movie. I’m a body double for Elvis, the kitty star. He’s a sleek black rascal with a far better attitude than his human costar. In fact, Elvis has a real sense of humor. I think we’re going to become fast friends while I’m on this gig in Tinsel town.
I hear the call for lights, camera, action. They’re getting ready to film another scene for this movie about a cat who steals jewelry to bring people who love each other together. It’s a charming plot. Reminds me of some things I’ve done in the past.
Wait, what is that? It’s the police. And they’re headed my way. No, they’re passing me by and going to the trailer where Nicole is getting ready.
They’re knocking on her door. She’s opening it. And they’re putting her in handcuffs. Let me just say that Nicole isn’t acting docile about this. She’s doing her best to get away from them, and she’s one fit woman. I wouldn’t want to take her on in a kickboxing match.
Everyone from the movie set is just standing around gawking. No one is doing a thing to help her. And we don’t even know why she’s being arrested.
This is an outrage. Why don’t they cuff Angela? Speaking of which, she’s standing in the doorway of her trailer and looking like the cat that swallowed the canary. Whatever is going on here, Angela definitely has a starring role in it.
I have two choices—to stay and perform my duties as a backup for Elvis, or to ride to the police station with Nicole. Since no one else is stepping up to help her, I guess that leaves me. My decision is made. I’m going to LAPD headquarters.
It’s just a matter of timing to make it in the door of the patrol car before they close it. Once I’m inside, I don’t think Nicole is going to give me away.
“YOU’RE ARRESTING the wrong person,” Nicole said through the screen of the patrol car. “I didn’t steal anything.”
“We have a warrant for your arrest,” the officer who was driving said wearily. “Nothing personal, lady, we’re just doing our job.”
“But I’m innocent,” Nicole insisted. “Of course that didn’t matter twenty years ago, either.”
The cop in the passenger seat turned around and stared at her. “Twenty years ago, that would make you, what, about twelve? What were you arrested for then, robbing an ice-cream truck?”
Both police officers chuckled and Nicole threw herself against the back seat of the car. This was totally absurd. And the worst part of it was that she hadn’t seen it coming. Last night when Angela Myers had staged such a drama about the theft of her precious earring, Nicole should have known that the finger of blame would swing in her direction. Angela had all but come out and said that Nicole was a thief, just like her father. She’d implied that thievery was a genetic trait. But Nicole had just shrugged it off. She didn’t think that anyone would believe she’d steal anything. Now she saw differently. That’s exactly what everyone thought, even the police.
She felt something against her leg and almost screamed. Before she could utter a sound, though, the sleek black cat put a paw on her knee and drilled her with a steady green gaze.
“Familiar?” she whispered. She knew it wasn’t Elvis. As much as she enjoyed the black cat starring in the movie, he didn’t have half the personality of the stunt cat that had been brought in with the movie consultants. Familiar was the easiest animal she’d ever worked with in setting up stunts.
“Meow,” he said softly.
“So you came with me.” She held her elbow steady as the cat rubbed against it. “I don’t know why you did, but I’m glad you’re here.” She lifted her cuffed hands and let him jump into her lap. “We have to figure out a way to make them believe I didn’t steal anything.”
She stared into the cat’s unblinking gaze and had the oddest sensation that he understood every word she said.
JAX MCCLURE WATCHED as the police officers came out of Nicole’s trailer. They went straight over to Angela’s, knocked, and when she opened the door, they held up a clear plastic bag with a glittering piece of jewelry.
“That’s mine,” Angela said. “I told you she stole it. She’s been staring at those earrings every time I put them on. I told Mr. Hudson not to hire her on this set, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Now, I guess he’ll have to find someone to replace her in the middle of the film.”
Jax ignored most of Angela’s rant. After five weeks of filming with her, he was more than ready to blow her up in some of the special effects he designed for the movie. She was one of the most difficult women he’d ever worked with—totally immune to his charm and totally wrapped up in herself. And Angela had had it in for Nicole ever since the stunt double walked onto the set of Midnight Magic.
Angela didn’t even like the cat costar, Elvis. And Elvis was an easy cat to like.
Jax waited until the dust cleared and Angela was back in her trailer before he walked over to the police detectives.
“I’m a friend of Ms. Paul’s,” he said, which was stretching the truth quite a bit. Nicole had not been unfriendly, but she’d simply been unavailable for any of the crew get-togethers that might have forged the bond of friendship. She was a real loner. “Is she going to be charged?”
“Theft of property,” the policeman said. “Ms. Myers didn’t want to press burglary charges. She just wants her property back.”
“Was there any sign of forced entry at Ms. Myer’s trailer?” Jax asked.
The policeman shook his head. “We didn’t look. No point if she won’t press charges. The theft charge will be enough to send her away for a while.”
Jax nodded. “Where is Ms. Paul being held?”
“County jail. She’ll be arraigned as soon as possible and then remanded somewhere else, unless she makes bail.”
“Thanks,” Jax said. He walked back to the trailer he shared with another stuntman, Jason Thompson. There was something about the situation that didn’t sit well with him. Nicole wasn’t overly friendly, but he’d never seen her looking at the jewelry some of the stars wore. In fact, Nicole seemed to care very little about the things that normally turned a woman’s head—jewelry, clothes, fancy cars, money. Now that he thought about it, she hadn’t shown interest in any of those things.
Something about the theft just didn’t jell.
He entered his trailer and took a bottle of cold water from the small refrigerator.
“Jason?” he called out.
“What?” His roommate came out of the back, his lean frame in cowboy boots, jeans and a button-down shirt. He was headed out on the town.
“What’s the story on Nicole Paul?” Jax asked.
“Not much story on her. She’s worked a few movie sets and done a fine job. She’s just breaking into the business. The story is her old man.”
“Her husband?”
“No, her father. He went up for some big jewelry heist back in the eighties. Seems like he was designing jewelry for all of the movie stars for the Academy Awards and some very important diamond disappeared.” Jason scratched his chin. “Yeah, it was some lavender diamond. They called it the Dream of Isis. It was supposed to be cursed or some such. Anyway, Nicole’s dad did some hard time over that jewel. I don’t think he’s been out of prison all that long. I hear he’s in poor health. Bad ticker.”
“Was the diamond ever found?” Jax asked.
“Nope. Not a hint of it. And Nicole’s old man— I think his name was Vincent—anyway, he never spoke of it again. At least that’s the gossip that blows over the set and you’d know it if you ever talked to any of the extras. It’s too bad for Nicole, though. Wherever she goes, someone resurrects that story about her dad.”
“What do you make of what happened