guessed wrong?”
“I didn’t,” she pointed out. “For a minute there, I was worried, but it all worked out. Better than I expected, really, because I had a chance to ride in a— Do you still call them paddy wagons?”
He’d been so sure he’d seen everything. Heard everything. With his temper straining at the bit, he spoke through clenched teeth. “Two hookers are dead. Two who worked that area.”
“I know,” she said quickly, as if that explained it all. “That was one of the reasons I chose it. You see, I plan to have Jade—”
“I’m talking about you,” he interrupted in a voice that had her wincing. “You. Some bubbleheaded hack writer who thinks she can strut around in spandex and a half a ton of makeup, then go home to her nice neighborhood and wash it all off.”
“Hack?” It was the only thing she took offense to. “Look, cop—”
“You look. You stay out of my territory, and out of those slut clothes. Do your research out of a book.”
Her chin shot out. “I can go where I want, wearing what I want.”
“You think so?” There was a way to teach her a lesson. A perfect way. “Fine.” He rose, tugged the tote out of her hands, then took a firm grip on her arm. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To holding, babe. You’re under arrest, remember?”
She stumbled in the three-inch heels and squawked, “But I just explained—”
“I hear better stories before breakfast every day.”
“You’re not going to put me in a cell.” Bess was sure of it. Positive. Right up until the moment the bars closed in her face.
It took about ten minutes for the shock to wear off. When it did, Bess decided it wasn’t such a bad turn. She could be furious with the cop—whoever he was—but she could appreciate and take advantage of the unique opportunity he’d given her. She was in a holding cell with several other women. There was atmosphere to be absorbed, and there were interviews to be conducted.
When one of her cellmates informed her that she was entitled to a phone call, she demanded one. Pleased with the progress she was making, she settled back on her hard cot to talk to her new acquaintances.
It was thirty minutes later when she looked up and spotted her friend and cowriter Lori Banes, standing beside a uniformed policeman.
“Bess, you look so natural here.”
With a grin, Bess popped up as the guard unlocked the door. “It’s been great.”
“Hey!” one of her cellmates called out. “I’m telling you that Vicki’s a witch, and Jeffrey should boot her out. Amelia’s the right woman for him.”
Bess sent back a wink. “I’ll see what I can do. Bye, girls.”
Lori didn’t consider herself long-suffering. She didn’t consider herself a prude or a stuffed shirt. And she said as much to Bess as they walked through the corridors, up the stairs and back into the lobby area outside the squad room. “But,” she added, pressing fingers to her tired eyes. “There’s something that puts me off about being woken up at 2:00 a.m. to come bail you out of jail.”
“Sorry, but it’s been great. Wait until I tell you.”
“Do you know what you look like, dear?”
“Yep.” Unconcerned, Bess craned her neck. The chair behind Alex’s desk was empty. “I had no idea that so many of the working girls watched the show. But they do work nights, mostly. Uh, excuse me…” She caught the sleeve of one of New York’s finest as he walked by. “The officer who uses that desk?”
The cop swallowed the best part of a bite of his pastrami sandwich. “Stanislaski?”
“Whew. That’s a mouthful. Is he still around?”
“He’s in Interrogation.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Come on, Bess, we’ve got to pick up your things.”
Bess had signed for her purse and its contents, still keeping an eye out for Alex. “Stanislaski,” she repeated to herself. “Is that Polish, do you think?”
“How the hell do I know?” Out of patience, Lori steered her toward the door. “Let’s get out of here. The place is lousy with criminals.”
“I know. It’s fabulous.” With a laugh, she tucked an arm around Lori’s waist. “I got ideas for the next three years. If we decide to have Elana arrested for Reed’s murder…”
“I don’t know about having Reed murdered.”
With a sigh, Bess looked around for a cab. “Lori, we both know Jim isn’t going to sign another contract. He wants to try the big leagues. Having his character offed is the perfect way to beef up Elana’s story line.”
“Maybe.”
Bess slyly pulled out her ace. “‘Our Lives, Our Loves’ picked up two points in the ratings last month.”
Lori only grunted.
“Word is Dr. Amanda Jamison is going to have twins.”
“Twins?” Lori shut her eyes. Soap diva Ariel Kirkwood, who played the long-suffering psychiatrist on the competing soap, was daytime’s most popular star. “It had to be twins,” Lori muttered. “Okay, Reed dies.”
Bess allowed herself one quick victory smile, then hurried on.
“Anyway, while I was in there, I was picturing the elegant, cool Dr. Elana Warfield Stafford Carstairs in prison. Fabulous, Lori. It’d be fabulous. I wish you’d seen the cop.”
They’d walked to the corner, and there wasn’t a cab in sight. “What cop?”
“The one who arrested me. He was incredibly sexy.”
Lori only had the energy to sigh. “Leave it to you to get busted by a sexy cop.”
“Really. All this thick black hair. His eyes were nearly black, too. Very intense. He had all those hollows and planes in his face, and this beautiful mouth. Nice build, too. Sort of rough-and-ready. Like a boxer, maybe.”
“Don’t start, Bess.”
“I’m not. I can find a man sexy and attractive without falling in love.”
Lori shot her a look. “Since when?”
“Since the last time. I’ve sworn off, remember?” Her smile perked up when she spotted a cab heading their way. “I’m interested in this Stanislaski for strictly professional reasons.”
“Right.” Resigned, Lori climbed in when the cab swung to the curb.
“I
