Page 44 of Scripted for Love and Poison
“He asked me where the magazine had been hiding me all this time, because he hadn’t seen me around before,” she explained. “And that was a pity.”
Luke stopped in the middle of the room and stared at her. He seemed to be grappling with what she’d told him, struggling to find the words to express whatever crossed his mind.
“Does that happen often? Do random blokes try making advances with you in a professional setting?”
“You’d be surprised,” Sol said. “But less and less since I turned forty, I guess. So I hope by the time I’m fifty, I’ll be completely transparent.”
“Not to me.” Her knees went weak at his words. “Is it possible I saw him checking you out during the party? I’ve never been one for violence, but do you want me to, I don’t know, punch him or something?” He sounded serious.
“Gods no! That would solve nothing, and we still need to talk to him about his possible involvement in the case. But would you just keep me very close to you the whole time you talk to him?”
“Gladly,” he said, and he tightened his grip on her waist.
“Victor, how are you doing?”Sol asked the director when both she and Luke stood in front of the filmmaker.
“Marvelous!” the director said, a glass of an amber-colored beverage in his hand as he directed his gaze to Sol. “So good to see you!”
It all happened in slow motion then. Victor Lago, who Luke would have said was quite drunk, recognized Sol. He probably couldn’t remember her name, but he appraised her figure with a mixture of letch and amusement in his eyes. Victor made a move toward her, his free arm extended in what looked like an attempt at a hug. Sol’s expression shifted to horror. She recoiled, attempting to take a step back, only to stumble into someone else standing at the bar. That’s when Luke cut in. He threw his body between Sol and Victor, extending his hand to the director in a firm handshake.
“And you probably remember me as well,” Luke told a somewhat-puzzled Victor.
“Uh,” Victor replied.
“This is my partner, Luke,” Sol told Victor, sheltering behind Luke’s body and peeking only part of her head around him. “I don’t know if you remember him from the awards ceremony.”
“Not really ...” said Victor, as if he was now realizing Sol hadn’t been alone at the party the other night.
“I was hoping to have a chat with you,” Luke told the director.
“I see. You’re a fan of my work, are you?” Victor’s whole face lit up.
How do you politely tell someone that you haven’t seen a single one of their movies and don’t feel like it because your partner fell asleep watching their last film? But also, why did Luke have to be polite with Victor after what he’d told Sol?
“Not really,” Luke said. “I’m investigating the disappearance of Simon Smith, the poisoning of Travis Wise, and the death of Jason Zit.”
“Good for you, I guess!” Victor said. Why did his accent sound different all of a sudden? It was now giving less artificial British notes, more broad New Yorker. “But I have no clue who any of those people are.”
“Two of them were seated with all of us during the awards the other night,” Luke said, and he could smell the lie in Victor’s words.
“Look, mate, I don’t recall you and pretty much anyone else from the other night. The only one I remember seated at my table is her,” Victor said, directing his gaze toward Sol in an admiring way. Luke had to restrain himself from growling at the director. Victor Lago had managed to awaken his most basic, primal side, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He still drew Sol closer to him.
“You don’t recall the person who was taken from the table on a stretcher?” Luke asked. He knew such a direct approach tended not to yield good results. Especially since Victor Lago seemed to be the only person in Los Angeles immune to Luke’s accent and his charms. But the filmmaker was grating him the wrong way. And he wanted him to stop looking at Sol. He also knew Victor was lying.
“That’s one of the chaps you’re investigating? I thought he had a heart attack!” Victor said, and why did he have to keep using British slang?
“He was poisoned,” intervened Sol. “I told you about it when I interviewed you a few days ago.”
“Food poisoning?” Victor kept playing confused.
“Cyanide,” said Luke, and he watched Victor’s reaction. First there was the processing of the information, then the understanding of what had been said, and finally ...
“What, you thinkI’mthe one who put the cyanide in his food?” Victor’s accent sounded once again New Yorker.
“What makes you think such a thing?” Luke feigned ignorance. “I was just wondering if you saw something unusual during the party or someone getting close to Travis’s food.”
“As I’ve already mentioned, I don’t recall much from that night.”
Convenient. Also, that wasn’t exactly what Victor Lago had said, not recalling when they’d first started talking, but Luke still wanted to ask about something else. Someone else.
