Dusted to Death by Barbara Colley Read Free Book Online

“everything,” then why did he need to talk to her, a mere maid? And another thing, no one had mentioned anything to her about Angel having a biographer. Besides, if he were the real deal, wouldn’t he have been hanging out inside the house instead of accosting the maid outside? Humph! More than likely, he was lying through his teeth and was probably one of those sleazy tabloid reporters.
    “For instance,” he continued, tilting his head closer as if they were about to share a secret, “I heard that Angel and Nick had a knock-down, drag-out about that new script that Simon wants her to read.” He shook his head. “Poor Nick. He might be Angel’s main squeeze for the moment, but Simon should know better than to think he could influence Angel by using Nick.”
    Main squeeze? Interesting term, she thought, but not one she’d likely use.
    “So, did Angel throw anything at him this time?”
    Warning bells of suspicion clanged louder in Charlotte’s head. Enough was enough. “Listen, mister, Angel’s relationships, good or bad, are none of my business. And they’re certainly none of your business. You’re no more her biographer than I’m the Queen of England.”
    Totally ignoring her accusation, he said, “Hey, I’m just trying to authenticate my facts here. I may be a lot of things, but I don’t make up the stuff that I write. I’m a stickler for the truth.”
    When Charlotte narrowed her eyes accusingly and tilted her head to one side, a red flush tinged his cheeks. “Well, I am,” he quickly added. “No matter what, I make sure that my writing is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
    “Yeah, right.” Charlotte turned away. Why was she even listening to this goofball?
    “Hey, I’ll prove it!” He quickly stepped in front of her, effectively blocking her path to the van’s door. “In one of Angel’s recent press releases, it said that she grew up in Atlanta, Georgia.” He shook his head. “Not true. I did a little research of my own, and there’s no record of her ever living there. In fact, there’s only five other women in the whole U.S.A. named Angel Martinique, and none of them fit our Angel’s description or age.”
    He waved his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know Angel is probably just a stage name, but most times, an actor’s real name surfaces at some point.” He shook his head. “Not this time, though, and believe me, I’ve been doing some digging. What I’m after is her real name. And I’d gladly pay someone—pay you—for any information that you could find out.” He paused for a moment. “So, how about it?”
    “How about what?” Charlotte shot back.
    “How about helping me out here? See what you can find out? I’d make it worth your while.”
    Enough was enough. “Tell you what I will do,” she said between clenched teeth. “If you move out of my way and leave now, I won’t call those security guards over there.” She motioned to where two of the guards were standing near the roadblocks. “But!” She pointed at him with her forefinger. “One more word and I’ll start screaming my head off.” He opened his mouth, but she shook her head. “Not a word! Now get out of here before I lose the little patience I have left.”
    To give the man credit, after only a brief moment he threw up his hands in surrender and backed off.
    Charlotte quickly loaded up her supply carrier, got inside the van, and hit the automatic door lock mechanism. As she drove away, she glanced in the rearview mirror. The man hadn’t moved. He was still standing where she’d left him.
     
    Though traffic wasn’t light, it wasn’t bumper-to-bumper either. The first thing that Charlotte noticed when she pulled into her driveway was Louis standing on the front porch. The next thing she noticed was his suitcase beside the post nearest the steps. Another trip? So soon?
    She slid out of the van and, pasting a smile on her face, headed for the steps. “Going somewhere?”
    Louis