“You got any idea why anyone would threaten Jill Joyce, want to kill her?”
“Somebody tried to kill her?”
“Somebody killed her stunt double. Whether it was a mistake or a warning, none of-us know.”
“I wouldn’t want her to get hurt,” Pomeroy said.
“Lot of people would, I think. I don’t know what she was in San Diego twenty-five years ago, but she’s turned into a high-octane pain in the ass since.”
Pomeroy didn’t say anything. We turned away from the swale and walked back through the woods, the dogs coursing ahead of us, one or another of them looking back over its shoulder now and then to be sure we were there.
“Took your damned sweet time,” Phillips said when we got there.
“Boy, that police training,” I said. “You don’t miss a trick.”
Chapter 18
HAWK sat in perfect repose on the wide window sill in Salzman’s office, with the winter landscape behind him. He had on a white shirt and black jeans and black cowboy boots and a black leather shoulder holster containing a pearl-handled, chrome-plated .44 mag, excellent against low-flying aircraft. Salzman was at his desk. Jill was on the couch, her legs tucked demurely under her, a bright plaid skirt tucked around her knees. I was pacing.
“You tell me you don’t know Rojack,” I said. “I go out there and find out you do. You tell me you never heard of Wilfred Pomeroy. I go out there and he tells me you’re married.”
“Man’s a liar,” Jill said serenely. “I never have heard of him.”
“He tells me that you never got a divorce.”
“I did too,” Jill said. “I told you he’s a liar.”
Hawk smiled from the window sill, like a man appreciating a funny remark.
“If you had told me the truth you’d have saved me a couple of days’ driving and talking.”
“Sandy,” Jill said, “are you going to let him treat me this way?”
“He’s trying to help you, Jilly, like we all are.”
“The hell he is,” Jill said. “He’s trying to dig up a lot of dirt from my past and make something out of it.”
“Like sense,” I said.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he was really working for one of those shows,” she said. She glanced at Hawk.
“Geraldo Spenser,” Hawk said.
“Don’t be fooled,” I said, “by my good looks. I’m just a simple gumshoe.”
“Simple snoop,” Jill said. She was warming to her role. She’d decided her motivation and had a real handle on her character. “I hired you to protect me, not to snoop around looking for cruddy gossip.”
“That’s a tautology,” I said.
“Whaat?” Jill said. She cocked her head a little and her eyelashes nearly fluttered. Cute was what she did when she didn’t understand something.
“All gossip is cruddy,” Hawk said.
“I don’t care,” Jill said. “I don’t want him around; get rid of him. Hawk will protect me.”
“Nope,” Hawk said.
Jill’s head swiveled toward him and there was real alarm in her face.
“No?”
“I work for him.” Hawk nodded toward me. “He go, I go.”
“You work for me,” Jill said.
Hawk smiled pleasantly and shook his head. Jill looked back at me and then to Hawk.
“You don’t mean that, Hawk,” she said. She moved her body a little on the couch and waited for Hawk to bark. He didn’t.
“Jill…” Sandy said.
“You fucking men.” Jill’s face was red. “You’re good for one thing. All I deal with is men, I got no one to trust, no one to talk to, no one who gives a shit about me.” Tears started down her face. “I want them gone, off this set, out of here. Now. Goddamned…”
Salzman got up and walked around his desk. “Jilly,” he said and put an arm around her shoulder. “Jilly, come on. We’ll work this out. You work so hard, you’re tired.” He patted her shoulder. She leaned her head against his hip. “Jilly, take a break. Here, I’ll get Molly to walk over to your trailer with you. Come on.”
He eased Jill to her feet and with an arm around her edged her to the door.
“Oh, Sandy,” Jill was sniffling. “Oh, Sandy, sometimes I feel so alone.”
“You’re a star, honey. It happens to stars. But I’m here for you, all of us are.”
“Not those two bastards,” Jill said.
