A Model Death Page 4

  I thought about high-fiving him but didn’t want to add to his agony. “Well, please carry on,” I said. “I have some work to do before bed.”

  “Some apple pie in the fridge,” Dad said grudgingly, “in case you’re hungry.”

  “Thanks, Pop.”

  Laughter and loud music followed me down the hall to the kitchen. I had mixed feelings about Dad’s new lady friends. I was happy that he was having a good time. But I wasn’t used to seeing him with a woman in his arms. His new social life added to my fear that the entire world as I knew it was hanging by a thread.

  I ate a piece of pie standing in front of the kitchen sink, looking out the window while I thought over the day. Why had Nick paid so much money to a woman he was not dating? Why hadn’t he told me about it? He must have known that the money would be traced back to him. I had to be missing something important. I returned to the fridge and cut another piece of pie to take upstairs to bed. A second helping of Dad’s baking was turning into the high point of my day.

  . . .

  Nick spotted me as soon as he walked out of the Ottawa Police station the next morning. I was leaning against the side of the building, waiting for him.

  “Another long night?” I asked when I reached him on the sidewalk.

  “You could say.” He rewarded me with a tired smile.

  “I’ve come to drive you home. But first, we need to talk.”

  He started walking and I fell into step beside him. “Maybe it’s time.”

  We headed up Elgin Street on foot until we reached a restaurant that served a cheap breakfast. A table in front of the window was free so we sat and ordered bacon and eggs. I didn’t ask Nick any questions until we’d each drunk a cup of coffee. To do otherwise would have been cruel after the sleepless night he’d put in.

  “So, why did you deposit money in Lena’s account?” I sat back and waited for Nick to explain. He set down his coffee mug and leaned his elbows on the table.

  “I’m counting on you to keep what I am about to tell you out of the press.”

  I nodded. “This is between you and me. We’re like a lawyer and a client, so I don’t have to tell anybody anything.”

  Nick studied me for a minute. Then he said, “Lena got herself into trouble after we broke up. She was travelling a lot for modelling shoots and started carrying drugs and money in her luggage. She stole thirty thousand dollars, thinking the drug dealer wouldn’t notice. About a month ago, this person turned up asking for the money back.”

  “So you helped out.”

  “She was desperate and sorry for what she’d done. She wanted to start over. I had the money and could afford to give it to her.”

  “Do you know the name of the dealer?”

  “No, but they had no reason to kill her. She’d paid up. Lena had as much to lose as they did if the truth came out.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “I didn’t want Lena’s reputation destroyed. She made mistakes, but she wasn’t a terrible person.” Nick looked me directly in the eyes as he spoke. “I guess that I got used to protecting her.”

  “Sounds like you still cared for her.”

  “Not like you think. Lena had a rough childhood and missed out on normal family life. She spent her life trying to get over the emotional abuse.” He paused. “And there’s one more thing.”

  “What?”

  “She made a movie, I think in France. She was taking drugs at the time and barely remembered doing it. She was terrified that the movie would be posted somewhere.”

  “We’re talking porno movie?”

  “Yeah. That’s why she agreed to move the drugs and money when she was modelling. The dealer held the movie over her head. Said it would be posted everywhere if she didn’t do what he asked. She believed her career would be ruined. She was only nineteen and wasn’t able to handle the nastiness of the movie critics . . . or blackmail. When we were together, my success was like salt in her wounds.”

  I thought for a bit. “What about the five thousand you gave Lena a few days ago?”

  “She was going to buy a ticket back to Italy. She promised me that she was giving up the high life and settling down. She had a job lined up in Milan in the fashion industry. She hated the reality TV show and wanted to go home.”

  “Did you share this information with the police just now?”

  “I didn’t tell them about the porno movie or her illegal activities. I told them I paid her the money as a favour.”

  “You know they’re building a case against you.”

  “I know. I’m not willing to throw Lena to the wolves unless I really have to. Even though she’s dead, I can’t destroy her reputation. It was all she had left. Hopefully, you’ll sort this out before that has to happen.”

  I looked at him and blinked a few times. Maybe it was the beginning of a nervous tick. Did he have any idea how much trouble he was in? I had to respect his strong sense of loyalty. But it was leading him to ruin as sure as we were heading for a winter deep freeze in a few short months.

  . . .

  I called Jada as soon as I dropped Nick off at his father’s house. I filled her in on the latest developments and asked her to do some research for me. I had an idea that might crack the case open. Call it a French connection. Jada agreed to get right on it. After hanging up, I got back on the highway and returned to the model house. A parking spot was free across the street behind a van. I slid my car into the spot and turned off the engine.

  I stayed in my car for a while, watching members of the film crew go in and out the front door. I recognized a cameraman standing with another guy on the lawn. They were taking a smoke break. The director, John Shore, came out at one point, talking on his cellphone. I slumped in my seat and he didn’t appear to see me.

  An hour later, Jada called me back. I answered and held my breath.

  “You were right,” she said, “But how could you possibly have known? Are you a mind reader or what?”

  I pumped my fist. Yes! “Things people said—I put them together.”

  “You have a knack for this work, you do know that, Anna Sweet? How are you going to get him to talk?”

  “I’ll present him with my evidence and see where it leads. Can you call Jimmy and fill him in? I’ll set up a meeting and you both can come listen. I have my recording device, too.”

  “Will do, girl. You just make sure you keep yourself safe.”

  “Don’t worry about me, partner. My going-it-alone hero days are long over.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  I made it to the coffee shop early and was glad to see it was nearly empty. I set up my microphone on the table next to mine, which was littered in wrappers and coffee cups. The staff had agreed not to clean up the table to keep people from sitting there. Jada and Jimmy had a spot by the windows—Jada facing the door and Jimmy with his back to me because he could be recognized. Jada hadn’t met anyone involved in the case, so she wasn’t going to make our suspect suspicious.

  At exactly five after five, my man walked through the door. He took a slow look around and then got in line for a coffee. After adding cream to his cup, he sauntered over to my table as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He slid into the seat across from me.

  “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Glad you could make it, Raymond Martel,” I said. “Or should I call you by your real name, Marcel Renaud? I imagine changing it was a good idea when you got out of prison. Clever to use the same first initials but in reverse.”

  He looked across at me and smiled. “Let’s go to another table. Leave your bag and coat on the chair.”

  “Why?”

  “Just being careful. I have a thing about being recorded.”

  “Sure, why not?”

  I stood and he moved right behind me. His hands patted me down. In case anyone was watching, he said, “I’ll find the keys. You have your hands full.”

  He was searching for an electronic device and I was glad I hadn�
��t agreed to wear one when Jimmy asked. “Satisfied?” I asked when his hands slid away.

  Then I walked over to another table. “Will this do?” I’d picked one on the other side of the dirty table with the microphone. It would still be able to pick up our conversation.

  “Yeah, good enough.”

  We took seats across from each other. The table was small and our knees touched. I pulled mine back as if I’d rubbed against something gross.

  “I haven’t done anything illegal,” he said. “I paid my debt to society for dealing drugs. I haven’t returned to the business since I got out of prison. You’ve got nothing on me.”

  “You can’t tell me that you started working on A Model Life by chance. You got a new identity so you could get into Canada because Lena was on the show. You tracked her down.”

  “I got offered the writing job to spice up the show. I’ve been doing exactly what the director wanted.”

  “Shower scenes? Make-out sessions? Women prancing around in their underwear?”

  “That stuff boosts the ratings. Nobody else complained. I think Lena even liked it.” Raymond’s mouth twisted into a nasty grin.

  “Why follow Lena to Canada after all this time?”

  “She owed me some money.”

  “From your illegal drug business. You also were blackmailing her with a video you made back in France. Where’s the video now?”

  “I’ve got it. I’m talking to people about releasing it later this year. Before people forget Lena Caruso’s name.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “A guy has to make a living.” He cracked the knuckles on his left hand one by one, watching me squirm the entire time. I swallowed my disgust.

  “Is that why you killed her? Was she standing in the way of the film’s release?”

  Raymond held up a swollen finger. “Whoa there, madam. I never said I killed her. Why would I do that? She paid me what she owed me. She promised more if I destroyed the film. I told her that I was thinking about it, and I was. Now that she’s dead . . . what’s the harm in putting it out there for the world to see?”

  “She had a lot on you, too. Illegal entry into Canada. Drug dealer, excuse me, ex–drug dealer, blackmailer . . .”

  Raymond’s eyes went dead cold. He spoke as if he could barely control the anger pulsing through him. “But not killer. And I’ll deny everything we talked about today. In fact, I never heard of this Marcel Renaud person you’ve dreamed up. You’ll not be able to prove anything.”

  Our eyes locked for a split second and fear filled me. The hatred on his face shook me worse than any ugly thing he could have said.

  I started to get up, but Raymond shoved the table hard into my stomach and I buckled over. At the same time, he jumped to his feet and began running. I heard Jimmy scream “Stop!” as Raymond lurched past me. He made it to the entrance before Jimmy grabbed him. I held onto my aching stomach, picked up my recording device, and stumbled after Jada to the door. We were in time to hear Jimmy say, “Get against the wall and hands behind your back. Now, you piece of scum!”

  I felt Jada’s arm go around me and I leaned into her. Jimmy looked back at us after he clicked handcuffs onto Raymond’s wrists.

  “You okay, Sweet?” he asked.

  “I’ll live.” I tried taking a deep breath and felt a stab of pain in my belly. “Just get him out of here.”

  “My pleasure.” Jimmy yanked on Raymond Martel’s arm and shoved him toward the parking lot. “Congratulations, Mr. Martel or should I say Mr. Renaud? You’ve just made yourself the number one suspect in Lena Caruso’s murder.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was another long night. Jada and I hung around the police station until midnight and then decided to go home. By then, Raymond had admitted to everything except killing Lena. Shaw and Jimmy put him in a cell and waited for a judge to sign a search warrant. They were hoping to find evidence at Raymond’s apartment that would link him to the murder.

  I met Jimmy in the hall on my way out of the station. He said, “Looks like you were right about Nick Roma. Much as I hate to be proven wrong.” The regret in Jimmy’s face was probably because Nick was no longer a suspect. Not because he’d misjudged him.

  “Good thing you kept an open mind,” I said, deadpan. “Well, see you at Dad’s for supper on Sunday. Turkey with all the fixings. I’m taking my aching stomach home to bed.”

  . . .

  I took the next day off. Lay in bed until noon reading a detective novel. Uploaded and watched three movies on my computer. Then met Jada for a late supper at the Flying Banzini, a local sandwich and pizza restaurant.

  “Raymond Martel, otherwise known as Marcel Renaud, still hasn’t confessed to the murder.” Jada took a bite of her roast chicken and bacon panini and moaned with pleasure. “The lemon-chive mayo really brings out the flavour. Heaven.” She licked her fingers. “Any word from Nick?”

  “No.”

  “Probably taking a day to recover from the stress. He said he’d be back at work after Thanksgiving weekend.”

  “Great.” I took a bite of my roast beef pizza. The horse radish gave it just the right zing. I put my fork on the table. “Do you think . . . do you think Nick really is innocent?”

  “Of course!” Jada frowned at me. “How can you doubt him?”

  “I doubt everyone.” I met her eyes. “It’s just that I got the feeling Raymond was telling the truth when he said he wasn’t the killer. And Jimmy said they came up empty in their search of his house.”

  “A feeling isn’t proof. And Raymond had lots of time to get rid of any evidence.”

  “I guess.” I picked up my fork. Usually when a case finished up, the worry bees in my stomach settled down. They hadn’t yet. Maybe I’d been working too hard and didn’t know how to relax. I said, “I think I’ll take tomorrow off, too. That’ll give me a five-day break, including Thanksgiving Monday. I need some time to recharge.”

  “No problem. I’m going to drop by the office tomorrow to do some paper work. I might take Friday afternoon off too. We’ve both earned a holiday.”

  . . .

  I really had intended to take Friday off. But at ten o’clock the next morning, I was sitting in my car across the road from the model house, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. Why couldn’t I let this case go? Nick was in the clear and Raymond Martel was the logical killer. Every clear-thinking person would agree . . . But having another poke around couldn’t hurt, could it? Unless I found new evidence that pointed back to Nick.

  That would be bad. Very bad.

  I saw some of the film crew go in the front door. I walked up the driveway and slipped inside the house after them. My blue nylon windbreaker and jeans helped me to fit in, as did a Blue Jays ball cap with my hair tucked inside. I found an out-of-the-way spot to watch the models in action. I made sure to stay out of John Shore’s line of sight. Luckily, he was busy directing and had his back to me. Someone called out for Martel to rewrite a sentence.

  Shore said, “Raymond called a few hours ago. He’s not well and needed the day off. We’ll have to make do without him today.”

  So Raymond Martel hadn’t admitted to being arrested. Or Shore was covering for him. Interesting.

  The first action scene had Ella and Sang Hee pretending to tidy up the living room. They were chatting about the new model who was set to arrive next episode. Then came a discussion about nail polish colours. After a couple of hours of reshooting the same conversation, the crew shifted outside to the back deck. By then, I felt just this side of brain dead.

  The models disappeared upstairs. Ten minutes later, Sang Hee came back wearing a bright blue bikini that showed off her perfect body.

  “Ella asked if she can leave for the airport,” she said to Shore.

  “I’m finished with her for today. Where’s Meech?” He looked around and I moved behind a tropical plant.

  “Coming.” Dan Meech stepped into the room along with a woman dabbing powder on his fa
ce. He was wearing tight black swim trunks, with his muscles flexing all over the place. “I hope that the hot tub is up to temperature.”

  “Hot enough to fry fish.” Shore followed Sang Hee, Dan, and the film crew outside onto the deck.

  I scooted into the hallway and up the stairs. I slipped through an open bedroom door, barely missing Ella pulling her suitcase down the hall. She stopped on the landing at the head of the stairs to answer her cellphone.

  Her voice travelled to my hiding spot. “I can’t wait to get out of here for a few days. It was hard enough having Lena die. Now, I spend half my time trying not to punch you-know-who in the face.” She paused and said, “Yeah, creepy as ever. This set is toxic.” She took a few steps down. “Okay, I’ll call you tonight after I land. Sure. Love you too.”

  She started down the stairs. I looked around the room I’d stepped into. It was a large bedroom with a king-size bed and mirrors lining one wall. The closet was empty, as was the attached bathroom. This must have been Lena’s room. I did a quick search in case anything had been missed, but found nothing.

  I checked out the other two identical bedrooms at the end of the hall. Clothes, shoes, makeup, and jewellery confirmed that the rooms belonged to Ella and Sang Hee. I searched both, not sure what I was looking for and not finding it. I checked my phone. I’d been upstairs over an hour.

  I made it to the head of the stairs and peeked over the railing. Sang Hee was at the bottom and she was screaming mad. “I’m not doing another take! You can all go to hell.” She raised her right middle finger to somebody before stomping up the stairs. She was clutching onto a beach towel and her hair was dripping wet.

  I ducked back inside the empty bedroom just in the nick of time.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I wanted to leave but the crowd of people at the bottom of the stairs kept me in place. It sounded like the crew was packing up and the front door opened and shut several times. Sang Hee didn’t leave her bedroom the entire time.

  At last, the noise downstairs stopped. I waited a few more minutes before leaving the bedroom and walking on tiptoe to the head of the stairs. The sound of car engines got fainter as the crew drove away. I listened for anyone downstairs. I almost jumped into the wall when I saw Dan Meech step out from behind the French doors. He was dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt, and running shoes, but his hair was still wet from the hot tub. He didn’t see me and I raced back to the bedroom. I could hear his footsteps on the stairs, but only because I was listening for them. My door was slightly open and I chanced a look into the hall.