I’d given up trying to develop an excuse to get to Neil’s ex-partner, Ed, to talk to me. I couldn’t fabricate a convincing story, and I had nothing to use as leverage. The fact was I had nothing, not one damn thing that would stand up in court. All I had were guesses and the testimony of an admitted liar. Given that, Ed only owned the site someone used to contact Vanesa. There wasn’t one shred of evidence connecting Ed to the rumors or Vanesa.

I’d decided to begin there, so I was trying to link Ed and Vanesa. If I could make that connection, that would give me something to use as a foundation in building evidence against Ed. I was starting with the time-honored technique of stalking him. I was parked outside Harnette LLC, well away from the door but where I had a clear line of sight, and waited for Edward K. Harnette to appear. I was going to snap a few photos and talk to Vanesa after. If she identified Ed as the man she spoke with, I’d have my connection. The problem was, I may have burned that bridge. I’m sure Vanesa was less than thrilled with me, but there was nothing I could do about that now.

I picked up my phone and sent Neil a text, just to have something to do. Bored, I typed and pressed send. I didn’t expect an immediate answer, and didn’t get one.

Neil’s life was returning to normal. His clients had returned, save Amity Dymunde. Once I busted Ed for the rumors, maybe he’d even get her back. I thought it funny that the only two clients who had stood steadfast with Neil through this was that nasty old coot, Rob Thistle, and the former pornographer, Bill Carlyle. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised given their reputations. I still didn’t like Rob’s attitude or Bill’s profession, but I’d softened toward them considerably because of their support for Neil.

I sighed as I watched the door leading into Harnette. Harnette LLC was a small company operating out of a unit in a strip mall. The waiting for something to happen was the second worst part of my job, but at least it didn’t make me want to cry.

To pass the time, I thought about the game Neil and I had played last night. I smiled in memory. I’d read about the game in a magazine some time back, about how it was a good introduction to bondage because nobody was bound. I had no interest in bondage, but the article had popped into my mind when he was pulling his shirt over his head to join me in the tub. Seeing his muscular body pulled taut, the sinews and muscles rippling under his skin as they were stretched tight, turned me on like nothing else. I’d noticed it during our first night together, during our second romp when he’d reached over his head to push against the headboard as I rode him, and I wanted to see more of it. I wanted to see him really straining at something as I fucked the shit out of him.

I hadn’t been disappointed. I honestly thought he would throw in the towel and let go before I could work myself up to a second orgasm, but the strength of his will had surprised me. Watching him strain against the hanger, his muscles bulging and writhing, his face twisted in erotic pain as he fought his orgasm, had turned me on so much I’d come again even though I hadn’t expected too. My orgasm was a bonus, but having him break the hanger before giving up, along with his cries of defiance and pleasure, and then holding me tight while he bucked and jerked, muttering and whimpering into my shoulder, had been intoxicating. We’d snuggled a bit after that, but not for long before he wrapped me in his arms, warm and secure, and we’d tumbled into the darkness of sleep. We were fucking ourselves to exhaustion, and it was wonderful.

As I dressed this morning, I’d taken another hanger like the one he’d broken the night before and tested its strength. If I put it on the floor and used my foot to hold it down as I pulled up with all my strength, I might be able to break it, but it was a quality hanger and I had no hope of breaking it with only upper body strength. To do what he did, Neil had to be incredibly strong, but he was also gentle. Even when he was tossing me around in the bed, I never felt like I was in danger of being hurt. In fact, he manhandled me so easily as if it wasn’t any effort at all; I felt perfectly safe with him supporting me or throwing me around. Before that night, I hadn’t realized I liked being gently dominated, but when I was in the mood for it, and Neil was the one dominating me, I did.

I leaned my head back against the seat. Thinking about him was getting me worked up, but we were going to have to take a break tonight. Even if I ended up spending the night with him, he was going to have to keep his cock out of me. I’d been too long out of practice and certain muscles and fleshy areas of my body that hadn’t been getting regular workouts were sore. I smiled to myself. No matter. If Neil and I continued our relationship, we’d whip them into shape in no time. This was an exercise regime I could get into.

I glanced at the clock on my phone. It was nearly eleven, and I’d been sitting in my rented Camry for over four hours. Either Ed came in early, came in late, or didn’t work in his office every day, like me. It wasn’t unusual for me to go two or three days without setting foot in my office. I smiled as I imagined someone stalking me like I was stalking Ed, sitting outside my office thinking, Where the fuck is she?

I picked up my phone again and began to type a text to Neil. Why don’t you join me for dinner at my place tonight? 7:00? I’ll cook. Bring clothes if you want to spend the night. I pressed send. Another sixty seconds had passed as I typed. I tossed the phone back into the seat with a sigh.

I was almost praying for a junk email or a wrong number when my phone chimed. I picked it up and felt a little rush of excitement seeing a text was waiting. I opened the text and smiled. How can you be bored? You’re easily the most exciting woman I’ve ever met.

I started to reply, thrilled to have something to do and someone to talk to, when my phone chimed with the arrival of another text. Love to. See you there.

I thought a moment and typed. I’m only exciting because you make me that way.

Tosh! Last night wasn’t my idea. I never knew a clothes hanger could be so damned sexy. See? You make even clothes hangers exciting.

I giggled to myself in the empty car. Not only was Neil terrific in bed, a pleasure to look at, a masterful chef, and fun to talk to, he was also great for my ego. As I was thinking of a reply, the idea of cooking for Neil suddenly terrified me. I typically made tasty, hearty, easy to prepare dishes that made a lot so I’d have them for leftovers. He would likely turn his nose up at them as they were probably loaded with fat and calories. I glanced up to make sure Harnette wasn’t around, and then turned my attention back to my phone.

I didn’t spend a lot of time playing with my phone when surveilling some place. It was a distraction that could cause me to miss the very thing I was looking for. I spent a couple of minutes looking for healthy recipes, but I was afraid I was spending too much time looking down, so I tossed the phone back into the passenger seat. I’d have to do it later.

Nearly another hour passed before I saw a portly man walking with a fast food bag and a drink. He had the same general build as Ed, so I lifted my camera, using the long zoom lens for a better look. It was him. I snapped a couple pictures, but I really needed one of more than the side of his face. I used the old standby. Using my elbow, I laid on the car horn while my hands were busy with the camera, causing Ed to turn to look for the location of the sound. I snapped three nice ones of his face before pulling the camera down.

“Gotcha!” I muttered.

I put my camera back into my PI bag and pulled out my computer. The memory card came out of the camera, and three minutes later, I had Ed’s face ready for Vanesa to see. I hooked up my phone and searched the internet, then downloaded four pictures of random men who were similar in appearance to Ed. Once finished, I closed my computer and started my car. Now came the hard part.

Harnette LLC and Vanesa’s house were on opposites sides of the greater Los Angeles metroplex, and I spent over an hour driving from Burbank to Santa Ana. I didn’t call Vanesa to tell her I was coming because I didn’t want her dodging me. I’d start with her work, and if I didn’t find her there, I’d try her house.

I walked into Tip-Top, computer in hand, but instead of Vanesa there was an older, massively overweight woman sitting behind the counter. “Welcome to Tip-Top, may I help you?” she asked with a welcoming, if false, smile.

“I’m looking for Vanesa Pierce. She here today?”

The woman’s face pinched like she’d bitten into a lemon. “She no longer works here. You a reporter?”

“What happened?”

“You haven’t heard? She tried to sue some guy for sexual assault and it turned out to be a lie.”

I shook my head. “I knew that. But why did she lose her job?”

“There were news crews parked out front wanting to talk to her. It was scaring off the customers, so I fired her. You a reporter, a lawyer?” she asked again.

“No. Thank you for your time,” I said before I turned to leave.

As I settled into my car I felt a little bad for Vanesa, but only a little. She’d brought this on herself. I drove to her house. According to the DMV, she drove a 1999 bronze Toyota Corolla, and there was a battered little Corolla that some might call bronze sitting in the drive. I pulled to a stop in the street and stepped out, my computer under my arm. I walked up the drive and rapped on her door. After a moment she opened it, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

“You!” she snarled. “You’ve a lot of nerve coming here! Get lost!”

She started to shut the door, but I put my foot in the jamb. “Ms. Pierce, I just need a minute of your time.”

“Move your fucking foot before I call the cops!”

I moved my foot. “Don’t you want to try to make this right?”

“Why the fuck do you care? You ruined my life! I’ve lost my job and the television stations won’t leave me alone. You lied to me!”

“I did,” I admitted. “Don’t you want to stick it to the man that started all this?” I asked, giving her a target for her wrath. “He’s the one that put you in this situation,” I suggested, even though it was total bullshit. She knew what she was doing when she agreed to try to set Neil up, but sometimes people couldn’t admit they were wrong, so I was giving her someone to blame.

“How?”

“May I come in?”

She glared at me a moment, stepped back, and opened the door. I stepped in and handed her one of my business cards. She glanced at it and then stared at me.

“Neil Gibson hired me to get to the bottom of the rumors. I’ve been working this case for more than a month, since before you came into the picture. I think the man that suckered you is the same man spreading the rumors.”

“You mean the rumors aren’t true, either?” She fell onto the couch with a sigh.

I shook my head. “I’ve talked to everyone I can find that works with or knows Mr. Gibson, and to a person, every one of them said he’s an upstanding guy.”

“Fuck,” Vanesa muttered as she leaned her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. “I’m such a fuck-up.”

“You want to try to make this right? Do the right thing and help me nail this bastard.”

“I just want it all to end.”

“This will help. If I can prove Ed Harnette is behind all this, the media might go after him and forget about you. You’ll become another victim in his scheme instead of the star.” I was laying it on with a trowel, but I needed her cooperation.

She looked at me with hopeful eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

“Look at some pictures.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. After this I won’t bother you anymore.”

She heaved out a heavy sigh before she sat up. “Let me see.”

I sat down beside her, shoved aside some magazines and glasses to make a spot for my computer on the table in front of the couch, and opened it. When it was ready, I opened the photo viewer.

“Tell me if any of these men are the man that hired you.”

“No,” she said on the first guy. I changed the picture to the second. “No.” The third picture appeared. “That’s him.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Look at these last two to be sure.”

“No,” she said when the fourth photo appeared on the screen.

“Last one,” I said as I clicked on the file.

“No. The third guy, that was him, I’m sure of it.”

I smiled. She’d nailed Harnette the first time. “Will you testify to that in court?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t want any more trouble. I just want my life back. I’ve done what you asked. I looked at your pictures, now just go.”

“Will you agree to a deposition, at least?”

Again she shook her head. “I don’t want any more trouble,” she repeated.

I pursed my lips in annoyance. She’d confirmed I was on the right track, and if Neil sued, his legal team could compel her to testify, but that was dangerous. She could retract her statement and leave us twisting in the wind. I had to find another way, but at least she’d confirmed I was onto something.

“Fine. You have my card. If you change your mind, call me.”

“I won’t.”

No, you probably won’t, I thought to myself as I snapped my laptop closed and stood. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Pierce. I can see myself out.”

I drove home, thinking over my options. Assuming Vanesa didn’t chicken out and change her story, we had enough to get Ed for coercion. I didn’t know what Ed was after, but he was clearly angling for something, and it started with ruining Neil’s name. I didn’t know the game, and I didn’t know if Vanesa was the second move or was simply an extension of the rumors. If the rumors weren’t having the desired effect, maybe Ed was upping the pressure, but it could also be that the rumors were setting the playing field for Vanesa’s play.

The sexual assault case brought by Vanesa didn’t feel right as the end game, not if Ed told her she could keep whatever she won. If he’d wanted her to split the winnings with him, maybe, but not like this.

There was more to the story than I knew, but I’d certainly screwed up Ed’s plans by knocking Vanesa’s story down so quickly.

By the time I reached home, I’d convinced myself that Vanesa was the second act of a multi-act play. I was going to recommend to Neil that I keep digging. This wasn’t over and a payout to Vanesa wasn’t the goal.

I hurried into my house and changed out of my suit into something more comfortable, jeans and a less formal blouse. I dug in my fridge and came up with hamburger and a pork loin. I decided on pork because I was afraid Neil would have a heart attack over hamburger.

Ten minutes of flipping through recipes on the internet uncovered many delicious, low calorie dishes, but the only one I had the ingredients on hand for was Orange-Teriyaki Pork Medallions. I was going to have to do a little substituting for ingredients, packaged orange juice instead of fresh squeezed, for example, but I could make it work.

I was putting the two boil-in-the-bag brown rice packages into the water when my doorbell buzzed. I gave the pork one more quick stir, wiped my hands, and hurried to the door, my face breaking into an involuntary smile as I did.