“Totally,” Chrissie affirmed. “Understand this about Tito Molina. He was a genuine rebel-angry, soulful, gifted, all of that. But when it came to women he was strictly old school. He wanted to chase puss whenever he felt like it, and he wanted Esme waiting patiently at home for him. And if she talked back to him, wham, right in the kisser. Trust me, she wasn’t going to take that from him much longer. A few more months at most. The marriage was toast. That’s why Tito’s agent was so anxious for them to make Puppy Love. It was going to be their last big payday together. I am talking north of thirty million between the two of them. But it was absolutely vital that they start filming it right away.”
“Vital for who?” Des asked.
“For everyone,” Chrissie replied, bristling. “We are talking about two mega-stars. When they work, hundreds and hundreds of other people work. And I’m not talking about the glamour people. I’m talking about the assistant wardrobe girl and the guy who drives the catering truck. These people depend on that work to feed their families. And I’m talking about the fans. The millions of young people who wait in line for hours in the rain just for a chance to see those two up on screen together.” Chrissie broke off, her eyes glittering at Des defiantly from across the table. “You think we were using them, don’t you? You think we were manipulating poor little Tito and Esme for our own selfish personal gain. Well, you’re wrong. I happen to know actors better than you do, and do you know what they fear the most in life? Being ignored. If those two had made Puppy Love together, it would have been sheer tabloid heaven-just like Taylor and Burton in Cleopatra. And, believe me, they both would have loved every single crazy minute of it.” Chrissie sighed, her voice heavy with regret. “But now it’s never going to happen.”
“Tell us what Tito was up to since they arrived in Dorset,” Yolie said.
“Okay, sure,” Chrissie said easily. “What would you like to know?”
“Were you aware that he was seeing someone?”
“I assumed he was. He slipped out a lot late at night.”
“Who was she?”
“You’re assuming it was one particular she. It’s more likely that there were several women.”
“Can you give us a name? One name?”
Chrissie shook her head. “I don’t do that. I don’t gossip about a client.”
“Shut up,” Yolie exclaimed. “What do you call what you were just doing?”
“Dishing like nobody’s business, you ask me,” Soave said, nodding.
“I was not. I was talking about Tito and me. I mentioned no other names. Go ahead, look it up in your notes.” Now Chrissie focusedher gaze on Des. “How come you haven’t asked me who Esme was seeing?”
Des didn’t respond.
“It’s because you already know his name, am I right?”
Again, Des didn’t respond.
“I see, so you get to ask questions and I don’t.” Chrissie heaved her chest, exasperated. “Then let me put it to you this way-are you at least taking a good, hard look at Mitch Berger as your killer?”
“Why do you say killer?” Soave fired back. “We’re investigating an unexplained death, remember? Or do you know something we don’t know?”
“I know that he’s very well connected.” Chrissie stared right at Des as she said this, purposely trying to push her buttons. “I know that he and Tito really threw down at The Works.”
“Tito threw down,” Des corrected her. “Mitch hit the deck.”
“All the more reason for him to come after Tito that night,” Chrissie went on. “The man was publicly humiliated. Guys hate that. It drives them nuts. Seriously, shouldn’t you be talking to him?”
“We have talked to him,” Yolie blurted out.
“Really, what did he say?” Chrissie asked eagerly, smelling a choice morsel she could feed to the hungry horde outside.
“We’re talking to everybody,” Soave said brusquely, shooting a warning look at his young partner. Boom Boom still had a lot to learn about the Chrissie Hubermans of the world.
“And I sure do hope I don’t pick up the paper tomorrow and read that we’re focusing our attention on him,” Des added in a low, steely voice. “ ‘According to a high-level source close to the investigation.’ ”
“You have to admit it makes a good story,” Chrissie said.
“Good for who, girl?”
“You do your job, I do mine.”
“I’m down with that, only maybe you ought to pull into Jiffy Lube and get your value system checked.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you are not going to pump up the volume by trashingMitch Berger,” Des told her. “If you try that I will come after you and I will put you in the hospital.”
“You’re a law officer,” Chrissie objected. “You can’t threaten me that way.”
“This isn’t the badge talking. This is me. Do we understand each other?”
“Sure, whatever. I mean, God, it’s so obvious that you people have nothing.”
“We’re talking to everybody,” Soave repeated coldly. “We’re especially interested in Tito’s lovers.”
“Well, don’t look at me,” she said. “A meaningless fling-that’s all we had, I swear. Why would I lie to you about it? I have no reason to.”
“You have every reason to,” Des countered. “Not only were you and Tito involved but you have no one to vouch for your whereabouts at the time of his death.”
Chrissie sat there in heavy silence for a moment. “You’re right, I don’t. So I can’t help you or myself. Live and learn. The one night when it would have paid for me to drag a warm body home, I have to hop into bed with my cold hard cell phone. There’s a valuable lesson to be learned here.”
“What lesson is that, Miss Huberman?” Soave asked.
“If you don’t watch out, being a good girl can get you in a whole lot of trouble,” she replied. “Now can I get the hell out of here? I have a client who needs me.”
CHAPTER 11
“Why would Becca let Dodge treat her that way?” Mitch asked Bitsy Peck as the two of them sat there in rocking chairs on her shaded porch, gazing out at the dead calm Sound. “What was she even doing there?”
“Mitch, that man has always had a peculiar power over her,” Bitsy replied, sipping her iced tea. “It’s something I had to face up to a long time ago. When it comes to Becca, Dodge is leaning on an open door. She’s weak and she’s pliable and she so wants to please him. He was her first, you see.”
“Her first lover?”
“Love had nothing to do with it,” Bitsy said bitterly.
Becca hadn’t said a word the whole way home in Mitch’s truck. Just sat there in between Mitch and Will, staring out the windshield as if she were in a trance. And she smelled bad-rank and coppery, like a handful of moist, dirty pennies. Will was very quiet himself. He seemed terribly upset by the scene they’d walked in on.
As for Mitch, he could not get over that this shell-shocked, twenty-three-year-old recovering heroin addict was Dodge’s idea of a lover. True, Becca was a consenting adult, as Dodge had taken pains to point out. But strictly in a legal sense. In a human sense, she was a lost little girl. What was she to Dodge-someone who he cared about? Or merely a limp rag he could tie up and plug to his heart’s content? Mitch had no idea. How could he?
He obviously didn’t know Dodge Crockett at all.
When he pulled up next to Will’s van at the entrance to Peck’s Point, Mitch told Becca he’d be right back, then hopped out with him, and said, “Will, did you have an idea that this was going on?” Keeping his voice low.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Will unlocked his van and got in.
“You seemed so worried about Dodge not showing up. Did you know about him and Becca?”
Will didn’t respond. Just started up his engine and sat there behind the wheel, a remote and silent keeper of secrets.
Mitch found himself wondering what those secrets were. What else did Will know about the man? How much was he holding on to?
“Don’t judge him, Mitch,” Will said, putting his van in gear. “The man’s not perfect, but here’s some news for you-none of us are.”