Almost a half hour had passed since I’d placed the ad, so I decided to check my email. I didn’t expect to have any responses, and I knew I was being obsessive. But when I checked my email, I had three responses to the ad. One was a request for more pictures; the second for an appointment later in the week; the last wanted an appointment that same afternoon.
I ignored the request for more pictures. Went ahead and agreed via email to the appointment later in the week. We’d work out the details later. Then, I took a deep breath and sent my phone number to [email protected]. I wasn’t ready and knew it. But the possibility that I might have already snagged Eddie’s killer was too much to pass up.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Chapter Sixteen
Houses in the Hollywood Hills are typically built on tiny, misshapen lots that rise and fall at alarming inclines. They’re built crammed together, sometimes just a few feet apart. They cling to their hill, rising one level on top of another. So it was a surprise when I reached Tomahawk Lane and found that db4162’s house was a two-story Spanish mansion sitting on more than an acre of well-landscaped lawn.
He’d sounded nice enough over the phone. “Is this Zeus?” he’d asked.
“Yes, it is,” I replied.
“Your mother must have enjoyed the classics,” he said, with just a touch of snideness.
“She was well read,” I said dryly. Sort of imitating my friend Peter.
This made him laugh. When he stopped, he asked, “So, you’re available this afternoon around three o’clock?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of massage is it?” he asked.
Every single kind of massage I’d ever heard of instantly flew out of my head. “It’s a mixture really. Erotic mostly.” I giggled, in what I hoped was a flirtatious manner. Apparently, he wasn’t all that picky about what type of massage he had because he gave me his address and began to explain the directions.
I stopped him, saying, “It’s okay. I have GPS on my phone.”
Walking up to the house, I was nervous. I tried to reassure myself. It wasn’t like I had to get an erection myself. All I had to do was get naked, rub the guy for the better part of an hour and then jerk him off. It was simple. I’d find a way to manage it. And if this was Eddie’s killer, the boning knife was in my gym bag, wrapped in a towel underneath a plastic bottle of Intensive Care Lotion with Aloe, an old set of jersey sheets, a couple of wash rags, and my first iPod, the one that was too big for the gym.
When db4162 let me in, I recognized him immediately. He was David Barker, head of Lovetime TV. His picture was constantly in the trades. In his early fifties, he was more than well preserved. He was pampered, tanned, and groomed to within an inch of his life. He probably had a trainer who came everyday and a cook who made sure he never noticed how low cal his meals actually were.
His hair was a close-cropped deep brown -- if it was dyed, it was done so well I couldn’t tell. His eyes were an almost turquoise blue (possibly contacts) and his teeth an unnatural bright white. His toned body was lean and angular. With an obvious sense of the dramatic, he’d opened the door naked. He didn’t have a tan line.
“Zeus! I’m so glad you could make it.” He smiled. I suspected it was a smile that had been getting him what he wanted most of his life. “Come on in. Would you like some water?”
I declined the water and asked, “Where would you like me to set up?”
“Out by the pool, under the lanai. It’s wonderful in the afternoon.” He aimed me through the enormous living room, then said, “I have to finish up a call. Then I’ll be right out.”
As he left the room, he made sure I got a good view of his remarkably well-shaped ass. I exhaled. It wasn’t going to be too bad. David Barker was an attractive man. It wouldn’t be difficult to earn my money today. Unless, of course, he turned out to be the guy who’d killed Eddie.
I dragged Eddie’s table out to the lanai. I was glad David wasn’t there to see how awkward I was setting up the table. Apparently, the practicing I’d done hadn’t helped. When I finally got the table up, I opened my gym bag and took out the sheet. It was queen-sized, so I had to fold it three times to get it to fit the table without draping down to the floor.
From my bag, I pulled out the lotion and in the process managed to drag out the boning knife with it. It hit the cement with a clang. Quickly, I snatched it up and got it back into the bag. I decided, though, that I should put the bag under the table. That way if it turned out I needed the knife, it would be very close by. I’d just finished sliding the bag under the massage table when David came out to the lanai. Rather dramatically, he said, “I’m disappointed.”
“Um...why?” I asked. Had he decided he didn’t want me and I’d have to leave? God, that was a humiliating thought.
“You’re still wearing clothes.”
“Oh.” Suddenly, I was shy. I’d dressed very carefully in a pair of drawstring pants that had been Jeremy’s and a T-shirt with an extra deep V-neck. I’d actually chosen the outfit for ease of removal, but now I hesitated.
“You’re not going to make me stand here naked all alone are you?”
I pulled the T-shirt over my head and dropped it onto the patio. I stepped out of
