If Looks Could Kill

By Emelle Gamble

Double or Nothing...
It's 1990 in Southern California...When Grand Illusions hired a lookalike to portray legendary rocker Brennan Richards at a concert, owner Catherine Grand was thinking only good things for her company’s future. But when the reclusive Irish rocker showed up on her doorstep, wearing biker regalia and the sexiest smile she had ever seen, everything changed. Brennan was charismatic – even for a living legend - but the smile faded when he made it clear they were adversaries. Brennan threatened to sue her unless Catherine abandoned the contract for the concert and fired the actor portraying him.
Catherine understood how unsettling an anonymous threat Brennan had received could be, she had received a couple herself, but if the show didn’t go on, Grand Illusions could go bankrupt.
Joining uneasy forces, Catherine and Brennan donned disguises to elude the psychopath who had forced Brennan into early retirement ten years ago, while trying to find out his identity. But the wily villain had a few masks of his own, along with a couple of bombs and a rifle that had the two in its scope. Inside the camouflage of enchanted Hollywood, it often seemed as if no one was what they claimed and nothing was real, except for the growing passion between Brennan and Catherine...and the danger they had to overcome. Classic Romantic Suspense originally published by Harlequin Intrigue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emelle Gamble
• Release date: Oct 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311284488

Emelle Gamble

My books have one thing in common...ordinary women in extraordinary situations. They are all relationship stories about women and the men they love, and the friends they hold dearest. They also all have a touch of something else; a mystery here, a ghost there, an exciting or shocking turn of events. This gives the folks in my imagined world an interesting extra conflict to deal with, and my readers an extra issue to think about.SECRET SISTER is a woman's fiction novel with a touch of paranormal that sets the plot in motion. It's hard to put down once you start.DUETS, a prequel novella, and the novel MOLLY HARPER, set three years later, explore the multi-faceted impact family secrets have on the lives of three women and the people who love them. It's heartfelt. and the final chapter is now available! DECEMBER WEDDING is the last chapter about Cruz and Molly, and I hope you enjoy their happy ever after.DATING CARY GRANT is a modern Manhattan tale of a career woman, her estranged small town mayor hubby, and a certain drop-dead handsome neighbor who just might be the ghost of a certain screen icon. It's fun!I hope you enjoy all these stories. Please come see me at www.EmelleGamble.com, follow me on Twitter @EmelleGamble or email me at [e-mail] any time.

Book preview

If Looks Could Kill

By Emelle Gamble

Brennan leaped out of bed...

The French door leading to the bedroom’s private deck stood open. Moonlight poured into the room, providing a backdrop that was no longer romantic. At the end of the bed stood an intruder who pointed a rifle directly at Catherine.

Who are you? she whispered, fear pounding inside her.

The intruder’s accent changed. I’m the ghost of Christmas past, honey.

At that moment, Brennan hurled himself forward. The gun’s hammer exploded as the barrel spewed fire and smoke. Catherine, get away! Brennan hollered.

She pulled herself to her feet and ran. The gun went off again. Just as she turned, it fired a third and final time.

Publishing History

Print edition published by Harlequin Books

Copyright 1991, 2015 Marsha Nuccio

Digital Edition published by Marsha Nuccio at Smashwords 2015

Cover design by Tammy Seidick Design

Digital formatting by A Thirsty Mind Book Design

All rights reserved. No part of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, may be reproduced in any form by any means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic and print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

For Allen Patrick Nuccio, the prince of my heart

Table of Contents

A Note from the Author...

Cast of Characters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

About the Author

Books by Emelle Gamble

A Note from the Author...

Dear Readers:

Thank you for your interest in this book. It was originally published in the 1990’s by Harlequin Intrigue, where I wrote as M. L. Gamble. After a wonderful decade of writing for Harlequin, I spent a few years away from fiction writing, but returned five years ago as Emelle Gamble.

Harlequin has returned all publishing rights to me, at my request, so that I could republish these titles in electronic form and bring these romantic suspense thrillers to a completely new audience. These books are firmly set in America of the 1990s... the times in which they were written... without cellphones or internet or pesky twitter and other electronic gadgets to get in the way of falling in love, or finding a murderer!

I hope you enjoy this book.

Come visit me on the web at www.EmelleGamble.com or at Facebook at Author Emelle Gamble. I have settled into writing bigger novels now, stories about ordinary women in extraordinary circumstances, which span the genres from women’s fiction to romance, and all these newer books have a twist of something unexpected.

You can find my other reissued classic tales of romantic suspense, as well as my later work, at the retail outlet of your choice.

Happy Reading!

XXX Emelle

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Catherine Grand — She learned the hard way that looks could kill.

Brennan Richards — He retired from public life ten years ago and intends to keep it that way.

Ellen Richards — she lost a husband but stands to lose much more.

Liam McKinney — He loves Ellen and protected her past secrets.

Mickey Stolie — Catherine’s photographer took great pictures and big chances.

Karen Keller — she was never in the right place at the right time.

Sydney Carr — a big grudge was all that remained of his past.

Siobhan Carr — she took things into her own hands.

Johnnie Lord — the actor who looked and sang like Brennan had only one goal, and it got him shot.

Jane Scarlett — Brennan’s old backup singer has a loose grip on reality.

George Jesse — Brennan’s ex-manager owned the nightclub Pretenders, a very appropriate name.

Chapter One

Catherine Grand reached across her cluttered desk and snapped down the first blinking button on the phone. All five lights had come on within seconds of each other, each an interruption she could ill afford.

Grand Illusions, may I help you?

I need to speak to Miss Grand. It’s urgent.

One moment, please. Catherine put the caller on hold, and then hit the second button, toppling a pile of file folders onto the reception desk. Grand Illusions.

Cath? This is Cheryl. Mom wants to know who she’s supposed to ask for at the Hilton.

Hang on, sis. Catherine smacked the hold button, then the third, as the folders slipped off the desk and onto the carpet.

She sighed and thought that if Karen Keller, her dippy redheaded secretary, ever got back from her audition, she was going to fire her.

Or kill her. Grand Illusions.

"This is People magazine calling. Is Miss Grand available?"

Hold on, please. Catherine rolled her eyes. Publicity was necessary in her line of work, but she should have never agreed to have a writer and photographer follow her around for three days. At least not this month. The price of success.

She broke her nail on the fourth button. Good afternoon, Grand....

Catherine Grand, the voice interrupted curtly. This is Burbank Studios calling.

Hang on. Catherine put the voice on hold.

The fifth line continued to ring, the tone more grating than a minute ago. Catherine glanced at her watch. It was one-thirty. Silently she vowed to hire a part-timer so she would never be left at the mercy of Karen’s extended lunch hour auditions again. She pressed the last button.

Grand Illusions. May I help you?

Silence, save for the faint crackle of long distance static, filled her ear. Then a voice, fractured and fuzzy, whispered garbled sounds.

I’m sorry, you’ll have to speak up.

Catherine Grand, please. I’m calling long distance from Ireland. The voice was male and full of authority despite the faint volume.

Hang on a minute, sir. She zapped the hold button, then gamely returned to the first caller. Thanks for holding. May I take a message, please? Miss Grand will call you back at four.

She wrote furiously then pushed the second. Cheryl, tell Mom to see Liz Thornton. You guys need to be there before four. Bye.

The third caller dropped off just as she picked up.

Catherine took a number from the woman at Burbank Studios and promised would call back with a quote for a laser show and fireworks for a party celebrating the success of a new sitcom.

Catherine punched the last button. Sir, sorry to keep you. This is Catherine Grand. How may I help you?

Lines one and two began to ring again simultaneously. Much to Catherine’s relief, Karen appeared and mimed she would get the calls.

I’m sorry sir, one more second. She put the man with the Irish accent on hold and hurried into her office.

Welcome back, she said to Karen with more than a little pique in her voice. She shut the door to her office and snapped down the button. Yes, sir, what can I help you with?

I’m calling to let you know that he won’t stand for this gross invasion of privacy.

Catherine shook her head. She had missed the beginning of the man’s complaint, but his brusque tone was clear enough. Who is this, please?

Liam McKinney. The voice faded, bleeped and cracked. ... For Brennan Richards. I’m sending the papers tomorrow.

Brennan Richards? What about Brennan Richards? Catherine frowned. We have a bad connection, sir. Could you start from the beginning, please?

There was a flat click, followed by humming. A dial tone signaled the end of the call.

Karen knocked and opened the door. Why are you still here? Mickey needed you in Agoura five minutes ago.

Catherine hung up and frowned. What are you talking about? And why were you so late?

Sorry. The audition was packed. Didn’t you see the note I left you?

Catherine spread her arms wide to take in the explosion of files on her desk. Where?

Karen walked over to her desk and pushed several of the files aside, retrieving a scrawled note. Here. Mickey’s doing publicity stills for the Medieval Days Faire and he wants you to okay the stage set before the carpenters leave.

Catherine took the note. Her last caller’s words echoed in her skull. It was a weird coincidence that she would get an angry call about Brennan Richards as she had just hired a singer to do an impersonation of the retired rock star. Her gut wrenched as she considered the implications. If the guy who phoned was a lawyer, it was bound to mean bad news.

Two more lines began to ring as she followed Karen to the reception desk and fished in her purse for her car keys. Okay. I’ll head over there now.

What’s going on today? I’ve never seen it so busy. Karen pouted.

Don’t knock it, kiddo. It’s paying the rent. Catherine grabbed an unlined cotton blazer from the closet and slipped on her sunglasses, deciding to let a further lecture to Karen about tardiness wait. Her secretary was obviously upset.

"Please call Mickey and tell him I’ll be there in forty-five minutes. Then call Sue Willis and tell her she needs to lose five more pounds before the fifth. The auto show people don’t want a size-ten Cher. Also, see if you can break it to that pain in the rear Tommy Lyle that, despite the success of Look Who’s Talking, no one is hiring John Travolta lookalikes right now. Tommy’s called ten days in a row."

I like Tommy. Karen sniffed. He’s got problems, like everybody, but he’s reliable.

Catherine turned and stared. Karen was putting on another layer of purple lipstick and peering into a tiny mirror while the unanswered phone lines continued their shriek.

Catherine silently counted to ten. How did your audition go?

Karen made a face, then snapped the case closed. Dirt bags. Said I looked too old. But I’m only twenty-nine.

You’re thirty-six, Catherine corrected silently. In L.A. everyone she knew wanted to be in show biz at some point in their lives. Even her ex-husband was still chasing that dream. All he had to show for it was a resume full of walk-ons and a two week stint as a gangster on One Life to Live.

It was a good thing she had never had the hots for fame, Catherine thought. If she had, she could have been the aging starlet sitting at the tiny desk in front of her. I’m sorry, Karen. Hang in there.

Yeah. If I don’t hang myself first.

Catherine turned the doorknob, craning her neck to deliver a last instruction. One more thing. If a long distance call comes through from someone mentioning Brennan Richards, be sure and get a call back number.

Brennan Richards? What’s up?

Before Catherine could answer, someone pushed open the door from outside. She stepped back to avoid it as a richly dressed blond woman stomped into the room.

I need to speak to Catherine Grand! the woman announced to Karen.

You don’t have an appointment, Karen stuttered, openly appraising the woman.

The visitor crossed her arms over her Armani silk jacket and tilted her head. Where’s your boss?

Here, I’m right here, Catherine replied, moving into the woman’s direct field of vision. But I’m on my way out. If you’d like to make an appointment, tomorrow afternoon is good.

I told you to call and make an appointment the last time you were here, Karen interjected.

Catherine removed her sunglasses and met Karen’s hostile glance. Last time?

This woman came to see you last week. Since she wouldn’t leave her name, I didn’t mention it.

The blonde frowned at Karen and dismissed her with a toss of her head. She extended an expensively manicured hand. Miss Grand. I have a matter of the utmost urgency to discuss with you. It really can’t wait until tomorrow.

I see. Well, then won’t you please come into my office? Miss... Catherine’s voice trailed off but the woman offered no name.

She merely turned on her Italian leather heels and walked into the private office. Catherine raised her shoulders to Karen in puzzlement and followed.

She closed her office door and went around to her chair, embarrassed by the unusual clutter. Through the glass office wall, Catherine could see that Karen was busy with the phone. Catherine pushed a clump of hair off her neck and noticed that she had chipped the polish on her right thumbnail. Irritated, she sat up straight and spoke in her most in charge tone. So, what is it I can do for you?

The woman’s long lashes flickered against her tinted sunglass frames. I have something for you. Her red nails disappeared into a Chanel bag. She withdrew a plain white envelope. Here.

Catherine took it and opened the flap. Inside was a cashier’s check made out to her. It was drawn on the Beverly Hills branch of the Bank of America and dated with that day’s date.

The sum payable was ten thousand dollars.

I don’t understand. Catherine’s reply sounded idiotic to her own ears, but she was completely baffled. Within two minutes this mystery woman had reduced her usual professional demeanor to cream of wheat. She cleared her throat and attempted to return the check. I’m sorry, but someone has made a mistake here.

The woman grimaced and sat back and crossed her arms. No mistake. This money is to help defray the cost of lost business.

Lost business? Catherine echoed the words, feeling like Alice down the rabbit hole. She lay the envelope on the desk and folded her hands together. I don’t understand.

The blonde removed her sunglasses. Her green eyes were as hard as marbles. I want you to cancel your contract with Sydney Carr and not stage the Brennan Richards lookalike concert.

Catherine’s first reaction was to laugh. Maybe this woman is an actress, trying out for a job. She kind of looks like a young Lana Turner. But playing what? A Mafia hit woman?

Catherine’s voice was more patient than she felt. I have no idea why you would think I would do that. Why don’t you start at the top and give me your name?

That’s not an important factor in our discussion.

Yes it is. I don’t have discussions with people when I don’t know their name, or if they try to bribe me.

Don’t think of it as a bribe. Think of it as a fee.

I don’t have discussions with unidentified people about fees.

The blonde’s face hardened and her lip curled over her top teeth, which were surprisingly crooked. There’s going to be a lot of trouble if you let that lookalike perform.

How do you even know about this concert? Catherine demanded. There’s been nothing in the press yet about it.

Don’t worry about how I know. Just take the money and cancel your contract. It’ll be easier on everyone.

Several seconds passed. Finally Catherine stood and picked up her purse. She was going to call this bluff. I’m leaving now, unless you want to tell me who you are and why you want the concert cancelled.

The woman frowned, slipped her shades on and picked up the envelope. You’re being stupid. She turned and stormed out of the office.

Karen came scurrying in. Who was she? And did you get a load of those shoes? I bet they cost $300!

I have no idea who she is, she wouldn’t tell me. Catherine shook her head. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Try to straighten up in here. You know I can’t think when everything’s a mess.

Catherine felt she had almost hallucinated the whole incident with the blonde. The blank look Karen gave her did nothing to alleviate the weird feeling.

* * *

Outside in the parking lot, Catherine cranked down the window of her ancient Mercedes and started the engine. The September afternoon was like a furnace. It was overcast and bleary even though the temperature was in the upper nineties. The day was typical of L.A., it looked one way but felt quite another.

Miss Grand!

Catherine turned and tried to hide her dismay. The rangy, dark-haired actor, Tommy Lyle, was walking across the lot toward her. Hi, Tommy.

Hi. I’m glad I caught you. I need to discuss a really important job.

Look, Tommy, I’m in a hurry. Can this wait?

The young man adjusted his omnipresent sunglasses and shook his head. I hate to sit on this, Miss Grand. I just heard about a big gig at MGM, a retro of their movies. Sounds like you could do a lot of business with them.

Catherine doubted that, but didn’t have the heart to dismiss Tommy. I’m going out to Agoura to the Faire site. Want to ride along and tell me about it?

Sure. I wanted to apply for a job out there anyway. Tommy folded his frame, into the passenger seat of the Mercedes and hummed happily to himself.

Catherine muttered under her breath about actors being children and backed out of the lot.

She waited for the traffic to let her in, and wondered about the blond woman. Then she wondered about the tall, black haired Irishman with the blue eyes and the ponytail who was the likely reason for the blondes visit.

Brennan Richards. He had been a legend in his own time who had chucked the public life when tragedy struck. Not a cult hero like Elvis or Janis Joplin, Richards had been immensely popular with both young and old fans.

You’re working on the Brennan Richards concert in Agoura? Tommy offered as though he were reading her mind.

Yeah. How did you know?

I saw your ad for actors a few weeks back. Then Karen told me when I called that you had to go to Agoura. How’s it going?

Fine. No more than the usual screw-ups.

Did you ever see the real guy perform? Tommy asked quietly.

No. Almost did. But he, quit before I got the chance.

His music was dreamy, Tommy said. Did you like it?

I was impressed by his serious, poignant lyrics, but he wasn’t my favorite. You couldn’t dance to Brennan Richards, and when I was young, disco was king.

I loved the way he dressed. That medieval tunic with blue jeans was really cool, Tommy said.

Yeah, but what about the eye patch? Don’t you think that was overly theatrical?

Tommy’s rhinestone encrusted sunglasses reflected light toward her. Catherine felt herself color. Overly theatrical was a good way to describe the actor next to her, and they both knew it.

Tommy giggled and put a hand on each side of his face to pretend shock. Yeah, I do. But over theatrical is always dreamy.

His pose made Catherine realize that Tommy was much older than she had been led to believe. In the light of the summer day, she saw the crow’s feet and his slightly dimpled chin line. Lyle is about fifteen years older than he said. More forty than twenty-five.

I read that the patch somehow symbolized the underground political thrust of his music, Catherine offered. But I think he must have liked the touch of mystery. It surely helped sell tickets.

She smiled at her own jaded opinion. It wasn’t that she doubted Brennan Richards’s sincerity, but she knew that the public more readily accepted politics in music if the entertainer was dramatic, handsome and sexy. It’s always the glamour that gets and keeps the world’s attention, isn’t it?

You’re right there, Miss Grand.

While she speculated on what Richards was doing now, Catherine merged into the cars flowing toward the Pasadena freeway. The demands of her present life pushed the rock star from her mind for a moment, as the bizarre visit from the blond woman crowded her thoughts again.

While Tommy Lyle chatted about the cattle call audition he had gone to earlier, Catherine silently organized the list of calls she had to make once she was through with Mickey.

As owner of Grand Illusions, a company that staged special events for a corporate clientele, Catherine