Cat in a Hot Pink Pursuit (33 page)

“You're a Rollerblading performance artist?"

“That's it. Body and soul. Synthesis. That's my thing.”

“So, what did you find when you entered the crime scene?"

“Uh, you mean, the room?"

“Yes."

“Well, um, the scale."

“The scale?"

“Yeah, the weigh thing. I do not like scales. I don't
suppose you much avoid them, being one skimpy girl, but
we're all on television here and every ounce looks like a pound."

“That's why the dietitian was part of the package. You were all supposed to lose weight?"

“
Yeah. Pretty much all of us. You can never be too rich
or too thin."

“What does money have to do with it?”

Xoe Chloe (she was
baaaaack!)
shrugged. "Hey, we
get named Teen or 'Tween Queen, we get money, fame, and a new car, not to mention a date with a sex symbol."

“
What passes for a sex symbol on a reality TV show these days?"

“Nobody you'd recognize. Frankly, nobody I'd care to
share a straw with. Much less . . . well, you know.”

“
No, I don't know, Miss Ozone. That's why I'm asking you questions."

“
Here's the deal. I hear the scream, like everyone else I come running, except they're all going in the opposite direction. I find poor little Mariah shrieking her head off in
the middle of the room, and poor Marjory looking all laid
back in her desk chair. How on earth did she die? Heart
attack? Her face was all dark. As a card-carrying Goth
girl, that doesn't frighten me, unless it's done without makeup."

“
Speaking of cards, let's see yours."

“My what?"

“Your driver's license."

“
Uh, I don't have one." Actually, Temple had a fake
one from Molina she could flash later but figured Z. C. would only produce a plain-Jane name under intense pressure.

“
You don't? Why not?"

“I Rollerblade, silly. Don't need a license for that.”

“What about when you go into bars?"

“Hey, I may be Goth but I'm not a lush. I don't go that much into bars."

“But when you do."

“Simple. I don't drink. Would you believe I'm a born-again Christian?"

“No."

“
You'd be right but I still don't drink. I just rock and
roll along and nobody bothers me."

“Well, they will now. We'll want your fingerprints and some legitimate ID."

“
I was born illegitimate," Xoe Chloe said, "but you can
have my fingerprints. Like everyone else's, they'll be in the room. We all had appointments with Marjory."

“And what did she recommend for you?”

Temple let her nose squinch up. "More fruits and
legumes. Heck, there are enough fruits around here to
form a conga line of Carmen Mirandas."

“Not funny. You are no longer on
Candid Camera,
Ms. Ozone. You are in the sights of the Las Vegas Metropoli
tan Police Department Crimes-Against-Persons Unit.
You know what that means?"

“Of course. CAPers! I love it. Such a merry word for the murder unit. Bring 'em on."

“Oh, we will, Ms. Ozone." Su stood, all wiry fourfeet-eleven of wily Asian-American brains and martialarts-buff body.

Su glanced over to where Alch was bidding Mariah adieu with a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Mariah's thirteen, you know," Temple said.

Su must already be aware of Mariah's age and mater
nal unit but didn't bat a black eyelash.

“Most of the suspects on this scene are under twenty,"
she noted. "That doesn't mean we won't investigate all
you 'tween-teen types, from date of birth to date of last period. Get it?”

Temple did.Temple "showered" solo that evening.

Mariah, pale and tired, slept the sort of long drugged sleep teenagers major in. No wonder Sleeping Beauty remained such a popular fairy tale.

Meanwhile, Temple sat on the commode, the shower pelting into the tub and steaming up the mirrors. She
speed-dialed Mama Molina's private home-phone number.
"Hello?" came the usual brusque opening.

“Agent Ninety-nine reporting."

“
Cut the quips. This has gotten serious. How the hell did
you allow my daughter to blunder onto a crime scene?”

“
She didn't blunder. She had an appointment. I've been thinking about it and find that significant, don't you?”

“Someone
wanted
Mariah to find the body?”

“
Someone wanted a 'Tween Queen candidate to find
the body."

“Why would anyone be after Mariah?"

“They know her family connections?"

“Who, besides you?"

“
Awful Crawford is here. You know, Crawford
Buchanan, the KREP-radio guy. He gets around enough
to know who's who in Las Vegas. Wouldn't take a master's degree to figure out that Mariah Molina might have relatives in high police places. And . . ." Temple paused,
really hating the other possibility that had occurred to her.
"And what?"

“Most of these 'tween and teen candidates are hardy veterans of the beauty wars. They're obsessed with their physical appearances."

“Mariah's not."

“No. No JonBenet Ramsey, she. You reared her right. But. . ."

“But what?"

“
Weight's an issue with her. The dietitian had Mariah
in her sights. As far as I could tell, she's the one with the biggest weight issue here."

“She's barely a teenager! So she could lose fifteen pounds. It's not a killing offense."

“Everything's a bigger deal here. Maybe better, maybe worse. Someone could say, testify, that the dietitian was
particularly hard on her. Mariah complained to high
heaven, publicly, about eating beans and rabbit food."

“That's not a murdering offense."

“We mature women wouldn't think so but these are all
girls,
and most of them drama queens. Mrs. Klein had a vote on the winners. If someone was getting enough of a hard time. . ."

“Killing a coach or judge will stop the show cold. Not productive."

“
Not to our incisively logical minds. But our hormones
have settled down. I assume. I can't speak for you, of course. Have you forgotten how desperately important every little thing is at that age?”

During the long pause that resulted, Temple couldn't help thinking that she and Molina were conspiring on the phone like teenage girlfriends planning a parentally unsanctioned outing.

Bizarro!

“
I'd rather not remember," Molina said at last. "How's Mariah holding up?"

“Okay. It wasn't a pretty scene. What killed the poor woman?"

“The autopsy hasn't been done yet but Coroner Bahr tells me she was likely choked."

“No way could Mariah be a suspect then, that takes strong hands, right?"

“
Right, but not that kind of choking. It was lima beans."

“
Oh. She was a huge advocate of bean eating. And
lima beans are dry. I can see how she might be wolfing them down for a quick lunch at her desk. She did have a small fridge and microwave in that office and—"

“Nice fairy tale, Barr. Now I see why you've hung in
there with Mr. Unreliable Max Kinsella for so long.
You're an optimist to the point of pathology. They were
stuffed down her throat, probably spiced with Jalisco pep
pers hot enough to set her choking in the first place. It
wouldn't take long to disable her that way, especially if
the attack was unexpected."

“She was stuffed to death?"

“It may be a little more complicated than that. An al
lergy or some lethal substance may be involved that
caused her throat to swell up on contact."

“What would this have to do with the defaced Teen Queen contest posters?"

“
Nothing we can see. By the way, Alch and Su find
Xoe Chloe—where do you come up with these things?—
a suspicious character, but they haven't made you yet.
You must have put together some disguise."

“At least I've never been fingerprinted."

“Yet. I'm thinking about it."

“The illusion of Xoe Chloe won't hold much longer anyway. The makeover process is stripping away all my best points."

“
The show is suspended for now. It suits us to keep you
all bottled up in the house, and maybe even let them start filming and recording again. It's like
Candid Camera,
Crime Watchers'
edition. We're going over everything
they recorded so far."

“The producers must be frantic."

“
Are you kidding? They love it. They're planning to
pick up the pageant as soon as we clear the scene and spin
the show into
Dying for Beauty
or some such title."

“Then we're all stuck here, like a sequestered jury?"

“Right."

“But there's a killer among us. I guess I can do some snooping."

“
Please. You're a glorified babysitter. Don't get a no
tion of being a professional snoop.”

That hurt. Temple found Xoe Chloe pouting into the
cell phone. Good thing Molina couldn't see her. She
wiped her brow of the sweat the steamy bathroom had deposited. Better to assume the producers lied and that cameras and mikes were still recording.

“So what do you want me to do?"

“Stay with Mariah as much as you can."

“What'll we all do?"

“Exercise, eat or don't eat, watch each other. Alch and
Su will be there too. I'll make sure they look for a suspect
a little farther afield than Chloe Zoe."

“Xoe Chloe.”

But Molina had disconnected.

Temple sat there puzzling. The least likely person on the premises had been murdered. Why? And what about the lurid threats to the show and the mischief inside the
house? That seemed to be from an entirely different
script than Marjory Klein's quick, deviously planned
death.

Script. Maybe a script for mock mayhem was part of the "reality" here. And someone had taken advantage of the distraction it provided to commit murder for a totally unrelated reason.

Xoe Chloe was going to have to snoop around plenty. Luckily, she had the personality for it. Temple stood up, still puzzling. She didn't dare leave Mariah alone now
though. What to do? She couldn't be with her all day;
they had separate exercise schedules. Mariah would actually appreciate the show's suspension; she could make more progress.

What to do about Mariah? But wait! Temple knew an "inside" man already on the premises, a pro for her to re
cruit. It was a fiendish idea, but Molina was giving her no
rope so she'd just have to live with any lifeline Temple could come up with on such short notice.

Chapter 36

Diet
Drinks

A soft knock on the bedroom door awoke Temple sometime between midnight and five
A.M.

She glanced across the gigantic bed. Mariah was a completely concealed lump under the covers. When she was in this state, Temple had discovered, not even an earthquake-style shaking could wake her.

Temple crept to the door nevertheless and turned the interior key in the lock. The person in the hall was about her height, so she edged the door open.