Dear Stalker

This story is intended for an adult audience.

DEAR STALKER

by Laurie S.

CHAPTER ONE

The brilliant auditorium lights dimmed as songstress Trisha Dale moved upstage. A single spotlight lit her hot sequined evening gown. Clutching the microphone with both hands, her body swayed to the softly toned introduction. The drumbeat rhythm kicked in and Trisha launched into her encore ballad for the evening, the monster hit song, Hawaiian Sunset. A hush fell upon the spellbound crowd.

From my position at the side of the stage, I signaled my assistant to be ready for Trisha's exit. We would whisk her out of the Great American Amphitheater, into her waiting stretch limousine, and be gone before any of her fans could approach her. Although I was tense, the concert had gone smoothly and there were no signs of trouble.

Voluptuous Trisha Dale caressed and extended that final high note; the audience erupted into a thunderous ovation. She bowed, blew kisses to the crowd, as the curtains descended. Then she scurried toward me in small, quick steps.

"Let's go!" I yelled as I put my arms around her red-sequined shoulder, which was partly covered by her silky, long blonde hair.

A few more quick steps clattering on the bare concrete and we were at the exit doors. My assistant, young Melody Watson, took up her position on the other side of Trisha, as we escorted her to the awaiting white limo. A mob of Trisha's fans surrounded us. Like sharks smelling blood, they moved in for their feeding frenzy. A sea of waving arms, screaming, pleading for Trisha's attention. And the dreaded, aggressive paparazzi.

"Please stay back!" I commanded. "Trisha has a plane to catch!" As if that would work.

Melody and I pushed back a few of the more aggressive fans. Melody became entangled with one huge pro-wrestler type. Trisha and I kept moving. I opened the limo door. Beautiful Trisha hopped in as some camera flashes popped. I closed the limo door and off it sped.

I rushed back to Melody as she pulled out her can of pepper spray.

"You bitch!" yelled the wrestler as he shoved Melody and she fell hard on her rear end.

The wrestler never saw me coming. I moved my pepper spray up to his scowling face. He stumbled about like he'd just been hit with a powerful roundhouse right.

"Wow! These things really are effective!" I thought to myself.

Quickly, I tried to help an embarrassed Melody Watson up to her feet. I grabbed under the arms of her pinstripe Dior jacket and lifted her to a standing position. Melody clearly was in pain.

"I'm hurting," she murmured. "I heard something crack. It might be my tailbone."

"Ooh, that's trouble," I sympathized.

As Melody put her right arm around me, we hurried away to our car parked in the nearby Reserved Parking VIP Section. One click of the remote control key fob automatically unlocked the car doors. I helped her into the passenger side. She gingerly eased herself onto the bucket seat. Agony was etched in her expression.

Within seconds, our blue Lincoln Town Car was off like a rocket.

"How does it feel?"

Melody scrunched up her beautiful face and looked me in the eye. "Not so good," she managed. "The quicker we get to that plane, the sooner we get home, the more I'll like it."

"You don't want to go to a hospital to get your injury checked out?" I asked.

"Nah, it hurts like hell, but I don't think they'll be able to do much with a broken coccyx."

"Um . . . I've had that myself. It'll be tender for quite awhile." I reached behind my seat and pulled out a small container. "There's some Tylenol and bottled water in this kit. It will help ease the pain. Perhaps we could use my jacket to create a makeshift donut cushion so that you won't put any weight on the tailbone." I released my seatbelt, leaned forward and struggled to divest myself of the Polo shell. I rolled up the jacket into a circular shape and with Melody's cooperation, slid it under her rear end.

I advised Trisha's limo on our cell connection that we weren't far behind. Trisha wasn't lacking for company. Her manager, backup singers and personal assistant were with her in the limo. The musicians had their own van whereas the roadies, as usual, were taking the tour bus and trucks back home. As we moved onto the freeway, a few uncomfortable minutes passed as we sped to the airport.

"Dave, I've been thinking about this for the past month or two," said Melody as she shifted uncomfortably on her seat. "Since I've become seriously involved with my boyfriend, Greg, I am not sure I want to continue in the private investigator business anymore." She paused, selecting her words carefully. "I don't feel as committed to the job as I once did. You know, it was fun at first, an adventure. But now, more than ever, I am aware that a P.I.'s job isn't like the TV shows. It's a demanding job and it can be dangerous at times. More importantly, I want to get married to Greg and I know he'd be happy to see me quit this job. So, as of tonight, I am resigning. If you want it in writing, I'll give you my formal notice tomorrow."

I looked over at Melody's sincere expression. I wanted to ask her to reconsider that in the heat of the moment, the injury might be making her react rashly, but I could see that she was resolute in her decision.

"You won't have to give me a letter. You've been a terrific partner . . . I accept."

I put my arm on her shoulder and hugged her. She responded and kissed me softly on the lips. Melody was an angel. She was a beautiful, Hollywood starlet type. More importantly, she was tough minded, athletic and very competent. I was going to miss her immensely. During the past two and a half years, we had been through many tight situations and we had managed to emerge triumphant in most cases. Why did she have to get married? Greg was one lucky son of a gun. Now, what was I going to do?

CHAPTER TWO

When I walked into my almost new office at nine o'clock, there was a handful of attractive, young people in the waiting room.

"Good morning, Wanda!" I said happily as I looked over the stunning figure of my sexy secretary.

"Good morning, Dave," she breathed, stretching her low cut, navy dress to the max as she exhaled. Mike Hammer's Velda would pale by comparison.

"I see we have a large number of candidates for Miss Watson's position," I said as I glanced around the packed room.

Wanda handed me a stack full of resumes.

I glanced down to the curriculum vitae of a Miss Pamela Andrews and then asked her to step into my office.

"Please hold all my calls, Wanda," I said as I lead the young shapely Miss Andrews through the doorway.

Except for her above average height, Pamela Andrews reminded me of an actress on Baywatch. She could certainly fill a red one-piece bathing suit or a bikini. She was such a perfect physical specimen! I wondered if those were her own or possibly silicone implants. Was her hair peroxide or natural? Were her gorgeous blue eyes colored contact lenses or her own? What was I thinking? Get down to business. Don't let your mind wander.

Pamela had been on the swim team as well as the cheerleading team in high school. She had been involved in theatrical productions at high school and university and had some professional works as wellin a few bit parts. Her marks were excellent. She had worked as a cocktail waitress, which was a definite plus, as private investigators need to know how to deal with people. She had traveled extensively, since her parents were both teachers and had taken her on lots of vacation trips. On the downside, she had never handled a gun and was a tech nerdshe knew zilch about cameras and little about computers.

"One final question," I said as I jotted down some notes on my Palm Professional. "Have you ever done anything dangerous?"

"Well, I'm a member of the Mile High Club," she giggled as she shifted in her seat and leaned forward. "Does that count?"

She had a body that would persuade the Pope to break the vows of celibacy.

I had to give her one more chance. "Have you ever had any martial arts or self-defense training?"

"No, but I have taken some aerobics and weight-training classes. Doesn't it show?"

"You certainly are well-toned everywhere . . . Thank you, Miss Andrews. We'll let you know by the end of the week."

As Pamela left, I asked Wanda to send in the next candidate.

Dressed in a gray suit, with a striped blue tie, white shirt and black, moccasin-style, Florsheim shoes, handsome, slim, Kelly Lee looked like a young business school graduate.

I couldn't tell him that it was highly unlikely I'd be hiring a guy, but I did explain what Melody had done on her job. She was so good at those domestic cases where the wives wanted us to check up on their cheating husbands. I hoped he got the hinthe didn't have the physical attributes for this role. I explained that private investigators were not like Thomas Magnum or Hercule Poirot. But Kelly was very energetic and had a sense of humor. He knew and understood the art of the interview.

"So what makes you think you could be a private investigator?" I asked.

"I believe I have some useful skills. First, I know some private investigations require photographic work. I have studied graphic arts. I am an accomplished photographer. Second, I'm quick on my feet. I can be very persuasive. I used to sell 'genuine' Hawaiian artifacts to tourists in Waikiki when I was a kid. And third, I can handle myself in a fight. I earned a black belt in karate while I was a teenager. But, my most important attribute is that I know people. I believe I have an intuition that allows me to judge if a person is lying or is telling the truth. Up here," said Kelly, as he pointed to his head, "I have an accurate crap detector that has kept me out of trouble on many occasions. And whenever I read a detective whodunit or see a murder mystery film, I can usually solve the case before anyone else."

"Sometimes private investigators have to go undercover or we have to disguise ourselves so that we can look a little less conspicuous and blend in. Have you ever had acting experience?"

"Why, as a matter of fact, I have. In high school, I had a lead role in a musical, plus I joined an amateur theater group during my university years. So, while I haven't had to turn down an offer from Stephen Spielberg yet, I think I could manage a disguise or two. In fact, I think I'd really enjoy living the fantasy."

"What's the most dangerous thing you've ever done?"

"I could tell you, but if I did, I'd have to kill you."

"Okay, the second most dangerous thing you've ever done."

"Well, I went spear fishing one day off Oahu's North Shore. After spearing a large Mahi Mahi, I found myself in the company of a few sharks that had been attracted by the blood. So, I let them have my catch. Then, I slowly swam away. I hate it when the hunter becomes the hunted, but I guess I shouldn't have been spear fishing in the first place."

"Well, you handled yourself well."

"Thank you. I didn't have much choice."

"Now, are there any questions you would like to ask of me?"

"Yes. You mentioned earlier, your previous assistant was helpful in domestic cases where wives would come to your agency very concerned that their husbands might have been unfaithful. What did those cases require you and your assistant to do?"

"My assistant Melody was a very attractive young lady. I'd follow the suspect, find out his usual routines, and then Melody would go to work. Melody often times would act as the bait to lure the cheating husbands. She'd let the husband know she was interested in him, and if he would take the bait, we would reel him in on a videotape camera. Melody was drop dead gorgeous when she wanted to play the femme fatale role. No cheating husband could resist her charms, that is, unless he was faithful. During the past two and a half years, all of the husbands we had investigated were as adulterers. It kind of makes you wonder about the moral character of American society."

"I see."

We shook hands.

"I'll let you know by the end of the week."

By four o'clock that afternoon, I had seen nineteen applicantsfifteen ladies and four guys. The state of California did not allow employers to discriminate, so I had to have a few token guys apply, although for the purposes of this small private investigator agency, a woman was preferred. Also, all the races were covered and the ages ranged from eighteen to sixty.

Although I operate the agency, there are only three people involved in this private investigation service: Melody, Wanda and me. Or, that is, until very recently, Melody was my lovely assistant.

All of the interviewees suffered by comparison to Melody. Very few were as sexy, and none of the female applicants possessed her poise. Some had athletic talent, some were good at photography, martial art skill, people skills, acting ability, which was important in domestic cases, proficiency with a gun, and so on. But, so far nobody had the total package. Of the four gentlemen that had been interviewed, two seemed to have the appropriate skills. Clearly, Wanda had selected well from the resumes of over 50 male applicants, but I doubted any of them could have filled a mini-skirt the way Melody could.

So far, I had narrowed the search to just three young ladies. None of the finalists had any experience, but that was not a problem since I could not afford to hire experienced private investigators. The candidates all had different strengths and weaknesses. Perhaps because Pamela was the first I had interviewed, she had made the strongest impression on me. After nineteen interviews, it was hard to remember who was who. But, if I called back the top three candidates for second interviews later in the week, after seeing some ten more candidates tomorrow, perhaps I could find Melody's replacement.

Wanda had already left the office by the time I had organized my interview notes. It had been a tiring day, so I headed over to a favorite hangout of mine near work. Ah So served the freshest sushi in L.A., and it was modestly priced. But, what else would you expect in bustling Japan Town.

After a short wait, the young kimono clad hostess lead me over to the bar where some single patrons were seated. As the restaurant started to get its suppertime crowd around five o'clock, I was hopeful of getting a good choice of the salmon or crab or tuna fish sushi. Moments later, an attractively dressed Asian lady was escorted to the seat beside me. My lucky day! She wore a body hugging, gold, cheong-sam inspired, silk dress. The dress was knee length with a short slit along the side, showing very sexy, long legs on high heel sandal strap shoes. Her shoulder length thick black hair framed an exquisitely smooth, light complexion. Her almond shaped eyes shifted up to glance at me for a moment. I was in love! Especially after interviewing fifteen attractive young ladies today, I was ready to rumble. She smiled as she reached for the menu.

"Hi!" I said in my best Tom Hanks ah shucks kind of style. "I wonder if you could help me with these menu items."

"I don't know if I can, but sure, I'm willing to try," she almost sang in a clear contralto as she responded with a friendly grin.

I could sense the warmth of her hot body and perhaps the scent of Passion .

"Well, when I come here, I look around at what the other people have ordered. The sushi is great here. I've always found that Japanese restaurants pride themselves on the artistic presentation of each dish as well as the fresh taste of each item. But, I don't read or understand Japanese so the menu isn't very helpful to me. I mean what is oyaku domburi anyway? So, I generally order what I've had before or what seems intriguing on other people's plates. Sometimes I'll ask the hostesses for a recommendation."

With a sheepish expression on her fabulous face, the young lady leaned over and whispered into my ear, "I'm not Japanese, I'm Chinese. Don't they have English menus?"

"I assumed you were Japanese. But, your clothing shows a Chinese influence. I should have guessed."

"Well, you're not Sherlock Holmes," she giggled.

"Actually, in a way I am. My name is Dave Fletcher. I'm a private investigator, so I should be able to pick up on these little hints."

"I am Jade Chan," she replied as we shook hands.

I had to control myself from breaking out in laughter. Here, I had met two Chinese people today. One named Lee, another named Chan. Stereotypical Chinese names. Charlie Chan was the famous Chinese detective of movie famealthough always played by a Caucasian actor. Lee, as in Bruce Lee, was an action superstar.

"Why are you chuckling?" she asked a little nervously, thinking perhaps that I found something funny about her name.

"Well, I was just thinking about the name Chan. A number of years ago, there was a detective movie called Chan is Missing. Being a private investigator, I've seen a lot of private eye moviesincluding the entire Charlie Chan series." I hoped that would get the conversation flowing. "Although I don't remember Charlie Chan, Warner Oland, having a daughter or wife named Jade. And I know you're not number one son. Actor Keye Luke played that part."

"Oh, do you think that all Asians are like the characters you find in stereotypical Hollywood movies or Jackie Chan action films?"

"No, not really. I'm open to new relationships. I've dated Asian girls before."

"What if I told you I met you before, and you hardly paid any attention to me?" she complained. And then she pouted, displaying her disappointment with a breast-heaving sigh. She snuggled closer to me and then, in a very forward gesture, she caressed my thigh with a delicate touch of her hand. "Maybe this will jog your memory."

Sometimes guys think with their penis, but her face and touch did not ring a bell. "Oh, I'm sure I would have remembered you if I'd met you before," I responded as I moved my hand around her slender waist.

Jade squirmed up against me with her sensual, silk covered leg and ample breasts and whispered, "We shall see how open you are to new relationships."

"I'm ready, willing and able, Jade. I'd like to get to know you up close and personal and then maybe you'll believe I'm a nineties kind of guysensitive and in touch with the feelings of women," I said in a sincere, cuddly voice, although inwardly I was embarrassed at all the cliches I had just used. I kissed her on the cheek to see how she would react. She moved her head up and back, offering her throat and her bountiful bosoms as targets for my affection. I obliged with a gentle kiss as my hands explored her tantalizing body.

"You know, maybe we should move to a more private location," murmured Jade as we realized how outrageous this display looked in a Japanese restaurant.

"Your place or mine?" I offered eagerly.

"Well, there's one thing I must tell you before we go. Remember I said we might have met before. Well, you said you would have remembered if we had." She paused and looked me straight in the eyes as she grasped my hands warmly. "I met you earlier today at a job interview. My real name is Kelly Lee."

My jaw dropped. The beautiful lady was no lady. I had just nibbled on the neck of a gorgeous impersonator.

"Surprise!" Kelly/Jade said gleefully. "Now, do you think I could tempt a cheating husband?" she purred, as she gave me a playful peck on the cheek.

CHAPTER THREE

The next morning, while in my office, I telephoned Trisha Dale's residence and asked to speak with her. After a short delay, her assistant, April Cleaver, was able to get her to call me back. When we finally chatted, Trisha thanked us for our assistance at her last concert. We exchanged pleasantries about how everyone in our circle of friends was doing. When Trisha asked about Melody's injury, I had to tell her that Melody was recovering, but she had resigned due to her impending marriage. Melody would no longer be available for security assignments. However, I promised that I would find a capable replacement. Then, we talked about how we were keeping busy. Although Melody was working on some new songs for her next CD at the moment, she advised me that she would need my services at the end of the month when she went up to Las Vegas for a week of concerts at the MGM Grand. That sounded great to me! I said I'd be happy to oblige.

As I hung up the phone, I was tempted to give Melody a call to see if she was interested in coming back to work. She was still being paid until she could make a full recovery from her injury, but I thought better of it. At the end of the month, she'd be off on a honeymoon in the Bahamas. Forget it!

At eleven o'clock, Wanda buzzed on the intercom. "Your appointment is here," she said in that distorted intercom garble.

I opened my office door to invite my visitor in. A punk wearing spiked purple hair, sunglasses, chains, a black T-shirt, leather vest, black jeans and cobbled boots clip-clopped into my office, sat down and propped his boots on top of my desk. There appeared to be a small silver ring embedded in his left eyebrow.

"What's happening, Fletcher my man!" he bellowed with enthusiasm.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be today?" I wondered out loud. "Are you some multiple personality schizoid who just escaped from a mental hospital? Or are you Kelly Lee? Or Jade Chan?"

"I'm your new private investigator!" bragged Kelly confidently.

Looking at the punk before me and thinking back to his two other vastly different personas, I pondered the possibility that some Zelig type personality confusion was happening here. "I must be crazy . . . but I've got to admit, your chameleon-like qualities could come in handy in this profession. It looks like I'm hiring three personalities for the price of one."

The punk jumped up. "Well, you could also pay me the wages of three people. I'd go for that, boss."

"Not likely, although I'd be willing to spring for additional wardrobe expenses . . . By the way, have you ever seen Paul Hogan in that Subaru commercial? The one where a daring young lady fights off her kidnappers, and escapes from her pursuers by doing some amazing stunt driving. Then, she pulls off her Mission Impossible style latex mask and reveals Paul Hogan's grizzled old face? It's amazing what a little Hollywood makeup can do! But, I cannot get over how you fooled me so convincingly yesterday."

I tried to reconcile this punk's face with Jade'sthey simply didn't match up.

"I really had you going, boss," snickered Kelly as he struck an exaggerated pseudo-seductive pose.

"Sit down for a minute," I said as I tried to get things back on track. Shifting forward in my armchair, I put on a serious front. "If we are going to work together, I will need your complete cooperation. There are just two rules you need to remember. Then, you and I will get along," I said, pausing to see if I was making the necessary impression. "Rule Number One is, the boss is always right. Rule Number Two is, if you have doubts about what your boss is doing, go back to Rule Number One. Understand?"

"Okay, boss. No problem. I bow to your experience and wisdom."

"And I don't ever want you to mention the Ah So Restaurant and my close encounter of the wrong kind with femme fatale Jade Chan again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir."

"All right," I said with some relief. "Now, I want to tell you all about the Trisha Dale assignment."

"Trisha Dale? I didn't know you worked for such a famous singer. I am a big fan of hers. She's amazing! You know, her Hawaiian Sunset is huge back home."

"Don't get star struck here. I knew her long before she became a big star. Now, she is an important client. We've got to protect her at all costs. Maybe if we do well, we'll get more work from other show business celebrities. Not that actors or singers are more important than other people, it's just that the wealthy clients can afford to pay us more."

"Yes, more money, mo' money, mo' money . . . In the words of Gordon Gecko, 'Greed is good.'"

"If you appreciate the value of a dollar, then you'll be happy to know that, at the end of the month, we're off to the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. There are a lot of high rollers there. Trisha will be up there for a week and we'll be there to protect her. Not a bad first assignment. I'm sure you'll be pleased. Any questions?"

"Sounds great. I'm already looking forward to it. Just one question, how can I prepare myself for this?"

"Good question. We'll start by contacting the management of her next venue, the MGM Grand. Then, we'll discuss her needs and concerns with her. We'll likely travel up to Vegas and check out the security arrangements with the MGM Grand Security Staff. We'll have to introduce you to her at some point, probably up in Vegas. Have you ever been to Vegas before?"

"I certainly have been to the city of Lost Wages. It's decadent! It's amazing! I love it!"

"Good. But, this afternoon, we're going to take you to a shooting range. Before we go, you'd better change out of that outfit. Although I don't necessarily equate gun owners with rednecks, perhaps it would be nice to see how well you can blend in there. Also, tomorrow, we're going to go a little dojo I know. We'll do a little self-defense training. I want to see if you really are a black belt in karate."

"Great! I look forward to kicking your little white butt."

"We'll see." This kid sure was cocky. But the confident macho swagger of punk Kelly Lee did not match the delectable visage of Jade Chan. I wondered what other surprises lay in store for me.

CHAPTER FOUR

The executive jet ride to Las Vegas from Los Angeles was merely a short hop. As I stepped down the portable stairway to the tarmac, I was hit by a blast of the Vegas dry heat. I turned back to see how Trisha Dale was managing the steps, along with the rest of her entourage.

Standing beside a white, stretch limousine, was a tall, athletic looking, dark haired man dressed in a light blue sport shirt and dark pants. A young, thin, Asian man, wearing a chauffeur's uniform, was beside him.

"Hi, I'm Kent McDonald, MGM Grand Security," he said in an authoritative voice as he extended his hand. "I believe we talked on the phone a few days ago."

"Hi there, I'm Dave Fletcher," I replied, as I shook his hand. "It's nice to finally match a face to the voice."

Moments later, I introduced Trisha Dale to Kent McDonald.

The MGM Grand takes special care of its precious entertainers. The limo was well stocked with refreshments and appetizers. McCarron International isn't very far from the action. When I saw the casinos along Las Vegas Boulevard, or The Strip, as it is known, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. Although I had been there many times before, this thankfully was one town that allowed you to mix business with pleasure.

The MGM Grand is a gargantuan colossus, distinguished by huge lions guarding the front entrance of the glitter palace. Deep behind the street fa‡ade is a large amusement park. Every new casino hotel in Las Vegas is built on a megascaleeach trying to outdo the other. One set tries to entice tourists with distinctive landmarks such as the pyramid of Luxor, the Eiffel Tower of Paris, or the skyscraper skyline of New York, New York. Another group commands attention with spectacles such as Treasure Island's pirate ships or The Mirage's fabulous fountains. It is as if Las Vegas is trying to replicate all the best landmarks and attractions of the world in this God forsaken former Pony Express watering spot in the middle of a Nevada desert.

Kent McDonald led us from the VIP parking to a secure entrance that I am not at liberty to divulge. A private elevator whisked Trisha to a penthouse suite atop the MGM Grand. The posh accommodation was pleasing to the senses. As soon as she saw her magnificent sofa, Trisha took a running leap onto the soft pearl cushions, squealing with delight.

"Wow! This sure beats the haystack at the Dale farm in Kentucky," enthused Trisha, as she rolled around like a pig in mud.

"Please enjoy yourself, Miss Dale," said Kent. "Our security staff is on patrol anytime of the day. Here is a special cell phone. If you press this red button, it automatically notifies us. Otherwise, it is a normal cell phone. Also, you would not believe the number of security video cameras we have in this hotel/casino, so we can spot any potential trouble and react instantaneously. We have 24 -hour room service available for you. Our suite staff is at your beckon and call. Pepe is here take care of your luggage. Before I go, is there anything more I can do for you?"

"Oh, thank you very much, Mr. McDonald. You've been so helpful. You've thought of everything. Bye now."

"We'll see you tomorrow, Miss Dale."

CHAPTER FIVE

After chatting for about an hour with Trisha, her manager, Paul Mauriat, and her personal assistant, April Cleaver, I left to find my own room, which was a few floors below the penthouse level. Kent had provided me with an electronic key card. The MGM Grand staff also took care of my luggage. All I had to do was find the room. Down to the ground floor I went in this private elevator. Then I had to walk over to the pod of elevators for the regular guests.

I inserted the key card in the door. A green light flashed on. I turned the door handle. As the door opened, I could hear a Trisha Dale song playing on a stereo.

"Hi boss!"greeted Kelly with an ear to ear smile.

"What's up Kelly?" I asked with surprise in my voice.

Kelly looked absolutely scrumptious! She wore a body clinging silk dress that revealed a long-legged, curvaceous figure. By whatever means this thin thespian sprouted these bountiful bosoms was beyond belief.

"Oh, this thing," said Kelly with a throwaway gesture. "I just thought I'd surprise you. Besides, over the last few days, we've been doing all that target range shooting and martial arts practice. I needed a break from all that macho stuff. Plus, I need to practice my makeup skills too."

"It looks perfect to me." And that was no lie. Kelly's long, mascara covered eyelashes, thin, high-arched eyebrows, highlighted cheekbones, pouting glossy lips and flawless complexion, framed by a cornucopia of curls was a face straight out of the pages of Vogue.

"Remember, you did say that I might have to work undercover in various guises. And you did say you would cover the wardrobe costs too. For example, a chauffeur's uniform and this Mugler creation, or rather imitation Mugler. So, do you think this works?" asked Kelly earnestly.

"Yes. I don't know how you do it, but I don't think anybody would ever guess you are not what you appear to be. From chauffeur to femme fatale, what a transformation!"

Kelly gave me a peck on the cheek. Her perfume and body heat stirred restrained desires.

"Thank you, Dave." She stood back and gave me an appraising look. "Hey, since the day is still young, and Trisha is safely nested in her wing of the hotel, let's have some fun. Let's do Vegas!" She playfully assumed a model's pose, legs apart and arms akimbo. "How about it handsome?"

"Hmmm," I hesitated. "Okay. I guess we can set up an appointment with hotel security for tomorrow, first thing in the morning. I'll phone Kent McDonald now. Then, let me freshen up and change my clothes."

"Great!"

"In the meantime, maybe you can check to see what's on in Vegas this week."

"Okay, I'm sure there's lots to do."

A half-hour later, Kelly sat at a blackjack table in the New York, New York Casino, which was right across from the MGM Grand. As I had extensive experience at gambling, I wanted to know how talented my new assistant was. Kelly said that she, or rather he, had been in Vegas before, implying possession of some numerical prognosticating skill. Kelly took a seat at the third base position on the dealer's extreme right. A minute later, I sat down at the other end. The dealer, a pretty brunette named Darlene, was shuffling the six decks of cards. A middle-aged couple waited patiently as they conversed with the dealer. Darlene took Kelly's $200 and pushed it down the money slot and gave her a spread of chips, fives, tens and twenty-fives. I started with $100 in chips. After the others declined, Darlene offered me a plastic yellow card to cut the deck. The wagers were all set down on the betting line. Then, we were all ready for action.

Lightning fast, Darlene shot the cards face up across the green felt surface, except for her hole card. The dealer showed an ace up and asked if the players wanted insurance. Everyone declined. Darlene checked the hole card in the small mirror embedded in the table, flipped the ten over as she announced, "Blackjack!"

On the next hand, the dealer's up card was a six. I stayed with my two face cards. The other players did not take any cards, even Kelly, although she had fifteen. After revealing the hole card, which was a nine, the dealer flipped over a seven and busted. And so it went.

Fifteen minutes later, I was down to $20 after a brief dealer hot streak. However, a lot of small cards had come out the last two hands. So I bet it all. Out shot the cards from the shoe. The dealer showed a six up. I had eleven--a perfect double down situation. I reached into my pocket, extracted a twenty from my wallet, and slapped it down on the table. My next card was a nine. Yes! Twenty! Not perfect, but the next best result. The others stood pat, as they all had seventeen or better. Then, the dealer flipped over the hole card, a five. Oh no! Then out shot a ten. Curses! Twenty-one! I lost!

When I left the table, I looked over at Kelly's large stack of chips.

At the next pause for a shuffle, Kelly took a break.

We walked over to a nearby food court. After getting some soft drinks, we sat down.

"You've played this game before, I see," I said encouragingly.

"Yes, I admit I have, although not while dressed so fashionably. Have you played blackjack before?" needled Kelly.

"Why you little devil! Sure, stomp all over my aorta, why don't you. Kick me when I'm down."

"Oh, I'm sorrynot!" Kelly laughed.

"Okay, Kelly. I confess that I'm impressed by your winning touch. You're a card counter, aren't you?"

"Oh no, it's that obvious, huh?"

"Well, you raise your bet after all the small cards come out and lower your bet when a lot of face cards have been dealt. So yes, I'd say it's obvious."

"Well, if you're such an expert, how come you lost?"

"When the moon is in the seventh house, and Jupiter aligns with Mars . . . Bad luck! What can I say."

"Oh, perhaps a lack of skill," snickered Kelly.

"My turn will come someday. Maybe even in the next millennium."

"By the way, why did you want us to pretend that we didn't know each other?" asked Kelly. "Is it because you thought I'd be read by the others?"

"Oh no," said I. "That never entered my mind. Although I am a little paranoid, I just didn't want the hotel security to know that we knew each other. You see, if we had won big time, Big Brother might have thought we were colluding."

"You're kidding."

"No, I am barred at three casinos here in Vegas already."

"Wow! Now I'm impressed," said Kelly with wide-eyed amazement.

"One reason we came to New York, New York is that I've never been here before. Anyway, why don't we blow this pop stand? I'm getting hungry. How about dinner?"

"I'd love too," replied Kelly admiringly.

As I grabbed her hand to help her out from behind the table, it struck me that I was treating Kelly just the way I would have treated Melody. That disturbed the hell out of me.

CHAPTER SIX

Trisha Dale was a demanding client, but she wasn't a prima donna. She was a down to earth girl. However, her concerns about security were very real. One fan, in particular, was obsessed with Trisha. Some of the rather disturbing letters from this delusional nutbar would be enough to scare anyone. The adoring fan seemed to have a marriage obsession. Disappointed that he had not even met Trisha, he was getting rather nasty about unrequited love. Unfortunately, the police and other private detectives were unable to find out who was sending these crazy, sometimes threatening, communiques. "Romeo" never signed the letters with his real name or gave a return address. Also, the point of origin of these messages changedthey coincided with the places she had traveled on her concert tour.

"We're going to have to guard you closely, Trisha," I warned, after looking at some of those sick letters.

"Tell me something I don't know, Dave. I'm paying you a lot of money for protection. But, so far, I'm not getting a solution to my problem." A worried expression creased what was normally an unlined, exquisite forehead. Trisha's blonde mane turned away from Dave. She paced nervously back and forth.

"Well, you're unscathed so far. However, maybe we can hire a few more people to beef up security. I have a few contacts here in Las Vegas. There's one called Remington that I've used before. They've been very good when I worked with them in the past. The MGM Grand Security Staff is quite competent. Also, what would you think of having some protection right on stage with you. We could give you another backup singer whose main assignment would be to guard you."

"Now you're thinking! This Remington outfit sounds worthwhile, but we'll have to negotiate a price. Are they anything like those incredibly attractive male dancers? Also, I like that backup singer idea. Have you got someone in mind?" asked Trisha hopefully.

"I've got a new, multi-talented assistant named Kelly Lee. She's one in a million and she knows all your songs. Actually, it was her idea that she could provide a security presence on stage. Just give me a second, I'll get her on the cell phone and I'll see if she can come over right now."

Three minutes later, there was a knock on the door of Trisha Dale's posh MGM Grand Suite. After checking the video camera shot of the entranceway, I opened the door. In waltzed the charismatic Kelly Lee in a sexy golden pantsuit with sequins and bangles and beads and topped with a white cowboy hat.

"Hi y'all!" hooted Kelly in a southern Chinese drawl. "Why Miss Dale, I'm mighty pleased to finally meet you. Why, when my friend Dave Fletcher told me he was going to introduce me to you, I was mighty pleased. Yes ma'am, I love your music. I'd love to perform with you."

Kelly laid it on mighty thick, I thought, as she shook her baubles, bangles and beads. Somehow she managed to sway her hips in a seductive manner as she strutted about on her high-heeled white cowboy boots. T and A sells. This glitzy, glamorous gal was going to cost a fortune in wardrobe expenses.

Trisha looked over Kelly with a doubtful eye. "First of all, can you sing?" Second, and more to the point, are you a skilled bodyguard?"

"Do you want me to audition for you right now?" asked Kelly confidently.

I had brought along a karaoke machine to Trisha's suite, knowing that we would need to convince her that Kelly could carry a tune.

Trisha's hit song, Mystery Angel, started up. Kelly grabbed the proffered microphone from me and started swaying to the music. She imitated the dance steps Trisha did during the introduction. Then, if you had closed your eyes and listened carefully, you wouldn't have known it wasn't Trisha Dale the Nightingale singing. However, it was Kelly Lee! Unbelievable! An almost perfect imitation! What an amazing vocal range!

"I'm impressed girl," gushed Trisha as she rushed up to Kelly to give her a congratulatory hug. "You've got a wonderful, throaty singing voice. But you're going to do backupnot the lead. Okay? And . . . we'd better change your name. It sounds too much like Kathie Lee."

"No problem . . . How does Jade sound?" I volunteered. "Kelly, what do you think?"

"You mean just go with a single name? Like Cher or Jewel or . . . Jade?"

"Just don't use a symbol like the artist formerly known as Prince," advised Trisha.

Kelly beamed as Trisha put her arms around the faux Chinese Trisha in another warm embrace.

After a moments thought, Trisha wondered, "But, can Jade also protect me?"

"Well, I think I should tell you that Jade, or Kelly, earned a black belt in karate," I explained. "During the last three weeks, we've had Jade/Kelly undergo some more training as a refresher course, although these expanded martial art techniques borrow from many different styles, not just karate."

I also came prepared for a little demonstration. From underneath the karaoke machine, I pulled out a two inch thick wooden platform it had been sitting on. I braced my body and held the board as rigidly as I could at chest height. In the meantime, Kelly had removed her cowboy boots. Then, Kelly pirouetted gracefully on her left foot and fired a roundhouse kick at the middle of the board, shattering it as I held the remaining shards.

"Beauty and brawn and musical talent all in one package," I proclaimed as Jade/Kelly clasped her hands together and bowed towards me and then to Trisha.

"I'm sold!" marveled Trisha. "Let's get the other singers and start rehearsing as soon as possible."

CHAPTER SEVEN

I cannot believe how this happened! A short time ago, the only crossdressers I had seen were on The Jerry Springer Show. I must be crazy! Now, my new assistant was going to be posing as a backup singer for superstar Trisha Dale! How could I hire Kelly Lee? This whole thing was going to blow up in my face. What would happen to my reputation if somebody discovered that my assistant looked like Miss America, but peed standing up? Furthermore, should I tell Trisha about Kelly/Jade's dual identity? How would she feel about the deception?

As I sat in the showroom of the MGM Grand, the melodic sounds reverberated around the cavernous auditorium. I watched intently as Jade rehearsed with Trisha Dale and her backup singers. Things were going unbelievably well. Trisha was such a generous person that she immediately made everyone feel welcome and accepted. And the other singers were soon won over by Jade's amazing vocal range.

Jade's acute ear and her knowledge of all of Trisha's songs helped immensely. Of course, when Jade/Kelly had heard he was going to be protecting Trisha Dale, he prepared by making sure he knew every one of her songs by heart. He immediately bought every Trisha Dale CD he didn't already own, and then listened to her music in the car, on his home stereo, on his Walkman while he was outdoors. He was a man possessed! His obsession was so overwhelming that at one point I thought he might be Trisha's unknown stalker. Or worse, he wanted to be Trisha Dale. When he first suggested that an onstage security presence might be helpful, I thought the idea was too far fetched. But, he pointed out that if he could get within Trisha's inner circle, it would provide us with more information. After all, we had no idea who was threatening her. But, to pose as a female backup singer? Would he be absolutely convincing? And what would Trisha think?

However, Kelly was such a confident individual that he had at least persuaded me that he should be given the chance. He proceeded to demonstrate his singing voice to me. The first time, it looked rather incongruous. A female voice coming out of a male body, but I had to admit, his voice was outstanding. He told me that he had enjoyed singing all his life, from the time he was a boy soprano to the present as an adult tenor, he was blessed with a three-octave range. More importantly, he delved into his past briefly. He said that he had first performed in drag at a Karaoke club in Hawaii on a dare. Nobody ever guessed he wasn't what she appeared to be. However, Kelly said the hard part wasn't the singing. The difficult part was disguising himself as a girl. He had never done it before. But, since it was his girlfriend, Diane, that issued the dare, she helped him prepare for the outing. And, with her help, his looks rivaled those of his girlfriend Diane. He said it was a real BLAST! Some guys even tried to pick them up!

While I was daydreaming, the performers decided to take a break. Trisha Dale and her backup group retreated backstage for some refreshments, dragging Jade with them. This rehearsal was much longer than usual as they were breaking Jade's maiden. But she was a fast learner. Videotape of the simple dance steps of the backup group would help Jade prepare later on her own.

I wandered backstage. Jade and the other girls were sitting around having coffee. Jade was in an animated conversation with one of the girlsa real looker. I think her name was Danielle.

"Hi Dave," said Trisha cheerfully.

"How is it going, Trisha?"

"Wonderful! She's just fabulous, Dave. Things couldn't be better. You know, I think we could end the rehearsal right now. Jade knows all the songs and we've been through all the dance steps. In any case, we don't want to overload her. Besides, there's not much more we need to do. We've already had the costume fittings done. And I can tell you right now, she looks fabulous!"

"I'm glad everything's going so smoothly. You know, I've really enjoyed working for you. I was sitting there in the showroom watching the rehearsal, and it was pure joy! You treat your singers and musicians so well. There are so many catchy tunes playing over and over in my head. You really give the fans their money's worth! It'll be an unbelievable concert!"

"Why thank you for the compliment!"

At that moment, I felt an arm around my shoulder.

"Hi Dave," said Jade, as she gave me a gentle hug.

"Hey Jade! You were great!" I said warmly, as I put my arm around her waist and gave her an affectionate squeeze.

"My heart was beating 150 times a minute! I was so nervous!" exclaimed Jade.

"Performing is such an adrenaline rush, isn't it?" added Trisha. "And it will be even better opening night!"

"Oh, I can't wait! It's so exciting!" enthused Jade.

CHAPTER EIGHT

As I inserted the key card and opened the door to the hotel suite, I stood back and with a polite bow and a wave of my extended hand I said, "After you my dear."

"Always a gentleman," cooed Jade.

"Whereas you are not, fair lady."

I closed the door with a sense of relief.

"Thank goodness that's over. My feet are killing me! All that dancing! And this wig is kind of hot. I can't wait to get out of these clothes," said Jade as she/he pulled off her wig.

"Wait a minute. Remember, you cannot go outside of this suite as Kelly Lee. What if a member of the Trisha Dale entourage accidentally sees the two of us together? They might put one and one together and get three. So, if you want to go out, you had better stay in character."

"Oh no, you want me to stay in drag all the time."

"While we're in public, yes," I replied.

She glanced in the nearby mirror and readjusted her wig. "You are one perverted puppy!"

"Wait a second! I'm the perverted one? And before I forget, after rehearsal downstairs, you should not have come up to me and hugged me."

"You're not getting homophobic are you," said Kelly incredulously in his regular voice.

"No, not me. After all, I did hire you didn't I, even though you embarrassed me in that Japanese restaurant Ah So."

"Did you say Ah So or Asshole?"

"Okay, I confess, it was a puny attempt."

"Sob, our first fight!"

"Is that s.o.b. for son of a bitch or sob as in I'm sick of bad acting."

"I'm an accomplished thespian, not a lesbian."

"You're so corny, you could have starred in Field of Dreamsas a cornstalk."

"Oh yeah . . . your acting is so wooden you could have had the title role in Jack and the Beanstalk. And I don't mean Jack, 'cause you don't know jack!"

"Au contraire, mon ami. I do not have a woody. And how dare you 'jack' me!"

"Then Jack, let's see." Jade stepped closer to me and looked me straight in the eye with a mischievous grin. "Because this woody's for you." She reached behind my neck with both hands and kissed me hungrily, forcing her tongue into my mouth. After coming up for air, she whispered into my ear. "You liar, you do have a woody. And it's just as hard as mine."

"Damn! I hate it when you always think you're rightand you are right."

"Men, they are so transparent."

"Jade, you dirty little slut. I hate being manipulated."

Jade wrapped her legs around mine.

"But it does feel so good," I admitted as I hugged and kissed her passionately.

After another pause for air, "I am not a slut. You think you can find a special girl like me anywhere you like. Perhaps you should try shopping at the local Las Vegas SLUTS 'R US? Because I hear it's the best in America. Humph!"

Then, Jade pushed me away, and turned her back to me.

"Why, you little tease!"

But Jade couldn't control her laughter. I grabbed her from behind and picked her up in my arms as she let out a squeal of delight. Then she gave me another forceful kiss as I lowered her to the plush, king-sized bed.

"You had better unhand me, or I'll slap you with a sexual harassment suit. Either that, or Kelly will whip your little white butt again in hand to hand combat."

"All talkno action. Put up or shut up!"

Without speaking a word, her body language said yes.

"Brrrrnnnngggg . . . brrrrnnnngggg . . . brrrrnnnngggg . . . "

I paused to consider my choices here. Continue our mad, passionate lovemaking in the pursuit of ultimate ecstasy, or answer the freaking phone!

I embraced Jade and rolled our intertwined bodies over toward the nightstand and reached for the phone.

"How could you!" hissed Jade.

"I have to. Not many people know we're here. It must be important."

Jade's face scrunched up into a disappointed scowl.

"Hello," I muttered.

"Hello, Dave. This is Kent McDonald."

"Hi Kent."

"How are things going?"

"Very good. Couldn't be better. What's going on?

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I think we've got a problem."

"Oh, what sort of problem?" I asked, hoping that he'd hurry up and get to the point.

"We've just received a flower delivery for Trisha Dale. It looks like it's from our stalker. There's a threatening note. Perhaps you should come down and have a look."

"I'll come down to your office right away."

"All right."

"Thanks, Kent. Bye."

"Bye."

Jade had been listening intently.

"Trouble in paradise, huh?" she commented as she gave me a hug.

"Yes, I have to go," I said, as I got up from the bed.

"Should I wait for you?" she asked as I continued moving towards the bathroom.

"I'm not sure, I could be awhile. I think I probably will have to get on the trail of this flower delivery and then report to Trisha Dale afterwards. So, I'm sorry, but I probably won't be having dinner with you," I called loudly, as my voice reverberated around the airy, ceramic-tiled bathroom.

"That's okay. Maybe I'll call up one of Trisha's back-up singers for dinner this evening. You remember Danielle, the one who inspired your erection to new heights. She sure is friendly. Maybe I can get to know her on more than a professional level," she said.

"Very good. Perhaps, once she gets to know you, she'll tell you some things that might come in handy on this case."

After washing up, I stepped out of the bathroom. Jade had wrapped herself in a fluffy, white cotton bathrobe. Damned sexy! As she passed by me on her way into the bathroom, I wished that Kent could have held off on his phone call for a half-hour. I always liked to finish what I started. On the other hand, I'm not sure how I would handle coming to grips with a possible change in my sexual orientation.

CHAPTER NINE

Dear Trisha,

The roses are dead, the violets are blue,

My love is sweet, especially with you.

If you love me, I'll always be true,

But betray my love, and I'll kill you.

The bouquet of flowers contained a dozen dead red roses and a bunch of blue violets. The bizarre threatening note was written on a flowery Hallmark Card in which the original poetic message had been covered by a typed message. A large cardboard box, containing the flowers, was delivered by Purolator to the casino. Kent McDonald had contacted Purolator in Palm Springs, but so far, had not been able to obtain any useful information about the identity of the sender. Also, no fingerprints were found on the stationery. There was nothing remarkable about the species of roses or violets. Both could be easily obtained in Southern California.

When I discussed my findings with Trisha, there were no promising leads.

She was rather distressed and I hadn't been much comfort to her.

"I'm absolutely scared senseless, Dave. This thing is just eating away at me. I'm a prisoner here in this hotel. I don't even feel safe when I'm at home. I'm so worried when I perform that I think I might just freeze up on stage. I might have to cancel the concerts," said Trisha uneasily. Her face was wracked with worry. With a double Scotch in her trembling right hand, as she curled her legs under her body on a plush loveseat, she looked like a jangle of nerves in search of a breakdown.

This "Romeo" maniac covered his tracks well and his poison was having an effect.

'Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?' I thought to myself, not daring to upset Trisha even more by trying levity. "Come on Trisha, this guy isn't supersmart. He's clever, but he isn't Lex Luthor, you know."

"Yeah, and you're not Superman."

"Well, would you settle for Clark Kent . . . or would you believe Maxwell Smart?" I couldn't help myself.

"How can you joke at a time like this? This madman could very well kill you when he makes an attempt on my life. We're in the middle of a crisis, where any breath we take could be our last," she said melodramatically.

I stepped toward Trisha, stumbled acrobatically into a judo roll on the carpet, and bounced up immediately. "And loving it!" I declared in my best Max voice.

"You're losing it," concluded Trisha. And then she smiled. "Come here. I need a hug."

So did I.

CHAPTER TEN

Over dinner with Jade, I kept thinking about what had happened in our hotel room. Never before had I been so excited by a beautiful guy. I began to have doubts about my sexual orientation. But whenever I looked up to see Jade's delectable visage, I decided that I should not spend my time regretting what I had done. Although it was the first time I had knowingly wanted to have sex with a man, she sure could have fooled me, even now. From her marvelous mammaries, to her bodacious butt, her sensuous scent and her loving laughter, Jade was all woman.

I wondered about Jade, though. With my previous assistant, the drop dead gorgeous Melody Watson, I had not had an intimate relationship. But, Melody was faithful to her boyfriend Greg. So, she had never tried to seduce me and I had never tried to pressure or pleasure her. Besides, was it wise to have sex with an employee? After all, I was the boss. But, I wondered about Jade's past, our present and what possibly the future could hold.

"By the way, when I said you shouldn't have hugged me after the rehearsal, I meant that it might have been a mistake to let Trisha's entourage know that you knew me."

"Perhaps, but I was so excited, I got carried away. Anyway, the backup singers already knew because, when Trisha introduced me, she said that Dave Fletcher had recommended me."

"I suppose that the musicians and backup singers wouldn't trust a newcomer with their most intimate secrets anyway. They're bound to be on their guard. Still, you will keep your eyes and ears open. You never know what might pop up."

Under the table, I could feel Jade's bare foot rub up against my crotch.

"Now cut that out! Not here! Not now!"

"Well, it's your fault. You made the 'pop up' comment," said Jade.

"Oh, let's get our minds on other things and off sex. I know it will be hard, I mean difficult," I stammered.

"I just want to mention a couple of things, so that you don't get the wrong idea. First of all, I have not dressed this way very often, so I don't want you to think I do this on a regular basis. Secondly, what we almost had this afternoon was special to me. I really got carried away with my role-playing, as I never have before. Although I have had girlfriends before, this was . . . my first time being turned on by a guy."

"Mine too." Wow! I thought she seduced me. But, maybe I enticed her. Or perhaps it was simply MAD, mutually activated depravity.

"Yes. I kind of thought so. But, for the first time, I seriously wanted sex with another guy!"

"Ditto."

"Let's not do that Demi Moore-Patrick Swayze Ghost scene," complained Jade.

"You know, anytime you get intimate with someone for the first time, it is always incredible, although we were interrupted before we could finish."

Jade and I embraced and locked lips in a passionate, day-long kiss.

A bus boy passed by, interrupting our intimate moment.

"Perhaps we should consider a night on the town. You have worked so hard today, Jade. We need to celebrate your showbusiness success. What do you want to do this evening for entertainment?"

"I've already got reservations for a show. In fact, the tickets are right here in my purse."

"Oh, that was rather presumptuous of you. How did you know I would go with you?"

"Who said I was going with you?" countered Jade.

She gave me one of those stereotypical inscrutable smiles.

"Oh, I get it. You're going on a date with Danielle. Right? Never mind. I should have known. But, I'd be happy to go with you if Danielle can't make it. Anyway, you're always two steps ahead of me." I paused to consider my next question. "By the way, what show are you going to see?"

"I'm not telling you, mister detective. It'll be a mystery. But, you know Danielle wasn't in her hotel suite when I phoned, so I never could arrange anything with her. So, I'll have to settle on a date with you."

"Gee, I'm flattered."

As we got up to leave, Jade attracted many admiring glances. Some of the envious men did not care that it was impolite to stare. Jade wore a little black dress, a Donna Karan design. Thin shoulder straps, a low cut, rather revealing bust narrowing to a tiny undulating waist that flared out to sensuous, shapely hips and a nicely rounded rear end. Her shapely long legs, encased in taupe pantyhose, glided effortlessly across the restaurant's marble floor on top of open toed high heels that seemed to be barely held together by thin straps. A dazzling, curly, big hairdo framed her delicate face. A Gucci purse! Her understated glittering watch, sparkling necklace and dazzling earrings screamed Cartier! However, like everything else, it was merely a fabulous fake.

Isn't life grand!

Taking a back road running parallel to the Strip, we arrived a few minutes later at the Riviera. Even in the evening, the July temperature was still extremely hot and uncomfortable. Once inside the friendly, crowded confines of the casino, it took a while to navigate the route to the showroom. All the while, Jade attracted the lascivious looks of many extremely interested male gamblers. This in spite of the fact there were banging, clanging, and flashing sluts. Whoops, slots I meant. Up a flight of elevators, we arrived just in time for the nine o'clock show.

After getting our drinks, we were led to our front row seats. I didn't even have to tip the maitre d' for this privilege.

As we were sitting down, I accidentally brushed up against Jade. She smiled and put her hand in mine. The theater was extremely crowded. We were jammed together like lovers at an orgy.

"I think you'll like this show!" she said with a conspiratorial smile.

The lights went down. The curtain came up. Spotlights shone all around the room like searchlights in the midnight sky. There's No Business Like Show Business started up. I expected Bugs Bunny and the Roadrunner to emerge any second. Instead, a bevy of beautiful girls came on stage and up the aisles and into the audience. Many of the gorgeous showgirls passed just a few feet away. Breathtaking costumes and breathtaking breasts!

"Welcome to An Evening at La Cage!" boomed out a voice from the surround sound speakers.

Oh no! Here we go again!

As quickly as the lovely ladies appeared, they disappeared. Then, Joan Rivers, dressed in a fabulous Bob Mackie evening gown, made her way to center stage to thunderous applause.

There was a joke about the spectacle backstage, something like these bitches Whitney Houston, Cher, Madonna, Barbara Striesand, Celine Dion, were scratching each others eyes out, because they all wanted to shave using the same mirror. The "girls" had their mothers' features and their fathers' fixtures. Another tasteless joke was about not having enough space at this venue for ballroom, or was it a ballroom?

That was a prelude to fabulous female impersonation acts. One in particular caught my eye. She was a marvelous Madonna! She danced up a storm, complete with virile male dancers to please the ladies.

As well, "Here we go again!" sang voluptuous Dolly Parton. And to tell you the truth, this impersonator, because she was younger than the real Dolly, was absolutely unreal! A ten! And maybe a forty-four! Jade chided me because my eyes bugged out when I spied Dolly's cleavage. This was so amazing, considering that a few minutes earlier, Dolly had been Madonna. Later, she would do a killer Marilyn, and I don't mean Manson.

At one point in the show, Joan Rivers spied us. Now I knew why the maitre d' put us up front. Joan asked our names, asked where we were from, and praised Jade for her beautiful appearance. Then, she grabbed Jade's hand and said, "Come on honey, let's see how you did?" She checked out the ring on Jade's hand. "You know honey, this isn't even a real diamond. You ought to dump your boyfriend, Dave." That got a big laugh from the audience. Joan had them in the palm of her slightly larger than expected hand. "Have I got someone for you!" Joan tried to play matchmaker. She went around the audience, looking for prospective bachelors. Unfortunately, all of them seemed to pale by comparison to me, at least in Jade's mind. Undaunted, Joan proceeded to describe an ideal match for Jade, stating his name, height, age, interests and enormous income. Then, she asked Jade if she was interested in meeting this young stud of an actor. "Surprise!" exclaimed Joan as she reached up to her golden locks and snatched the perfect coiffure away, revealing a very handsome young man beneath the blonde wig. The audience exploded! It was the highlight of the night! Unfortunately, there was nowhere for me to hide.

As the next act, Cher, came onstage, I leaned over to Jade and asked, "Do you think he knew?"

"Not a chance! This show is all illusion. They are the best of the best! They don't expect someone in the audience to be better than them!" she squealed with delight.

My attention went back to Cher, who was hidden behind a screen. We could see only her curvaceous figure in shadow and hear her familiar throaty voice. Then, she emerged from behind the screen. The audience gasped! Cher must have weighed 300 pounds. The audience shrieked with laughter!

And so it continued.

Near the end of the show, a breathtakingly beautiful woman came on stage. The song What Makes a Man a Man? accompanied an amazing striptease. The dazzling performer took off a few of her outer garments, then her makeup, her wig, and revealed herself to be a sexy stud. A dude! He donned some masculine attire, and presto changeo, she was a he!

For the finale, Jade received an unexpected delight. Joan presented roses to members of the audience that she had picked on. For example, one flat chested lady had been held up to ridicule. The flowers were simply Joan's way of showing her thanks and that there were no hard feelings. It was a warm gesture. Some might even say classy. However, you would never accuse Joan of being classy. Attached to Jade's rose was a little note with Joan/John's phone number. I had to laugh. Why Joan, you dirty little slut! For some reason, Jane Curtin and Dan Ackroyd came to mind.

We even had a brief talk with Joan after the show. In the crowded lobby, surrounded by huge posters of all the stars of the show, living or dead, Joan met with her adoring fans, hawked autographed souvenir programs and chatted with the amused women and horny homosexuals. Whoops! Was I one? However, Joan had another show to do, and since I was there, he didn't make his move on Jade then. But, I noticed that Jade still clutched the phone number tightly in her hand. Jade and Joanthey'd make such a handsome couple. Although neither one could have children.

When we got back to our hotel suite, there was a flashing light on the telephone. I checked with the front desk for messages. I was put in touch with the MGM Grand Security Division.

"Hi, Dave Fletcher?"

"Yes. Who am I speaking to?"

"Dave, it's Kent McDonald."

"Oh yes, what's up?"

"It's happened again."

"Oh, what happened?" I asked with concern expressed in my voice.

"There was another threat from our unknown Romeo. He warned Trisha not to go on dates with other people."

"What did the note say exactly?"

"'My dearly beloved Trisha. Although I have devoted my entire life to you, you continue to flirt with other men. If you are not faithful to me, I will make sure nobody else will have you. Sincerely, your soul mate. Love, William' That's all there is."

"Did you check out the florists?"

"The flowers were delivered by UPS from Los Angeles. The package was placed in a UPS drop box. I'm afraid it doesn't look like a promising lead."

"Hmmm, where is Sherlock Holmes when you need him. He'd be able to figure out where the plants came from and pin it down to a specific house. Oh well. We know that the earlier messages did not have any name. This nut could be somebody completely different."

"Well, we have beefed up security. As you know, there are video cameras all over the MGM Grand. If someone is behaving in a suspicious manner anywhere in the public areas of the casino or hotel, we'll catch him on video. Hopefully, we'll catch him before he can get too close to Trisha Dale."

"Thanks very much for this update, Kent."

"Glad to be of help, Dave. Bye."

"Goodbye."

That news spoiled the mood of the entire night. I could not help but worry about what tomorrow would hold in store for us.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Every time Trisha Dale went on stage, I got butterflies in my stomach as big as airplanes. Not knowing who was a possible threat to Trisha kept me very worried. As I looked out at the concert crowd from my backstage position, I wondered if there was anything more we could do?

The Remington crew was well equipped with police style batons. They stood in front of the stage as an obvious deterrent. But, the typical Vegas crowd at the MGM Grand Showroom was not an unruly crowd. These value-minded people were all crammed around the tables, anxiously waiting for their two-drink minimum order to be served before the 8 o'clock curtain time. They were usually considerate audiences, not drugged up rock concertgoers with a violent bent. Besides, Trisha Dale's country pop crossover style attracted a family audience that was known for being "nice". Enthusiastic, but polite!

I looked over to the backup singers. Jade/Kelly was fitting in like she was an old pro. The spotlights lit up the sparkling white pantsuits of the singers who strutted through their rhythmic dance routines in faultless unison. What an actor/singer! If the audience only knew Jade/Kelly's secret! Well, even Trisha Dale didn't know. Maybe we'd tell her later, after this was all over.

Nervously, I scanned the audience again. All the smiling faces indicated they were having a great time. Still, I could feel something was up. This was the third show of the week. The first two had gone off without a hitch, but I sensed something was wrong. My gut instincts usually were right.

A young lady rushed up one of the aisles. She was carrying a bouquet of flowers. She was intercepted by one of the Remington men.

Trisha saw what happened. She was in a bit of a quandary. If she moved forward to accept the flowers from this young adoring fan, it could invite other similar gestures. And that could get dangerous. To disappoint her young fan could possibly turn some of her audience against her, thinking that she should be more accessible to her fans.

"Jade," I said into my microphone, "Go forward and accept the flowers from the young lady and give them to Trisha. And invite the fan backstage later. That should make her happy."

Jade moved out of her position without hesitation. When the audience saw the gesture of acceptance and the look of anticipation on the girl's face because of the invitation, the audience sensed that the fan was excited. Certainly her face was beaming like bottled lightning.

Jade moved back and passed the bouquet over to Trisha and she graciously accepted them. Moments later, a stagehand stepped forward to take the flowers offstage. The band started up, and Trisha clapped her hands together in rhythm to the music to get some audience participation.

Suddenly a group of fans rushed the stage from the side! Then another group charged forward. This couldn't be happening at a Trisha Dale performance! Shit!

The Remington men moved to head off the fans. Then, I saw a strangely familiar figure among the second group of fans that had rushed the stage. A large figure in a tight, black Trisha Dale T-shirtthe "wrestler" that had hurt my precious Melody Watson!

"Jade!" I yelled into the microphone, "Get that Neanderthal to your left. Watch it! He's dangerous!"

As the burly man rushed forward, I could see a glint of steel in his hand. A Remington man lay crumpled on the auditorium floor, below the stage level.

"He's got a knife!"

I charged forward to stop the assailant, but Jade swung into action. Sweeping her leg along the floor, she knocked the man off his feet. He took a swipe at her leg with his knife but caught nothing but air. Jade kicked out at the knife blade, disarming him. Undaunted, he sprang to his feet. For a big man, he was deceptively quick! He swung at Jade with his left hand. Jade ducked and countered with a kick to the groin, then flicked a straight punch to the jaw. The big man crumpled to the floor. I moved in, turned his heavy body over, pulled his arms and hands together behind his back and clamped handcuffs on his wrists.

Trisha Dale had stopped singing, but the band kept playing. The audience rose and cheered wildly! Jesse the Body Ventura would have loved this!

Trisha raced over to Jade. She embraced her, then put her arm around Kelly's waist as they faced the audience, and began singing again. Trisha and Jade smiled and looked into each other's eyes intently. The new duet swayed back and forth in harmony to the music and belted out Mystery Angel. The crowd cheered wildly!

The Remington men moved in to take the weirdo away. I signaled to the stage manager, "Let's close the curtain. We have an injured security guard. Let's get the police here."

As the song ended and the curtain was closing, Trisha Dale, with a graceful flourish, presented her heroine to the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, the very lovely and talented Jade!" Jade stepped forward and took a bow to thunderous applause. "We have to take a break. Thank you very much! We love you!" The crowd rose to its feet as one! Jade and Trisha must have bowed ten times more before they could make their escape.

As soon as the curtain closed, I ran over to Trisha and Jade.

"Jade! Great work!" I hugged him/her and Trisha.

Trisha added, "You were absolutely wonderful! You're my hero!" Then, she embraced Jade again, this time kissing her on the lips! "Thanks so much!" gushed Trisha to an appreciative, excited Jade.

"Well, let's get Trisha out of here before anything else happens," I said to Jade. "I'll stick around and take care of the attacker until the police arrive."

Trisha and Jade disappeared offstage, still arm in arm.

I walked briskly over to the front of the stage. A crowd had gathered around the injured Remington man. The MGM Security men had the stalker in hand. A check of the identification in his wallet revealed his name was William Marlowe. Why hadn't Melody Carter and I investigated this nut outside of the Great American Amphitheater? We should have stuck around and had him arrested back then. I was thankful that our star Trisha Dale was safe, but I hoped that our wounded Remington man would be all right.

EPILOGUE

The police and the media came up to Trisha Dale's suite. We managed to keep the media out until the police had finished their investigation. Fortunately, the MGM Grand Security Staff had a video recording of the concert from start to finish, but there were still a lot of questions to be answered. The suspect accused of knifing the unlucky Remington security man was identified as William Marlowe, a recently released psychiatric patient. Amazingly, our Remington victim, a twenty-five year old named Steve Austin, was fortunate not to have any life threatening wounds, although he would face a long recovery period.

Although Jade/Kelly was a hero(ine), I wasn't sure I wanted the secret of his identity revealed. That could add to the freak show atmosphere the attack had manifested. And Trisha didn't deserve the shock about Jade/Kelly's identity under these circumstances. Furthermore, that could also cast suspicion about Trisha's wholesome image. We didn't want a juicy National Enquirer type scandal on our hands.

The media wanted a story. If Kelly gave his real name to the press, there was a very good chance the secret of his/her identity would become known and a scandal could result. So, for the press and police, we used her "stage name".

"The name is . . . Jade . . . um . . . Bond . . . That's right. The name is Bond, Jade Bond," repeated Kelly as she gave a dazzling smile for the cameras. Nobody does it better, better than all the rest. And the confused press had a genuine hero(ine) worth her fifteen minutes of fame. One who stirred the emotions, but was not easily shaken.