Hollywood Scandals (21 page)

“
Dahling, did I come through for you, or did I come through for you!”

“
You got Jennifer Wood’s alibi?” I asked.

“
I did.”

I grabbed a pen. “Shoot.”

“
Well,” Marco started, and I could tell he was going to give me the long version. “I met up with my friend’s friend’s boyfriend at a party in the Hills last night, and he said that he did, in fact, see Jennifer at Ashlee’s housewarming.”

I felt my heart sink. One by one my suspects were falling. I could feel myself slowly being dragged back to square one again. “Did he see what time she got there?” I asked.

“
No. But he said he was there at eleven, and she was already drinking appletinis with a Jonas brother.”

“
How long was she there?” I asked.

“
She did a table dance in Ashlee’s dining room at two.”

Shit. “Did she leave the party at any time?” I was so grasping here.

“
Sorry, dahling, no idea. Ricky didn’t keep that close tabs on her, ya know.”

“
Right. Thanks anyway.” So, Jennifer had been telling the truth. Granted, there was a slight chance she could have snuck out of the party, booted up her computer, used the Audio Cloak software to disguise her voice and play it back into a phone to leave me a threatening message before slipping back into the party. But, considering the phone was on the Sunset Studios lot, that chance was
very
slight.

“
Hey, before you hang up - whose party were you at last night?” I couldn’t help the gossip hound in me from asking.

“
Oh, honey, it was to die for! A birthday party for that kid who plays the brother on that medical drama. He turned twenty-one, and man, does that boy know how to throw down.”

“
Sounds fun.” I tried to remember the last time I’d gotten an invitation to a birthday party. I think it was Aunt Millie’s. And we’d all had pudding cups instead of cake ‘cause she’d cracked her dentures.

“
Oh, it was, doll. Everyone was there. The Kardashian girls, Jessie Simpson, Katie Briggs.”

That’s it, my social life officially sucked. “Anyone get drunk? Make out? Cat fights?” I asked, mentally preparing tomorrow’s column.

“
Well… Kim K and Jessie showed up in the same dress, and of course Jess looked better in it, so that almost turned into a wrestling match. But luckily that guy who does the Mac commercials was there to break it up. Oh, and Katie, she totally lost her iPhone into the pool when one of the Playboy bunnies bumped into her. She was pretty pissed about that. Apparently those suckers sink.”

“
Wait,” I said, my mental hamster stopping in his tracks. “Did you say Katie Briggs has an iPhone?”

“
Well, she did. It’s toast now.”

I narrowed my eyes. So much for Katie’s rebelling against modern technology. Was that whole speech she’d given me a line of bull? If so, maybe she did have a computer. And maybe my suspect list wasn’t so depleted after all.

“
Is she scheduled at the salon today?” I asked.

“
She’ll be here in half an hour.”

“
Thanks, Marco. Hey, be a doll and keep her there as long as possible, ‘k?” I said, then added, “There’s a backstage press pass to Clay’s next concert in it for you.

I heard Marco do a happy squeal as I hung up.

I grabbed my purse and stood.

“
Where are we going?” Cal asked, suddenly at my side. He was licking the remnants of a protein bar off his fingers.

“
Katie Briggs.” I headed for the elevators, my shadow a step behind me as I quickly passed Allie’s desk. She was scrunching her nose at her computer screen, no doubt trying to figure out how to spell “guilty.” She looked up as I hustled past, but I ignored her.

“
I thought we already talked to Katie,” Cal protested.

“
We did. And apparently she really is an Oscar-worthy actress, because it turns out her whole aversion to technology was a fake.” I quickly filled him in on the conversation I’d had with Marco as we waited for the elevator.

“
So, you think Katie was lying about owning a computer?” he asked.

“
Could be. Look, Blain has no motive, Jennifer has an alibi, and Pines was in jail. Katie’s our best bet at the moment.”

We rode down two floors, then Cal beeped open his Hummer, and I hoisted myself inside, cueing up his GPS as soon as he cranked the engine over.

“
What’s that?” Cal asked, watching me input the address.

“
Katie’s house.”

“
I thought you said she was at Fernando’s.”

I grinned. “She is. Which means we only have an hour at best to search her place for a computer with Audio Cloak installed.”

Cal cut the engine. “You’re joking.”

“
What?”

“
We are not breaking into her house.”

“
There’s no way I can trust Katie to be straight with us. The only way to out her as a murderer is to find that computer.”

“
Then let the cops search her place.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You really think my word is enough probable cause for a search warrant?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. Obviously he saw my point. “You’re making it very hard to do my job, Bender.”

“
Your job is to protect me from bad guys. No one said anything about keeping me from bending the law a little.”

Cal narrowed his eyes at me. Then finally muttered an, “I need a raise,” and turned the car back on.

I tried to hide my smirk of triumph.

“
And quit smirking.”

Okay, fine. I didn’t try
that
hard.

As soon as we were on the freeway, I grabbed my cell and dialed Cameron’s number. She picked up on the fourth ring.

“
Cameron Dakota.”

“
Hey, Cam, it’s me,” I told her. “Listen, where are you right now?”

“
Afternoon baby bump watch on Melrose. Why?”

“
I need a favor. Think I can steal you away for a couple hours?”

“
Are you kidding? You’d be doing me the favor. It’s like a hundred degrees out here, and I’ve already downed three frappucinnos. What’s up?”

I quickly filled Cam in on our little mission and gave her the address to Katie’s place in Beverly Hills.

When I hung up, Cal still had that I’m-going-to-live-to-regret-this look on his face.

“
You’re dragging Cam into this, too?”

“
She’s got a telephoto lens that can spot cellulite at a hundred yards away. She’s our lookout.”

Cal just shook his head again. “A
big
raise.”

* * *

At six square miles, Beverly Hills is actually one of the smallest towns in California. But the wealth in those miles could buy a small country. Several times over. Designer boutiques, oversized homes on acres of prime real estate, and more Mercedes per capita than anywhere on the planet, it is a haven to the elite of L.A. society. Manicured, buffed, shined, and pleasant in every aspect, Beverly Hills is the sparkling gem of L.A. County. There isn’t even a hospital or cemetery to remind residents of the unpleasant thought of mortality. It’s said that technically, no one is actually born or dies in Beverly Hills.

Katie Briggs’s place was on a wide, tree-lined street full of homes on steroids. Big, bold, and fairly bursting from their lots. Katie’s was a two-story Mediterranean style, complete with adobe-colored shingles and wrought-iron balconies filled with brightly overflowing flowerpots. A narrow front lawn separated the house from the street, all wrapped up tight behind a large security gate that spanned the length of the property.

Cal parked at the curb in front of a faux Tudor across the street. “Now what?” he asked. Clearly not really wanting to know.

I ignored him, picking up my cell, dialing Cam’s number, and putting it on speakerphone.

“
Yeah?” she answered.

“
You in place?”

“
Yep.”

I looked down the block. Cam’s Jeep Wrangler was parked at the corner, her camera to her eye.

“
Any sign of security?”

“
None that I can see. Bodyguard’s probably out with her.”

“
Weak point?”

“
I’d try the south side. There’s a bunch of trees shielding it from the road, and it leads right into the backyard.”

“
Perfect.”

“
You’re not seriously going through with this, are you?” Cal asked.

I hopped out of the car.

“
Of course I am.”

“
It’s breaking and entering. You could be arrested.”

“
If I don’t figure out who’s behind the threats, I could end up dead.”

Cal clenched his jaw together. “This is crossing a line, Bender. I don’t feel good about it.”

“
Fine. Wait here, then. I’ll be right back.”

And before he could argue any further, I was jogging across the street to the small grove of trees separating Katie from her neighbor. I cautiously looked both ways, then stepped behind a thick palm and eyed the fence. It was at least eight feet high, brick topped with decorative iron scrollwork. I lifted my arms as high as they would go and tried to get some traction with my feet. I scaled a full two inches up the wall before dropping to the ground again. The bricks were too uniform; there was nothing to hold on to.

I glanced around the yard, looking for anything to boost me over. Flowers, bushes, strategically placed decorative rocks. Shit.

Then I spotted it. A metal planter with a skinny little lemon tree sticking out. It was only a couple feet high, obviously a newbie. With one more over the shoulder glance, I dug my fingers into the soil around the little tree and lifted it, roots and all, out of the planter. I laid the baby tree on the ground, then flipped the planter over and shoved it up against the wall. I stepped up on top of it. It was just high enough that I could reach the iron scroll work. I curled my fingers around it, planted my feet against the brick, and hoisted myself up on top of the wall. Quickly, I twisted over the top and dropped down the other side. As soon as I landed on Katie’s flagstone patio, my cell buzzed to life with a text. I looked down at the readout. Cam.

Way to go, Spidergirl.

I grinned, shoving my phone back in my pocket as I quickly tippy-toed to a pair of French doors at the back of the house. The interior was deserted, large pairings of overstuffed furniture the only occupants. Gingerly, I tried the handle on the back door. Locked. I quickly made my way along the house until I hit another pair of French doors. These looked like they led to a guest room, a colorful throw on the bed, but no personal photos or touches. Again, I tried the door. Locked tight as a drum.

Okay, obviously I wasn’t going to get that lucky.

I slipped my hand into my pocket, rummaging for anything that I could use to pick a lock. Gum, movie stub, ball-point pen. Sigh.

I looked at the glass panes on the door. They were small, but large enough to slip a hand through. If I could smash the one near the handle…

I bent down and picked up one of Katie’s decorative rocks and lifted it over my head.

But someone grabbed it away before I could use it.

“
Jesus, Bender!”

I spun around to find Cal glaring down at me. “What the hell are you doing?”

“
I was gonna smash the window pane.”

Cal dropped the rock back on the ground. “I can’t take you anywhere.” Then he proceeded to pull a long, thin thing that looked a dentist tool from his pocket. He inserted it into the keyhole and jiggled it.

“
What’s that?”

“
Lock pick.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “How is it a guy that ‘doesn’t feel good’ about breaking and entering owns a lock-pick?”

He shrugged. “I don’t always have to feel good.”

I grinned.

My cell buzzed in my pocket. Cam again.

Cal’s coming in after you.

Gee, thanks for the heads-up.

“
There.” I heard a click, then Cal turned the handle, pushing the door open. “We’re in.”

I shoved my phone back in my pocket and brushed past him into the guest room.

It was on the small side, expensively furnished, but in an understated way. A queen bed, dresser, and matching set of nightstands. A large oil painting hung above the bed depicting the Tuscan countryside, and a vase of fresh flowers sat on the dresser.

“
Guest bedroom,” Cal said, voicing my thoughts.

“
Let’s go find hers, then.”

I opened the bedroom door, peering out. Two more doors, then the hallway opened up to the large living room I’d seen through the first set of French doors. Quickly I tried the other two rooms, only to find similarly furnished guest rooms. Beyond the living room was a tall, winding staircase, leading to another hallway. I motioned for Cal to follow and jogged up, hoping like hell that my shoes didn’t muck up Katie’s bright white carpets.

At the top of the stairs were three more doors. The first two contained a home gym and a study. The third, a master bedroom bigger than the entire offices of the
Informer.
Large canopied bed, two walk-in closets, and a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.