Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [110]
After seeing the size and grandeur of the Redeemer Church, Maleah wasn’t the least surprised by the huge and expensively decorated office area housed on the second level. Renee led them through two outer offices and into her husband’s private domain. Decorated in sleek, black, white, chrome and glass, the 30' x 30' room all but screamed interior designer, which led to Maleah’s question.
“Did you decorate the office, Mrs. Leroy?”
Renee beamed with pride. “Why yes, I did. How ever did you know that?” She giggled. “Silly me. You’re an investigator. You probably did some background research on me as well as on Grant.”
“As a matter of fact, we did.” But Maleah did not recall any info about Renee Leroy ever having been an interior designer. She had been a waitress, a bartender, a restaurant hostess, and even a salesclerk in a paint and wallpaper store.
A robust man with impeccably styled salt-and-pepper hair and sparkling brown eyes came out from behind the enormous chrome and glass desk, walked across the room, and came right up to Maleah. Not handsome by any means, Grant Leroy did project an image of wealth and success with his neatly tailored pinstriped suit, his Italian leather loafers, and the gold and diamond jewelry that adored his wrists and fingers.
“Ms. Perdue, I presume,” he said as he grabbed her hand and gave it a sturdy shake before turning to Derek and doing the same. “And Mr. Lawrence. I understand you have a few questions for me about some of my old cronies from the days when I was trapped in that quagmire of sin and damnation, the adult movie business.”
It was all Maleah could to do not to laugh in the man’s face. Quagmire of sin and damnation? Give me a break.
Derek jumped in with the first question. Apparently he was not on the verge of laughing. “You’re aware, of course, that four former stars that you directed in Midnight Masquerade have been murdered, one each in the past four months.”
Dramatically laying his hand over his chest, Grant heaved a deep sigh. “I was saddened to hear of their deaths, but not surprised. The evil that we do lives on, and if we don’t repent of our sins and beg our merciful Lord to cleanse us, body and soul, then there is no hope for us.”
Someone cleared their throat. Maleah looked over her shoulder and saw a young man in his twenties standing in the open doorway. He was Grant Leroy’s image, only many years younger, with dark hair and eyes and a somber expression on his face.
“Come on in, son.” Grant motioned with a come-here gesture. “This is my son, Heath. He’s our youth minister and I’m proud to say my right-hand man helping me do the Lord’s work.”
Unsmiling, Heath moved his wary gaze slowly from Maleah to Derek and then to his father. “I’m not sure you should be speaking to these people without a lawyer.”
Grant dismissed his son’s objections with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense. I’m not being accused of anything. And since I have nothing to hide, you shouldn’t worry about these investigators asking me a few questions about my amoral past and the people I associated with back then.”
“The Powell Agency has contacted all the actors, those who haven’t been murdered already, to warn them that they’re in danger,” Maleah said. “And we’re interviewing everyone associated with that movie, everyone from the producer to the cameramen.”
“We believe the killer is in some way connected to that one particular movie,” Derek said. “We are not accusing anyone. We’re simply asking questions in order to eliminate as many possible suspects as we can.”
“Then you consider my father a suspect?” Heath asked.
“Mr. Lawrence didn’t say that,” Grant told his son and then focused on Derek. “I am a changed man. I’m a devoted servant of God. I believe in and teach others to love the Lord and our fellow man. I am opposed to violence of any kind. I have only love in my heart for those poor, wretched souls who haven’t found Jesus and are still plagued by their past wickedness.”
“Have you kept in touch with anyone associated with Midnight Masquerade?” Maleah asked.