up in Queens, my main ambition was to become a member of a boy band. It seemed the straightest path to money and girls.”
“What happened?”
“I can’t carry a tune. I was pretty bummed.”
“Do I remember something about you doing track in college?”
“Full ride based on how fast I could run. Sweet deal.”
The next song was a slow one. They drew closer, hesitantly. His arm encircled her waist, and Pine’s went over his delt.
She breathed in his scent and she assumed he was doing the same to her. She started to rest her head against his chest but then thought better of it.
They would glance at each other and then away.
When the song ended Pine said, “It’s late. We should get back.”
“Right.”
They walked to the Cottage. It was warm and humid. Pine carried her shoes in her hand, and the pavement felt cool to her feet. They didn’t pass anyone; the street was mostly dark, with only the moon providing illumination.
“They need some more lights out here, if just to stop people from bumping into stuff,” said Laredo.
“Small towns aren’t big cities.”
“No they are not.”
When they got back to the Cottage they walked up the stairs.
“Where’s your room?” Pine asked.
Laredo pointed to his right. “Just down there.”
“I’m the other way. Just down there.”
He nodded. So did Pine.
“Well, good night, Eddie. Thanks for a nice evening.”
“It was nice, Atlee. Good night.”
She looked at him, sensing disappointment in his features, but maybe that was just her take.
They went their separate ways.
She looked back once, but Laredo never did. He went to his room and slipped inside.
When Pine’s door closed behind her, another opened.
Carol Blum looked out of her room, first glancing toward the direction of Pine’s room and then Laredo’s. Her look was more or less inscrutable, sort of between a smile and a frown.
She closed the door and all became quiet.
Pine slipped off her dress, hung it up, and stood in the middle of her room in her bra and underwear. She looked toward her door and then shook her head.
I didn’t have enough to drink to make that stupid a decision.
But Laredo had been sweet and contrite. And maybe he had changed. And he had seemed disappointed that maybe she hadn’t invited him to her room, and her bed, or offered to go to his. But that was his problem, not hers. And you didn’t lead him on, Atlee. Not really.
However, she wasn’t sure she entirely believed that.
Chapter 45
THE WORKMAN ANGLE is a dead end,” said Wallis.
He, Pine, Laredo, and Blum were sitting in the breakfast room at the Cottage. It was the following morning. Lauren Graham had served them all coffee before departing.
Wallis continued, “We could find no one that saw him. And there’s no video footage.”
“Same as Hanna Rebane,” noted Laredo.
“Looks like our perp knows the gaps in coverage,” suggested Pine. “And he had Rebane’s condo key and key card so he could come and go at will. What did you find out about the porn company that Rebane and Clemmons worked for?”
Wallis brightened. “We did get lucky there. Turns out that Layne Gillespie also worked as an actor for that same production company.”
“Did he appear in films with Rebane and Clemmons?” asked Laredo.
“Both. They sent me a video file of them in a threesome,” said Wallis, his face turning pink. “I, uh, I watched enough of it to confirm that it was all three, for sure. Gillespie used the name ZZ Shaft. At least that’s what I could gather from the credits.”
“Creative,” said Pine drily.
Laredo said, “So that puts the production company in the spotlight. That’s the only connection we have right now.”
“And that production company is turning out to be a little hard to pin down,” said Wallis. “It’s a shell company organized in Bermuda. All the information I can get so far adds up to a big fat zero. I’ve made calls and sent emails and texts and I’ve gotten nothing except silence in return.”
“What about the actual people working on the films?” asked Blum.
“The actors, apparently, know nothing. The producer I got on the phone could only give me the name of the company. He’s never met an actual person. Money to fund the films and pay the actors comes in through wire transfers from offshore. The distribution of the films is made through a third-party firm that looks legit. The profits go offshore into a black hole. I’m just a local cop. We’re not set up to penetrate that sort of shield.”
Laredo and Pine