Chapter Thirty

"Seriously?" Logan asked as soon as they were out the door, "You couldn't think of something else to bust?"

"What?" Veronica responded indignantly, "It's not like I said I was going to do anything damaging to your balls. Just some balls. In general."

"Still. It's a very sensitive piece of the male anatomy and with me being the closest male to you, I'm not too proud to admit that I cringed a little," Logan replied, wincing as he spoke.

Veronica smirked, very pointedly glancing toward his crotch as she said snidely, "I'll be sure to make it up to them later."

Her words caused Logan to flash a crooked grin at her as they reached his car. Opening the door and getting in, he asked, "So, where are we off to first?"

"Let's save Lou or Cobb or whatever his name is for last," Veronica suggested as she, too, slid into the front seat. "Which leaves James Franco and Justin Long. Take your pick."

"Well," Logan said, not yet putting the keys in the ignition as he got out his phone, "Let's see which of them is available now."

Giving a nod of affirmation, Veronica sat back and buckled herself in as she waited to hear the one-sided conversation.

"Hey, Franco," Logan said when the man on the other end picked up his phone, "Logan Echolls here. Listen, any chance you have a few minutes to spare? I'm in a jam and it seems you may somehow be connected."

In less than ten minutes, Logan had them set up to speak with both Franco and Long within the next two hours. After he started the car and headed them toward their first destination, he asked, "So are we going to try to fit all three in today or wait till morning to see Lou?"

Knowing exactly what he was really asking, Veronica bit her lower lip undecidedly. Talking and thinking about it were definitely uncomfortable but she had to admit she didn't relish the idea of another night alone in her own bed. "I don't know," she finally admitted, looking over at him with eyes that pleaded for him to understand. "Can we figure it out later?" she asked, feeling small and antsy, wanting to run just as she always did.

Understanding her probably better than she understood herself, the corner of Logan's mouth turned upward and he gave a single nod, "Yeah, we can wait."

Relieved, Veronica relaxed and watched the scenery go by. When they reached their destination, she asked, "Is this Franco or Long?"

"Long," Logan replied, "Franco needed a bit more time to wrap some things up."

Nodding, Veronica opened her door to get out and asked suspiciously, "This guy had a pretty extensive history with Carrie and he's not one who wants to beat you senseless?"

Logan grinned, amusement and mischief in his eyes as he said airily, "Nah. Justin is laid back. He wouldn't threaten a flea."

Snorting and rolling her eyes, Veronica led the way to the door but waited for Logan to knock.

A young guy about their age with bright, playful blue eyes and very straight dark hair smiled guilelessly at them as he opened the door. "Come in," he said, "Don't mind the mess," he added as he waved toward his spotless home, "I gave my maid the week off to help her grand-kids get back into the swing of things at school."

Veronica entered first, followed by Logan. They took in the neat and tidy bachelor pad with its simple, straightforward furniture and lack of finesse. Then, when they reached the bar, Justin offered them each a soda or spring water and seated himself on one of the bar stools. "How can I help you?"

"Well," Veronica began, standing beside a stool rather than sitting on it, "I'm sure you're aware of what happened to Bonnie De Ville. I understand you're also familiar with her by her given name, Carrie Bishop. And seeing as it's been all over the news, I'm also sure you know that Logan here has been accused of her murder. Are you with me so far?"

"Unfortunately, I am," Justin answered in a bereft tone with a countenance full of grief.

"Were you still in contact with Carrie at all?" Veronica asked.

"Occasionally," Justin replied simply, "She'd call when she was in town and we'd get drinks or go dancing."

"Did she ever mention anyone stalking her or threatening her? Bullying her into things she didn't want to do?" Even as she asked it, Veronica couldn't see anyone bullying Carrie Bishop but she told herself she had to ask.

"No," Just said thoughtfully, "But I'm not sure she would have told me."

"What do you mean?" Veronica asked, brow furrowed as she felt Logan fidget beside her.

"She was stubborn and wanted to handle things herself," Justin explained, "It was one of the things that made us break up."

That response was not at all what Veronica had expected. She frowned when Logan coughed into his hand, obviously trying not to laugh. She didn't like the thought that she and Carrie might have been alike in any way but she reluctantly had to admit that in that one way, it appeared they were similar.

"Out of curiosity," Veronica said more sharply than she intended, "Did you and Carrie ever talk about finances at all? What either of you invested in or which charities interested you?"

Justin looked confused and shook his head, saying slowly, "Nooo...my accountant handles all that. I just get a quarterly report that tells me what I'm investing in, donating to, and worth now. Why is that relevant?"

"Just a hunch we wanted to check out but it appears it may be nothing," Veronica responded cryptically.

"If you need any info from my accountant, I'd be more than happy to supply it," Justin stated helpfully.

"I'll let you know if we end up needing it," Veronica said, giving Logan a little nod that they were just about done, "Thanks for your time."

When they were out the door and in the car, Veronica turned to Logan and asked, "What did you think?"

"He's clueless," Logan said without hesitation. "And like I said before, he wouldn't hurt a flea."

"Yeah..." Veronica agreed grudgingly, "I feel like there's something we're missing, though. I just can't put my finger on it."

"I can find something for you to put your finger on," Logan teased, waggling his eyebrows at her.

Laughing, shaking her head, and rolling her eyes at him, she simply said, "You wish!" then added, "On, James! Take us to the next location!"

Thirty-five minutes later, they were pulling up in front of the Warner Brothers office where Franco had asked that they meet. Going inside, they let the receptionist know who they were looking for and that they had an appointment and then took a seat to wait. Looking around, Veronica saw posters and mementos from a number of favorite shows and movies. In a way, it reminded her a bit of Logan's home when they were teenagers. Before it was burned down, of course. Then came his room at the Grand. The thought of his suite there made her smile. She darted a sideways glance at him and he raised a brow at her.

Quietly, he leaned over to say in her ear, "I saw that smile. I'm going to choose to believe it had something to do with me."

"It did," she replied softly with a grin, "I was thinking of the Grand."

Before either of them could say anything else, the handsome and debonair James Franco stepped lightly into the room. His hand-crafted leather shoes clipping along like he was tap-dancing rather than walking. Stopping in front of them, Logan and Veronica both stood as he nodded and held out a hand.

"You are beautiful," Franco said of Veronica, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," then he turned his dark eyes on Logan and his gaze turned from suave and graceful to tolerant, bordering on rude, "Echolls," he acknowledged, "I hear you've been charged with murder again. How many get out of jail free cards to you have up that sleeve of yours?"

"As many as Veronica here can pull out of her hat," Logan responded wryly, not bothered at all by the hand that was never offered to him.

"Shall we find somewhere more private to chat?" Franco asked, looking back to Veronica and practically ignoring Logan.

"Yes, I think we shall," Veronica answered in a mocking tone that only Logan would recognize as such.

Once inside a small break room, sitting at a round table with an iced soda situated in front of each of them, Franco asked politely, "Now, what is it that you both wanted to talk to me about?"

"The lovely Bonnie De Ville," Veronica stated, "Or rather, Carrie Bishop, when not going by her stage name."

"Ah yes," Franco said with recognition, "I heard she was killed. Such a tragedy. And you think I may know something about her demise?" he asked with a bit of surprise.

"Probably not," Veronica replied, "But there seem to be several connections between you and it never hurts to be thorough."

"Indeed," Franco agreed, then asked, "What connections have you found, then?"

"It may be nothing, as I said," Veronica began, "But I understand that you and Carrie attended several parties together. And your agent is her agent's father."

Franco laughed but it wasn't real. It was a pretentious laugh that made Veronica want to squirm and set her teeth on edge. She eyed Logan out of the corner of her eye and could see he had the same reaction as well when he clenched his jaw.

"Come now," Franco said as if her words had been a joke, "Those connections are preposterously frail. Surely you can't think anything could come of them," he turned to Logan and shook his head, "You are truly grasping at straws here, Echolls."

A flash of anger shot like lightning through Logan's eyes and Veronica quickly reached under the table to touch his thigh in warning. He settled but was still on edge and was obviously bristling in spite of his refusal to act on his ire.

"Then how's this, Mr. Franco," Veronica said crisply, "Besides those tenuous links you just scoffed at, we've also found a financial link."

This sobered the actor and he demanded immediately, "What do you mean? What are you talking about, a financial link?"

"You are invested in The 09ER Club. So was Carrie. You donate heavily to Casa de Caring. Carrie did, too. In fact, she was about to become their spokesperson but that's neither here nor there. What I want to know, Mr. Franco, is if you have such a threadbare connection to Ms. Bishop and obviously have little to no use for Mr. Echolls, why are you so heavily invested in the two major projects that the two of them worked on together?"

Now Franco looked uncomfortable but still, he defended himself admirably, "My accountant chooses my investments! I have nothing to do with it. And any charitable contributions are decided on by him as well. I simply tell him the type of projects I'd like to be involved in. He takes care of the rest."

This was the second time that they'd been told that an accountant handled all the investment funds and charitable contributions. It wasn't exactly unexpected considering the status of those they were dealing with but still, on a hunch, Veronica asked, "And who is this accountant that you trust so implicitly?"

Franco looked between the two of them, appearing as if he hoped this question would be their last, and answered, "Avi Kaufman."

Wide blue eyes met wide brown ones. Before either had recovered from their surprise, Franco took advantage of their stunned silence to rise. Pushing his chair in, he said, "Well, I'm going to assume that we're done here. If you have any further questions for me, contact my manager...or my lawyer."