Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,129
“That tabloid owner was murdered a year ago today.”
“By the same killer that murdered the Romanov family?”
She slides a tepid look toward her friend then shifts it back to me. “Depends on who you ask. By the way, I’m Tess, and that’s Isla.” She tips her head toward the exotic-looking woman beside her.
Introductions are a nice gesture, but I didn’t come here for pen pals. “Do you plan to elaborate on that, or was it simply a baiting question?”
Tess is quiet for a minute, and I wonder if my directness offended her. Her gaze wanders toward the estate again. “Alexandra Romanov has blood on her hands.” An uncomfortable silence falls between us. “They still haven’t found either of them, you know.”
“Why do you say that?”
Isla pops her head over Tess’s shoulder. “Because she pulled some serious Romeo and Juliet shit and wrote a full confession to an LAPD detective before killing herself.”
There’s a muffled snort on the other side of her, and we all three turn to see a stocky man in a blue Dodgers cap shaking his head. “Jesus, you’re just as bad as them.”
She narrows her eyes. “Excuse me?”
The man shrugs, tugging his hat down low over his eyes. “You heard me. A woman is dead, and you three are over here acting like the assholes who drove her to her grave.”
Tess leans over Isla and flashes him an icy smile. “Hi, you’re on a bus tour of famous murders. I’m not sure you have the authority to be tossing out moral citations, there, buddy.”
“I just don’t think anyone should romanticize murder and suicide.”
“Seriously? Are you from this century? Hollywood couldn’t write a more twisted love story. Those two had a sick obsession with each other that cost them their lives.”
The man rolls his eyes and huffs. “Women.”
Ignoring both of them, Isla twirls a piece of hair around her finger. “Don’t you find the unexplained fascinating, though? Both Alexandra and Dominic just disappeared without a trace.”
I didn’t put much stock in anything these two had to say before, but now I’m intrigued. More than that, there’s something about the man in the hat I can’t put my finger on.
Tess lets out an unattractive snort. “Yeah, right. The only thing unexplained is how she got away with it.” Her last words are drowned out as the bus lurches forward, the gears grinding as we head toward Sunset Plaza.
“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” he growls, and again, there’s something scratching at the back of my mind.
She shrugs. “Crazy breeds crazy. He should’ve left those skeletons in the closet where they belonged.”
I roll her words around in my head as I take a sip from my water bottle. “So, do you know the real story?”
Tess’s eyes flicker. “Didn’t you see the made for TV movie?”
Seeing as though we’re sitting at the top of an open bus on a guided murder tour, I assume that’s a rhetorical question and don’t answer. However, there’s a quiet hum inside my head, whispering familiar words. Words from another time and another place. So, instead I smile and give them new life.
“I don’t buy into Hollywood’s version of things. Everything is embellished to pad the top echelon’s bottom line.”
“Well, that might be true, but not when it comes to the Romanovs.” She leans forward. “They were Hollywood royalty.”
“Meaning?”
“They couldn’t sneeze without it making headlines.” Her gaze fixates on me. “I swear, anything that family touched turned to gold. Which meant whatever they wanted, they got.” Her jaw clenches. “Anything and anyone.”
I pause to absorb everything, and Isla seizes the brief lull to bulldoze her way back into the conversation. “Katerina Romanov wasn’t exactly a young starlet. She’d aged out of lead roles, and from what I read, resorted to sleeping with the studio exec to stay relevant.”
“Don’t most people in Hollywood?”
Both women flinch, but I don’t offer an apology. I don’t presume to know their sexual habits, and I don’t care to. Thirty percent of Hollywood is struggling actors, and, eventually, most of them will have a price tag. Everyone likes to think they’re different until the rent is two months past due, and they haven’t eaten in four days.
Desperation has a tendency to put morality on a sliding scale.
“Most people also don’t offer their eight-year-old daughter as a fringe benefit,” she continues, and I can’t help but wince at the disgust in her voice. “I’ll never be sorry Alexandra Romanov allegedly put a bullet in that woman’s chest. After they found all those videos…”