The Next To Die Part 3

According to rumor, Leigh was a gay-or at least bis.e.xual. Dayle didn't take much stock in the grapevine-after all, they were wrong about her. But Leigh never refuted the gossip, and the s.e.xual energy she exuded seemed to spill beyond all boundaries-including gender.

Dayle felt a little silly for even wondering. But Leigh seemed to have been flirting with her from the other side of that stage.

"Pardon me, Ms. Sutton?"

Dayle turned and smiled at the a.s.sistant, who-close up-appeared about fifty years old. She was so professionally perky, she could have been an Avon saleswoman. The woman wore jeans and a violet pullover that didn't quite camouflage her weight problem. "Are you Estelle?" Dayle asked.

"Why, yes, h.e.l.lo. It's a pleasure to meet you. I have a message from Leigh." She handed Dayle a sheet of paper. "She's a huge fan of yours."

Dayle stole another glance at Leigh, who was whipping the crowd into a fever. Then she read the note, hastily scribbled by Leigh herself: Dear Dayle,What a wonderful tribute to Tony! Thank you so much. Can we get together tonight? Please say yes. I'm in room 1108-same hotel as you. 10:30? I love you, girl!

Dayle let out a little laugh. "Sure," she said to Estelle Collier. "Tell Leigh that I'd love to get together with her."

Both Leigh and Dayle had been booked into the Imperial Hotel, the same place Tony Katz had stayed the week he was killed. The Imperial had received their share of bomb threats too, and they'd tightened security at the hotel this evening. Dayle's suite was on the twentieth floor.

For her date with Leigh, she'd changed her clothes several times, and finally decided on a pair of black stirrup pants and a dark green silk blouse. Like most women, she dressed for other women. In this case, she didn't want to be too alluring. Leigh's s.e.xuality shouldn't have been an issue. But maybe Leigh was expecting more than a friendly chat tonight. Dayle hoped she wouldn't have to dodge a pa.s.s. She'd rejected enough s.e.xual advances in her day, from both genders; that wasn't a problem. But she admired Leigh Simone, and didn't want to brave that kind of awkward situation with her.

Dayle was at the dresser mirror, brus.h.i.+ng her hair when the phone rang. She grabbed the receiver. "h.e.l.lo?"

"h.e.l.lo, Dayle?" Leigh must have been at a party or in a bar, Dayle heard talking and laughter in the background.

"Yes, hi. Leigh? Where are you calling from?"

"My suite, believe it or not," Leigh said. "The only person I wanted to see tonight was you, and it's wall-to-wall people here. Don't ask me how, but this whole thing got out of control. Are you in a party mood?"

Dayle frowned. "Um, not really. But thank you anyway-"

"No, no, no. Don't thank me 'anyway' yet. I'm not in a party mood either. Could I come up? I figure I can sneak out of this circus in about a half hour. Is that okay? Do you mind meeting in your suite?"

"No, Leigh. I don't mind at all."

"Okay, I'll see you in a bit. I can't wait!" Leigh made a kissing sound, then hung up.

With Leigh arriving soon, Dayle began to straighten what little mess she'd made in her suite. She cleared some paperwork and clothes off the couch, then called room service and ordered champagne.

She'd just hung up the phone when someone knocked on her door. Dayle checked the peephole. Leigh Simone appeared nervous and tense. She rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, and started to knock again.

Dayle opened the door. "Well, h.e.l.lo, Ms. Simone! At last, we meet."

Leigh seemed taller in person. This close, Dayle couldn't help noticing the pale olive color of her eyes. Leigh wore black capri pants, fancy gold slippers, and a tuxedo blouse. She stood at the threshold for a moment, one hand on the door frame. "Before I come in," she announced, "I need to say this, Dayle. I'm really nervous about meeting you."

Dayle laughed. "Oh, stop...."

"No, ma'am. You're my hero. My a.s.sistant, Estelle, can tell you, I was bowled over when you agreed to come to this benefit. I was shooting for the moon when I invited you. And then, tonight backstage, I kept asking Estelle, 'Do you think she'd like to get together? Should I ask?'"

"Well, I'm glad you did," Dayle said, feeling more at ease. "For the record, I was so jazzed up about meeting you, I changed my outfit four times. Now for G.o.d's sake, get in here."

With a hundred-watt grin, Leigh spread her arms and gave Dayle a fierce hug. "Dayle, this is a dream come true. You have no idea!" She unclinched, but continued to hold her hand. "You're my inspiration. You know, twelve years ago, when I first moved to New York-and I was waiting tables and living in this cheap hotel for women-I used to pattern myself after you in Bending the Rules Bending the Rules."

"That was one of my better ones," Dayle said.

"Oh, it was great. You were my role model in that. I saw the movie four times, bargain matinees. I used to daydream about being rich and famous. And get this, part of that dream was seeing my sa.s.sy little self lounging in a plush hotel room, having a heart-to-heart with my good buddy, Dayle Sutton. So I mean it when I tell you, this is a dream come true for me."

Dayle squeezed her hand. "Stop, you'll make me cry-and we haven't even sat down yet. C'mon. Champagne's on its way." She opened the minirefrigerator. "Meanwhile, what can I get you?"

Sitting on the couch, Leigh glanced toward the small refrigerator, then gave Dayle a wicked smile. "That chocolate bar in there. I'll split it with you. Shoots my diet to h.e.l.l. But let's be decadent."

Dayle grinned. "It's a deal. Don't you want a drink?"

"No, but you go ahead. I already had a gla.s.s of wine at the party. I'm a lightweight-a total disgrace to the rock star profession. I don't do drugs or trash hotel rooms either. Half a gla.s.s of your champagne, and I'll be out like a light. I swear, I'll fall asleep right on this couch."

"Kind of like a slumber party," Dayle said, handing Leigh the candy bar and a gla.s.s of water.

"Oh, wouldn't that make the bees buzz?" Leigh unwrapped the Nestle's Crunch. "'Leigh Simone Spends Night in Dayle Sutton's Hotel Room.' The tabloids would have a field day." She patted the sofa cus.h.i.+on. "C'mon, sit. I'm not wolfing this down alone."

Working up a smile, Dayle sat beside her. There was an awkward silence.

Leigh snapped off a corner of the candy bar, then put it up to Dayle's lips. Dayle hesitated, then took the chocolate in her mouth. Her lips brushed against Leigh's fingers. "Pretty sinful, isn't it?" Leigh whispered.

She nodded.

Leigh broke another piece off of the Nestle's Crunch bar and studied it. "Am I wrong?" she said. "Or is something happening here?"

Dayle shrugged. "Well, I'm picking up some signals-if that's what you mean. And it's very flattering. I really admire you, Leigh. You have-so much integrity. You've got the courage to say, 'This is me, I'm gay, and it's-'"

"Um, Dayle, I'm not gay," Leigh interrupted.

"You're not?"

"I know the rumors. If people want to think I'm a lesbian, that's fine. But you're not 'people,' Dayle, so I can tell you. I'm not gay." She took a deep breath. "In fact, I thought you were-"

"Gay?" Shaking her head, Dayle started to laugh. "No. G.o.d, we must be prey to the same warped rumor mill. I've been wondering all night what to do if you should make a pa.s.s."

"Ha, I was thinking the same thing!" Leigh gave her shoulder a playful push. Grinning, she nibbled at the candy bar again. "Want to know what else? I figured, if you tried any moves, I might just go along. After all, you're Dayle Sutton Dayle Sutton, for the love of G.o.d. Who-no matter what their persuasion-wouldn't want to give you a tumble?"

Dayle rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, cut me a break."

Leigh sighed. "Reminds me of those movies on late-night cable TV. They always have lesbian s.e.x scenes. Only those girls are never lesbians, they're just experimenting."

Dayle laughed. "It's the guy myth that we females of the species are all one gla.s.s of wine away from becoming bis.e.xual." She raised her gla.s.s in a toast. "So I gather you too have spent many a night on the road in a hotel room with only cable TV for company. That's me, filming on location."

"I'm on tour thirty weeks every year," Leigh said. "I can give you a list of the best hotels in every major city in the world-who has the best room service, the best on-call ma.s.seuse..."

"I've always been a bit leery of those hotel hands-on artists," Dayle admitted. "I figure, I'll have this great message in my room one night, and a week later, it'll be in the National Enquirer National Enquirer that I'm not a natural redhead." that I'm not a natural redhead."

"Folks like us, there aren't a lot of people we can trust." Leigh picked at the candy bar. "Not a lot of decent men who will put up with the crazy schedules we keep, the press and paparazzi, and all that excess baggage. Not a lot of friends either."

Dayle nudged her. "If you say, 'It's lonely at the top,' I'll smack you. Besides, much as I hate to admit it, my box-office clout has been slipping lately. I'm not so close to the top anymore."

"Then that makes the loneliness even worse, doesn't it?"

The quiet seriousness in Leigh's voice took Dayle by surprise. What she said hit close to home. Dayle tried to laugh and shrug it off. "My G.o.d, Leigh, how did we get so-heavy all of a sudden?" all of a sudden?"

Leigh sat back and smiled. "It's just part of that dream I was telling you about, Dayle. You know, the heart-to-heart talk? I know it sounds corny, but I'd like us to be friends."

Dayle took hold of her hand and squeezed it. "It is corny, but I'd like that too."

Living in Hollywood for the last sixteen years had made Dayle cautious. People she met always seemed to want something else from her. But all Leigh Simone wanted was her friends.h.i.+p.

They talked for fifteen more minutes. Leigh had snuck away from her party, and needed to rejoin her guests. She suggested meeting in the morning for a late breakfast. But Dayle had an early flight.

"Well, I'll be back in L.A. this week," Leigh said, standing in the doorway. "Let's do dinner. We'll really blow our diets, burgers and fries."

"It's a deal," Dayle said, grinning. "I'll call you tomorrow night."

Leigh nodded. "Okay, but you better be careful about seeing too much of me, Dayle. Don't forget, I have a reputation."

They laughed and hugged. Dayle felt a twinge of concern. Indeed it might add more fuel to those career-damaging rumors if she were seen with Leigh. She told herself it didn't matter-at least it shouldn't have mattered.

She squeezed Leigh a little tighter, and kissed her cheek. They said good-bye once more. Smiling, Dayle watched her saunter down the hall. Then she stepped back inside her suite, and closed the door.

Someone knocked on the door less than three minutes later. Dayle was at the honor bar, ready to pour herself a brandy. "Leigh? Is that you?"

She checked the peephole. It was a young man in a waiter's uniform. "Room service, Ms. Sutton!" he called.

Dayle opened the door. The hotel badge on his waiter's jacket showed the name, Brian. With dark hair and dimples, he was quite a handsome young guy. He carried a large tray with a champagne bottle on ice, two flute gla.s.ses, and a basket full of fruit, crackers, salami, and cheeses.

"You're a little late," Dayle said.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Ms. Sutton. The champagne and the food basket are compliments of the management. It's our way of apologizing for the delay."

She opened the door wider. "Tell management not to sweat it. C'mon in."

He set the tray on the desk. "May I open the champagne for you?"

"Yes, thanks." Dayle fished a few dollars out of her purse while he popped open the bottle. She started to hand him the money.

"Oh, that's not necessary," the young man said. Reaching inside his waiter's jacket, he pulled out a small black book and a pen. "In fact, I'd rather get your autograph-if that's okay. I kind of collect them."

Dayle took the little book-opened to a blank sheet. She turned back a page: To Brian, A Very Special Guy, Sincerely, Tony Katz To Brian, A Very Special Guy, Sincerely, Tony Katz. Dayle smiled. "I see you met my buddy, Tony Katz."

"His suite was below this one. He was a good friend of yours, huh?"

"Only in a show business way." She took the pen from him and scribbled in his autograph book, To Brian, Many Thanks, Dayle Sutton To Brian, Many Thanks, Dayle Sutton.

"I saw you on the news tonight," he said. "You were reading those letters about Tony. It got me thinking about him again. I delivered dinner to his room a couple of times. He-um, well, he made a pa.s.s at me."

"Well, consider it a compliment." Dayle handed the book back to him.

The young man blushed and glanced down at the carpet. "Y'know, I'm not gay. I-I have a girlfriend. I went to school in Texas, and all my friends-to them, queers are about as low as you can get."

Dayle frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you were his friend. And I have to tell somebody or I'll go nuts. Tony knew he was going to die. These people threatened to kill him."

"Tony told you this? When?"

Brian hesitated. "After we-well, we messed around a little. I was explaining to Tony about my college buddies, and what they think of queers. Tony said that a bunch of 'good old boys' can take turns humping a heifer in a pasture and it's a bonding thing, but if two of those guys are caught kissing, then they're sick perverts. He was making fun, y'know, sarcastic?"

Dayle just nodded.

"Then he got serious, and he told me these people were calling him at home, saying they were gonna kill him and expose him as being gay. They said that the whole world would know he was a f.a.g. And it's just what happened."

"What do you mean, 'they'? Was it more than one person?"

"That's the way it sounded." Brian's voice started to crack. "G.o.d, it could have been me who was murdered with him out there in that forest...."

"You haven't talked to anyone else about this?"

He shook his head. "No, I can't. My girlfriend, my friends-"

"Didn't the police or FBI interview you? I'd think they would."

"They only talked to the people who were working that night. I didn't come in that Thursday."

"You should be talking to the police, not me," Dayle said.

"Couldn't you talk to them for me?" he asked. "You could say that Tony told you you about the death threats. That way, I'd stay out of it. And people would believe you, because you were his friend and you're a movie star-" about the death threats. That way, I'd stay out of it. And people would believe you, because you were his friend and you're a movie star-"

"Wait a minute, honey-Brian." Dayle touched his arm. "I wasn't that close to Tony. Even if I was, I wouldn't wait two weeks after his murder to come forward with news about these 'death threats.' It doesn't make sense."

The young man looked so utterly lost. He kept shaking his head.

"I want to help," Dayle said. "But I can't go to the police for you, Brian. That won't work. If you want, I can have a lawyer talk with you-"

"Are you saying that I need a lawyer?" he asked warily.

"Only someone to give you legal advice when you go to the police-"

"No, I can't go to the police. I can't do that." Turning away, he opened the door. "I shouldn't have bothered you with this. I'm sorry-"