The Bad Always Die Twice (20 page)

Apparently there would be no more discussion of Jimmy. At least not today.

“We?” Nikki glanced at her mother. “I don’t know what I would even say to him. I don’t have any information that would suggest he had anything to do with Rex’s disappearance or death, except that Tiffany said she didn’t trust him or his
beady eyes
.”

“Those, he has.” Victoria screwed the lid on the moisturizer and placed it on her dressing table. She then walked back to the couch where she picked up the phone and dialed 411. She cleared her throat as she waited for the automated message. “Offices of Alex Ramirez, West Hollywood, California, spelled R-A-M-I-R-E-Z, please.”

Nikki sat up on the couch. “Mother, what are you doing?”

“What’s it sound like I’m doing? I’m making an appointment with Alex Ramirez. We’re going to see if he had anything to do with this mess with Rex March.”

“Under what pretense are we making this appointment?” Nikki asked in disbelief.

“Thank you,” Victoria said into the phone, then to Nikki, “I’m considering looking for a new agent.” She was doing the arched eyebrow thing.

“You’re retired.”

“Maybe I’m coming out of retirement.” She smiled and turned her back to Nikki as she ramped up the charm. “Good afternoon, this is Victoria Bordeaux and I’d like to make an appointment as soon as possible with Mr. Ramirez. Yes, I’ll hold. Thank you.”

“Mother,” Nikki said in a stage whisper. “You shouldn’t be doing this. You just told me he might be dangerous.”

Victoria glanced at Nikki as she put her hand on the phone. “Not to a woman like me. Now Victoria Bordeaux,
she’s
dangerous.”

The following afternoon, Nikki drove her mother to Ramirez’s office on Sunset Plaza Drive. She parked in the large parking lot behind the building and they walked together across the parking lot.

“Now, let me do the talking,” Victoria instructed. She wore a blue-and-green watercolor-print Roberto Cavalli dress and cute Italian flats. The subtle Vuitton bag on her elbow made the outfit and just for a second, Nikki was envious of her mother’s fashion sense. “You’re here to listen. I’m here to draw him out.”

Nikki tried not to grin as she opened the door to the lobby for her mother. The building was small, with only a few offices. Ramirez’s was on the second floor. “I’m starting to feel a little silly. We’re here on the say-so of a waitress who doesn’t like the man’s beady eyes.”

Victoria took the steps with the same sense of presence with which she tackled a movie première. (She never took the elevator when she had a choice.) “I don’t like his beady eyes, either.”

Nikki hurried to catch up with her mother. She’d made no attempt to compete with Victoria’s sense of style and was wearing a three-quarter-sleeve vintage dress, tights, and knee-high black boots. With a sensible heel, of course.

On the second floor, they halted in front of a glass door with Ramirez’s name written on it in gold lettering. “Are you ready?” Victoria asked.

Nikki wasn’t nervous anymore. Mostly she was curious, curious as to how her mother would play this appointment and even more curious as to what Ramirez would have to say. “Ready.”

Victoria then surprised her by reaching out and touching Nikki’s face in a rare show of affection. “You look pretty today. I like your hair longer, like this.” She gave a nod. “It suits you, Nicolette.” She was still looking up at her. “I was always a little jealous, you know. Of your red hair.”

Nikki was still smiling when Ramirez’s secretary escorted her and her mother into his inner office. It was nicer than the outside of the building suggested: paneled walls, cherry bookcases and conference table, a leather couch and chairs, and a massive antique desk.

There was the usual hand-shaking and offers of refreshment, but Victoria took command of the situation at once, not giving anyone the opportunity to exchange too many pleasantries.

“I missed you at the party at Edith March’s,” Victoria said, sitting in the massive leather armchair that Nikki was pretty certain was the chair Ramirez normally sat in. That left Nikki with one end of the oxblood leather couch and him with the other.

He was an attractive enough man, despite the beady eyes: fifty years old maybe, Hispanic, fit, with a well-defined jaw. His short-cropped hair was nicely styled, as was his goatee. A diamond band glittered on his left ring finger. Married.

“Um, yes, I was sorry I couldn’t make it. Scheduling conflict.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket before he sat.

Nikki didn’t know a lot about men’s fashion, but she could tell by the fabric that he’d laid out several thousand dollars for the boring blue suit.

“My niece’s engagement party,” he went on when Victoria made no comment. “I’d hoped to make Edith’s party afterward, but . . .” He opened his arms and chuckled.

Victoria smiled. “But?” she asked sweetly.

“But . . . I wasn’t able to make it in time.”

Victoria nodded. “Where did your niece have her engagement party?”

“Um . . . at Osteria Mozza. On Melrose.”

“I know it well. What a lovely choice. It’s one of my favorite places to dine. Not that I go out all that often anymore, but when we do go there to eat, I like the veal breast stracotto.”

He spun his diamond ring, looking a little uncomfortable. Victoria had a way of doing that to people. “So . . . I understand you’re considering a new agent?”

“This meeting is just to see how we get along,” Victoria explained. “We’ve met, but never really talked. You don’t mind just talking today,”—the eyebrows—“do you, Mr. Ramirez?”

“Please, call me Alex.”

“I certainly will, Alex.”

Taking note that Victoria did not offer to have Ramirez call her by her first name, Nikki had to stifle a chuckle. She looked away, her gaze drifting over to his desk. There was a family photo of Ramirez with a boy and a girl and a woman, who was obviously his wife. She noted with interest that the woman looked to be only in her thirties, and was in a wheelchair.

“I have to tell you how sad I was to learn of Rex March’s death,” Victoria was saying. “How tragic to lose the same client twice.”

“Yes, tragic. I was very fond of Rex.”

“Well, that club was small.”

Nikki glanced at her mother reprovingly, fighting the urge to shake her head. “I . . . I’m sure you were as shocked as we were, to hear that he had been murdered,” Nikki said awkwardly, thinking she needed to take control of this interview before it went too far awry. “Who could have imagined Rex would fake his death, putting Edith through that pain?”

Ramirez was spinning the diamond ring a little faster, his beady eyes darting now.

“Well, obviously he didn’t know he was going to be murdered, did he?” Victoria pointed out.

“I can’t imagine the legal ramifications. I suppose it will take you months to sort out the details.” Nikki tried to meet his gaze, but he wouldn’t look her way.

“I can’t really discuss Rex March, ladies. There’s an ongoing investigation into his death right now. Which I’m sure you’re aware of.” He finally glanced at Nikki with something akin to intimidation.

Nikki offered a quick smile, boring her Bordeaux blues into him. “You . . . you didn’t know he was still alive, did you, Mr. Ramirez?”

Ramirez surprised Nikki by coming to his feet. “You’ve obviously not come to discuss my firm representing you, Ms. Bordeaux, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask both of you to go.” He started to move toward the door. “As Mr. March’s lawyer, it would be inappropriate for me to discuss any matter pertaining to him, and therefore, I think it best we end this appointment before anything inappropriate is said. Especially considering the fact that Ms. Harper’s good friend is the chief suspect in my client’s murder.”

Victoria looked at Nikki as if to say,
The audacity!

Nikki rose from the couch, grabbing her handbag. She didn’t know what was going on here, but something told her that Ramirez was worried about more than the integrity of his client–attorney relationship. He knew something about Rex’s faked death, even if he knew nothing about the subsequent murder. She could see it in his beady eyes and his ring-twisting. “Mother?”

Victoria took her time rising from Ramirez’s chair and walking past him through the open door. He said nothing more, and neither did they. It wasn’t until they were in the parking lot that Victoria spun to face Nikki, excitement on her face.

“I don’t think I’ve had that much fun in years. Imagine, me, at my age, getting kicked out of someone’s office!” She laughed, starting for the car again, her flats tapping on the blacktop. “I hadn’t imagined P.I. work could be so much fun. He knows something, of course, you know that, don’t you?” She waited at the passenger door of the Prius. “Someone obviously needs to speak to Edith.” She looked up at Nikki, her amazing blue eyes dancing. “Do you want to do it or should I?”

Chapter 17

“I
just need your signature on this inspection report,” Nikki said, taking a seat in front of Edith’s desk in her gaudy nineteenth-century French-inspired office. “And then I’ll be out of here.”
As soon as you answer a few questions about Ramirez
, she thought.

It hadn’t been easy for Nikki to convince her mother that
she
should be the one to talk to Edith. After the visit to Ramirez’s office, Victoria was pretty gung-ho about investigating Rex’s murder. Not so much because she cared who killed him, or if Jessica was being framed, but because she’d enjoyed herself immensely. Nikki and Victoria had gotten into something close to an argument last night at movie night (
The Maltese Falcon
, one of Nikki’s all-time favorites) over who would go see Edith. In the end, Nikki had won only because she honestly needed Edith’s signature (though it could have waited a day or two) and Victoria had a charity luncheon to attend that she couldn’t get out of.

“I’m glad you came,” Edith said from across the ornate desk. “You’ll have to excuse the mess. My assistant, Anita, is out of town for a few weeks. Her daughter’s having a baby.” The desk, piled with paperwork, was a monstrous reproduction in the gilded asymmetrical Rococo design popular during Louis XV’s reign.

Edith looked more relaxed today than when Nikki saw her at the country club. She’d had her hair done a little differently this week; it was attractive. Edith reminded Nikki of the TV chef Paula Deen.

Dressed in slacks and a pretty floral blouse appropriate for her age and size, she appeared rested today. Calm . . . almost content. Why? Her life was in complete upheaval again, thanks to Rex. Had she relaxed because the police investigation of Rex’s murder was basically stalled, meaning Edith wasn’t a suspect? Nikki hated to consider the possibility, but she was trying to keep an open mind.

“I was going to call you.” Edith folded her plump hands, looking down at them, then back up at Nikki. “To apologize for my behavior when you came by last week. And at the country club, too.”

“It’s fine, Edith.” Nikki heard her cell vibrate in her handbag, but ignored it. “I understand—”

“No, no, it
wasn’t
fine,” she interrupted. “I was rude. Yes, I was in shock. Here I thought I had survived Rex’s death in that plane crash, I was getting on with my life, actually finding happiness, and then I find out he faked it all? And
then
he gets himself murdered?” she said with a hint of bitterness in her voice. “But that’s no excuse for rudeness. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, both you and your mother. That night at the party, when Victoria Bordeaux came as my guest, it was one of my shining moments.” She leaned over the desk, meeting Nikki’s gaze with a genuine sincerity. “You know, one of those moments you’ll remember forever.”

Nikki smiled, knowing exactly what she meant.

“And then I repaid you with rudeness. You came here last week out of kindness, to offer your condolences, which was particularly kind since I know very well that you know what a prick my husband was.”

Nikki pressed her lips together, making an event of settling a manila folder on her lap. This was precisely why she liked Edith, because she called a spade a spade. And this was why she desperately wanted to believe that Edith had nothing to do with Rex’s death.

“I know you had nothing to do with Jessica’s affair with my husband,” Edith said softly.

“I didn’t,” she admitted, her heart aching for Edith. Her phone began to vibrate again. “I would never have allowed it.” She made herself look at Edith. “It was a complete breach of ethics.”

The older woman gave a wave. “All in the past. And now, of no consequence.” She paused. “Thompson asked that I extend an apology for him as well. For his behavior last week. He’s at his voice lesson. That day, he was only following my lead. I was upset, so he was upset. I wouldn’t want you to think poorly of him. He’s a good man. A good man,” she repeated firmly, leaning back in her white leather office chair. “And I love him.”

“I understand completely.” Nikki opened the folder she’d pulled from her briefcase, thinking back to her chat with J.J. Flaherty’s secretary. For some bizarre reason, Elvis’s “Suspicious Minds” played in her head. Was Jimmy’s craziness rubbing off on her?

“I . . . I didn’t realize Thompson took voice lessons,” she lied. “Does he go every Thursday?” Her mother got away all the time with asking questions that weren’t her business. Maybe she could, too.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays. He’s very devoted to his craft.”

Nikki nodded. J.J. Flaherty’s secretary had been very specific. Thompson’s voice
lesson,
as in singular, was on Tuesdays.
Interesting.
She glanced up at Edith, exhaled, and decided to just plow forward, hoping the older woman’s apology was heartfelt enough that she’d be willing to answer Nikki’s questions.

“Edith . . .” she began. “Mother and I ran into Alex Ramirez the other day, and I have to tell you, his behavior was odd.”

“Odd, how? Can I get you something to drink?” She reached for a bottle of diet soda on a coaster on her desk.

Nikki shook her head. Her phone was vibrating, yet again. Who the heck was calling her over and over? She had an idea who. “I brought up Rex’s name,” she continued, “offering my condolences, and he became very abrupt and, well, evasive.” She looked at her across the desk. “So much so that his behavior seemed . . . suspicious. He got very nervous when I asked him if he’d known Rex was still alive after the plane crash.”