Begging for Trouble by Judi McCoy

will come to you that you haven’t thought of before. Then you can tell the cops and they’ll look into it.”
    “Sure, fine.” He narrowed his eyes. “Hey, where’s my baby? Why didn’t you bring Bitsy home?”
    Ellie swallowed hard, determined to tell a convincing story. “Bitsy is still at my place. I wasn’t sure you’d be here, so I thought it best she stay with me until I knew for certain.”
    “I’m out on bail. It took the entire day to get that straightened out.” He started jiggling his leg in a twitchy, nervous kind of manner. “Little did I know there are some restrictions on my trust fund that don’t allow for a withdrawal of a large amount of cash unless I can prove to the attorney in charge that it’s necessary.”
    “I heard bail was set at half a million. Isn’t putting up ten percent the norm?”
    “Yes, but everything I have is invested. I didn’t trust myself to have that kind of money at my fingertips, so I put myself on a budget. My attorney pays the mortgage on this place, the tenant’s fees, all of it, and deposits a monthly allowance in my checking account. He had to liquidate some bonds to—” He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Listen to me, going on about money when I’m facing a murder charge. If my mother and father hadn’t already disowned me, this would have sealed the deal.”
    Right around Christmas, Rob had told Ellie a sad tale about his dreadful family life, and since Sam was on duty and her mother and the judge were in Barbados, she’d invited him to spend the holiday with her and Flora Steinman. But it hadn’t been necessary. Rob was still on good terms with his sister in Phoenix, and he and Bitsy had flown there for the week.
    “Do you think they know you were arrested?” Ellie asked, uncomfortable with the personal questions.
    “I haven’t a clue, but I’ve talked to my sister. Kayla’s agreed to stay with me until I’m cleared of the charges. And if I’m not, well . . .” He shook his head. “She’ll take Bitsy home to live with her and Bradley.”
    Hoping to drop the dismal family business, Ellie decided it was time to get down to the nitty-gritty. “I don’t mean to be intrusive, but can you explain what happened last night? I’ll understand if you don’t want to tell me anything, of course, but I ran into Kronk and a group of angry tenants downstairs, so I know about the restriction management has put on allowing reporters and thrill seekers into the building.”
    “Amazing, isn’t it? No one gives a damn about me. All the tenants care about is their precious right to privacy, and the newspapers can’t seem to talk about anything except the fact that I’m a drag queen and so was the victim. I have to be the killer. It’s nothing less than what any pervert would do.”
    “So you’ve seen the papers?”
    “I read them, and afterward I was ordered to clam up by Keller Williams, my attorney. He’d probably have a fit if he knew I was talking to you, but I really could use a friend right now, and the guys in the revue . . . Well, let’s just say I wasn’t close to any of them.”
    “Okay, fine. I’ll be your sounding board until your sister shows up.” Ellie rested her elbows on her knees. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
    “Why not? It’s all going to come out anyway. The victim was Art Pearson, stage name Carmella Sunday. We weren’t lovers, as the papers suggest, and we certainly weren’t friends. In fact, Carmella could barely tolerate me.”
    “So he—er—she was just someone working in your show?”
    “She danced in the revue, but she wasn’t just any performer. Carmella was my understudy. If I got ill or couldn’t go on for any reason, she had my numbers down pat.” Rob stood. “Hang on a second. Let me show you something.”
    He left the room and Ellie bit back a sigh. It sounded as if this Keller Williams guy had a pretty good idea of how to handle the press. She only hoped he was a decent trial