“I’m just doing what you hired me for, Krista. Is there any more hidden up there?”
“No!”
Libby climbed up beside her to take a look. She pulled two more plastic envelopes from where Krista was reaching for them and emptied the contents down the toilet. “I’m not kidding, Krista, and it’s time you realized it. You can have your agent fire me, but you can’t con me into not doing my job. You hired a bodyguard and that’s what you’ve got.”
Krista returned to the recording studio, pouting and unhappy. Her first attempt at the song was again off-key, but she took a few minutes’ break and did better the second time. Shawn Gibbs applauded on the third try and told her they’d use that one. She nodded nervously and said, “That’s it. We’ll have to do the rest tomorrow.”
Zap Richards unplugged his guitar and came over to her. “You all right, Krista?”
“I’ll make it.” She gave him a half hearted smile.
He dug around in his pocket and produced a hand-rolled cigarette. “This is all I’ve got on me.”
Libby stepped between them and Krista said, “Put it away, Zap. I don’t want it.”
“This is some watchdog you hired for yourself.”
“I’ve been called worse,” Libby said.
They had a late lunch with Shawn Gibbs and Matt Milton. Gibbs was either pleased at the way the session had gone or he was putting a good face on it for Krista’s benefit. He talked about his plans for the album and Matt tried to sell him on merchandising ideas connected with the upcoming concert tour. By the time they left the restaurant, the afternoon had pretty much ended and Krista had to go to her dressmaker s for a fitting.
Afterward, they headed back to the apartment. “We’ll eat in tonight,” Krista said. “Something light.”
“Is this a fairly typical day?”
“Sometimes it’s a little more exciting. There are a couple of parties this weekend. But I’m afraid next week you’re going to have to sit through five days of dance class. I’m adding some dance numbers to my show.”
“How long do you think you’ll need me?”
“Maybe through the concert tour. If I can stay clean that long I should be okay.” She hesitated and then added, “You did good work today, Libby. On that third number I was sure I needed a snort, but when you wouldn’t let me have it I managed without it, didn’t I?”
“You sure did.”
Libby played with the cat for a while before they ate, but Krista’s habit of allowing it to roam at will over chairs and tabletops turned her off. She had to race to finish her coffee before Tabby licked up his share. But the real challenge of the evening began with the return of Sonny Ritz, still wearing his leather jacket, shortly after ten o’clock. It seemed obvious to Libby that he intended to spend the night with Krista, and she didn’t know how she could prevent a drug exchange from taking place without sharing the bed with them.
“This is your nursemaid, eh?” Sonny asked, looking Libby up and down with a smirk. “Do I have to wrestle her for you?”
“You’re welcome to if you think you can,” Libby said.
He made a grab for her and Libby sidestepped, catching his arm and twisting it behind him until he dropped to his knees. When she let him up, the color had drained from his face.
Krista loved it. “Sonny,” she said, “you’ve finally met your match.”
Sonny seemed not about to quit that easily, but the intercom buzzed and the doorman announced that Shawn Gibbs was on his way up to see Krista.
“What does he want this time of the night?” she complained. She turned to Sonny. “You’d better go. I’ll call you in a few days.”
“What is this, the brushoff?”
“Just go, Sonny. I’ll call you, I promise.”
He left just as Shawn Gibbs reached the door. Libby noticed they didn’t speak.
“Is he still hanging around?” Gibbs asked Krista. “I thought you got rid of him.”
Libby was checking out the area of the room Sonny had occupied, making certain he hadn’t left any little envelopes for Krista.
“Sorry to come by so late,” Gibbs said, “but something’s come up at the studio.”
“What’s that?”
“Somebody stole the master tape of the three songs we recorded this morning.”
“What?”
“At least I think it’s been stolen. It could have been misfiled — I’m going to tear the place apart in the morning. But I wanted you to know we may have to do the whole thing over again.”
Krista took the news in good humor. “It’s not even in the stores yet and my public is clamoring for it. You’ll make a mint on this one, Shawn.”
“I’m glad you can take it so lightly. How about a drink to settle my nerves?”
“Be my guest,” Krista said.
He poured three shots of bourbon and passed one to Libby without asking if she wanted it. After a sip, she left the rest on the table unfinished. She was a Scotch drinker, when she drank at all. “So was the studio broken into?” Krista wanted to know.
“No sign of it.” Shawn Gibbs was nervous, sitting at the kitchen table with them for a time and then pacing back and forth. “I suspect an inside job, but I can’t figure out who would have done it. If they wanted to steal the tape, why not wait until tomorrow when we were planning to finish it?”
“Maybe Libby here can find it for you.”
Libby held up her hands. “Protection, not detection, that’s my business. Just because I was with the police people always think I can solve crimes. Have you reported the theft to the police?”
“Not yet,” Shawn said. “I thought I’d wait until morning when I can make a more careful search.”
He finished his drink and declined a second, saying he had to go. Krista saw him out and he promised to phone in the morning if the tape reappeared before her recording session at ten.
When they went to bed around midnight. Libby insisted on leaving the door between her room and Krista’s open. She had trained herself to be a light sleeper when she was on a case and she knew any unusual movements by Krista would awaken her.
The telephone in Krista’s bedroom rang somewhere toward dawn. The first bits of daylight were beginning to show through the closed blinds as Libby opened her eyes and listened. She heard Krista’s voice, briefly, and then silence. She hadn’t been able to make out her words, and decided it wasn’t important until some minutes later, almost asleep again, she heard the apartment door close. The clock read 6:55.
She jumped out of bed and hurried barefoot into Krista’s room. The bed was rumpled and empty. With a growing sense of panic, Libby checked the rest of the apartment and then the outer hall. Krista was gone and Libby had no idea where. She saw little point in phoning Matt Milton to report it. She was sitting on her bed, thinking about what to do, when Krista’s telephone rang again. She glanced instinctively at the clock and saw that it was 7:22. Running to answer the phone, she prayed it was Krista.
It wasn’t
“Is this the residence of Krista Steele?” a male voice asked. He was reading the name off something and Libby knew at once it was a police officer.
“Yes. What is it?”
“Are you a relative, ma’am?”
“No. I work for Miss Steele,” Libby replied.
“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, ma’am. There’s been an automobile accident. Could you tell me how to reach the next of kin?”
“Next of—?”
“I’m awfully sorry, ma’am. Miss Steele was killed instantly.”
Libby found her old friend, Sergeant O’Bannion, in his office when she reached police headquarters less than an hour later. He glanced up and gave her a grin. “A bit early for you, isn’t it?” He was a large man with a big face that was more often gloomy than smiling.