Killing America's Sweetheart: A Natalie Miller Mystery (8 page)

“A professional
courtesy? Last time I checked you weren’t a professional anything,” he barked with a laugh.

Low blow.

He’d officially hurt my feelings. Going from a comfortable life to living from paycheck to paycheck was a hard reality to swallow. Having Zack point out the obvious was like pouring salt on a wound, a wound that I tried to heal time and time again.

He must have realized how his words had affected me, because he quickly softened his look and began
backpedaling.

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just you aren’t a cop. You don’t know what you’re getting yours
elf into. This isn’t some procedural TV program, where the case is solved in an hour. It’s real life, and things can get dangerous,” he said trying to reason with me.

“Sure, I get that. But, I’m also working for my client who hired me
to look into this murder. So, whether you like it or not, I’m not going anywhere.”

“What, are you like a psychic detective or something?” he said with a laugh.

Was I? For the past few years I’d been working loosely with the police department on cases. Cases in which I had provided crucial information that led to convictions and results. Now that Simon had requested my assistance and was paying me, could I consider myself a detective of sorts?

Fuck it.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I am,” I said with confidence I hadn’t known in years.

“You’re kidding?” he asked
incredulously with eyebrows raised.

I shook my head.

“Shit.”

“Why is it okay for me to help you and the department out, but not Simon? It seems like you think I’m a joke.”

Zach ran his hand through his hair.

“Look, I don’t think you’re a joke. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be working for a possible murder suspect.”

              “And I told you he didn’t do it,” I said feeling my anger rising.

             
He was about to respond when a white flash flew in front of us and came to a jerking stop. It was Emma, in her sparkly Mercedes Benz convertible.

             
“Hey babe!” she called waving. Emma was dressed and accessorized to perfection. Her long blonde hair looked freshly highlighted and her tight green sweater dress only emphasized her enhanced breasts.

             
“Shit,” I muttered.

Zach gave me a
look and turned to greet her.

“You’re
early and I thought we were going to meet for lunch?” he said approaching the car.

“I know, but I wanted to surprise you. You’re not busy are you?” she replied pouting her inflated and overly glossed lips into a frown.

Zack looked over at me and shrugged.

“It’s fine. We’re done here,” I said, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Great! Get in,” she replied to him.

“I have to run in and get my phone, meet me at the side
entrance,” he said to her and then he turned to me and said, “We’re not done yet. I’ll find you later, so we can finish this conversation.”

Zack took off inside the building leaving Emma and
I at a staring at each other in an awkward silence.

“Didn’t you used to have a really cute Honda?” she asked, glancing at my beat up blue Corolla.

The fact was I did have a fabulous Honda Civic, fully loaded with navigation, satellite radio, fog lights, moon roof…basically all the bells and whistles. Unfortunately that car was taken from me one night by a repossession enforcement agent for failure to pay. This happened around the same time Matt left, our house was foreclosed on and I lost my job. As you can imagine it’s a bit of a sore subject for me.

“Yeah, I did. That was a few years ago,” I replied trying to keep my tone calm as I stared at her immaculate pearl white Benz.

“Well, what happened to it?” she asked innocently.

There was no way I was going to let this bitch get the better of me. I was not going to rehash my past with her.

“I don’t have it anymore.”

She looked at me for a moment, and said, “Oh, that’s right! I forgot, Carrie mentioned to me that it was repossessed right before you checked into rehab.”

My blood boiled. Emma Phillips was not going to break me.

“Actually it was repossessed
… right after I fucked Zack in it,” I replied dryly turning my back on her and climbed into my car. As I sat in the driver’s seat it was easy to see the anger in Emma’s face. She immediately put the car into gear and took off for the side entrance where a waiting Zack looked puzzled at her reckless driving, in a police parking lot no less.

Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. It was a bit of an exaggeration. While we had a go of it one time in my beloved little Honda, we went for additional rounds back at his place. Still, I shouldn’t have stooped to her level. Now I felt kind of bad. However, if I’m being honest I’ll admit that I didn’t feel too much remorse for my slip. Hell, it could hardly be considered a slip, since
I knew damn well she was aware of our little hookup. It’s the main reason she despised me and my relationship with Zack. I guess I just wanted to embarrass her like she had done to me. Not very mature I know. But, I wasn’t about to let that woman bully me.

After my run in with Emma, I decided to head to my mom’s for lunch. I knew she’d have something brewing over there, and I was not disappointed. The minute Honey and I entered the house, the smell of fresh made rice, beans and ho
memade tortillas hit our senses. Both of us were drooling as we made our way into the kitchen.

“Ah, I had a feeling you two would be by,” she said placing a hot to
rtilla on a plate. “Grab something and help yourself.”

I wasted no time stalling. I loaded up and headed to the table, where Honey was waiting by my chair with her tail wagging anxiously.

“Honey, I have something for you too!” my mom hummed.

In her hands was a paper plate filled with carnitas, rice and
shredded tortilla. I looked at her and shook my head.

“What?” she asked
.

“You spoil her worse than I do.”

“Well, if I had some grandchildren that might solve the problem,” she tactfully stated. My poor mother was the only one in her family who didn’t have grandkids yet. In the Mexican culture, kids are big deal. So, for her to have children who are as old as myself and my brother (40 yr. old), it didn’t look so good. We were a bit of let down to the rest of the family.

“I’ll get right on that,” I said with a mock salute.

After mom sat down, all three of us scarfed down our meals. When we were finished everyone looked very sated.

“So, how are things going?”

I can’t hold out on my mom. She knows me way too well, which is why I came clean and told her about my adventures with Simon, Bebe, Zack and Emma.

“
I want you to be very careful, do you hear me?” she said with concern.

“I know mom. I’m not taking any
unnecessary risks. I’ve just never been paid before. It’s a bit strange.”

“Well you should have been
compensated by the police for all the help you’ve given them, especially Zack. I know you’ve helped him move up the ladder by giving him leads. The nerve of him to say that to you! ‘The last time I checked you weren’t a professional anything.’ What a little shit! I also don’t care for his girlfriend, that Emma woman. She’s a bit of a tramp. Her damn plastic face billboards are all over town. Did you see the one over on East St. that someone sprayed painted HOMEWRECKER on?”

I nearly choked on my Diet Pe
psi. I had not heard about it, which is funny since Karen lives over off East. I would have thought she’d have been burning up the phone lines to tell me about it.

“God knows there’s a long line of pissed off woman around town. It could have been anyone. It wasn’t you, was it?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Me? She never slept with Matt, at least not that I know of.”

“That’s not what I meant. I know about you and Zack. Something happened between you two right before you went into rehab,” she said knowingly.

Jesus, did everyone know?

“Why do you say that?” I asked, playing dumb.

“Because right after you left for the clinic, Zack came over looking for you. He looked upset when I told him you were gone. His face gave him away. So you’d better spill, what happened?”

Ugh. I really did not want to have this conversation with my mother. There are just some
things that should never, ever, under any circumstances be shared. One night stand details, included.

“Nothing. It wasn’t a big deal. Obviously, it didn’t mean much since he’s been with Emma since I came back from rehab
,” I said off handedly.

She gave me a long hard look, but said nothing.

“Well, that Simon Bellamy is really good looking!”

There was no denying that Simon was pretty hot. I’d have to be crazy not to see that. Hell, my own mother was practically fanning herself as she said his name.

“Of course he is. He also just lost his girlfriend, and has hired me to help him find out what happened to her,” I said, trying to keep everything focused on the important facts.

“It’s such a shocking thing to occur in our town. A big Hollywood star murdered. So, you have any leads?” she asked.

“Maybe,” I said. I wasn’t about to disclose what Karen and I had planned later that night. If I mentioned it, my mom would insist on coming along and that would be a disaster.

CHAPTER TWELVE

With our bellies full, Honey and I set off for our apartment in need of a nice
leisurely nap. Thankfully, there were no interruptions and both of us found ourselves fast asleep. When I woke up a few hours later, it was nearly dark out and Honey was curled up into a little ball next to my stomach.

Uncon
ditional love. There’s nothing like the affection of a furry friend. I smiled and dragged myself up.

I checked my phone to see a new text message from Karen letting me know she’d be over at 7pm. I looked at the time and saw that I had about an hour before she arrived. After freshening up, changing into a pair of jeans, chunky gray sweater and my trusty boots, I figured I was
all ready for our stakeout at The Bombay Inn.

Right about 7:20, there was a knock at my door. I knew it had to be Karen because I was expecting no one else, and for the simple fact that if she told you she was going somewhere at a certain time, you always added 20-30 minutes to it.

I opened the door and my jaw fell open.

“What?” she asked.

Standing in front of me was Karen dressed in head to toe black-jeans, turtleneck, boots and beanie.

“What the hell are you wearing?” I exclaimed.

“Stakeout clothes. It’s what they wear in the movies,” she replied simply and made her way inside with her back toward me.

“You look like a fucking cat
burglar. We want to not attract attention, but in that area, dressed like you are, we’ll look like we’re part of the SWAT team!”

She turned around and that’s when I saw the additional accessories.

Mental forehead slap.

Around her waist was a utility belt holster con
taining all kinds of gadgets, containers and what looked to be a gun holster.

“What the fuck is that?” I as
ked pointing toward her middle.

“
Oh, just some emergency stuff, pepper spray, stun gun, rape whistle, pen knife, a throwing star, night goggles, lock pick, and two way radios,” she rattled off.

“Is that a gun?” I asked.

“What? This?” she replied pointing to the black case.

“Yeah!” I nodded.

“No… I mean, yeah it’s a gun, but it’s not loaded or anything.”

I felt the muscles in my neck tighten. A migraine was on the horizon. I also heard a laugh come from the ever silent Gilles. Nice to be amusing my spirit guide.

“Please tell me you have a license to carry?”

She didn’t answer, just simply
smiled.

Karen reached up and pushed her glasses and that’s when I saw the money shot.

“What the hell is that shit under your eyes?”

She looked at me for a moment, as if she was unaware and then smiled when recognition set in.

“It’s black eye paint. I use it when I have a derby bout. It’s also good for reducing glare and since I have glasses, I thought it was appropriate to use it tonight.”

God help us.

“What are you wearing?” she asked me, as if we were going out to a club.

“This,” I said pointing at my modest
ensemble.

“Oh.”

“Have I disappointed you?” I asked.

“Well, it’s just that now you’re a badass psychic detective. I thought you might look more the part.”