Harvey took a seat, looking like a beaten man. At first, he didn’t even seem curious about his visitors. He nodded listlessly at the introductions.
“Harvey, I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to give any answers you don’t want to give,” the attorney warned.
Harvey waved a hand in the air. “My story isn’t changing. I’ve told the truth from the beginning.”
“What is your story, Mr. Sumter?” Liam asked.
Sumter looked around at last, noting Olsen with a nod, then Liam and Doug. He was obviously a fairly intelligent, educated man, his speech crisp and clear, as if he had been a professor or lecturer in an earlier life.
“Who are you people?” he asked. “Not you, Detective,” he said to Olsen. “I know who you are, all right. But you two.”
“They’re private investigators,” Olsen explained.
“I get two of you?” Sumter said dryly, amused. “I didn’t hire you, did I?” He frowned, looking at his attorney.
“You didn’t hire either one of us,” Liam said. “We actually have other interests that include death threats to another party.”
“The point is,” Doug put in, “we’re open to the fact that you might not be guilty, Mr. Sumter.”
“Hallelujah!” Sumter said. “Funny thing about Dana—and there wasn’t much that was fun about her, I can tell you. She meant to make me pay when she was alive, so she must be laughing in her grave right now. Sorry that sounds bitter, but I am bitter. Hell, yes, she was the queen of the bitches. God forgive me for speaking ill of the dead, but I’ve got kids. Grown up now, but my daughter’s trying to believe me. My son…oh, God. I just wouldn’t have done it, no matter how I hated her. Hell, I wouldn’t kill anyone. I couldn’t kill anyone. It just isn’t in me.”
“Well, now, Mr. Sumter,” Detective Olsen said. “Most men—and women, for that matter—have a point they can come to where they can kill. For some, it’s protecting their own lives, for others, the life of a loved one. But for some, it’s just a point of anger and frustration so great, they can’t abide it anymore.”
“I hated my ex-wife, that’s no secret,” Sumter said flatly. “But I didn’t kill her. And I will deny it until the day I die.”
“Your prints were in the house.”
“Of course. I still saw her, now and then. We kept up a decent front. It was her idea. Appearances were everything to Dana. And we had children.”
“You have no alibi for the night she was killed.”
He lifted his hands. “I’m not a young guy. It’s not like I go to clubs and women fall all over me. I was home, watching television.”
“But there is no one who can verify that fact,” Olsen said.
Sumter looked at him, then slowly shook his head. “She’s got me, hasn’t she?” he asked softly. “I’m an innocent man, but I’ll be convicted. I’ll go to the chair. If I don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison.”
“Look, Mr. Sumter, I don’t think your wife got herself brutally murdered just to get even with you,” Doug said. “Did you know of any threats made against her?”
Sumter laughed. “Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Actually, she was gleeful about the amount of hate mail she received!”
“Can you tell us anything that could help find the real killer you believe is out there?” Liam asked.
Sumter moaned and brought his hands to his face. “God! Don’t you think I’d have spoken by now? I’ve tried and tried to remember any little thing she might have said, anything…The thing is, I didn’t do it. I just didn’t do it. But I don’t know how in hell to prove that I didn’t.” He shook his head, then looked up from his attorney to Olsen, Doug and then Liam. “I swear before God Almighty, I didn’t kill her. I’m guilty of a hell of a lot, but not that. I didn’t murder Dana.”
Olsen pushed back his chair. He nodded to Sumter and then to his attorney. “Thank you for agreeing to see us.”
“Can you help me?” Sumter asked hopefully. “I don’t know what a P.I. costs. I don’t know what I’ve got, but my kids—well, one of my kids would help.”
“You don’t need to hire anyone, Mr. Sumter,” Liam said. “We have an interest in this case.”
“You’ll help me then?” A desperate hope remained in the man’s eyes.
“If being determined that we find the truth is helping you, then yes,” Doug told the man.
Sumter rose, as if he’d discovered a newfound dignity, or a reason for living at any rate. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Then he walked over to the waiting guard and offered his hands up for the cuffs.
“Why didn’t he get bail?” Doug asked as they left the holding cells.
“The judge thought it was one of the most heinous crimes she’d ever witnessed,” Olsen explained.
Doug arched a brow. “I don’t mean to discredit the violence of a strangling, but worse criminals have received bail.”
“The fellow killed the dog with one kick to the head. The judge is an animal lover. I’ll be in touch if I learn anything, Liam. Mr. O’Casey, a pleasure. If you learn anything, either of you, I’d definitely better hear about it!” He walked to his car, leaving them in the parking lot.
“Gruff fellow,” Doug commented.
“He’s all right.”
“I imagine. What was your take?”
“He’s either innocent or a damned good actor.”
“Better than half the men on screen,” Doug agreed.
“So you think he’s innocent?” Liam asked.
“Yep.”
“Too bad,” Liam murmured.
“Why?”
“I agree with you.”
“Well, it’s good for Sumter. If he can be proven innocent, anyway.”
“Yeah, good for Sumter. Bad for…well, others, since that means there is a killer on the loose out there.”
They started for Liam’s car. “Are you going to tell Kelly about this visit?”
“Haven’t you already told her?” Doug asked dryly.
“She thinks we’re golfing.”
“Where does Serena think we are?”
“Here.”
“Kelly will know,” Doug told him.
“Yeah, guess you’re right. So, what are you going to do?”
“Head back to Florida.”
“It’s probably a good idea. But what if the Ohio woman was killed by the same man?”
“You’re sure it’s a man, right?”
“Unless it’s a woman who happens to be with the World Wrestling Entertainment,” Liam said dryly. “It takes some strength to strangle someone the way Dana Sumter was snuffed out.”
“Good point. But the thing is, Dana Sumter was definitely killed here in California. In Florida, at least Kelly is away from the soap. And it was on the soap that her accident occurred, so…”
“Florida. It’s the smartest move,” Liam agreed.
The tango. Body contact as close as one could get, not even the clothing in between seeming to help much. It was a strange feeling. She felt that she knew him incredibly well, intimately well. But she had been really angry that morning. She didn’t know if Serena was supposed to keep the men’s destination a secret, but she hadn’t managed to do so.
To her credit, Serena was at a loss. She felt that Kelly should be thanking her lucky stars that her dance teacher had turned out to be the next best thing to a personal bodyguard. Better than a bodyguard, because, in her experience, bodyguards weren’t always the most brilliant of men.
Kelly hadn’t said a word when they had returned. Not a word. Serena had asked them about Harvey Sumter. Liam had replied that in his opinion, the man might well be telling the truth. O’Casey hadn’t offered an opinion. After brunch, he had told her that if she was feeling up it, they should head to the studio. It was agreed that Sam would stay with Serena for the afternoon.
Once there, O’Casey became all business. Kelly missed a step, her concentration off.
“Sorry.”
“It’
s all right,” O’Casey said, breaking off to start the music over again. By the stereo system, he paused, his back to her. “You know, you can still have me taken off the project. It would make Lance happy, I’m sure.”
“Do you want to be taken off the project?” she asked.
“You know I don’t.”
“I actually seem to be learning the tango,” Kelly told him. “Why would I have you taken off?”
“I just want you to remember that it’s your call.”
“Actually, I’m not the producer, financier or casting director,” she said sweetly.
He turned to look at her. “A word from your lips to Marc Logan’s ear and it would be as if God had spoken.”
“Perhaps.”
“Ah, what power you have!”
“Can we get back to work?”
“Sure. Actually, you work well when you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad.”
He ignored her and walked back. In a perfect stance, he waited for her to come into position. He counted as they moved. “Heel leads!”
She gritted her teeth, wondering how he could look directly in front of himself and see her feet. Mirrors, of course.
“Nose forward, toes forward.”
“They are!”
“The head doesn’t turn until we snap around.”
“Right.”
“We should go to Florida tonight.”
“What?” She tripped over her own feet. Drawing away, she frowned.
“We should get out of here. Tonight. I can make the arrangements.”
“I can’t leave tonight.”
“Why not?”
“I have to be in the sound studio on Monday.”
He frowned, and she realized that he had forgotten that fact.
“I’m going with you.”
“I’m not so sure you should.”
“Why not?”
“Well, if you’ll recall, you tackled Lance Morton.”
“If you’ll recall, I also gave him a ride home that night.”
“He could still get nasty about it,” Kelly warned.
“I could get nasty right back. When you think someone is attacking someone else, you don’t usually give them time to pull a gun, a knife or make a run for it,” he said dryly.
“That’s right. You were a cop, and now you’re a P.I. It could be a series. Half drama, half sitcom. The Dancing P.I. has a ring to it.”
“Would you please just get over it?” he demanded, annoyed.
“Right. I won’t mention it again,” Kelly said sweetly. “Tango. My nose and my toes facing the same direction. Contra body movement.”
He broke away, going to start the music over one more time. “I am coming with you.”
“Do what you want.”
He walked back to her. She slipped into position.
“How long does it take?” he asked.
“How long does what take?”
“Recording.”
“Maybe an hour, maybe several. We’ll have to see exactly what the musical director wants.”
“Isn’t it what Lance Morton wants?”
“Theoretically, yes. But I would imagine he’s taken a lot of other people’s money, so…”
“Got it.”
“It can be very boring,” Kelly warned.
“I can be very patient.”
She made a wrong turn, misreading his lead, and collided with him, crunching down hard on his toes. He barely winced.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“You’re not feeling for the lead.”
“Yes, I am.”
“All right. I’m not supposed to be strong-arming you out here. You need to learn to understand what my movements mean.”
“I’m trying. Believe me, I’m trying.”
He broke away from her. “That’s enough for today.”
“Sorry, I guess I was horrible.”
His back was to her. He’d gone to turn off the stereo. He turned and faced her reflectively. “Actually, you’re still doing really well. Your turns are coming along nicely, getting very sharp. You’re an excellent student. Which is good, since time is limited.”
“Well, thanks,” she murmured.
A little embarrassed, she headed out of the studio quickly. He locked the door, calling out to her. “Wait up!” She waited impatiently.
“It isn’t dark yet!” she told him. “This is a public lot. On a busy street.”
He walked straight up to her, obviously irritated, challenging and aggressive, in her space.
“Let’s see, you fall down a cliff and are nearly run over. Two big-time near fatalities on one life. Then, let’s see, there’s a man sitting in prison who doesn’t appear to be a killer. I’d say it doesn’t matter much whether it’s light or dark, day or night. You need to watch it.”
She put her hands on her hips and stared back at him. “An asteroid could fall out of the sky!”
“It could, but none of the space agencies have reported such a danger,” he said smoothly. “While it was just yesterday that you were nearly run over.”
She was startled when he dropped her at Serena’s house and didn’t come in. “I’ve got some errands to run,” he told her.
“You might want to remember, my car isn’t here.”
“I’ll be back.”
“I can get Liam or Serena to give me a ride.”
“No. I’ll be back.”
She sighed, looking away.
“Does it really hurt to be safe?” he demanded angrily.
She stared at him again. “No.” It hurts to know what your real interest is!
“I’ll be back,” he said more softly.
She nodded. “I’ll be here.”
“Thank you,” he said.
She hesitated, then sighed. “No…I guess, thank you.” She turned quickly and headed into the house.
Doug went up to his room to make the call. He didn’t intend to use the hotel phone, he always made his calls on his cell. But his room was private and quiet.
Quinn answered after two rings.
“Did you find out anything?” Doug asked.
“Yes and no. I flew to Ohio myself last night,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Nothing like on-hands experience. I went over everything I could with the Sandusky boys.”
“And?”
“If they come up with a suspect, they’ll be hard-pressed to make any kind of charge stick. The autopsy definitely found that death was caused by drowning. But there was no sign whatsoever that she was forced under. Nothing under the nails. No bruises. Just a mixture of booze and alcohol in her system. The coroner is convinced that she passed out and slipped under.”
“Accident.”
“Or suicide,” Quinn said. “Or a killer that was damned clever.”
“There’s that, yes.”
“Anything on your end?”
“Yeah. I got in to see Harvey Sumter.”
“And?”
“He’s convincing.”
“A lot of killers—especially when they feel justified about a crime—can be convincing.”
“I know.”
“But…”
“He’s still convincing.”
“Anything else you need?” Quinn asked.
“You looked up everything you could about the cast and crew of Valentine Valley?”
“Yeah, and the truth even read like a soap. I can imagine they’re very gun-shy on that set. Murder, mayhem—they’ve had it all in the past. And I don’t mean just in the scripts.”
“Yes, I’ve heard. But what about the people still involved?”
“The actors all check out. Some of the crew members come and go, so it’s difficult to get a real feel for the entire situation. The heads have been a little slimy at times, but they were all cleared when it came to any violent crime or even any suggestion of violent crime. We’re looking at drugs, sex and plain old bad behavior, but nothing that would indicate anyone there sudde
nly freaked out and decided Kelly was really her character.”
“Thanks.”
“All right. When you coming home?”
“I’m trying for Monday night.” He hesitated. “Kelly was nearly run down yesterday.”
“Run down?”
Doug described the incident to his brother and said, “So…someone’s out to kill her? Or a lousy driver?”
“I think you’re right. You should come home as soon as possible,” Quinn said.
“Dana Sumter’s husband said something that got me thinking about her.”
“And that was?”
“About how important appearances were to her. Which makes me think we ought to be delving more deeply into her past. Will you see what you can dig up on her for me? And I don’t mean recent stuff. I think it might pay to go way back, high school days, even.”
“I’ll do more digging and get what I can,” Quinn promised. “Keep in touch.”
“Yeah…hey, wait. Do me another favor. Find out everything you can about the band, Kill Me Quick. I read a number of pages on them, but I want what’s behind the stuff that’s public knowledge.”
“All right.”
“Hey, one more!”
“Shoot.”
“Her agent, Mel Alton.”
“I thought the man was her best friend.”
“He is, but it never hurts to know more about your friends, right?”
He rang off with Quinn and logged on to his own computer. His concentration grew as he went from Web page to Web page. Anything he could find on the band itself, specifically Lance Morton, was trite and packaged, so he moved on to Dana Sumter’s sites—and there were plenty. Nothing caught his eye at first. Then he noticed that there seemed to be a year missing out of her life, right when she should have been going from high school to college. Curious.
He quickly went through a number of other sites. Anyone who had attempted a bio on her had come up with years for all of her academic pursuits and achievements. Except one. What had she been doing that year? And did it mean anything?
He went on to another site, one that actually listed her representation through the years. Staring at the computer screen, he froze. Why the hell hadn’t he known this?