Lust and Lies 04 - Pretty Maids in a Row

able to defend herself, let alone escape, but he didn't stop the beating.
    Suddenly David could hear another man's voice coming from off-camera. He had been so traumatized by what he was watching, he hadn't consciously picked up the intrusion at first. Someone was ordering the actor to leave her alone and arguing with the cameraman to stop filming.
    But neither man heeded the commands. It was not until a blond-haired man tackled the actor from the sidelines that the enraged giant regained a semblance of his sanity. He spun around, smashed the blond's jaw with a bloodied fist, then jumped over him as he fell.
    The camera panned from the back of the man fleeing out the door, past the blond struggling to get to his feet, to the body of the girl on the floor. The picture zoomed in to scan the damage close up. One arm and a leg were bent in such a way that bones had obviously been broken. A piece of broken bone had broken through the skin of one forearm. Rivulets of blood flowed from her nose and gaping mouth. But the most damning evidence was the unnatural angle of her head and the open, sightless eyes.
    Cinnamon had been absolutely right about how her friend had been killed.
    The blond man staggered a little as he rose, rubbing his face. "For chrissakes..." His hand fell as he stared down at the dead girl and turned toward the cameraman. "Shut that fucking thing off. And destroy that video!"
    David had thought that nothing could shock him more than what he had just seen, until he saw the face of the blond man as clearly as if he was standing in front of him.
    It was Jock publisher, Jerry Frampton.
    David stretched his arms above and behind his head, located the bug, and tapped his fingernail against it three times. He had been told to try to keep D'Angelo and the film in the same location as long as possible to give the Feds a chance to close in and catch him red-handed.
    D'Angelo turned on the light and removed the DVD. "Well?"
    "How do you want your money?" David asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice.
    D'Angelo's smile was almost as grotesque as his films. "I'll give you an account number at a bank in the Cayman Islands. When I'm sure the money's been deposited, we'll meet again, and you'll get the DVDs."
    David paused to give that some thought, and to give the police another few seconds. "I suppose that would be okay, as long as I can check the videos again. I wouldn't want to accidentally take the buyer a copy of Sleeping Beauty."
    "Sleeping Beauty," D'Angelo repeated with a chuckle. "Yeah, that's a good one. Don't worry. We'll work something out." He pulled a briefcase out from under the bed and put all the plastic cases in it.
    David remained seated despite the hint that it was time to leave. "I can't say your movies are my usual fare, but I do recognize good camerawork when I see it. You do it yourself?"
    D'Angelo clicked the case shut and picked it up. "Always. For the kind of product I handle, it's better to involve as few people as possible."
    "Does Jerry Frampton get a piece of the million or does he really think the film was destroyed?"
    D'Angelo narrowed his eyes threateningly but when David showed no fear, he gave a nasty laugh. "I should have known you'd recognize him. But what the hell do I care? That son-of-a-bitch likes to forget who got him started, so I've been holding on to this tape just in case he ever needed his memory refreshed. I was getting ready to offer to sell it to him right before you came into the picture."
    David snickered along with him. "What about—" Pop! A sound that could have been a car backfiring outside was loud enough to penetrate the cushioned walls. In the next seconds, a hailstorm seemed to hit the metal garage door. Not hail, David realized instantly, bullets!
    In a lightning quick move, D'Angelo reopened his case, extracted a gun, and pointed it at David. "You fucking bastard!"
    Raising his hands defensively, David stood up carefully and did his best to look bewildered... which was not entirely an act. There wasn't supposed to be any shooting. "What's the matter? What's going on?" In his own mind, he concluded that Butch, of the big body and small mind, had decided to shoot it out rather than surrender peacefully.
    D'Angelo's wild-eyed gaze darted around the room as if he only now realized there was no back door. The sound of the garage door opening jarred him into action. With the briefcase in his left hand and the gun in his right, he moved in on David, then