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him at the jail, he started blubbering about firing her, and who could have killed her, and I--''

``Didn't Alan know you killed her?''

``Pookums thinks I'm his sweet babycakes. And when I told him what really happened, he . . . he said you could help, that you could prove the Pinkerton lady did it because everybody thinks she already murdered her doddery old husbands. She deserves to go to jail for that anyway.''

``She never--'' I thought better of arguing. ``So it was you and Calvin who figured out the plan of shutting off the security system?''

``It was mostly my idea.'' Calvin waved his gun around the room. ``It was the least I could do to help Cin land the big fish. We've got bills to pay around here. All this camera stuff doesn't come cheap, y'know. Every caller we get on the nine-hundred line pays us a few bucks, of course, but we aren't moving the product fast enough.'' He pointed to the boxes of dildos.

``You are Cindie Rae's business partner as well as her cameraman?''

``I'm her director,'' Calvin corrected. ``And her brother. The security guard gig is just my day job.''

The phone rang. Startled, Cindie Rae bolted upright. ``We've got a caller! And I don't have my false eyelashes on yet!''

She scampered for the bathroom while Calvin headed for a multiline telephone and hit a button. I suddenly became aware that the camera was pointed directly at me, solo, handcuffed in the middle of the bed.

``Hello, uh, Cindie Rae?'' said an uncertain, amplified voice. ``It's, uh, Dick again. Remember me?'' SLAY BELLES 81

From the bathroom, Cindie Rae called, ``Hi, Dick! Of course I remember you!''

``Uh, I really like your girlfriend,'' said the caller. ``When does she take her clothes off?''

I gave up on the plan to keep things calm until the police arrived. ``Forget it!'' I shouted in Cindie Rae's direction. ``No clothes are coming off! None!''

Calvin dropped the gun beside the phone and hurried to the camera. He peered through the lens and began to make adjustments.

I yanked at the handcuff. ``I don't want any part of this!''

The caller said, ``Are you girls going to do some nasty stuff together?''

``No!'' I said. ``We're not doing anything together! Cindie Rae, get in here right now!''

``Here,'' said Calvin. ``Hold this and look like you're turned on.''

He held out the fluorescent dildo to me.

Instead of reaching for it, I plunged my free hand into the Williams-Sonoma shopping bag and came up with Lib- by's rolling pin. I swung hard and knocked the dildo out of Calvin's grasp. Like a home run headed for the bleachers, it sailed over the camera and hit the kitchen wall. The mo- mentum of my swing combined with my left hand being trapped by the handcuff sent me falling back on the bed.

``Hey!'' Calvin yelped.

``Oh, yeah,'' said Dick on the telephone.

While Calvin went to retrieve the dildo, I struggled to sit up. I dropped the rolling pin and rummaged in another shop- ping bag. One-handed I came up with boxed perfume. Franti- cally, I tore open the box and fumbled with the bottle. By the time Calvin came back to me, I was ready. He bent to put the dildo on the bed, and I squirted him in the eyes.

He screamed and fell onto the bed with me, clutching his face.

``Oooh, yeah, baby!'' Dick yelled.

Cindie Rae dashed into the room with one false eyelash hanging drunkenly from her eye. ``What's going on? Calvin! Calvin! What are you doing?''

She leaped on the bed and rolled her brother over. ``Let me see, Cal, honey. Are you hurt?'' 82 Nancy Martin

``Hurt him some more!'' bellowed Dick.

Cindie Rae straddled him and began doing chest com- pressions on her brother. Calvin choked on the perfume and wept streaming tears. The fluorescent dildo rolled into my lap. I reacted as if it were a Molotov cocktail and threw it into the air.

Which was when the police burst through the door. The first cop snagged the dildo out of the air like a football.

Libby and Santa burst in right behind him.

``Oh, my God.'' Libby surveyed the scene with me front and center. ``You get to have all the fun! Chapter 9

Later that evening, Michael arrived at Blackbird Farm bearing steaks and wine. He opened the bottle first, and we sipped a very nice Beaujolais in the kitchen while I told him everything. Reluctantly, I even told him about the tus- sle on Cindie Rae's bed.

He listened with a suspiciously straight face while prepar- ing a potato gratin, complete with cheese shaved from a chunk he'd been saving in the fridge.

``You think maybe Calvin made a tape?'' he asked when I finished the tale. ``Because I'd pay a lot of money to see it.''

``There is no tape,'' I said firmly. ``I had Libby and Santa double-check.''

Michael cocked his head toward the living room, from where Libby's giggle and Santa's lower-timbred laugh floated back to us. ``What's his real name, anyway?''

``I don't know. I don't think it matters.''

``He's not the lasting type?''

``Stranger things have happened,'' I said. ``I just hope he doesn't break her heart before Christmas. She's already on the edge.''

Michael sipped some of his wine. ``And the police ar- rested Cindie Rae and her brother?''

``Yes. But it looks like Alan was the mastermind all along. He planted the suggestion of getting rid of Popo with Cindie Rae and let her plot the murder with Calvin. It was his way of getting rid of both Popo and Cindie Rae. He figured she'd be too inept to get away with the crime. To help the investigation along, he told her to get me involved.''

83 84 Nancy Martin

``So the cops got the right man this time?'' Michael shook his head in disbelief.

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