Crash Into Me - L.A. Fiore Page 0,6
Zac when he asked, “Has something happened to her?”
“She was murdered last night.” Zac was blunt, looking for Sinclair’s reaction.
He had one when his face paled. “Oh, dear. Who was she?”
“A publicist who worked for Milton Teller,” I offered.
Recognition swept his face before he said, “Milton. Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. And this Samantha worked for him.”
“She was at your event because her client was there, Desiree McKenzie.”
“Ah, now Desiree I do know. Heart of gold,” he said, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Not the best actress, I’m afraid.” He wasn’t wrong about that. “Since I’ve got homicide detectives in my study, I’m guessing there’s more to her death.”
We didn’t answer and that was an answer. Joshua appeared, pushing a cart with a silver coffee pot, china cups and saucers and a plate of mouthwatering pastries. Joshua didn’t serve it, though. Sinclair did. “Are you sure I can’t entice you with something?”
I caved because I was hungry. “Coffee, please. Cream and sugar.”
“Very good, and you, Detective?” he asked Zac.
“No, thanks.”
“As you wish.” He handed me my coffee that I placed on the table next to me, before he held up the plate of goodies. I took one of the sticky buns because they looked amazing…gooey with golden raisins piled on the top. A plate and a cloth napkin followed, before he settled back in his chair with his coffee.
The sticky bun was mind-numbingly delicious.
“I wish I could help you.”
“You can. We need a list of attendees from last night,” Zac said.
We were working on getting the list, but this would be faster, not to mention it was a test to see how cooperative Sinclair would be. “Of course. Joshua?” He appeared again. I kind of wished I had a Joshua. “A list of names from last night, please.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Whatever I can do, Detectives. The idea that such a beautiful evening ended in tragedy… However I can help, you have it.”
Joshua returned with the list. Sinclair gestured to Zac, and Joshua handed it to him. “If you think of anything…” Zac said. He didn’t give his card to Sinclair because I was sure he already had our numbers. He probably knew more about us than we did.
I finished my coffee and stood. I was tempted to take another sticky bun, but I didn’t. “Thank you for the coffee and pastry.”
“Sweet Escape on Fifth Avenue,” Sinclair said with a smile. “They make the best sticky buns.”
They sure the hell did. “I’ll remember that,” I said.
In the car, Zac was shaking his head. “You were having a mini love affair with that sticky bun.”
“It was the best thing I ever tasted.”
Another head shake.
“I like food. Sue me. Besides, we were doing good cop, bad cop.”
“No, we weren’t.”
“And yet, it worked out that way. Look at us go.”
“You’re ridiculous sometimes.”
“But awesome all the time.”
He chuckled. “Who is on that list? Any names stand out?”
I reached for the list, scanned it and, oh, there was a name that stood out. “Kade Wakefield.”
That turned Zac’s head. “He was there?”
“He’s on the list. Whether he attended is another story.”
Kade Wakefield was an enigma: money and movie star good looks. He ran a multi-billion-dollar corporation with interests in everything from national security to toasters, but he hated publicity. Probably why the paparazzi loved him, his face showing up in countless tabloids every week. It also was known, but not proven, that his businesses weren’t a hundred percent legal. To say the Feds were watching him, would be accurate.
“What are the chances we get a sit down with Kade Wakefield?” I asked.
Zac didn’t miss a beat when he replied, “There’s a better chance of Desiree McKenzie winning an Oscar.”
Three
Kade stood by the windows in his penthouse, his hands fisted in his pockets. Samantha James. Her name first mentioned to him last night, and this morning, she was dead. The cops loved connecting the dots, particularly when his name was in the mix. He’d have to entertain their questions, despite the fact that he couldn’t pick Ms. James out of a lineup.
He didn’t do anything on a whim, but agreeing to Penelope’s suggestion of having Samantha interview for a position in the public relations department had been just that. Penelope had been with him from the beginning, his trusted right hand. She was also a bit of a Hollywood freak, and Samantha had worked for Milton Teller, representing Desiree McKenzie. Penelope saw stars. She’d argued that bringing in young blood to the