Page 49 of Wild Idol (Tyson Wild Thriller #82)

S able had never met Denise. She was the perfect person to take point on this.

Posing as Paris’s assistant, Denise would have direct contact with the star.

Paris had negotiated behind-the-scenes access and would be with Sable every step of the way.

The puff piece was designed to humanize the star.

We’d have the entire interaction on high-def video and clear audio.

We didn’t need hidden cameras, but we had rigged up a small wireless button camera on Denise, just as a backup.

With a flesh-colored in-ear monitor, I had direct communication with Denise.

To say she was excited to be in the field was an understatement.

The news crew met Sable at her mansion.

The cameras rolled from the moment Sable opened the door with a bright smile. “Welcome to my home! I’m so glad you could be here today.”

“Thanks for having us,” Paris said .

Sable knew how to turn on the charm when the camera rolled.

“Please, come in,” Sable said.

The impersonator stepped aside, and the camera crew entered.

Paris took in the magnificent foyer. “This is a stunning home.”

“I know, isn’t it great,” Sable replied, giddy. “I almost can’t believe it’s mine.”

“I bet,” Paris said.

The crew followed Sable into the living room, where her manager and two bodyguards waited.

“Paris, have you met my manager, Everett?”

“No, I haven’t.” Paris extended her hand and exchanged pleasantries.

“I thought we could do the interview here or out by the pool,” Sable said.

“Might be noisy and windy outside,” the cameraman added, not really wanting to shoot outdoors.

“I think it makes a nice visual with the ocean in the background,” Paris replied. She wanted what she wanted.

“Give me twenty minutes to set up the lighting, and we’ll be ready to roll.”

Paris looked at her watch. “That will give us an hour for the interview before we’re scheduled to be at the hospital.”

“Sounds perfect,” Sable said .

“We really appreciate you making the time.”

“Oh, no problem,” she said with a hand wave, minimizing the inconvenience. “I wouldn’t be where I’m at without my fans. And the children are so important to me.”

It was all an act.

The cameraman hustled out to the van with the sound guy to grab more gear.

“Can I offer you anything to drink?” Sable asked.

“Bottled water would be great,” Denise said.

“I’ll have some as well,” Paris added.

Sable nodded to her manager, who hustled into the kitchen, grabbed two from the fridge, and returned to the living room.

Not exactly what we were hoping for, but the day had just begun.

Denise casually hung on to a vinyl copy of Sable’s latest album. Denise didn’t say anything about it, but Sable just couldn’t resist. “Would you like me to sign that?”

“Would you? That would be so wonderful.”

Sable smiled, and Denise handed her the album along with a Sharpie.

The imposter was still basking in her newfound fame. Eventually, she might get sick of signing autographs, but for now, she was delighted. Sable kissed the album, leaving a perfect ruby-red stain. She signed the cover and handed it and the pen back to Denise .

“Thank you so much!”

“My pleasure.”

“I’m just going to put this in the car so nothing happens to it.” Denise hurried outside.

“I’m sorry about that,” Paris said. “She’s new.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” Sable replied.

Denise hustled down the walkway to the news van parked at the curb. The crew was in the process of unloading lights and scrims.

JD and I pulled alongside in the Porsche.

Denise handed over the items. I took them, wearing nitrile gloves, and put them into an evidence bag. Just like that, we had everything we needed.

“Nice work,” I said.

Denise smiled. “Like taking candy from a baby.” She spun around and rushed back inside. Denise was having fun.

We drove off, returned to the station, and logged the items into evidence.