18 12 Disguises, a Romantic Comedy Mystery by Larissa Reinhart

Author:Larissa Reinhart
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781734563863
Publisher: Past Perfect Press

Before knocking on Room 356, I stood in the hall, preparing for my mashup role. I needed someone harder-edged and focused to get Helmut to spill the beans.

Also, my persona should avoid phrases like "spill the beans."

I shook out my arms and rolled my neck. Imagined myself not growing up in my Beverly Hills home but something simpler. The office popped in my brain. Two rooms and one big bed.

Putting that image away, I focused on vocal tones. Drawing back my chin, I lowered my voice. "Helmut."

Tried again with a quieter intensity, "Helmut."

Louder with a growl, "Helmut."

The door swung open. "What?"

Helmut wore a robe. Perhaps nothing else. Personally, I was a little tired of visiting people undressed or unshowered. But maybe that's just me.

"Oh, Maizie," said Helmut in a smarmy voice he used on celebrities. "What can I do for you? Oh right, you wanted to see the snaps I took at the party. I didn't expect you so soon."

"I heard you were leaving tomorrow. I thought I'd come right away. You didn't tell me you were flying out, but I expect it slipped your mind." Mentally, I high-fived myself for getting to the point. So unlike me.

I loved this role.

He beckoned me inside his room. The furniture had been shoved to one corner. Clothes were draped over the chairs and the TV. The bed hadn't been made and an open laptop laid on it. He motioned toward the bed. "Have a seat and we'll look at them together."

"I prefer to stand, thanks."

Helmut lowered himself on the end of the bed, placing his hands behind him. The V in his robe opened, exposing a lot of chest hair. I silently prayed he had on Jockeys. Although I grew up around semi-nude men (actors), I had my limits.

"There's something else that might have slipped your mind, Helmut." I fisted my hands on my hips. "In the warehouse parking lot, I saw you take something from the paparazzo, Johnny Sexton. You want to explain?"

"What? You're mistaken," said Helmut, crossing his legs. Making me wish he hadn't.

I averted my eyes and focused on the laptop. Sidling closer to the bed, I continued, "I'm open to an explanation. It looked like you were selling pictures to Johnny Sexton. In the picture I took with my phone, that's how it appears, too. How awkward. Kind of like how the paparazzi takes snaps of celebrities that in a certain context, makes them look guilty."

Helmut turned, following my movement toward the side of the bed. "What are you saying? Are you threatening me?"

"When word gets out that a photographer like you will sell photos, it'll be difficult to get celebrities to trust you. And isn't the relationship between a photographer and his clients built on trust?"

"Of course. But Maizie, you know there's a difference between the private sitting and the public shots. The party was a public arena. Completely different than what I took today. And today was especially…" He grimaced. "Corporate."

I sucked in a breath, resenting our shared distaste for the same word.

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