only do they have to watch our daily work times, but weekly as well. It’s pretty expensive to go over with some of us. Well, me and Bobbi. The last thing Oscar wants is for us to go even a penny over budget.”
“You’ve worked with him several times over the last six years, haven’t you?”
Danny nodded. “He’s done a lot for my career. I owe him. Which doesn’t change the fact that he’s notorious when it comes to the budget. Especially now.”
“Why now?”
“Check the grosses over the last three years. The Reformer? Black Sunset? They both hemorrhaged money. He’s got a lot riding on this picture.”
“So after you showered…”
“I stayed—”
His recitation was interrupted by a knock on the trailer door. A second later, a young woman entered, carrying a tray with a carafe of coffee and all the accoutrements, including some donuts and muffins.
She was pretty, but then most of the people working on the movie were. Even those who would never be in front of the camera.
She set the tray on the table, then turned with a big smile to Austen. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
He touched her in a way that made it perfectly clear her offer extended way beyond coffee. “No, thanks, Darlin’. We’re all set.”
With a coy glance and a slight blush, Riva left the building.
Bax wondered what it would be like to have any woman, any time. Exhausting would be his best guess. He poured himself a cup of coffee, the smell alone making his head feel better. Before he drank, however, he pulled Austen back on track. “You stayed…?”
“In. My room.”
Bax settled back in his chair. “You stayed in your room all night?”
“All night.”
“Alone?”
Austen laughed. “No, not alone. I was with Riva.”
“The woman who was just here.”
“Yep.”
Bax sipped his coffee. He had no doubt Austen had been with Riva, but on that particular night? Something told him no. “Did you order room service?”
“As a matter of fact, we did.”
“Great. What did you have?”
The actor smiled brightly again. “Nothing special. Dinner.”
“What time?”
“I didn’t look at the clock, Detective.”
“But you didn’t leave the room until morning.”
“My call was at seven. But then we had the force, so—”
“Force?”
“Majeure. Because of the murder. We were shut down through no fault of the production company. They call it that, you know, for insurance purposes.”
“I see. So you didn’t know about Gerry Geiger’s death until seven that morning.”
“That’s right.”
“When was the last time you spoke to Geiger?”
Again, the smile. “That day. He tried to get some pictures. Just like he always did.”
“What kind of pictures?”
“Nothing special. Coming out of the hotel. That kind of thing.”
“You didn’t know him, aside from him trying to take your picture?”
“That’s right. He was just a pap. Just like all the others.” Bax put his cup down. He really wanted more coffee, but he needed to get to Riva before Austen had a chance to talk to her. “All right then. I think we’re done. For now.”
“Sure you don’t want a donut?”
“I’m sure.”
Austen leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. The smile came back, only this one wasn’t meant to dazzle, at least not in the same way. “You know, I can help you with that headache.”
“Pardon me?”
“Your headache. I studied some massage back in the day. Honest. I can help.”
Maybe it was what Mia had told him about Austen and Geiger being involved, but Bax had the distinct impression that Danny’s offer was for more than headache relief. He stood up, made sure his notebook was tucked safely in his pocket. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”
Danny leaned back slowly, keeping his eye contact steady. “Anything I can do to be of assistance, Detective. I’m in suite 1510.”
“I’ll let you know.” Bax got to the door and out into the garage, ninety-percent certain he’d been hit on. And ninety-percent certain Danny Austen had lied to him about the night of Geiger’s murder.
MIA SMILED AT THE WOMAN standing at her station. She hadn’t seen her before, but something told her that this woman wasn’t a guest. There was an air of agitation about her, as if she’d just come from an accident or bad news.
It was in the way her long blondish hair rested on her shoulders, unkempt and slightly greasy. In the smudges of old makeup around her eyes, the paleness of her cheeks. Her blouse was silk, expensive, but her pants had seen better days.
“How can I help you?” Mia asked.
“I’m here for lunch with Piper Devon,” she said. “But I’m early.”
It was Sheila Geiger. No wonder she looked so distraught. “Would you like some tea to pass the time while I notify Ms. Devon?”
Mrs. Geiger looked at her sharply, as if she’d expected an argument. “If it comes with a shot of bourbon.”
Mia turned to Allan at the front desk. “Could you take my calls for a bit, please?”
Allan nodded, and Mia came around her desk, slipping her earpiece into her pocket. “Let’s get you comfortable,” she said, leading Mrs. Geiger toward the bar. They weren’t open yet, but she knew Dahlia, the day bartender, was inside. While Mia looked for her, she made a quick call to Piper’s office, letting her assistant know the situation.
A few minutes later, tea was being brewed and Mia sat across from the widow. “I’m so very sorry for your loss,” she said.
“You know who I am?”
Mia smiled. “I was aware of the lunch engagement.”
“So you know that someone from this hotel killed my husband.”
“It
