Dusted to Death by Barbara Colley Page B

willing to pay, which left little choice but for her to do it herself.
    Charlotte reached down and removed her business ledger from the bottom drawer. From another drawer, she removed a large manila envelope full of receipts. Just as she flipped the ledger open, there was a loud knock on the front door.
    Uneasiness spiced with irritation swept through her. Since she wasn’t expecting company, thoughts of the reporter who had been parked in front of her house earlier that morning immediately came to mind.
    Charlotte stood and tiptoed over to the front window. If the man had returned, she’d simply pretend that no one was at home.
    And what about your van parked in the driveway?
    Oh, yeah, the van. “Too bad,” she whispered. In that case she would simply ignore the man.
    The first thing she spotted was the long white limousine parked in her driveway. “What on earth?” she murmured as her gaze shifted from the limo to the man standing on her porch.
    “Well, for Pete’s sake,” she exclaimed. Reaching for the deadbolt, she quickly unlocked the door and threw it wide open. “Hey, there, hon.” She gave a sweeping motion with her hand. “Come on in.”
    Though Benny Jackson nodded and gave her a wan smile, the smile didn’t quite reach his bloodshot eyes. Dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt instead of his chauffeur uniform, he looked much younger and more like the young man who used to hang around her house so many years ago.
    “Sorry to barge in on you without calling first,” he said as he stepped inside.
    “No problem. Can I offer you something to drink? I just made a pot of fresh coffee. Iced tea?”
    “Iced tea would be great, if it’s not too much trouble? I’m up to my eyeballs in coffee.”
    “No trouble at all,” she replied. “It won’t take but a minute.”
    Benny followed her back to the kitchen and seated himself at the kitchen table. Once she’d served him the tea, she sat down opposite him with her cup of coffee. “So, what brings you over to my neck of the woods this afternoon?”
    Benny lowered his gaze to the sweating glass in front of him. “Angel’s been arrested for murdering Nick Franklin.”
    Charlotte nodded. “That’s what I heard.”
    At that, Benny glanced up. “It’s on the news already?”
    Charlotte shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Not yet. One of my clients knew that I was working on the set, and she called me early this morning.” Charlotte shrugged at Benny’s puzzled look. “Don’t ask. All I know is that she’s well connected in the city—she knows just about everyone.” Boy, was that an understatement! “And she has very reliable sources.”
    “So, what did this client of yours tell you?”
    While Benny listened thoughtfully, Charlotte summed up her conversation with Bitsy. When she’d finished, Benny nodded. “Yeah, that’s about right. But one thing your friend either didn’t mention or didn’t know was that in addition to Angel’s fingerprints being the only ones on the letter opener, Nick’s blood was also found on a pair of her jeans. Even worse, Angel doesn’t have an alibi for the time frame in which Nick was murdered. She was tired that evening and had me drop her off at the hotel. On top of that, now she’s been denied bail. The prosecutor claims that because she’s a celebrity, she’s a slight risk. Not only that, but it looks like her manager, Simon Clark, as well as the studio, has abandoned her.”
    Charlotte frowned. “I find that hard to believe, especially considering what a big star she is.”
    “Yeah, well, Simon Clark is the type who only looks out for number one. As for the studio, if you can believe it, there’s actually a morals clause in her contract that makes it easy for them to ditch her. Never mind that she’s innocent.”
    When Charlotte raised a speculative eyebrow, he gave a slight shake of his head. “She’s innocent,” he repeated. “I’ve known Angel for a long time now, and I swear