Excerpt
George Clooney leaned in closer and whispered in her ear. Droplets of water shimmered in his hair from the boat's spray flying up from the clear blue water. The bright, Italian sun was high in the sky and slanted across the right side of his face, highlighting one chiseled cheekbone and a perfect white smile. Helen rested her hand gently on his sculptured chest and smiled lovingly up at him. She thought she'd died and gone to heaven. How lucky could one woman be? Motoring on Lake Como with this gorgeous man on such a beautiful day. If only the seagulls would stop cawing. They were making so much noise; it was hard to hear what George said. Such a racket.
Helen awoke with a start, heart pounding, the image of George Clooney slowly fading away. Her phone rang in her ear. She reached for it, still half in her dream, reluctant to let it go.
"Hello?" She inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath.
"Helen, she's dead! She's been murdered."
"Jimmy?" Helen sat bolt upright, recognizing her friend's voice, the pleasant moments from her dream totally forgotten. "Is that you? What are you talking about? Who ... who's been murdered?" She eyed the clock on her bedside table. Three o'clock a.m., which meant it was midnight in Vegas. What the hell was going on?
"That Chapman woman."
Fully awake now, she heard the anxiety in Jimmy's voice loud and clear.
"Someone killed her ... right at the pool, this ... this afternoon ... at the party. They ... the police ... they've been questioning me." I had to tell them about her. How she won the magazine contest but didn't want to come. That we got her to agree ...." Jimmy's voice was rising and falling with each word. His anxiety was almost palpable, coming at her in waves over the phone.
"Are you at the police station? Are they holding you? Did you call Ben Hirschfield? He needs to be with you." Helen scrambled out of bed and searched for clothes. If Jimmy hadn't called his attorney, she'd do it.
"Ben's with me. We're not at the station. I'm back at the hotel. Jeez, what a nightmare."
"Listen to me. Give me ten minutes to get downstairs and make some coffee and I'll call you right back. Okay? Can you do that? Just wait until I get back to you. We'll figure this out."
"All right. Please hurry. This is bad, Helen, really bad."