Over Exposed

"That's very sweet of you to say." Carla removed the photo we found in Eddie's apartment and asked, "Do you recognize this picture?"

Miss Purnell took the snapshot from me and expelled a loud guffaw. "Oh my gosh! I look so young! This must have been taken when I was eighteen!"

"I take it nobody has shown you this picture and demanded money from you for it."

"No. I would have remembered that." She handed the photo back to me and gave me a curious expression. "Demanded money?" she asked. "Why on earth for?"

"Your wardrobe was rather revealing."

Trista flapped a wrist to dismiss me. "Hell, what I'm forced to wear these days is much more scandalous. She looked at me with a puzzled frown and asked, "Why? Has something happened?"

"The police found this picture in a man's apartment. They wanted to make sure the man didn't try to extort money out of you for it."

"You mean like blackmail?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Carla shrugged. "Well, it is rather revealing and a tad racy for a teenager. A picture like that could potentially hurt your career."

"Now that you mention it, I suppose you're right. I don't do cheesecake shots. Only high fashion and advertising promotions. This is a tad naughtier than the type of pictures I take these days."

"Did you do a lot of that when you were younger?" Carla asked.

"No. Only that one time. I was new to the business and didn't know any better. Me and three other girls I think got that job to model some very sexy lingerie. It was quite revealing, a step or two below Victoria's Secret, as you can see. The photographer was a very nice man as I recall, and he argued that young teenage girls should not be seen in erotic sleepwear like that. I think he talked the promoter out of using the pictures after all. At least, I never saw them released." She smiled at me with fond recollection. "Such a nice man. He paid us for our time out of his own pocket. I remember how touching it was for him to watch out for a group of complete strangers like that."

We snapped our attention to a man in a dark blue double-breasted blazer hurrying over to us. He had slicked back hair and a pencil thin moustache. I thought his salmon ascot was not the most suitable choice to go with that jacket but I didn't say anything.

"Sorry I'm running late," he apologized, smooching Trista on the cheek. "I had a hundred phone calls to make." He glanced at me, his eyes panning my near-nudity in the sheer garment. "Who are you?"

"This is Linda and that is Carla," Trista announced. "Ladies, allow me to introduce my agent, Carl Wheeler."

The man did not offer his hand to shake. "Did the agency send you?"

"No. Actually we stopped by to visit with Miss Purnell and she invited us to be in the photo shoot with her."

Wheeler's eyes narrowed slightly. "Did she now?" Apparently he did not like his client sharing the spotlight with anyone unless he approved it.

"Yes Carl," Trista smiled sweetly. "It was so much more fun with the two of them joining me than it would have been all by lonesome."

The agent snorted nonplussed. "What exactly was the reason for you two ladies to just happen by?"

"They're private investigators!" the model gushed giggly. "Isn't that fascinating!"

Wheeler's face took on a stony expression. "Are they now?" Apparently he didn't like private eyes snooping around his photo shoot either.

I nodded. "We're working with the police on a case that may affect Miss Purnell." I handed the man the photograph. "This is one of several revealing pictures that were taken by a local photographer a number of years ago. The police were concerned that Miss Purnell might have been approached by the man who stole them in order to extort money from her."

The agent's expression remained unchanged. "One of several," he murmured under his breath, glancing briefly at the photo. "I see." He handed the picture back to me. "I hope you catch the creep."

"I believe we already have. We're merely helping the police tie up a few loose ends, that's all."

Wheeler glanced at his watch, appearing a bit agitated. "I have a number of errands to run. Good luck ladies with your investigation." He kissed Trista on the cheek. "I'll call you later."

"Goodbye Carl." The man hurried from the room. "Carl is always running here and there," Trista sighed, "taking care of every little detail for me so I don't have to worry about it." Miss Purnell beamed brightly at me and rested her hand on my arm. "What do you say we go back to my place for a cocktail? You can tell me all about your exciting life of being a private eye."

"Sure," Carla smiled graciously. "Sounds like fun."

I grabbed hold of my partner's elbow and muttered. "Will you excuse us for a moment?" I ushered Carla to a few feet away. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What?"

"In case you have forgotten, Miss Purnell is a prime suspect in a murder investigation. It would not be in our best interests to become bosom buddies with her right now."

"Au contraire, mon cher. I think it is a great idea. Getting her comfortable on her own home turf might make the lady open up and be more forthcoming with information about the case. She may tell us things over a martini that she may not otherwise reveal with a bunch of photographers and her micromanaging agent skulking about."

I frowned at my partner. "Damn it, you are so sexy when you flaunt your brains at me like that."

Carla smiled. "You go back to Trista's place and probe her about the case. I'll take the car and do a little probing of my own."

"Like what?"

"I'll call Guy Sweet and have him check Farmer's phone records to see if he called the studio, Miss Purnell, or her agent Carl Wheeler." Carla smiled demurely and adjusted the makeshift toga over her near-nakedness. "But first I'm going to grill that security guard Ken to see if he had seen Eddie lurking around the set. Maybe the man saw something useful."

I frowned at her. "Aren't you going to change first?"

Carla grinned knowingly. "I'll probably get more answers out of him this way." She gave me a peck on the cheek and turned away. "Catch you later!"

"Naughty girl," I snorted under my breath. I crossed back to our hostess. "Carla has to leave to pursue another angle of inquiry, but I'm free for a while to join you if you like."

Miss Purnell beamed broadly. "I would love it! Give me a moment to get changed and we'll be off."

I glanced down at my revealing attire. "I suppose I better change too."

I left my car keys with Carla's clothes in the dressing booth and hitched a ride with Trista, thinking I'd hail a cab from her place later. I was surprised Miss Purnell had such and open and friendly personality. I expected someone of her celebrity status to be more distant and aloof. Perhaps it was the novelty of my profession that intrigued her.

Miss Purnell led us to a sparkling white Lexus with gold trim around the wheel wells and windows. "Nice ride," I nodded with approval.

Trista smiled and pressed the button on her keychain to unlock the doors. "It helps to maintain my supermodel image to be seen driving a stylish car."

I moved to the passenger door as she crossed to the driver's side. "I think I understand. When we first met you, you mentioned something about besieged by adoring fans."

"Not so much anymore," she sighed ruefully, opening her door. "I suppose it is both a blessing and a curse. Not being mobbed by fans means I'm not as popular as I once was." Trista expelled her breath in a deep sigh. "Fame is such a fleeting and fickle thing."

I smiled with genuine sincerity over the roof of the car at her. "Well I for one happen to think you are absolutely gorgeous."

Miss Purnell beamed brightly. "Thanks! Hop in!"

We jumped into her car and Trista pulled away from the lot. "So how long has Carl Wheeler been your agent?" I asked casually.

Trista glanced over at me from the driver's side with a wide smile. "Are you grilling me?"

I laughed. "I was trying my best to make it sound like relaxed conversation."

Miss Purnell giggled with glee. "How thrilling! I feel like I'm in an episode of Cagney and Lacy!" She glanced at me. "Carl has been my agent for about four years now. He handles everything for me -- my appointments, my interviews, my photo shoots -- everything. He discovered me in a modeling agency among about a dozen other girls. For some reason he took an immediate shining to me. I don't know why. Maybe he thought he discovered the next super star like Marylyn Monroe or something. I suppose in a way he had. Carl took me under his wing and in less than a year my face was everywhere. My name became a household word."

"Sounds like a real Cinderella story."

My companion nodded soberly to the windshield. "I guess so."

"You don't sound all that happy about it."

"Carl is very controlling. He not only organizes my life, he runs it. I'm not allowed to go anywhere or do anything without his knowing about it. That includes dating. I can't see anyone that doesn't meet his approval first. Even then, it has to be someone who will advance my career. Definitely not someone who could damage my image or cause a scandal. Forget about chemistry or sexual desire. It's all just one big show." Trista expelled her breath in exasperation. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it is not to be able to be intimate with someone unless another person gives you their blessing first?"

"I can't say I've ever had that problem. You see, Carla is not only my business partner, but she's my bed partner as well. We worked at the police department together for years until the mayor passed down an edict that officers had to conform to a rigid code of decency. That included no relationships other than the heterosexual kind. Carla and I left the force and started our own private detective agency. We do everything together and are true partners in every sense of the word."

"You are a very lucky woman."

"Yes, I happen to think I am very lucky indeed."

Trista grinned at me. "Grill me some more!"

"Okay. What would be the worst case scenario if those old photos of you were to be made public?"

Trista casually shrugged a shoulder. "There would probably be a minor scandal over it. I guess I'm seen as America's sweetheart; the pretty girl next door, so to speak. Seeing me in those revealing pictures would tarnish my squeaky clean image a bit I suppose. I would be seen as more of a Playboy Playmate than a fashion model. I'd get offers to pose in girlie magazines and skimpy lingerie. No big deal. I'm not getting any younger you know. I'm rapidly approaching the ripe old age of thirty, which is downright elderly in this business. I know I can't be a fashion model forever. If people want to see more of my skin, so what? I'm not as young and sexy as I used to be. I have a few wrinkles and sags here and there. Heck, in ten years they'll be begging me to cover this body up and not expose any skin at all."

"You are a very pretty woman," I stated honestly. "You have a great figure and are still very sexy."

Trista smiled at me and noticed the genuine sincerity on my face. "That's very nice of you to say." She returned her attention to the road. "I guess those pictures might cause quite a stir, but they wouldn't ruin me. Merely a bump in the road of life. I may no longer be sought after as a top fashion model, but I wouldn't be devastated by it. Life goes on."

I nodded to the buildings passing by my window. "I suppose so." I thought about the reaction Carl Wheeler gave when I showed him those photos. Come to think of it, he showed no reaction at all. Strange that the man would not be shocked or angered or embarrassed at seeing his client in skimpy naughty lingerie. One would think that picture would get some sort of rise out of him.

Unless he saw it before.

I quickly drew in a sharp breath. "Stop the car!"

Trista slammed on the brakes, the vehicle coming to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. I glanced out the back window, grateful that nobody was following us or we'd have caused a pileup in the middle of the street.

My partner gaped at me, her eyes wide. "What is it?"

"Pull over." Trista steered the car to the side of the road. "Tell me, Trista; does Carl Wheeler own a gun?"

Miss Purnell furrowed her brow with a perplexed expression. "I think so. He bought one a few months ago for my protection in case I was accosted by some crazy stalker or overly amorous fan. Why?"

"Because if I'm not mistaken, we have no time to lose if we want to save a man's life."

"What do you mean?"

"Head for the East Side of town and I'll explain everything on the way."

Trista gasped, her eyes wide. "How thrilling! I feel like Angie Dickinson on Police Woman!" She pulled the car into traffic. "Trista and Linda are off to save the day!"

I dug my cell phone out of my purse and called the police department in my speed dial list. "Let me talk to Detective Sweet."

Trista glanced at me. "Sweet?"

"Guy Sweet. It's his name."

"Oh."

The detective got on the line. "Sweet here."

"This is Linda Pearl. Meet me at Harland's studio. Unless I'm wrong, our killer is there demanding the rest of those old photos. Oliver's life may be in danger. Trista and I will be there in a few minutes."

"Trista Purnell?"

"Yes. I'll explain later. Hurry!"

My companion glanced at me. "I take it Carl is the man we're after?"

"Yes. You told me yourself that he is very protective of you. I'm betting he'd go to any lengths to keep those photographs from being made public."

She frowned as she drove. "All this over a bunch of old pictures?"

"This isn't just your career we're talking about. It's Carl's too. If word got out that his client posed for borderline kiddie porn, he's become a laughing stock. In his mind, Wheeler is fighting for his life."

We pulled into the parking lot of Harland's studio and noticed a black Mercedes already in the lot. "That's Carl's car," Trista said.

"I hope we're not too late." I climbed out of the car and hurried to the door. Miss Purnell hustled to my side. I turned to her. "It might be safer if you waited out here."

"Not on your life! We're a team and this is one caper you're not going to talk me out of."

"All right. Just stay behind me." I checked the knob. It was unlocked. I eased open the door and peeked inside. Trista pressed her body close to my back and peered over my shoulder to see. Oliver Harland was facing away from us in a chair, his body bound with a long piece of cord. I didn't spot any other people in the room. "Stay close," I whispered to my partner.

"Right."

I crept into the room over to Oliver's side. He had a cut on his lip and his eye was swollen. The man appeared groggy but conscious. Wheeler must have tried to beat the information out of him. I struggled to untie the knot on Harland's wrists. It appeared to be some cord from the drawstrings used to roll up Oliver's canvas backdrops. Heavy braided nylon cord too thick and tight for me to untie. "We're going to get you out of here, Oliver," I murmured into his ear. "Where is Wheeler?"

"In my office," he groaned. "That crazy man came in here demanding the photos of Miss Purnell. I didn't know who he was. I wasn't going to give anything to that creep that he could use against that lovely lady. She doesn't deserve to suffer because of something I did years ago."

Trista moved to his other side. "You are such a brave man to protect my honor like that."

Harland turned his face to her. "Miss Purnell! What are you doing here?"

"We came to save you."

I fought with the binds at his wrists. They were too tight. I needed to find something to cut him loose. Carl Wheeler returned from the office with a bunch of photographs in his left hand. "This better be all of them -- " He stopped at the sight of me and his client beside his bound captive. "Trista! What are you doing here?"

"Miss Pearl told me you were behind this. I didn't want to believe her. How you could be mixed up in something so awful?"

"This isn't what it looks like."

"It looks like you have been beating this poor innocent man."

"Innocent?" Wheeler cursed, shaking the photos in his fist angrily at us. "It was the girls in these pictures who were the innocent ones. What kind of man takes filthy photographs of children in disgusting erotic outfits like these?"

"Mister Harland was trying to protect Miss Purnell," I stated firmly.

"And so am I."

"By murdering a man?"

Trista balled her fists on her hips and scowled angrily at her agent. "Carl! How could you?"

"Eddie Farmer was nothing but a thief and a dirty blackmailer. He could have ruined you."

"But did you have to kill him?"

"He left me no choice. I demanded he give me the photographs. Farmer said if I didn't pay he'd sell them to the highest bidder. I refused to deal with that filthy little lowlife. I pulled my gun on him and demanded he give the pictures to me. Farmer started crying like a baby and said he only found the photographs and didn't have the negatives. I shot the filthy little scum to shut him up. I thought the matter was over until Miss Pearl showed the picture again. I knew I needed to find the negatives before this situation turned into a scandal."

Trista scowled at the man. "No picture of me is worth a man's life!"

"It wasn't only your life I was thinking about, but mine as well," Wheeler snarled. "Farmer would have brought you down into the gutter with these tawdry photos. I worked too long and too hard to let that happen. He was a miserable thief and blackmailer. It was no big loss if he was eliminated."

Harland winced in the chair beside me. "Would anyone mind if someone cut this cord off of me? My wrists are beginning to throb and my hands are going numb."

"Shut up!" Wheeler barked.

Trista gaped at him incredulous. "I can't believe you'd let something from my past drive you to such madness."

"I did it for you, Trista," Carl explained. "I did it for us." He removed a pistol from his coat pocket and pointed it at Harland's head. "I want those negatives. Tell me where they are or you'll join your dirty little assistant Farmer. I've killed before and won't hesitate to do so again."

"He doesn't have them," I blurted. "I do."

Wheeler and Miss Purnell looked at me and asked in unison, "You do?"

"Yes. After I discovered Eddie Farmer's body, I told Mister Harland about it. Oliver got worried that someone would come after him as well. He gave me the negatives for safe keeping."

Carl pointed the gun at me and held out his palm. "Give them to me."

"Promise me you won't shoot me."

"I promise you I will if you don't hand them over."

I removed the data chip from the pocket in my slacks and gave it to him. "Now go away and leave us alone."

"Not before I verify these are genuine." Wheeler moved to a laptop computer on a side table, all the while keeping the barrel of the gun trained on my chest. He inserted the chip into an adapter and clicked on the image viewer. "What the hell!"

Trista gaped at the naughty images of Carla posing seductively on the bed. "Those aren't of me."

I frowned with a puzzled look. "They're not? Gosh, imagine that."

Guy Sweet suddenly burst through the door. "Drop your weapon!" he demanded.

"It's about time you got here," I snorted with my hands clamped on my hips. "This psycho was about to shoot us all."

Harland turned his head to me. "Please don't irritate the man with the gun pointed at us."

"You drop it," Wheeler snarled, aiming his gun at me. "Or I shoot your private eye girlfriend."

"I am not his girlfriend!" I protested hotly.

Trista scowled at her agent. "Carl, if you shoot her, I promise I'll never speak to you again."

Wheeler gestured his gun barrel at me. "Step aside, cop. I'm walking out of here or your private eye friend gets it."