“No.”
“Have you ever been involved with a noncelebrity?”
“Not really.”
“Not sexually?” I feel guilty for probing her sex life. It’s not strictly necessary…but it also can’t hurt to be thorough, right?
Fuck, I’m rationalizing and I know it.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“So you can’t think of a former ex who might want you gone?”
“None of those relationships were very serious. We’d meet at a music festival, pose for a few pictures at a party or a restaurant, and be seen together at an awards ceremony. I mean, sure, we tried to make a personal life work, but when you’re recording and on the road and constantly busy, trying to find time to be with your significant someone who has the same challenges is next to impossible.”
It both makes sense and sounds lonely. It also narrows my list of potential suspects. “What about your current squeeze? That British guy… Graham What’s-His-Name?”
“Normoth. No.” She bites her lip. When she releases it, the plumpest part of her mouth goes from pink to rosy red. It tempts the fuck out of me.
She tempts the fuck out of me.
I take a deep breath and force myself to focus on what she’s saying. “No…you don’t think it’s him?”
“I don’t. And he’s not my squeeze.”
Now she’s lying. “There were pictures of you in People kissing him two weeks ago with the caption that you’re planning to buy a house together. Try again.”
“I’m serious. The relationship is all for show. We have the same agent. He’s coming off a hot tour and his first album was a bestseller. I’ve been lying low and recording for months, gearing up for a tour. Dating me gives him the appearance of being established. Dating him gives me the appearance of still being hip and hot and right-now. But we’ve never…” She shakes her head. “He’s not interested.”
“Gay?”
“No. He likes women. A lot. I’ve seen it…but he’s, um, got a thing about cougars. I’m only twenty-four.”
It’s not funny, per se. But it makes me laugh.
“I’m serious,” she insists. “He says I don’t have enough ‘mileage’ and I don’t know what I want yet.”
“Out of a relationship?”
“Out of sex. He likes a woman who knows her way between the sheets.”
“And that’s not you?”
Sophie clams up. “Can we focus on who might want to kill me? It’s not Graham.”
It doesn’t sound as if he fits the mold. “Who are the other people in your life?”
“I have an assistant, but Tania just had a baby, so she’s back in Cali with her husband and her mom. And my best friend.” She winces. “Kristi is going to be pissed I haven’t called to tell her I’m okay.”
“Is she in LA, too?”
“No. Frisco.”
“San Francisco?”
She shakes her head. “Texas. You know, not far from the giant IKEA store? We were supposed to get together tonight. Can I call her?”
No doubt my apology is all over my face before I say the words. “It would be better if we waited long enough to home in on who would want you dead. Kristi doesn’t have a jealousy problem?”
“God, no. She’s so shy the one time I tried to drag her up on the stage with me, she ran off puking. She wouldn’t want my life. And she wouldn’t want me dead.”
Another dead end. “Who gets your money if you’re gone?”
“I provided a flat amount for my mother that would make her happy. The rest goes to various charities I feel passionate about.”
In other words, seemingly no one is motivated to off her for cash. “Can you think of anyone you’ve pissed off? Tell me more about your relationship with David.”
“It’s fine. He’s one of the best, and he’s taken my career to another level since I hired him four years ago. I consider him a friend. Hell, I was one of his attendants when he married his husband, Allen, last year. They’re lovely.”
And I’m frustrated. “There’s someone out there who—”
A knock on the door interrupts me. Sophie stiffens as I grab my weapon with one hand and gesture her to the back bedroom with the other. I don’t want anyone seeing her.
But it’s just the kid delivering pizza, happy for the tip I give him and the cool air conditioning wafting his way from the cottage.
Less than a minute later, Sophie and I are opening the piping-hot pizza and the fizzy soda and digging in. It’s decent. Or maybe I think that because I’m hungry. But I lose my appetite for food quicker than I should when I hear Sophie moaning with every little bite.
“It would be better if you didn’t do that.”
She looks perplexed. “Do what?”
“Moan while you eat.”
“It’s a bad habit I have whenever I eat something I love. If you think this is bad, you should hear me with white chocolate truffles.” She cocks her head. “Does it bother you?”