Not Suspicious in Hollywood: Not in Hollywood Book 5

  Not Suspicious in Hollywood

  Leonie Gant

  Copyright ©2015 Leonie Gant

  All Rights Reserved

  License Statement

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favourite ebook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Sometimes you have a job that all logic tells you should really suck. I honestly thought my latest job would. Being the personal assistant to one of the hottest rock bands on the planet, five guys who had slept their way through a good proportion of the female population of three continents, should qualify as one of those jobs. Having part of my job description being to take care of the girls who made the questionable choice to partake of the delights of this particular group of guys, was not part of any career path that I had ever imagined myself on.

  In the last month I had discovered exactly how the backstage area of a rock band worked and it had been an eye opener. I thought after over a year working in Hollywood that I had been exposed to pretty much every deviant behavior that was out there. My current job proved to me that, despite my pretensions at sophistication, I was still a babe in the woods.

  After my initial week working for this band, for the first time in my career as a personal assistant to the most difficult clients, I had been ready to throw it in. I found the guys rude and more annoying than anyone that I had ever met. Considering my line of work, that was definitely saying something.

  At the end of that first week though, something magical happened. My boyfriend turned up to drive me home after a particularly long night watching these guys party. Detective Jake Griffin, who had been listening to me complain about the band for a week, put on his cold cop face to greet my newest clients. He put his hands on his hips, showing his badge and gun and stared the guys down. He couldn’t have marked his territory more clearly if he had peed around me.

  After that moment I became the sexless den mother figure to five overindulged and overpaid men in their twenties. All of a sudden my job became fun, because when these guys weren’t being chauvinistic, obnoxious jerks trying to get you into bed, they were a load of laughs. Seriously, if I didn’t know what they were like with women, I would have set them up with friends.

  My job usually requires me to deal with unusual situations. In this case I was hired by the recording company to keep an eye on the guys that make up Crispy Spider while they worked on their new album. I had previously worked with this particular recording company while dealing with one of their teenage pop brats. The pop star hated me with an absolute passion and had complained loudly and bitterly to his management about how I had ruined his fun. For some reason this now qualified me as an expert with dealing with the excesses in the music industry.

  The band was currently sequestered on a large property in Los Angeles where they were working on songwriting and recording. Being a new band the guys had quickly fallen into the rock star lifestyle and had become distracted from the business of making money. The record company wanted me to assist in guiding the guys back into the business side of their job and to try to avoid some of the scandals which had followed these gentlemen through the aforementioned three continents. My job was to try to manage the situations the band got themselves into and prevent them from ending up in the tabloids, or in jail.

  My job description had been laid out to me pretty clearly by my boss, Monique Petit, who owned the agency I worked for. She had even sent in my friend, Jorge, to work for security as back up if I needed it. Of course, Jorge was only going to be useful to me if he would stop laughing at the unfortunate predicament I had managed to find myself in.

  “Have you finished?” I asked.

  Jorge wiped the tears from his eyes. “Wasn’t today supposed to be your day off?”

  “Yes it was, and if you will help me, it still could be. I have a police function to go to with Griffin and I need you to help me so I can get there.”

  I could see Jorge was contemplating his next step. Admittedly, I had managed to find myself in a position which, even with my ability to get myself into unusual situations, was a little out there.

  I was used to the sometimes unique pets that celebrities had. Mostly they stuck with dogs that could fit in handbags, sometimes there were pigs and I had even had reptiles. The drummer of Crispy Spider had decided his life would only be complete if he had a goat. It wasn’t even a little baby goat with that level of cuteness that could make you forget that it was currently destroying a thirty thousand dollar leather couch. No, this was a full grown male goat with big horns and a bad temper. He had been in the house for less than half an hour and had already decided that he didn’t like me. I was assuming the reason for that was because I had walked into the living room, seen what he had decided was for breakfast, screeched at him and then tried to pull him off the couch. I was currently standing over him, with each leg on either side of the goat’s back, bending over with my arms wrapped around the goat’s chest, trying desperately to pull him away from the couch.

  “What do you want me to do?” asked Jorge. “I’m a city boy from LA. What do I know about goats? You’re the farm girl from Australia. Aren’t you an expert in these things?”

  “We have sheep at home. Sheep are gentle, dumb souls who will go where you lead them, usually. Goats are destructive forces of evil, only suited to wide open spaces. They should never be in a city, let alone inside a mansion. A pen has been set up outside. I need you to help me get this animal into the pen before it causes any more damage.”

  Jorge sighed in that way he had started to develop that told me that working with me was no longer such a special experience.

  “Tell me what to do.”

  “Okay,” I said, breathing a little heavily. “I want you to stand in front of the goat and hold his horns. Make sure you do it gently. Don’t be too rough.”

  I glanced up to find Jorge looking at me with another expression he had adopted around me lately. “Are you out of your mind?”

  I really didn’t know why I was copping this kind of attitude today.

  “Not as far as I’m aware,” I tried to keep a reasonable tone. “The goat needs to be moved and we need to be the ones to move him.”

  I understood that this would be considered an unusual situation for Jorge. I was trying to be patient. I really was. But I could feel the muscles
in the goat bunching up and his movements were becoming stronger. According to my estimation, I had a very short period of time before I was going to be in for a world of hurt.

  “Those horns look like they could do some damage.”

  “Of course they could do some damage.” I was beginning to get annoyed. “That’s generally what horns are for.”

  “I’m not really comfortable with the level that those horns are at.”

  I looked up to find Jorge had crossed his hands over his groin area.

  Jorge shook his head. “And I’m really not happy with the idea of me standing that closely to those horns or, for that matter, those teeth. I think it’s a workplace safety issue.”

  Jorge worked security for celebrities. I had never thought that workplace safety was a high priority for him. I would have argued the point but at that moment those bunched up muscles that had caused me some concern previously exploded into action. I wasn’t really sure what happened because the next thing I knew I was flat on my back looking up at a goat that I swear was laughing at me. Jorge had retreated behind a high back chair, protecting what was obviously most important to him.

  “You okay?” he called out, keeping a wary eye on the animal which seemed very proud of the way that it had demonstrated its dominance over me.

  “No. I’m not okay. That hurt.”

  Jorge did not make a move toward me and I recognized the fact that he had decided I needed to take care of myself in this situation. I rolled over on my front and raised myself onto my hands and knees. The goat bleated at me as if challenging me to take it on again. I really didn’t want to but everybody who had a job sometimes had to do things they didn’t want to do.

  “Got a new plan, cupcake?”

  I looked warily at the goat. “We need some rope.”

  Between the two of us, and with a great deal of colorful language that my mother would have been horrified to hear, we finally managed to get the goat outside and into its pen.

  “So the pen will hold it?” asked Jorge, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

  “Not a chance,” I replied.

  Despite my limited knowledge about goats, I had a feeling that this one was not going to stay confined unless it wanted to be.

  Jorge looked at me with surprise. “Then why did we just wrestle this thing all the way out here?” he asked.

  “We have limited choices,” I said. “Either we put it in this pen or we leave it in the house. Putting it in the pen gives us a chance to keep that walking disaster contained, at least temporarily.”

  “Don’t really have a high opinion of goats do you?” Jorge said.

  “Why ever not?” asked a voice from behind us.

  I turned around to find Vale, the drummer of Crispy Spider and new owner of the goat, standing behind us.

  “Exactly how long have you been watching us?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Long enough to regret not having a camera on me,” said Vale, smiling.

  Out of all the guys in the band, despite his appalling taste in pets, I had to admit that I liked Vale the most. He had a shy air about him, or as shy as a rock star could be.

  “You could have helped us,” I glared at him.

  “Where would the fun be in that?” he smiled.

  I gestured to the goat. “Well here he is. Have you come up with a name for him yet?”

  Vale nodded. “Buddy.”

  “After Buddy Rich, the jazz drummer,” I guessed.

  Vale looked impressed. “You know your drummers.”

  “Actually,” I said. “I know you. Believe it or not, I do research before I take on a job and I read an article where you said that your hero was Buddy Rich.”

  Vale leaned back against a pillar. “So, what else did you find out about me?” he asked.

  I smoothed down the creases in my pants which were now covered in goat hair. “According to your press you are a Casanova who breaks hearts everywhere you go. You have an anger management problem and the destruction that goat is going to cause is nothing compared to the destruction you have wrought in hotel rooms across the world.”

  Vale arched an eyebrow at me. “And what do you know about me?”

  “That maybe the press doesn’t have all the facts,” I said softly.

  Vale straightened up. “I think we’re going to miss you when you leave us,” he said before turning around and going back in the house.

  I looked up at Jorge to see an amused expression on his face.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I think that boyfriend of yours needs to keep a close eye on you,” he said.

  “Why?” I asked quizzically.

  “You seem to surprise people and they start thinking you’re delightful. This can lead to confusion in relationships.”

  I snorted. “Did you just use the term ‘delightful’?”

  If you took into account his size and how he scared people by just walking into the room, I had never expected to hear the word ‘delightful’ coming from him.

  Jorge looked at me sourly. “Go, have your day off. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. Maybe the goat will decide it likes you by then.”

  Considering the way that goat was looking at me, I didn’t think that was likely.

  Chapter Two

  Back at my apartment, I quickly divested myself of the goat infested clothing and had a quick shower. This was the first time that Griffin was taking me to one of the social events that the cops at the station sometimes held and I really wanted to make a good impression. While I was getting dressed I heard a key in my apartment door.

  “You ready?” called out Griffin.

  “Not yet,” I called back, trying to get my hair into some style which looked like I put some effort into it.

  Griffin came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my neck.

  “You look ready to me,” he said.

  I leaned back into him, enjoying the moment.

  “I don’t want to embarrass myself or you,” I murmured, my eyes suddenly unable to meet his in the mirror.

  I knew that pretty much all of the people that Griffin worked with were aware of my unfortunate habit of ending up at crime scenes. I also knew that cops being cops, he had been on the receiving end of quite a lot of ribbing from his coworkers, some of it good-natured, some of it not so much.

  Griffin turned me around and held my shoulders. He tipped my chin upwards until I was looking deeply into his beautiful green eyes.

  “I am proud to have you with me. I love you and I don’t care what the others say.” He touched his lips gently against mine.

  When he lifted his head I smiled back at him.

  “What are they saying about me?” I asked.

  Griffin rolled his eyes and turned me back to the mirror.

  “Finish getting ready. We’re going to be late.”

  I was still not feeling comfortable when Griffin and I arrived at the barbecue. I knew it was something that cops did, getting together to wind down after some tough times. I just wasn’t sure why I had to go.

  “Relax.” Griffin put his hand on my knee and squeezed. “You’ve met most of the people you are going to be seeing today.”

  “At crime scenes,” I bit out.

  I had no illusions about my reputation for discovering dead bodies. Jorge was only too pleased to inform me that the main reason he was the only security person that Monique could get to work with me was because the others were too scared. Griffin’s partner, Detective Liza Ramos, was also quite willing to inform me of the stories that made their way around the station. My notoriety and Griffin’s willingness to still keep seeing me despite the perceived increased risk of death, did only good things for his reputation.

  “You’ll be fine,” Griffin assured me.

  I wished I had his confidence. Even with Griffin standing next to me with his arm flung carelessly around my shoulder, I still felt self-conscious.

  “You remember Lieutenant Ellis, don’t you,
Trudie?” asked Griffin.

  I nodded but the lieutenant had that expression which meant that he had no idea who I was. Fortunately, Griffin saw that too.

  “Lieutenant, this is my girlfriend, Trudie. She helped us on the Eleanor Channing case.”

  Of course that was a nice way of saying it. The truth was a little more colorful. It included me being blackmailed for my help when Griffin threatened to have me deported after I accidentally elbowed him in the face. If I thought about it too hard it was a rather worrying start to a relationship.

  Recognition bloomed on the lieutenant’s face but I should have realized that it wasn’t for me.

  “I remember you,” he said, smiling. “Interesting case that one.”

  He paused for a moment and I knew where he was going next.

  “Your boss,” mentioned the lieutenant with that glazed look in his eyes that I was used to seeing when men were talking about Monique. “Lovely woman.”

  “Yes,” I nodded. “Her husband definitely thinks so.”

  And there was that crestfallen look again. Sometimes it felt like I was kicking puppies when I broke these men’s hearts.

  “She’s married?” he asked, vainly hoping he had misheard me.

  I nodded again. “Yes, to Reggie Goodman, the lawyer that was with us in the office that day.”

  “Who?”

  Griffin’s lieutenant looked perplexed and in some ways I couldn’t blame him. When Monique was in the room she seemed to pull all the attention towards her. The rest of us mere mortals were ignored. I was used to it.

  Lieutenant Ellis wandered off, his shoulders slumped as if the light had been sucked out of his life.

  “You had to break his heart, didn’t you?” murmured Griffin.

  I snorted. “Monique would have chewed him up and spit him out. The only man alive who can handle her is the one she is married to.”

  “True,” said Griffin.

  “So, Griffin, you finally decided to bring her,” said a voice from behind us.

  Aah, I knew those dulcet tones.

  “Detective Ramos,” I said as I turned around. “Always a pleasure.”