Merciless by Mary Burton Page A

between the living room and Sierra’s room was stark. Clothes covered Sierra’s floor either in discarded piles or in stacks piled in green plastic garbage bags. There was a pizza box on the middle of an unmade bed. Cups lined the floor by a dresser piled high with all kinds of makeup. Layers of jewelry hung from the mirror.
    “As you can see, it’s hard to tell when she comes or goes. The room’s been like this since the first night she arrived.” Zoe shook her head. “She was an irritating woman, but I am sorry.”
    “What else can you tell me about her?” Malcolm asked. He moved to the dresser and picked up a lipstick. He opened it and studied the bright, bright red.
    “Nothing anyone else wouldn’t tell you. Ambitious. Driven. She’d have done anything to be a success.”
    “Anything?”
    “Just about.”
    Malcolm stared at the makeup, wondering how she even picked out what she needed on any given day. Mixed among the makeup were a box of diet pills, a sleeve of condoms, and a wad of black panty hose. He glanced at a pair of high heels, black with red soles, on the floor. He picked them up and studied them. Expensive.
    As he turned back toward Zoe, his gaze caught sight of a business card tucked in the bottom corner of the mirror. Dr. James Dixon.
    “I guess you all know Dixon’s past,” Zoe said, catching his line of sight. “I told Sierra to stay clear of him. I read about what he did to that prostitute.”
    “Do you know how the two met?”
    “Through me, as a matter of fact. I invited her to a ballet fundraiser over the summer. He was there. And they hit it off.” She shook her head. “The guy always gave me the creeps, and I told her so a few times, but she didn’t seem to care.”
    “Did he ever give Sierra reason to worry?” Malcolm asked.
    “No. In fact, she said he was the gentlest of souls. That he made her feel completely comfortable.”
    Lulu Sweet had testified that he’d been gracious and polite, and it was only when they were alone in the motel room that his mood turned violent.
    On the bed among the rumpled bed covers was a script,
The Taming of the Shrew
. The spine had been creased, pages dog-eared, lines highlighted and annotated. “Looks like she was studying hard.”
    “Sierra was totally dedicated to whatever play she was in. She never missed a mark and always showed up knowing her lines. That’s one of the reasons she got so much work in the area. Pretty helps, but it’s only a footin the door. If you don’t deliver in this area, word gets around fast, and you don’t work.”
    “You ever help her with her lines?” The script smelled faintly of perfume.
    “Sure, a few times. And it was kind of amazing to see her transform from a woman I didn’t really like into a character that totally captivated me. She was a gifted actress.”
    Garrison walked to the lone window in the room and stared out. “Where does the alley below lead?”
    “To a small parking lot. Tenants of the building have access to it.”
    “Marty Gold said Sierra received notes.”
    “She mentioned that. She thought they were from her ex.”
    “Which ex?”
    “Your guess is as good as mine.”
    “Do you know where the notes are?”
    “Likely buried in here somewhere.”
    He pulled a card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Zoe. “Will you call me if you hear of anything?”
    She glanced at the card. “Sure. Should I clean out her room, or do you want me to wait?”
    “I’d like to send my forensics guy here and have him go over the room.”
    Zoe stared at the mess as if it made her skin crawl. Zoe Morgan was a woman who liked control. The disarray in this room, as well as her leg injury, had to be eating at her.
    “Did it bother you to see her succeeding?”
    Zoe’s lips flattened. “She broke all the rules. I followed all the rules. In the end her star rose and mine didn’t.”
    “Until she was murdered.”
    She shook her head. “I’ll never dance again. Period. Sierra’s death