Page 9 of The Other Lady Vanishes

“I told you, things are more complicated than they first appeared,” Paxton said. “But I’ve got a new plan. I can’t carry it out alone, though. I need your help. You’ll have to come to Burning Cove.”

Gill glanced at the wall clock. “It’s a three-hour drive. I can be there early this evening. Make a reservation for me at a hotel.”

“I’d suggest the Burning Cove Hotel. That’s where I’m staying. But under the circumstances I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to be seen together. I’ll find a smaller, more secluded place for you to stay.”

“All right.”

Gill tossed the receiver back into the cradle. He would probably end up at a cheap auto court that wouldn’t have room service or decent plumbing.

Paxton, on the other hand, was staying at the Burning Cove, a legendary hotel that catered to the rich and famous. Not only that, he wasfucking Vera Westlake, the actress the press had dubbed the most beautiful woman in Hollywood.

Somehow, Paxton always seemed to get the better end of every deal they had ever done together.

Gill glanced at his watch. Time to go home and pack. But first he had to come up with a reasonable excuse to give to his staff to explain his absence.

Once again he found himself wondering whether Ormsby’s death truly had been the result of an accident. But what other explanation could there be? Paxton had no reason to kill the chemist who concocted the drugs.

Chapter 4

Calvin Paxton tossed the phone down onto the cradle. Gill was a problem. Eventually he would have to be removed, but Patient B was a higher priority at the moment.

He crossed the villa’s living room to where the French doors stood open. He looked out at the private patio where the most beautiful woman in Hollywood was reclining on a shaded lounger.

Vera Westlake was studying a script with an earnest air. A bottle of Dr. Paxton’s Diet Tonic stood on the table beside the lounger. A glass of ice sat next to it.

Vera was not staying at the Burning Cove Hotel. She had just dropped by to spend the afternoon with him. Her studio had rented a private villa in another part of town for her. Vera’s public image was that of an aloof, untouchable star who longed for privacy. Her publicist had determined that to maintain the impression, she should not stay at one of the most famous hotels in California.

Although celebrities claimed they came to the exclusive Burning Cove Hotel to escape the demands of Hollywood, the truth was theychose the hotel precisely because of its reputation as a celebrity enclave. Their publicists made certain that they were photographed arriving and departing through the ornate front gates. On the grounds they were always highly visible poolside or in the bar. The guest villas, like the one Paxton was staying in, provided temporary sanctuary because they included private, enclosed patios. Vera was protected while she was visiting him, but when she left she would walk through the elegant Spanish-colonial-revival-style lobby. She would draw the attention of anyone who was in the vicinity. Her driver would whisk her out through the grand front gates where the photographers and reporters lurked, cameras at the ready. Vera’s publicist would make certain of it. Nothing sold the gossip magazines like photos of the most beautiful woman in Hollywood trying to evade the press.

He gave himself a moment to admire the stunning sight of Vera on the lounger. She wore a pair of green shorts with narrow cuffs that showed off her long, elegant legs. The halter top matched the shorts. A wide-brimmed sun hat protected her lovely face from the warm California sun.

Paxton smiled to himself. He had come a long way from the small farm town where he’d grown up. These days he not only partied with the stars, he was fucking the most beautiful woman in Hollywood. Her first film,Dark Road, had made her an overnight sensation. The studio had moved quickly after that hit, casting Vera as the lead in two more films. The most recent one,Lady in the Shadows, had been out for only two months, and she was scheduled to start shooting her fourth picture in a few weeks.

Not only was she making money for her studio, she was pulling in a lot of cash for him. He made sure that, as often as possible, the cameras caught her with a bottle of Dr. Paxton’s Diet Tonic in her hand.

Vera noticed him and looked up with a concerned expression. Not for the first time he marveled that her beautiful brown eyes—eyes thatcould reflect any emotion that a director demanded for the camera—had such a remarkably vapid quality in real life.

“Did you solve your business problem?” she asked.

She had the voice to go with the face—warm, husky, sensuous. It was a voice that thrilled audiences from coast to coast.

“I think so.” He walked forward and sat down on the lounger adjacent to Vera’s. “The bottling plant is overwhelmed. I’m going to have to expand the facility. I told the manager to go ahead and have the architect draw up the plans.”

“That means that business is good, doesn’t it?”

He chuckled. “Business is excellent, thanks to you, sweetheart.”

“After all you’ve done for me, I’m just glad I can do something for you, darling.”

The press often speculated about why Vera was not romantically linked with one of Hollywood’s leading men. But Paxton understood. Liaisons between powerful stars were fraught. The two people involved in such a relationship were fundamentally rivals, after all. They competed for the same publicity opportunities—the covers of the gossip magazines and the front pages of the nation’s newspapers.

Career jealousy was an ever-present acid that ate away any hope of a long-lasting relationship. Hollywood was a jungle, Paxton reflected. Only those who were willing to claw their way to the top stood a chance of survival. Love and friendship were the first casualties along the way.

But unlike a leading man, he was not a direct career threat, Paxton thought. Vera felt safe with him. He had done a very good job of convincing her that she needed him in order to feel emotionally secure.

In a few years her looks would start to fade, of course. The press would bestow the title of the most beautiful woman in Hollywood on another, younger actress. He would no longer have any use for her. But for now she trusted him. He was her closest confidant. That made her very useful, indeed.

There was another bonus for him in the relationship. He got an amazing erection every time he thought about the fact that he was the man who was fucking the most beautiful woman in Hollywood.

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