“Mh-mh,” he said as he bit off a piece of chicken, earning himself a skeptical look from his cook, the wonderful Mrs. Maisel. He gave her a little wave, then walked out onto the patio, wanting to get away from Mrs. Maisel’s keen eyes and even keener ears. “Are you sure you got the right guy, Sam?”

  “Oh, absolutely. You should have seen this guy Tex Poole’s face. Had guilt written all over it. And his wife and daughter didn’t look too happy either.”

  “God, Sam. Did you have to drag the entire family into this thing? I thought we agreed discretion is paramount here?”

  “I know, but what could I do, George? The moment I walked into the place, the whole family came flocking to. Like a scene from The Waltons or something. Even the old grandma was there, on her couch watching breakfast television.”

  “The grandma?”

  “Yeah, some little old lady—spitting image of Estelle Getty.”

  “Christ.”

  “Yeah. So what’s my limit? How high can I go?”

  “One million,” he said resolutely.

  “Jesus, George, are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. Can you imagine what would happen if this got out? My marriage would be on the rocks, for sure, and I’d be the laughingstock of the whole world. Anna would bleed me dry, and take the twins. No, Sam, we need to get on top of this thing. Kill it dead. Destroy that footage before it leaks to TMZ or the National Enquirer.”

  “I know, and I’m on it, George.”

  The moment he’d disconnected, he wondered if Sam was the right guy for the job. Obviously Tex Poole was a pushover, and it was in fact the cop who was playing hardball. So they needed to bring him onside pronto, him and that other cop, that Alec Lip. And the best way to get to a man is through his woman. Which meant Poole’s wife. And Kingsley’s. And as he brought his phone to his ear again, a plan was already forming in his mind.

  His next move thusly arranged, he walked back into the house, and was surprised to find his wife waiting there for him. “Oh, hey, sweetheart,” he said, and approached her to press a loving kiss to her lips. But she turned her face away from him, a clear sign of trouble. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his heart sinking. Could she have found out already?

  “You know what’s wrong, George,” said Anna. She wasn’t just a highly successful barrister but also the most gorgeous woman he’d ever met. Unfortunately she could also be tough—probably a consequence or even a necessity in her line of work. When you habitually go after mass murderers in court, you can’t help but develop a thick skin.

  “Is it the twins?” he asked innocently.

  She turned back to him, her eyes blazing with the kind of icy fire many a judge had been on the receiving end of. “You know very well what this is about. That woman!”

  He swallowed. “What woman?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse now.

  “I just happened to overhear a conversation between the two Olgas upstairs. They were talking about a rumor that’s been flying around, about you and that Tammy Freiheit from next door.”

  He laughed what he hoped was a sufficiently incredulous laugh. When you’re an actor, these things come naturally to you, and he liked to use all the tricks in his method acting book to lay it on thick. “Honey, you know what the Olgas are like. They believe everything they read on those online gossip sites. And you know the gutter press hates my guts.”

  She softened, a clear sign that all she’d heard was foul gossip and nothing solid.

  He decided to move in for the kill. “Look, I’ve been famous for thirty years, and you know how many women I’ve been linked to in that time? Thousands upon thousands.”

  “So it’s just gossip? You’re not involved with that obnoxious Tammy woman?”

  “Of course not!” he said, laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the suggestion. “Why would I care about Tammy Freiheit when I’ve got you, the mother of my kids?”

  “I hate that Tammy. With her inflated chest and puffed-up lips. She’s so vulgar.”

  “I know, honey, I know,” he said, tentatively moving in for a hug. This time she allowed him to envelop her in his arms. “Don’t let the Olgas get to you. They just love to gossip.”

  “If they weren’t so good at their job I’d let them go,” she said, snuggling against his chest.

  “If you’re going to get rid of every person who gossips about us, there won’t be anyone left.”

  “When are we going back to England, George? I hate how they treat you here.”

  “Those tabloids you’ve got back in England are nothing to be sniffed at either.”

  “I know, but they’re nothing compared to the people in this town. It’s almost as if they live to gossip. It’s just terrible.”

  “What do you expect? They lead boring, humdrum lives. The only thing they’ve got is reading those terrible magazines and spreading gossip about celebrities. And like it or not, you married an A-lister, honey.”

  She glanced up at him, and he pressed a loving kiss to her smooth brow. The ice in those big brown eyes of hers had melted. “I knew what I was getting into when I married you, but it still never fails to amaze me how vicious people can be.”

  “Just do like me: ignore them and move on.”

  “Do you promise me there’s nothing going on between you and Tammy, George?”

  “I promise,” he said easily. “On the heads of the twins, Tammy means nothing to me—absolutely nothing.”

  “Good,” she said. “Better keep it that way. Cause if I find out you’ve been lying, there will be hell to pay.”

  Once more he swallowed away a slight lump even as that loving, reassuring smile remained firmly in place. He hoped Chuck would come through for him. If Chuck couldn’t get his hands on that footage, no one could.

  8

  Marge was late. This whole business with the lawyer had set her back at least an hour. It wasn’t a big deal, since she only needed to open the library at noon today, but she’d hoped to put in some shopping, and now if she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t make it on time.

  She hated to be late, and prided herself on always being punctual. In all the years she’d been in charge of the Hampton Cove library, not once had she opened even a minute late.

  So she hurried up the stairs and disappeared into the shower cabin for a refreshing shower. She’d already decided not to let this whole George Calhoun business affect her too much. Chase said he’d handle it, and she trusted her son-in-law sufficiently to know that he was a man of his word, and would always do his best to deliver on his promises.

  And so she lathered up and rinsed off, and scrubbed and washed until she felt like a new person, clean and invigorated. And when she opened the shower cabin door, for a moment she wondered if her eyes were deceiving her, because through the slight cloud of moisture that hung in the bathroom, she suddenly saw what looked like a naked man in front of her. And not only was this man naked, he also looked very familiar. In fact he looked so familiar she rubbed her eyes for good measure, just to be sure she wasn’t seeing things. For this man was none other than… Chuck Crush!

  “Hey, Marge,” drawled the famous actor, who was naked from the waist up, only dressed in boxers. His torso was something to behold: chiseled chest, glistening sixpack, muscular arms. Michelangelo would have loved this perfect male specimen, and would immediately have made plans to sculpt a David II. A lock of Chuck’s blond hair fell across his brow, his blue eyes were fastened on hers, and his lips were curled into that trademark half-smile of his. “Thought I’d drop by and see if I can be of any assistance, ma’am,” he said now.

  And that’s when she realized this wasn’t a dream but all too real! And so she screamed, as one does, at the top of her lungs.

  Immediately Chuck’s smile vanished from his face and he held up his hands. “Hold your horses, lady,” he said, as he darted an anxious glance at the door.

  “Tex!” she yelled.

  “Who’s Tex? Your husband? Don’t call your husband, Marge,” said Chuck plaintively. “We don’t need your husband. It’s just you and me in here, nice and cozy.”

  “Get out of my bathroom!” she yelled.

  “Look, all I want is to have a nice quiet word with you, Marge,” said the hunky actor. “Now is that too much to ask?”

  “Get out!” she screamed. “Tex!”

  But of course Tex wasn’t coming. He’d already left for work, along with Marge’s ma.

  “A very good friend of mine is in something of a pickle, see,” said Chuck, moving back a little, just in case Marge would suddenly attack and come out swinging. “And so he asked me to help him out, and I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t at least give it a shot.”

  A little calmer now, since she didn’t have the impression the actor was about to molest her, she wrapped her towel around herself and said, “What the hell are you doing in my bathroom? How did you get in?”

  “We don’t need to go into all that,” said Chuck, affecting his most charming smile, the smile that had earned him a devoted following. Even Marge had to admit she wasn’t fully immune to that smile and the man’s obvious charm.

  She frowned. “Are you really…”

  “Chuck Crush at your service, ma’am,” he said, extending a hand, then immediately retracting it when her frown deepened. He cleared his throat. “Now, look, this friend of mine, he had his privacy invaded, see.”

  “Like you’re invading my privacy?”

  “You’ve got me there, Marge,” he said. “You’ve got my number.” He then turned serious. “Look, all I want is that footage. Hand it over and I’ll be out of your hair—which is gorgeous, by the way—do you use conditioner? Don’t answer that. Just give me the footage, or the camera or whatever, and we’ll consider this chapter closed.”

  “What footage?” she asked, understanding dawning. Like most people, she enjoyed reading the gossip magazines at the hair salon, and it was a well-known fact that Chuck Crush and George Calhoun had been close friends for years. They’d even made a number of successful movies together, and supported each other through thick and thin. Could it be that George had sent Chuck to retrieve that incriminating footage for him?

  “You know what I’m talking about, Marge,” said Chuck, eyeing her closely.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, deciding to follow Chase’s line in this matter: staunch denial, so they could hold on to that footage and successfully defend themselves against George’s attempts to get it back and create legal trouble for them.

  “And I think that you know perfectly well what I’m talking about.”

  “Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?” she asked, wondering why he would show up like this.

  He glanced down at his perfect physique. “I always walk around like this,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to look like some modern-day Adonis. “Look, are you going to hand over that footage or not?” He quirked a seductive eyebrow in her direction, triggering a minor spasm in her lower abdomen. The sensation wasn’t completely disagreeable, she had to admit.

  “Like I said, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, continuing to toe the family line decided upon earlier.

  Chuck’s smile didn’t waver. “Look, if you hand over that footage now, I’ll make it worth your while, Marge.” He approached her, and placed a hand on her cheek. “You’re a very attractive woman, and I happen to be into older women.”

  That tremor in her lower abdomen turned into a watershed, but she decided that enough was enough. So she slapped him across the face, careful not to lose control of her towel, lest it dropped to the floor, and said, in as harsh a tone as she could muster, “Get out, Chuck, before I call the cops.”

  Still smiling that seductive smile, he shrugged and said, “Your loss, Marge.” But then he did as she demanded, and walked out. But not before saying, “If you change your mind, you’ll find that I’ve put my private number in your phone.” And then he was gone.

  She blinked a couple of times, wondering if she’d dreamed the scene or if she’d really been visited by Chuck Crush in her own bathroom, and he’d tried to seduce her in exchange for incriminating footage of his best buddy, the equally famous George Calhoun.

  But then she figured the scene had indeed been all too real, and a smile crept up her face. Her hand was still stinging, and she now wondered how many women could say they’d spurned Chuck’s advances and had slapped him across the handsome face.

  Probably not too many!

  But then she was strong again, and decided she probably needed to tell Chase that his plan had sprung a leak. If George was prepared to send in Chuck, what else was he prepared to do to lay his hands on that footage!

  9

  I was staring at the pet flap and thinking about what Kingman had told me last night when Dooley joined me.

  “What are you doing, Max?” he asked.

  “I’m wondering who to ask about a carpentry job,” I said.

  “You should ask Tex. He loves that kind of thing.”

  “I know he does, but he’s also very bad at it.”

  “Why do you need a carpenter, Max?”

  “Because I want this pet flap made bigger.”

  “Oh, you want to be able to pass through it again?”

  “Yes, Dooley. I want to be able to pass through it whenever I want, and not having to go on a diet every time I get stuck in the darn thing.”

  “You could ask Gran. I’m sure she knows a carpenter. If you ask Marge or Odelia, they’ll just tell you to lose weight, but Gran will understand. She’s more understanding that way.”

  I smiled. It was exactly the line of thinking I’d been following myself. Odelia is probably the best human on the planet, but she can be a little staunch in her views, especially where things like health or weight are concerned. Odelia is a fitness fanatic, you see, and so is her husband. They go to the gym all the time, and both look like paragons of health and fitness. Chase looks as if he could compete in the Mr. Universe competition, and Odelia probably has the lowest body mass index in town. Unfortunately they’re saddled with a cat who’s not a fitness fanatic at all. Even though I don’t mind being healthy, I also like my regular intake of food, and even though I walk around a lot, I’m not into fitness myself. Too much trouble. And also, I hate exercise. It makes me cranky.

  “You know, I thought I heard Marge screaming just now,” said Dooley.

  “Screaming? What do you mean?”

  “Well, I was trying out some of that new kibble she got us? And I heard her screaming for Tex. And then I saw a naked man walk down the stairs and out the door.”

  I blinked and slowly transferred my gaze from that pet flap to my friend. “A naked man?”

  “Yes, and he looked familiar, too. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him in a movie.”

  “Let’s go,” I said curtly. It was clear to me now that Marge needed our help—fast!

  And so we made our way into the backyard of Marge and Tex, then into the house—not through the pet flap, since it has the exact same size as Odelia’s pet flap, unfortunately, but through the kitchen door—and as we went in search of Marge, we found her in the kitchen, looking refreshed and with a smile on her face and humming a pleasant tune. If she’d been assaulted by a naked actor she certainly didn’t look it.

  “Are you all right, Marge?” I asked, concerned in spite of her merry appearance.

  “Oh, absolutely,” she said as she gave me a happy smile. “Something extraordinary happened to me just now, Max.”

  “Yeah, Dooley told me.”

  “Did the naked man hurt you, Marge?” asked my friend.

  “No, he didn’t, Dooley,” said Marge.

  “What did he want?” I asked.

  “He wanted me to hand him George’s footage.”

  “You mean the drone footage?”

  Marge nodded as she absentmindedly gazed out the window into the backyard. “Mh-mh,” she said. “But of course I told him I didn’t have it.” She turned to face us. “He’s very nice, you know, and he left me his number, in case I changed my mind. Obviously I’m not going to change my mind, but it was very kind of him to try and help out his best friend.”

  “Who was it?” I asked the million-dollar question.

  “Chuck Crush.”

  “Oh, dear,” I said, and immediately saw what must have happened. “George sent him?”

  Marge nodded again. She had a blush on her cheeks and she couldn’t stop smiling. Which was to be expected, after a close encounter with the naked or semi-naked Chuck Crush. It isn’t every day that one of the most famous and attractive actors of his generation decides to drop in on you, asking for a favor.

  “So why was he naked?” I asked, wanting to clear up a minor point.

  Marge shrugged. “He’s used to walking around with his shirt off. I guess he likes it.”

  “I’m glad he didn’t hurt you, Marge,” said Dooley. “When I heard you scream I was worried and so I went to get Max.”

  “I screamed because I was surprised,” she said. “But then when I saw that it was Chuck Crush and he didn’t seem dangerous, I relaxed.” She sighed a wistful sigh. “Chuck Crush.” She now emitted a girlish giggle. “Wait till I tell my friends. They’re not going to believe me!” And then she picked up her purse from the kitchen table and walked out, without bothering to close the back door.

  “She looks happy, Max,” said Dooley.

  “A little too happy,” I said censoriously.

  “Do you think Marge is having an affair with Chuck Crush?”

  “I doubt it. She might feel a little flustered now, but I doubt whether she’ll actually engage in carnal relations with the man.”

  “She did look very excited,” my friend remarked.

  “That’s because it’s a fantasy of many women to get with a movie star, Dooley. But when push comes to shove, I think they’ll find it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. You see, movie stars are also regular people, and just like regular people, they don’t always live up to the expectations. Besides, I’m sure Chuck wouldn’t take things to such an extreme.”