Paranormal Talent Agency Omnibus Page 11

  “If you’re so certain he’s innocent, prove it.”

  Ryan faced me again. “What are you talking about?”

  “Put your money where your mouth is. Prove that Jim is innocent.” Or that he was guilty, which was what I fully expected.

  “You’re crazy. You think he did it.”

  “Then prove me wrong, too.”

  “Why would you want to help?”

  “I believe in the truth.”

  Ryan’s body relaxed, a smile playing on his lips. I felt that unfamiliar flutter in my belly again. Maybe I had mixed motives after all.

  “How would we prove Jim innocent?”

  I smiled widely. “I don’t know. But, they do it on TV all the time.” I dropped the smile. “It’s worth trying, right?”

  He shook his head but the smile told me I had won him over. “Okay, let’s do it. Where do we start?”

  I had no idea.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ryan and I mulled over possible next steps while I drove. We arrived at his one-story three-bedroom stucco home in Henderson. Cute, but looked like at least half of all the homes in Vegas. I vastly preferred my condo. I pulled into the driveway, cut the engine, and faced Ryan before he exited the vehicle.

  “I really am sorry about your friend. I wasn’t trying to be mean. In my experience, people always let you down, and are never what they seem.” I shrugged, dropped my gaze.

  Ryan sighed and I lifted my gaze back to his. “Thank you for saying so. I’m sorry that’s been your experience.” His unasked question of my history hung in the silence. I ignored it.

  “A tale for another time.” I laughed softly.

  “Do you want to come in?”

  His question startled me and I hesitated to respond.

  “So we can continue to brainstorm,” he added as if to show no illicit intentions. Heat rushed to my face at the thought of illicit intentions. My face always showed my feelings; one of the things I had hoped would be alleviated when I became a vampire. Turned out, drinking blood meant you had the same reactions you did as a human. Sigh. Oh well.

  Ryan’s eyes dilated and I realized I must have sighed aloud. He tentatively reached out a hand to my cheek. A thrill raced through me. His fingers gently stroked my face. I reached up, wrapped my own fingers around his, removed his touch. Now wasn’t the time. He may not realize that, but I did. His expression registered surprise.

  He smiled an adorably lopsided grin. “I really would like to brainstorm.”

  My impish smile mirrored his. “Sounds good.”

  We exited the convertible and he led me to his front door. Once inside, after hitting the light switch, I scanned the immediate area. Shabby chic, I thought they called the mismatched furniture and likely thrift store finds.

  “It’s a rental,” he explained and I chuckled.

  “It’s cute.”

  “You’re generous.”

  We both laughed and he indicated I could lead the way into the living room. I sat on the overstuffed blue corduroy couch while he headed toward the kitchen.

  “This is really comfortable,” I exclaimed in surprise.

  “I know, right?” he agreed from the kitchen. “Do you want anything?”

  “No, thank you. I’m good,” I declined. I heard noises in the kitchen.

  He joined me in the living room with a glass of water, sitting opposite me in a matching overstuffed chair. He wasn’t smiling now.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I do,” I responded triumphantly. “I had an epiphany.”

  “Okay, spill it.”

  “Let’s retrace Jim’s steps.”

  Confusion showed on Ryan’s face. “Retrace his steps?”

  “Taking his story at face value,” I paused, holding up a hand to stop Ryan from defending his friend again. “Taking his story at face value,” I repeated, “nothing seemed out of the ordinary on his block, in his home, or after the attack. I agree on this point with the police. To me, it doesn’t seem like a robbery gone wrong. It seems personal. And I don’t mean Jim did it.” Although, I kind of did. “I mean that maybe someone they encountered that day was involved. Either because they saw something or they’re actually involved in the murder.”

  Ryan mulled this over. “Okay, that makes sense. If we retrace his steps, we should start at the theater?”

  “Yes. That’s the most logical place to go. My thinking is we talk to the folks at the theater who were working that night. Depending on what we get from them, we take a look at the patrons who pre-purchased tickets, since their names would be on their orders. We see if any of them have a connection to Jim or Monica.”

  Ryan frowned. “I don’t think we’ll be able to get a list of the patrons from the theater.”

  “You leave that to me. I may have an in for that.”

  Ryan and I smiled at each other, co-conspirators on the path of good. Or something like that. He looked at his watch and made a face. “It’s after midnight and I have to work tomorrow.”

  “No worries. I’ll let you go to bed.” I had an involuntary flash of being in bed with Ryan that stopped me cold. Or warm, I supposed.

  “What just went through your mind?”

  “Why?” I answered a question with a question, delaying a response.

  “I don’t know. You suddenly looked like the cat that ate the canary, to use a familiar expression.”

  I laughed. “That’s not too far off the mark,” I acknowledged without explanation. He shook his head at me but smiled. I pulled out my phone. “What’s your number? I’ll text you mine. Go to bed. Go to work. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to go to the theater tomorrow night.”

  His phone beeped, he confirmed receipt of my text, and then we reached the front door. He paused with his hand on the knob. “Thank you. I’m not really sure why you’re helping me when I know you think Jim is guilty, but I appreciate it.” He opened the door.

  I stared out into the Las Vegas night before meeting his eyes with a soft smile. “I believe in the truth,” was still the most honest response I could give.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Around the block from Ryan’s home, I pulled over to the side of the road.

  Are you awake?

  Within seconds, Catherine sent a reply.

  Yes. Need to come over?

  Yep. Be there in 20.

  See you soon.

  One benefit of acting was that many projects shoot at night – certainly a bonus for a vampire. It was also helpful because you had a decent chance of others still being available after midnight. Of course, it further helped that this was Las Vegas.

  I loved my condo building. It was in the middle of the closest thing to downtown that Vegas had off the Strip. It sat between the Arts District and Fremont Street. All the fun artsy stuff. Plus, we had gated underground parking and 24-hour security in the lobby. I parked my convertible in its underground home and headed to the twentieth floor. I bypassed my own condo and knocked on Catherine’s door. Yep. We lived down the hall from each other. I had no idea when I signed with her agency, but it’s been handy being neighbors. Plus, I liked her. She’d become a good friend.

  The tall willowy blond opened the door, smiled sleepily at me, and held the door open for me to enter.

  “You look tired. You sure you’re up for company?”

  “I was getting into bed,” she admitted with a yawn. “Since it’s after midnight, I figured it must be important. Plus, I already poured myself wine.” She closed the door behind me and I followed her to the living “room”. She had essentially the mirror image of my condo – decent studio with sections for a front office, dining area, living area, kitchen along the side wall, and bedroom. She even took the wall option to create a separate bedroom, on my suggestion. Floor-to-ceiling windows encircled half the space.

  We faced each other on the couch.

  “Okay, I’m sufficiently intrigued. What’s goi
ng on?”

  I summarized meeting Ryan at the workshop and volunteering to help him prove Jim’s innocence.

  Catherine raised her eyebrow. “This doesn’t sound like you.” A statement, not a question.

  “I know.”

  “Is it because he’s hot?”

  Our eyes met and we busted out laughing. She knew me so well. “Believe it or not, that’s not why. Though he definitely is. And it certainly doesn’t hurt.” I paused. “I feel like he’s deluding himself. His friend probably is guilty. He just can’t see it.”

  “How are you so sure he’s guilty?”

  “His story doesn’t add up. An unknown, unseen assailant in a locked, dark house kills his wife and attacks him? Please. It’s like a bad movie-of-the-week.”

  “Or The Fugitive.”

  “I doubt this is like The Fugitive.”

  “Doth the lady protest too much?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Hey, whatever your motivation, if it helps uncover the truth, you know I fully support that.”

  “I know, that’s why I’m here.” I smiled mischievously and Catherine grinned.

  “How can I help?”

  “You’re on the board of the Las Vegas Independent Theatre still, right?”

  She nodded.

  “The last place Jim and his wife went before the attack was a show there. Ryan and I plan to go tomorrow to talk to anybody who was present that night that we can. Obviously, in terms of folks in the audience, we don’t think they’d just hand that info over if we asked.”

  “Very true,” Catherine agreed. She frowned in thought.

  “I can definitely get you a list of the season ticket holders who came that night. Plus, the list of advance online ticket purchases. I should also be able to get point-of-sale credit card purchases. Really, I think I can get everybody except people who paid cash. For those, your only hope is that they came with someone who’s on one of the three lists of people,” she concluded.

  “You’d get all that for me?”

  “I’ll have it for you by the time you’re ready to go out tomorrow night. Um, I mean, tonight,” she corrected, and we both chuckled.

  “Thank you so much!” I hugged her.

  “Careful, don’t make me spill my wine,” she cautioned me.

  “Never,” I responded with mock solemnity.

  “I’ll email you the lists. You’ll have them when you get up.”

  “Thank you again. Seriously. This is above and beyond. I really appreciate it.”

  Catherine looked at me in wonder. “Of course. And you’re sure this has nothing to do with Ryan’s hotness?”

  I smiled widely and she raised an eyebrow again. “Careful,” I warned her, “or your face may stick like that.”

  “Nice side step.”

  I lifted my hands in surrender. “I want to show him the truth.”

  “You want to show him something,” she teased suggestively.

  “On that note, I think I’ll take my leave.”

  Catherine laughed and followed me to the door.

  I hugged her again goodbye and she closed the door behind me. I tried, and failed, not to think of Ryan’s hazel eyes and how I felt when he looked at me. I let myself into my own condo.

  Locking the door behind me, I tried, and again failed, not to imagine touching his smooth skin and how warm he’d likely feel. I bypassed most of my space, decorated with colorful furniture, artwork, and knick-knacks picked up in the past hundred years.

  Removing my clothing in the bedroom, I tried, and failed a third time, not to fantasize Ryan helping me with this task.

  Ok, my goodness, stop. You’re not a teenager. He’s just a good-looking man. You’ve seen plenty of those in several lifetimes. I shook my head, put on utilitarian men’s pajamas, and headed back out to the living space. It was still early. I had a few hours before sun up.

  Along the bank of windows opposite the bedroom, my quite technologically advanced sound system (yes, that was a joke) resided against a section of concrete wall. I carefully flipped through my collection of vinyl records, looking for the right one. Ah, perfect. I placed Billie Holiday’s Lady in Satin on the turntable, lined the needle up at the beginning, and listened to the music flow.

  Before I knew it, light shone from the sun peeking over the distant mountains. Time to go to bed and recharge. The fun would begin tonight.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After nearly a century as a vampire, my body sensed when the sun was setting and I was fully recharged. I woke rested and raring to go, something I had struggled with as a human. I missed dreaming, to be honest, but when you weren’t really sleeping, you couldn’t really dream. Though I did need to recharge. I didn’t know. I couldn’t really explain it. It wasn’t an exact science.

  The outfit I chose for tonight was another mix of 1920s and present day. Jeans for daily wear were hands down my favorite fashion invention and I wore them most days. Today, I chose a jeweled headband holding my platinum curls in the classic 20s ’do and topped the outfit with a solid turquoise peasant top.

  Warmth flooded me from the red liquid I grabbed out of the fridge on my way to the office area. Yes, I drank blood. No, I didn’t kill people for it. Turned out a vampire didn’t need fresh blood. I mean, it tasted better, sure. But, strictly speaking, it just had to be human. After this long on the planet, plugged in to the right sources, I got it delivered. What could I say? I knew a guy.

  In a few seconds, the laptop was up and I was checking email. Catherine’s popped out at number one. Here are the lists we talked about. She attached three documents to the email. I opened each and sent them to the printer. While the machine spat the documents out, I sent a quick text to Ryan, ignoring the surge within me, an almost electrical current that I recognized as lust. Certainly not my heart fluttering, since I didn’t have a heartbeat. Definitely real interest, though, and it had been a while, to say the least. This knocked me sideways for a second. I sat with the feeling, wondering at it, almost like a child. How strange. I was excited to spend time with this human – and my goal was to show him his friend was a killer. Hmm. That did not bode well, I supposed.

  I refocused on my phone and texted Ryan.

  Are you still free tonight for the theater?

  Yep.

  Bring your laptop…

  Will do.

  Pick you up in 20?

  See you then.

  A glance out the window confirmed the sun had not quite set and I grimaced. I grabbed the papers off the printer, my purse off the hook by the door, and headed downstairs to the parking garage. Once in the convertible, I headed to pick up Ryan.

  The few remaining rays of the waning daylight stung when they reached me through the front windshield. Contrary to popular belief, vampires could be exposed to sunlight. It hurt. It also drained. But it didn’t kill. Unless it was extended, I supposed. I had no real idea. I certainly wasn’t going to test that theory – and I didn’t know anybody else who was either. I sighed. And unfortunately, unless I wanted to get pulled over every time I hit the road, I couldn’t darken the front windshield as much as the other windows.

  Thankfully, the sun had almost set by the time I reached Ryan’s house. I parallel parked at the curb and walked with almost no pain up to his front door to ring the bell. I smiled when he opened the door and he reflected that back. We held this tableau a hair longer than was comfortable and then we both broke the gaze. Good grief, we were like teenagers.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, I am,” he responded to my back. I was already heading to the car. Once seated, I handed him the lists I received from Catherine.

  “She was able to get everything we asked for,” I explained excitedly. “We can show the names to Jim, see if he recognizes anybody. We can run the names down ourselves, see if someone has a connection to Jim that he may not be aware of. But first…” I paused.

  “It’s off to the th
eater,” he finished my statement with an accented dramatic flourish. Actors. We couldn’t help ourselves.

  We smiled again at each other. I tore my eyes from his lips and faced the road. Get a grip, girl.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Hey, Evie,” the woman behind the ticket counter called out after we opened the door to the theater.

  “Hi, Gail,” I responded. Ryan and I approached the desk. “This is Ryan. I don’t know if you’ve met.”

  “No,” Ryan confirmed. “It’s nice to meet you, Gail.”

  “Likewise.” Gail looked at me. “What can I do for you guys? Tickets for the weekend?”

  “Maybe after. Has Catherine talked to you?”

  “No, should she have?”

  “Ryan and I are investigating the murder of Monica Freeman.”

  Gail’s eyes widened and she lowered her voice. “Wasn’t her husband arrested for that?”

  Ryan bristled beside me and I touched his hand to both comfort and silence him. It worked. “Well, we’re trying to find out if the right person was arrested.”

  “Catherine can’t stay out of the crime fighting business, can she?” Gail laughed. She was correct, of course; Catherine fell in love with this stuff after her own experiences earlier this year.

  I smiled. “No, she can’t. She’s helping us out. She said we could talk to anybody who was here that night.”

  “I was here that night,” Gail quickly clarified, then frowned. “Although I don’t know what I can contribute.” Her face brightened. “On the other hand, I can say for certain that Jim and Monica looked very much in love.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You know. They kept touching either other. Not in a creepy inappropriate way,” she explained with an eye roll. “Just, you know, holding hands, pecks on the lips, that kind of stuff. I was working the ticket counter, like now, so I saw when they arrived, when they got snacks at intermission, and when they left at the end of the night.”

  “I’m impressed you noticed and remembered all of that,” I commented, though secretly I didn’t see how she could have. There would have been about one hundred or so people here that night and, frankly, Jim wasn’t that memorable. I mean, he’s surfer-boy cute, but still.