“No, I didn’t. I didn’t and I wouldn’t. I hardly know you!” And I’d sure as heck lost any desire to get to know him better after his accusations. “There’s a murder investigation going on, in case you hadn’t noticed, and the police are checking into everyone who was at Rothmere Saturday night.”
“When Agent Dillon came to interview me, he said—”
“I don’t believe he said anything about me!”
“No. He mentioned that he was following up on information that had come to the attention of the SEPD. I put two and two together and—”
“And came up with a big, fat goose egg.” I made a zero with my thumb and forefinger. “Good thing you teach science and not math.”
He snorted what might have been a laugh and gave me a rueful smile. “I’m sorry?”
“Not enough.” I spun on my heel, the green denim skirt belling slightly around my calves, and was reaching for the doorknob when his voice stopped me.
“Please. Let me tell you what I told Agent Dillon.”
“Not interested.” I tried to make myself go through the door but curiosity stopped me. Okay, I was interested, not in Glen, but in what had happened in California.
Scraping forward a chair, he sat with his arms draped over its back, facing me, and gestured for me to take another chair. I did, scooting it away from him first.
“Your ex might have mentioned that the ATF and the police busted down my door one day, searching for a shipment of automatic weapons an informant had told them was in my condo.”
His eyes scanned my face, but I kept my expression noncommittal.
“They had a search warrant and everything. Only thing was, they had the wrong address. Some moron had transposed two numbers—the gun runner they were looking for lived in the next building over.” He ran a hand through his hair and drew it across his cheek, smudging his mouth.
“Good heavens! They must have scared you to death.” The thought of armed strangers busting into my house made me grip the chair seat.
“You can say that again.”
“But I don’t understand why it’s such a big secret.” Cocking my head, I said, “What’s the big deal? It was a mistake, right? They apologize and fix your door, you go back to learning lines or fixing dinner, and—”
“I wasn’t alone.”
I couldn’t see why that mattered, but I motioned for him to continue.
“When the ATF broke in, I was—engaged, shall we say?—with a woman. A woman whose name is synonymous with ‘blockbuster’ and ‘Oscar nomination.’ ” He paused. “A married woman.”
“Oh.” Ignoring an irrational ping of jealousy, I asked, “They recognized her?”
“Of course they recognized her. Any male between the ages of four and a hundred-and-four would recognize her. She was deathly afraid it would get into the media, that her husband would find out, that it would trash her career. So I made a deal with the ATF and the LAPD. I wouldn’t sue the pants off of them for invading my home and pointing guns at me, damn near giving me cardiac arrest, and they’d make sure no one talked to the media. We signed all sorts of legal documents, nondisclosure agreements, so that’s why I don’t go around explaining why I really left California.” He hunched forward, resting his chin on the chair back and looking up at me from beneath his brows. “It’s not such a horrible secret after all, is it?”
Not horrible enough to kill for, I wouldn’t think. For the actress, maybe, but not for Glen. And I didn’t see how Braden could possibly have known about it. “Not really, no.”
“So, we’re okay?” There was something quizzical in the look he gave me, as if he could read my withdrawal but couldn’t figure out the reason for it. “I am sorry for jumping all over you like that.”
“Apology accepted.” I left it at that. If his unjustified attack on me hadn’t squashed any interest I had in him, the revelation that he slept with married women was the final nail in the coffin. I stood.
He walked me to the door and pulled it open. “Avaline and her crew are filming this evening. Are you going to watch?”
“I don’t think so. You?”
He nodded. “I suppose so. I’m going to wallow in melancholy and mourn my lost acting career.” He said it with enough self-deprecating humor that I laughed, but I wondered, walking through the empty halls, if there weren’t more than a kernel of truth in it.
When I walked out the door, the wind flung a plastic grocery bag at me. I noticed Rachel waiting for me near the slot where her pink scooter was parked. “I thought you were, like, never coming out,” she said.