. We drove along Beverly Glen then turned onto St. Pierre road. As we drove along the street, I recognized Ginny's friend Sarah's house. It was a sprawling contemporary-style home with two guest houses and servant's quarters. Sarah's father was a big-time action star who pulled in mega bucks at the box office. Sarah lived in one of the three guest houses that boasted state-of-the-art everything. She was living the good life on Daddy's dime without a care in the world and I resented her for it.

As we drove, each house was grander than the next. Mona definitely had some high-class neighbors. The twenty-thousand dollars she was paying monthly to Rachel was probably insignificant to her.

Mona's house was a Tudor-style home with high hedges lining the street so that only the top of the house was visible from the road. There was a large metal gate that was open, allowing us to drive up the driveway unannounced. It was getting dark out so we followed the LED pathway lighting up to the front door. The house was white stucco with dark brown trim, grand windows, and a massive doorway.

I checked my phone. I had texted Hollywood to tell him where we were, but he had not written me back. I had been checking the _Daily Buzz_ every few minutes, paranoid that the story would break before we had a chance to speak to Mona. Allison had promised us an hour, but I knew the word of a Hollywood agent wasn't worth much.

As I searched "Rachel Roads" on my smart phone once again, a big story splashed across the screen: _Famous actress' death declared a murder; Misty Meadows claimed to be the father to her unborn child; Allegations of child molestation from famous father Cecil Moore._

Well that about summed it up. I scrolled through the article quickly to see if the show was mentioned. I was upset that the story had broken before we were ready, but I still wanted to check for my name. I scrolled to see that we were mentioned. _The story was broken by detective Dennis "Hollywood" Johnson of the LA PD and his partner, un-named. The detectives were filming a show called Murder Live! for the HOBO channel when the murder was first discovered._

"The story broke guys," I told everyone. "We've gotta get in there now."

"Let's go," Terry ordered and we headed to the house.

On the way I sent a quick text to Lenny: _My story is blowing up the media – big time!_

Terry rang the doorbell and a moment later Mona answered. She was dressed in a pair of beige slacks with a floral blouse tucked into them and a belt at her waist. Her jewelry was spectacular as usual, and her hair and makeup looked perfect. She looked surprised to see us. "Oh, hello. Is this about the case?"

"Yes it is," Terry confirmed. "Can we come inside?"

"Yes of course," Mona said and held the door open for us.

I signaled the guys to fire up the camera and sound gear. In a moment we were rolling.

We stepped inside to a grand foyer. The ceilings must have been twenty feet high and everything was marble and shining. There was a circular table in the center of the room with a statue of a horse plunging out of a sea of water. It was ugly, but definitely expensive.

"We have some more information about the case that we'd like to share with you," Terry said, testing the waters to see if Mona knew anything yet.

"Okay fine. I was just watching the evening news," Mona said, pointing to a sitting room to our right. There was a sitting room to our left also, but the one Mona motioned to was slightly less ornate and had a large plasma television inside of it.

I looked over at the television to see that _L.A. Incorporated_ was on. In this town, the term "evening news" was used loosely. "Oh no!" I said and ran over to the TV. I didn't know how to turn it off but fumbled my way around it until I found the off-button. I turned to face the group and saw that everyone was staring at me. "I was worried the sound might affect our audio recording," I bluffed.

Mona nodded slowly, seeming to believe the story. "Why don't you folks have a seat in the den. I'll get us some drinks. I have a delicious iced tea recipe that people just love. I'll be right back." Mona disappeared down the hall to the kitchen.

Mona's living room was decorated with antique furniture. There were two mahogany couches with baby blue upholstery facing each other and two gold and ivory chairs on either side. The walls were textured and there was an oversized piece of art on the wall that looked like an abstract sunset. I had seen wealth in this town, but this was really extravagant. Mona's taste was that of dark wood tones, gold highlights, and expensive artful touches. It was the house of an older woman for certain, but was still quite inspiring. Mac decided that hand-held was best for the scene so we simply sat on the chairs and waited for Mona to return.

"Terry, I'm gonna snoop around a little bit while you start the interview, okay?" I whispered. "I only need a minute so start with small talk or something."

"No," Terry whispered back. "No, no."

Maybe it was a dumb idea, but I wanted to see if I could find Rachel's manuscript in the house. Mona had been paying Rachel not to write it – what if she had found out that she was going ahead with it anyway? I knew Mona would claim to know nothing about the book and the blackmail, but if I could find the manuscript, then I could call her bluff. I knew it was a stupid, but I couldn't help myself.

"Cover for me," I whispered to Terry. "I want to find that manuscript."

Mona returned a moment later carrying a tray of drinks for the group. We each grabbed one and thanked her. The tea and was actually quite good – very sweet. I could see Mac wince at the sweetness. He was a health nut.

"It's only thirty calories a glass," Mona told him.

"Wow, really? What's in it?" Mac wanted to know.

Mac and Mona proceeded to talk about this new type of sugar-free sugar that was all the rage while I excused myself to the bathroom.

"It's down the hall on the right," Mona told me.

"You guys can keep shooting," I called out as I headed down the hallway. The dining room and kitchen were on the right side of the hallway and the bathroom and an office were to the left. I walked right past the bathroom and headed for the office. It was a bit dark inside but the light in the hallway provided me with a fair amount of visibility. I realized that this was probably Cecil's office. It had lots of masculine touches, including a massive cherry wood desk and a brass lamp shaped like an elephant. He probably made million dollar deals from this very desk, all the while hiding a slew of family secrets. There was a walk-in humidor in the side of the room and an assortment of expensive pens in cases displayed on a shelf. I crept over to the desk and started opening drawers to see what I could find. There were all sorts of papers and file folders, but none that I could make sense of in the limited amount of time I had. I noticed a picture of Cecil and Mona standing with their arms around each other at a beach somewhere, looking very happy. Perhaps Mona was too afraid to admit the truth, even to herself.

I heard a noise and froze. I didn't know how I would explain what I was doing in the office. Could I really say I thought it was the bathroom? Not likely. I noticed a door within the office that connected to the bathroom and darted over to it. Once inside the bathroom I jumped. Manny was inside, using the toilet.

"Whoa!" Manny called out.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, still trying to calm down from the scare he gave me.

"What the hell do you think?"

"Mona thinks I'm in here! Come on, get out. Tell her I have an upset stomach or something."

"All right, all right," Manny said zipping up his pants and heading for the door.

"Aren't you gonna wash your hands?" I whispered at him.

"Estas loco!" Manny barked at me and quickly washed his hands.

After he left, I washed my hands too, feeling dirty that I had just watched him urinate. I looked up at the medicine cabinet in front of me. I generally had the urge to go through people's medicine cabinets whether they were murder suspects or not. If they had prescriptions for lots of pain killers, or anti-depressants or a bunch of ointments, it always gave me some insight. I actually broke up with a guy because his medicine cabinet contained a large variety of fungal creams and athlete's foot treatments.

Mona's cabinet had almost nothing in it. I figured her master bathroom was probably upstairs and so this was really just a guest cabinet. I didn't see anything too exciting as I poked around. It was mostly filled with mini shampoo bottles and bars of soap.

I headed back down the hallway when the kitchen caught my eye. I snuck in and looked around. The house had maintained the original architecture so each room was compartmentalized. No open concepts in this time period. The kitchen was at the back of the house and had large windows with beveled glass all along the back wall. There was a little breakfast nook with some newspapers lying on it, but no secret manuscripts. I opened a few of the dark wood cabinets but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. As I walked towards the door I noticed something on the floor. I saw half of a red pill capsule that had been emptied out. It looked similar to the pill we had found next to Rachel at the crime scene. I opened the cabinet that the pill was lying in front of and found a hidden garbage can with a few more empty capsules in it.

I suddenly had a sinking feeling in my chest. Something wasn't right here. How did Mona get these pills? Were these the same ones she had used on Rachel? Had she actually killed her own flesh and blood?

I pulled out my phone to text Hollywood again: _Where the hell are you? I found pills at Mona's house – same ones we found next to Rachel_.

I slid my phone into my pocket and had a terrifying thought. Why were there so many empty capsules in the garbage? Had she recently poisoned someone else? They were right on top so she must have just used them. My heart sank and I started to sweat.

I grabbed my phone and sent Hollywood another desperate text: _I think she poisoned us! You asshole, where are you?_ I was desperate to blame someone for the terrible situation we had walked in to and Hollywood seemed like a good enough choice.

I tried to stay calm as I stepped back out into the living room. The filming was ongoing and I leaned against the wall watching. Terry and Mona were sitting next to each other on one of the couches and Mac was panning back and forth between the two of them.

"Were you aware that your daughter Rachel was writing a tell-all book about your husband?" Terry asked. She seemed irritated, like she was angry with Mona for making her think she actually cared.

Mona looked uncomfortable. "What? I don't know what you're talking about."

"We learned earlier from Rachel's agent that she had been working on this for months. We also learned that she was pregnant at the time of her death."

This comment seemed to shock Mona and I felt sure she didn't know about this part. The rest of course was a total act. I glanced down at the iced teas that she had served the group. Thirty calories my ass. They were laced with sugar, and poison! I looked around to see that everyone had drank at least half of their glasses.

I felt the room start to spin. The whole thing seemed surreal. Had we really been poisoned? Was I about to die? I was only thirty years old. I thought about crying, I thought about running, but finally a rage settled over me. I glared at Mona.

"You crazy bitch," I blurted out. "Stop this charade. You killed Rachel and everyone knows it."

Mona whipped her head around to look at me, as did Mac with his camera.

"Victoria!" Terry said, trying to quiet me.

"You knew damn well that she was writing that book. You've been paying out blackmail for years. You had motive _and_ I just found the poison pills in your kitchen!" I held up one of the red empty capsules for the group to see.

Now Mac stood up to capture the action. He whipped the camera around to gather Mona's reaction. He signaled to Terry that she should stand alongside me so it would appear that Mona and Terry were having the confrontation and not Mona and the show's producer.

"Victoria let me handle this," Terry cautioned.

"Time to tell the truth Mona," I screamed. "Everything is public now anyway. The story broke fifteen minutes ago."

"I know," Mona said sadistically, standing up from her chair. "That lying whore!" She spat. "None of it was true, none of it! Those stories about her father were disgusting! She was bleeding me for more and more money, greedy brat. I wish she would have killed herself with those diet pills so I didn't have to do it myself!"

I looked around at Terry and the crew. Terry's face was hardening, while Mac and Manny were listening attentively to Mona's confession. I knew this was big. I knew this was a huge turning point for me and my career. But I couldn't focus on that. All I could think about was that empty pill capsule. Was I going to be the next Hollywood tragedy? I could see the headline: _Reality television producer's life cut short to catch a killer_. What the hell was I doing? Was my need to beat Missy and prove to my parents that I could be a success on my own worth dying for? Sweat started pouring down my forehead to the point where I could see it dripping over my eyes. The room was really spinning now.

Mona was still in the throes of her confession. "We gave her the type of life a kid would dream about. Everything she wanted she could have. Instead she repays us with this...smut. This garbage. These lies!"

"I believed you," Terry screamed out, clearly hurt by the confession. "What kind of mother hurts her own daughter?"

"What kind of a daughter seduces her own father?" Mona fired back.

"She didn't do anything wrong. Just like I didn't do anything wrong with my mother. But you know what she used to do? She would give me medicine that would make me sick so that she could take me to the hospital and try to gain people's sympathy. She wanted to be a martyr but didn't care if I was hurt in the process. Do you know how screwed up that is? The truth was she was jealous of the fact that my father loved me, just like you were!"

"Holy shit." Mac blurted out, shocked by Terry's truth.

I slid down the wall into a sitting position. I was having trouble standing and couldn't wait any longer to find out if I was poisoned or not. "Everyone shut up already," I yelled with all the strength I could muster. "I need to know why there were empty capsules in your garbage can. Did you poison us?"

I saw the eyes of Mac, Manny and Terry all go wide. Mona gave us a sly smile. "Delicious tea, wasn't it?"

I felt my breath catch in my throat. I had always prided myself on being right, but I didn't want to be right about this. Terry and Manny looked over at the tea, horrified.

Mac thought quickly. He had faced death before and if anyone knew how to handle this situation, he did. "There's no tape in this camera," he lied. "This feeds right to the production office Mona. You just crucified yourself."

Mona shook her head. "I don't care. I'm going to take one of those pills too." She let her words settle on us for a moment. "Why couldn't you just leave it alone? The world would never have even noticed that Rachel was gone. No one cared about her, not even her husband."

"And the baby? What about it?" Terry asked.

"I didn't know about that," Mona admitted. "A casualty of war I suppose."

"I'm fucking dying?" Manny blurted out. He threw down his equipment, ready to charge Mona.

In an instant she pulled out a gun and held it out. Manny stopped in his tracks. She looked over at Terry. "Drop your weapon now."

Terry shook her head, absorbing everything that was going on around her. She slowly pulled her gun out of the holster and placed it on the coffee table.

I knew we are all dead at that moment. Even if somehow our bodies were able to fight off the poison, the gun would surely do us in. I thought about Reid in that moment and what could have been.

"Hands up, all of you," Mona ordered. We followed her orders, in no rush to speed up our own deaths. "Stand in a line, get down on your knees!"

Mac placed the camera on the floor, and got onto his knees.

"Oy dios mio, she's going to execute us," Manny whimpered.

I sat on my knees, sweating, feeling as scared and uncomfortable as I had ever felt in my life. Mona pointed the gun towards us. "Don't move!" She screamed and slipped into the kitchen. We didn't move. A moment later she returned with a can of mace and sprayed all of us in the eyes.

"Ay!" Manny screamed.

"Oh my God!" Terry panicked.

"Good luck!" Mona screamed. "See you on the other side!" She shoved her hands in our pockets and grabbed our phones. I heard the front door open and close and then it was silent.

"I think she's gone," Terry said, trying to peel an eye open to look. She stood up, trying to feel her way around. "I have to find a phone."

"We're all gonna die!" Manny gasped.

My eyes were watering and burning like crazy. I was rubbing them hard but it wasn't helping. "This really hurts!" I called out.

"Try not to blink, it just redistributes the poison in your eyes," Mac told us.

I couldn't see anything, but I heard something big and heavy fall down on the floor hard and then I heard Mac yelp in pain.

"Oh Jesus!" Terry said, after falling on top of him. "Mac, I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay," Mac whispered, trying to find his breath. "Just try to call an ambulance."

"Okay I'm going to the kitchen," Terry said.

I reached my hands out, feeling around. I felt someone's body, maybe their chest, I wasn't sure. "Who's this?" I asked.

"Mac," he told me. "You're holding my balls."

"Sorry," I said, pulling my hand away. I reached the other direction and felt Manny. "What am I grabbing?"

"My face," Manny said in a muffled voice.

"Sharpe this isn't the time for touchy feely," Mac told me.

"I'm not trying to hit on you jerk. This is really bad guys, this is the end. I just want to hold on to you, okay?"

I felt Manny's hand move around mine. "I'm scared."

I felt around and grabbed Mac's hand as well. "Me too," I said.

There was another crash in the other room. "You okay?" Mac called out.

"I can't see a fucking thing!" Terry screamed. "I'm trying."

Beneath us the earth suddenly rumbled again, hard. "Are you kidding me?" I screamed out, furious with the world.

Around me I heard objects falling to the floor and breaking. Mac's hand squeezed tightly around mine. I braced myself, blind and unsure if anything was going to fall on me.

"It's the big one!" Manny cried out.

As if on cue, it stopped.

"Gracias Señor," Manny said to God, whimpering.

"Terry, you okay?" Mac called out.

"Yeah," she answered back.

My vision was very slowly coming back to me – perhaps the tears that were pouring out of my eyes were washing away the pepper spray. "I can't believe this is the end of us. Anything for the shot, right? They can put that on my tombstone."

"Sharpe, come on, you didn't know this would happen," Mac assured me.

"You guys are like my family," I blubbered. "Manny, I love you like a brother. What am I going to do without you?" Through my squinted eyes I could see that Manny was crying too. I turned to Mac. "Mac, I know we fight a lot, probably more than we should, but it's only because I care. Yeah, I got a little jealous of Terry back there, but it's only because I want the very best for you."

Mac stroked my hand with his. "Sharpe, I'll always have a place in my heart for you. I wouldn't put up with half your shit if I didn't love you deep down."

I started to do the ugly girl crying now. It was the deep belly sobs and my shirt was getting stained with tear drops. Why did it take facing death to get us to be honest with each other?

"The phone's dead!" Terry called from the other room. "Fucking earthquake!"

"Nooo!" Manny sobbed. "Please Señor, help us!"

"Come on Mac," I pleaded. "You know how to get out of everything. Don't you have an antidote in your pocket or something?"

"We need a shot of adrenaline. Have one of those handy?" Mac asked me.

Terry walked back in the room, trying to keep up her spirits. "Can anyone see yet? We can drive ourselves to the hospital, if we can make it there."

All of a sudden I heard a loud gunshot ring out. We all gasped and tried to scramble, rolling around on the floor, still blind.

"She's coming back for us," Manny screamed.

"Ah!!!" I screamed and continued to scream uncontrollably. I was out of my mind and hysterical, unable to contain myself. I saw the front door open and a figure walk towards me. My screams got even louder.

"Sharpe, it's me Hollywood," he said grabbing my shirt and shaking me. I was so out of my mind that I couldn't process what was going on. "Sharpe, calm down!"

"Gloria a Dios! We've been saved!" Manny cried out and relief washed over all of us.

"We've been poisoned," Terry told him desperately.

"Is she still here?" Hollywood wanted to know.

"No, Mona ran off," Mac explained.

"All clear guys," Hollywood called out. I managed to open my eyes enough to see two paramedics running towards us carrying medical bags.

I threw my arms around Hollywood and wept. "My hero," I called out and collapsed onto the floor. I felt a needle stick me in the leg and then everything went black.

### Chapter 21.

I awoke to the sound of a heart monitor. I blinked my eyes open to see fluorescent lights above me. The stinging in my eyes was gone, but there was a burning sensation in my throat.

I felt a hand close around mine and turned to see Reid sitting next to my bedside. I was in the hospital.

I breathed in deeply and a tear fell down my cheek. I was so relieved to be alive and so relieved to see him. "Hi."

Reid smiled and squeezed my hand. "You had me so worried."

I looked at my arm and saw an IV hanging from it. I touched my throat. "What happened?"

"They had to pump your stomach. I can't believe you got yourself mixed up in this."

"How are the others?" I asked, suddenly panicking.

"They're okay. Same as you."

"Oh thank God," I said, feeling a wave of relief. Tears continued to roll down my face. "That was really close."

Reid leaned over and kissed my forehead. I put an arm around his neck, hugging him tightly, trying to stifle my whimpers.

"It's okay Honey," Reid soothed. "You're okay."

"Knock, knock," I heard a voice say from the other side of the curtain that was hanging around my E.R. bed. Hollywood opened the curtain and walked up to me, smiling.

"There's my girl."

The tears didn't stop as I pulled him in for a hug. "You're my hero," I told him for the second time.

Reid stood up and shook Hollywood's hand. "Thank you. I owe you a lot."

"What happened to Mona?" I asked Hollywood.

"We found her down the road, dead in her car. Suicide."

"Good," Reid said somberly.

"I guess we got our story." I told the guys.

"Honey, you can't keep doing this," Reid cautioned. "It's too dangerous."

"Come on, I'm gonna go down in history for this one. I deserve a promotion," I joked.

Reid shook his head. "Victoria, you almost died. You know that right?" He took my hand and squeezed it. "I care about you, a lot," Reid told me. "I don't want you going anywhere."

"I care about you too," I told him, smiling.

"Coming through, coming through, emergency," I heard my mother's voice bellowing down the hall of the emergency room. "Victoria Sharpe! I demand you tell me where she is!"

"She's over here Evelyn," Hollywood called out, brightening at the sight of her.

My mother pulled the curtain back and sighed in relief when she saw I was okay. She turned to Hollywood and placed both hands on his face. "You saved my baby." She said and kissed him full on the lips.

Behind her, my father, sister, Bob and a man who I could only guess was her new boyfriend stepped inside.

"Evelyn, come on," the new man said, watching her kissing Hollywood.

She pulled back from Hollywood, bit her lip and smiled. "Wow." She looked at me and suddenly rushed to my side.

"Oh honey I was so worried. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay mom," I told her, stroking her arm while my father leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"You scared us kid," my father told me.

"She scared us all," Reid said.

"I can't believe you were poisoned by Rachel Roads' killer," Ginny told me. "You're totally gonna be in the news."

"I'm glad you're okay." The strange man said, walking towards me.

"Do we know each other?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Oh honey, I know this is bad timing, but this is Carlo, my new boyfriend. I'd hoped you two would meet under different circumstances." My mother explained.

"What happened to Vincent?" I asked.

My mother shrugged, uncomfortable about having the conversation in front of her new man.

I laughed. "Well Carlo, welcome to the fold."

Next Mac, Manny, and Terry wandered over to my bedside. Mac was sporting a big bruise on his cheek and Manny and Terry looked like they had been through hell. They were each walking with an IV attached to their arms and a metal pole to support the sugar liquid.

"Is there a party in here?" Manny said, trying his best to sound upbeat.

"Come here," I said, holding out my arms.

He leaned in and hugged me. "I'm so glad you're all right baby."

"You too," I told him, rubbing his back.

"Sharpe, check this out," Manny said, pulling a prescription out of his pocket. "I got the doc to prescribe me medical marijuana."

"No way," I said.

Manny was beaming. "I know, I love LA! This almost makes getting poisoned worth it."

"Almost," I agreed.

Mac and Terry were hovering close to each other, leaning on each other for support.

"Hey Terry?" Manny said. "Remember when you said you were jealous that we all had cool names?"

"Yeah."

"Well I've got one for you baby – T-bomb. You don't get mad easily, but when you do it's no joke!"

Terry smiled. "I like that."

"So Huckleberry Finn," I said to Mac, teasing him. "Did this top your list of near death experiences?"

Mac thought for a moment. "Well there was that time that the helicopter I was shooting in had to make an emergency crash landing. That was pretty close."

I rolled my eyes and glared at him.

"Yes Sharpe," Mac smiled, teasing me. "This was a close one. I'm glad we made it through."

I smiled at my friend. "Me too."

### EPILOGUE

The story generated more press than we could have ever anticipated. Lenny gave me about three hours to recover in the hospital before he started calling to ask when I could work on the edit. The press dubbed Hollywood the "Hero in Blue" and a striking picture of him in his official uniform was splashed everywhere.

Misty Meadows was outed, of course, as was the late Cecil Moore. The tell-all was put on a rush with all intentions of releasing it within the next few weeks while the story was still hot.

Amazingly, I had delivered one whole day before my deadline. This meant I had more time in the edit bay to get the story where it needed to be. The edit was a challenging one because I had to make Terry and Hollywood seem like they knew what they were doing. The footage was coming across as staged so I had to chop it up to make it seem more genuine. Mac had managed to capture the confession of a deranged madwoman who happened to be married to one of the most famous producers Hollywood had ever known. That footage was amazing – I just had to massage the rest. Even though I had a little more time, I still worked around the clock to make sure it was perfect.

I spent two days locked in a room with my editor Rob, exhausted and smelling like coffee and pizza. I spent my nights at my parents' house because it was closer to the production office, and my days in a tiny room with a sweaty editor. Reid and I exchanged texts here and there, but not much. I couldn't talk to him as there just wasn't time. The network executives were in and out of the edit bay, critiquing my work and nit-picking every second of it. I received more feedback those few days than I had in my entire life. The only break I got was my two a.m. shower that had become a ritual both to wash off the filth from the night before and get me clean for the next morning's session.

When my piece was finally locked, I spent the next twenty-four hours sitting at a post production facility watching them color-correct and sound edit my piece to near perfection. I had even managed to weave in some of the eerie music that Eric Roads had written for the show. Once he knew that he was no longer a suspect in the crime and that we would pay him a royalty, Eric was happy as a clam. As I immersed myself in the work, the memory of my near-death experience started to fade.

The story was bigger than cable television, everyone knew that. HOBO's parent company swooped in and started to air promos for the show on network TV. My episode was bumped a week to create more buzz and excitement. The network hired one of their most respected journalists to produce a behind-the-scenes story of this now famous murder. They even included some interviews of me and the crew to give the story more color and life. The plan was that the network premier of the behind-the-scenes special would preempt my episode by a few days before the big premiere. This was unchartered territory for me. I had always been a cable girl – this was the big time.

Hollywood of course, was in all his glory. He was deemed a mastermind detective and a hero but none of that mattered to him. Hollywood put in his resignation even before the final paperwork on the case was filed. He knew if anything was going to catapult his movie career, this was it. He was able to nab Allison Melon as his agent who promised him fame and fortune and everything in between. I saw him a few times when he stopped by the office with his new publicist to check on the edit. I promised to show only his best angles and I delivered.

I was at my parents' house the night the prime time special aired. Mac, Manny, and Terry came over to watch, but Reid was working and Hollywood was attending a private screening with his agent. A few days earlier he would have jumped at the chance to hang out with Evelyn Sharpe, but not anymore. He had become a big sensation overnight.

Kelly told me that Mark Stosky was considering Hollywood for a role in the incest movie she had found him, which incidentally came from Hollywood to begin with. Kelly had managed to save her job and Hollywood had potentially found the role of his career. With Mark involved the film would surely be an Oscar contender.

As for my mother, she was ecstatic that her daughter's name was finally up in lights. She adored telling the media that I was following in her footsteps as a "journalist." My picture was featured in the _Daily Buzz_ and I was called a "die-hard producer" by one of the tabloids.

As we watched the behind-the-scenes network special we spent a lot of time reminiscing and cracking jokes. But listening to Mona tell us we were going to die was still chilling. I had listened to her words dozens of times with Rob in the edit, but they never got less haunting. I looked over at Mac and Manny and squeezed their hands. I didn't know what I would have done if I had lost those two. I knew my parents were thinking the same thing about me.

After the behind-the-scenes aired, I started to get even more media attention. I was used to my mother being stopped for autographs, but now I was starting to get recognized on the street. It was the kind of attention Ginny would have loved and that I could do without. My mother assured me that my fifteen minutes of fame were just about up. I probably had a week more after my episode aired and then I could go back to a normal life.

As for my rivalry with Missy, I declared myself the clear winner. The poor girl couldn't hold a candle to my story, not in a million years. She even stopped me at the office and told me she had heard my story turned out well. For Missy that was a lot and I thanked her for her help in pulling together the promos. I didn't want to gloat, as there was really no point anymore.

*****

The night the episode aired I was hoping Reid would have to work. We hadn't spoken much over the past week and I felt sure he was mad at me. This wasn't the first time I had gotten myself in a dangerous situation for this show and while Reid held back his commentary at the hospital, I was anticipating a lecture. As my luck would have it Reid was off that night and invited me over for beer and pizza so we could watch the show together. Lenny had organized a viewing at a bar in Venice and the whole crew along with the network execs were going to be there. I knew I should have gone to Lenny's party and I knew that Reid was going to piss me off anyway, but I wanted to see him.

Reid opened the front door wearing a pair of gray sweat pants, a white T-shirt, and bare feet. I had never seen him so casual and yet there was something about the way those sweats hit his buns that totally took my mind off the nerves I was experiencing.

"Hi." I smiled.

"Hi." He smiled back.

I walked over to Reid's couch and sat down while he grabbed me a beer from the fridge.

"Now that you're one of us, you should drink like us, right?" Reid said, sitting next to me and handing me the bottle.

I looked up at him, not sure how to respond. Thoughts raced through my head. I knew if I started talking I would invariably say the wrong thing, but then again, it was hard to stop myself. If I was going to be in this relationship I was going to have to establish some boundaries. "Look, I know you're upset, but I want you to know that I did nothing wrong. None of us expected to get poisoned – obviously. I mean, who does that? Terry had a gun, it's not like we were unarmed, she just didn't use it fast enough."

"Sharpe," Reid said holding a finger to my lips. "Stop."

"I know you're going to make a big deal about tonight's episode and you shouldn't. A lot of it is just fancy editing. I was hardly in danger at all."

Reid laughed. "Oh yeah? That wasn't you in the hospital?"

I stood up. "This is my job. If you don't like it then that's too bad, okay buster?"

Reid stood up and met my gaze. "Buster?" he said smiling. "Wow, that's tough talk." He put his arms around me and pulled me in. "Victoria, I have no intention of trying to talk you out of your chosen profession. I'm not that stupid. But if you ever decide to retire, I'll fully support you."

"Oh," I said, my heart swooning.

"I missed you," he told me.

Before I knew what was happening my hands were around those sweet, sweat-suit covered buns, squeezing hard. His hand was up my shirt and my lips were nipping at his neck. Reid had some sort of magnetic pull that made his body nearly impossible to resist. Yet, as much as I wanted to rip his clothes off and take him right there on the couch, there was something else tugging on me. I liked this guy. A lot. It wasn't a crush and it wasn't just lust, there was something really there. There was an ache in my heart that was soothed when I was with him and that scared me.

A week ago I told myself that I wouldn't let my head start worrying about feelings and emotions until my body had a chance to test the waters. But Kelly and Ty had me second guessing Reid's intensions. I realized that it was really important to me to find out exactly where Reid stood. Maybe it had to do with my near-death experience, but I was suddenly taking this relationship very seriously. I had experienced this pang in my heart before. I knew what it could mean. Yet I wasn't ready to admit it to myself, not before I knew what his feelings were.

His hands were tugging at the tops of my jeans, trying to unfasten them. "You're so sexy," he whispered into my ear before running his tongue over it.

I breathed in deeply, feeling chills run down my neck. I let the air out in what sounded like a big sigh. It pained me greatly to have to do what I was about to do, but I knew I had to. I needed to know where Reid stood in this relationship before we went any further. It was a total girl thing to do, but someone had to be responsible here.

"Reid, Reid, stop," I said, pushing him off.

He looked at me; lipstick smeared across his lips and hair a mess. "What's wrong?"

"My episode's going to be on soon. I don't want to miss it," I told him.

Reid looked like a child who had lost their puppy. He plopped down on the couch and I sat down beside him. "I have DVR you know. I could record it," he reasoned.

"Look, I know we've come very close to sleeping together a couple times now, but I want to slow things down." I stared at my hands for a minute before working up the nerve to ask him my question. "I mean, are you interested in a relationship with me or just sex?"

Reid looked annoyed. "Sharpe, you know it's not just about sex with us. Although it would be nice."

I agreed. It would be. I looked at him sheepishly, not sure what to say. I didn't expect him to say he loved me but I needed to know what it would be like to spend time together without being completely focused on sex.

"Look, I care about you a lot. I just feel like we need to see if we can work as a couple without all the sex stuff getting in the way."

"You don't think the intimacy will bring us closer?" Reid asked, smiling.

"Uh, I just..."

"Okay, if you want to take it slow, we'll take it slow," Reid relented. He put an arm around me and I snuggled in to him.

This wasn't exactly easy because my body was screaming at me inside. It had been a long time for both of us and I knew how badly our libidos wanted it, but I also knew it was the right thing to do. There was plenty of time for sex and when it finally happened, it would be worth it.

"Let's talk then," Reid said to me. "I've never dated a celebrity before."

"Ha ha. Hollywood's the one that's really making out in this deal. He texted me this morning that he was a offered a role in Mark Stosky's new movie. I hope it works out for him. He deserves it."

"Good for him," Reid said, turning on the TV. "So, are you off for a while?"

"Two days," I bragged. "Then back to work."

"Are they replacing Hollywood with someone else?"

"I'm actually switching teams," I told Reid. "With my newfound stardom I was able to strong-arm Lenny into a change."

"Oh God-"

"That's right. Tell Foxy to get dolled up because we're back in business!"

Reid smiled and shook his head.

"I figure this way you can ensure that no one kills me." I told him.

"I have to admit I don't hate the idea. Although I was really hoping I could be done with this show for good."

"Come on, think of all the time we'll have to spend together."

"To talk," Reid jibed.

"Yes to talk," I repeated and kissed his cheek.

_Murder Live!_ popped up on the TV set and we grew quiet. Reid squeezed me during the tense scenes and laughed during the funny ones. Throughout, I beamed, happily nuzzled under the arm of my man. I didn't know what my next case would be or what the future would hold, but I was excited about it. Things were coming together for me and I was excited for the next chapter.

### ABOUT THE AUTHOR

At the age of 23, after graduating with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in film and television from New York University, Jenna Baker picked up from New York and drove west to Los Angeles. It was the same summer that a television series called _Survivor_ was premiering. Jenna caught an episode of the show in a hotel room and was instantly hooked. She was so smitten, that she changed her travel itinerary around to ensure she wouldn't miss a single episode.

When she arrived in Los Angeles, Jenna landed an assistant job for a company called Rocket Science Laboratories. They were producing another ground-breaking reality television show called _Temptation Island_. Jenna stayed with Rocket Science for several years moving up from an executive assistant to an associate producer before moving on to other companies to further her career. Jenna worked on numerous reality shows including _Surprise Wedding I & II, Married By America, Paradise Hotel_ and two seasons of _The Swan_.

Working on reality shows was a blast, but it was extremely difficult for Jenna as it meant completely giving up her own life in order to follow someone else's. The hours were brutal and the competition was fierce, but mostly it was the mantra "anything to get the shot" that ultimately forced Jenna to choose a different career path. What she took away from her reality television career was a wealth of hilarious stories about doing anything and everything to make the show work. _Reel Sharpe_ was the first book in the "Reel" series followed by _Reel Hollywood_. The novels allowed Baker the perfect outlet to share her stories and secrets from an insider's perspective while still keeping the content light and entertaining.

Jenna now lives on Long Island with her husband Brandon and children, Austin and Avery.
