The Dead and the Beautiful (17 page)

Alison looked at her daughter. “I hate to see you hurt by this mess.”

“It's fine.
I'm
fine. The police made a mistake. It happens all the time, Mom. Your lawyer will take care it. I know she will. It's not a big deal. Kids at school hardly said anything.”

“You're kidding,” Nikki said.

Alison's phone, sitting on the table, vibrated. She ignored it.

“A lot of their lives are a lot crazier than mine, I guess.” Jocelyn shrugged. “This girl in my English class, her father and grandfather were just deported back to Nicaragua. Part of a drug cartel or something. I'm going to go do homework, if that's okay.” She turned to her mom. “If you don't need me.”

Alison smiled. “I'm fine. You're right. It's just a terrible mistake. This will all work out. I have a good attorney.” She glanced at Nikki. “And
Aunt Nikki
is looking out for me.” Her cell phone vibrated again.

Nikki glanced at the phone. “You want to get that?”

Alison looked at the phone, hesitated, then picked it up. She looked at the screen, hit a button that would delete the message saying who it was, and set the phone down again. When she realized Nikki was watching her, she said, “Client. I'll get back to them.”

“I can take your plate.” Jocelyn reached for Nikki's. “But, Mom, I'm not taking yours. You're already too skinny. Eat something. It's delicious.”

“Thanks, Jocelyn.” Nikki waited until she heard the water running in the kitchen sink before she leaned forward on the dining table and lowered her voice. “Did you speak with your attorney today about the laptop?”

“I called. She's going to call me back.”

“Don't drop the ball on this, Alison. She needs that information to prepare your case.” She smoothed her placemat. “I tracked down the Melton/Elliot gardener today and the dry-cleaning service who delivers to their house. I came up with nothing.”

Alison nodded.

“I was on the set of
Casa Capri
. Diara has a solid alibi.”

“Diara didn't kill Ryan.” Alison frowned and poked at a mushroom on her plate with her fork. “What would make you think Diara would kill him?”

“Well,
someone
killed him. I have to start somewhere. You always start with the husband or the wife.” Nikki sipped water from her glass and watched Alison poke at the pasta on her plate with her fork. “If Diara was cheating on Ryan and Ryan knew . . . maybe she wanted to get rid of him. Permanently.”

Alison didn't say anything.

Nikki studied her. “How well do you know Julian and Angel?”

Alison lowered her gaze to her plate again. “Not . . . well . . . I . . .” She stopped and started again. “I walk their dogs, but . . . I rarely see them.”

“
They're
your clients, too?” This was the first Nikki had heard of this.

Alison barely nodded. She kept her eyes downcast. “And Kameryn Lowe.”

“So you work for the Disney Fab Four? All of them? Why didn't you tell me before?”

“I don't know. I don't give out my client list.” Alison looked up. “Does it matter?”

“I don't know.” Nikki glanced away, thinking. “I hope not.”

Chapter 17

“T
hanks for the ride, Marshall.” Nikki sat in the back seat of his limo, throwing on some face powder, staring into the little round mirror of her compact. “I meant to get to the dealership earlier; then I could have just waited for my oil change.”

“House guests will do that to you.”

“They've been great so far. No problems. Alison hasn't been too mopey, and Jocelyn loaded the dishwasher for me last night before doing her homework. Alison was going to work today.”

“Of course, it's only been one night.”

She cut her eyes at him and dug into her bag for mascara. “You sound like Victoria.”

“If there was anyone on earth I could be, it would be Victoria Bordeaux.” Marshall grinned.

Nikki uncapped the mascara and began to apply it to her lashes. She had a nine a.m. with a client. She still had paperwork to gather, but Mr. Belka would be late. He always was. He was interested in commercial property, as an investment, and she had several good options to talk to him about. “I actually believe you when you say that, Marshall.”

He laughed. “I'm glad Alison and Jocelyn are doing okay at your place.” He looked handsome and relaxed this morning in jeans and a tight, yellow polo that showed off his buff body and dark skin tone perfectly. “Dare I ask how Jeremy is doing with the new arrangement?”

“You can ask.” She dropped her mascara into her bag and fished out a tube of lipstick. MAC, in spice, from one of Victoria's swag bags.

“Oh, dear.”

She exhaled. “He's always been so reasonable. So sensible. I don't know this Jeremy.”

“And you've tried to talk to him?”

“Of course.”

He gave her a look that demonstrated his lack of confidence in her. “You're not always good about talking things out in relationships, Nik.”

“I've tried to talk to him. Sort of. I explained why I feel like I need to defend Alison.”

“Maybe he's just had enough of her problems after all these years.”

She swiped lipstick over her bottom lip. “But she hasn't done anything wrong.” Her top lip.

“What if she's not being truthful with you? Still.”

“Alison did not kill Ryan Melton.”

“Okay. But what if she knows who did?”

Nikki took her time putting her lipstick and compact away. They had just pulled up in front of the office building that Windsor Real Estate occupied on busy Beverly Boulevard in Beverly Hills. “That's crazy. She's got a child custody case with her ex coming up. She wouldn't risk losing Jocelyn trying to protect someone.”

“But maybe to protect herself?”

Nikki was beginning to think she was going to need another cup of coffee. She was trying to limit herself and go back to drinking green tea; she knew it was healthier. But coffee just made her
feel
better. “I hope your interview goes well.”

The driver got out and opened Nikki's door for her.

“It'll be fine. They always are.” Marshall leaned over to see her as she got out, then spotted someone behind her. “Hey, is that your cop?”

“My cop?” She frowned, knowing very well whom he had to be talking about. She didn't look behind her. “I don't have a cop.”

“Well,
someone's
cop is standing at the door with two cups of coffee.”

“Talk to you later,” she called. “Thanks, Charlie.” The driver closed the door and she strode across the sidewalk to the door of the office building where Tom Dombrowski was waiting. “Detective.”

“Good morning.” He offered one of the paper cups in his hands. It smelled heavenly.

“Thanks.” She accepted the coffee and took a sip. “You just happened to be passing by this morning and thought I might need a cup of coffee?”

“Something like that.” He glanced away, holding his cup, but not drinking from it. His suit was navy blue today. It had to be tailored; it fit him perfectly. “I paid a visit to Diara Elliot's gardener yesterday. Apparently you talked to him already?”

She didn't answer.

“You know, Nikki, you could hinder my investigation,” he said. “You understand that, don't you? You could negatively affect Alison Sahira's case.”

“So the investigation is still open?” She looked up at him. “Even though Alison was arrested and charged?”

“You look nice this morning. I like the bangs.” He reached out but didn't actually touch her hair. He let his hand fall to his side. “We're still gathering evidence.”

She smiled slyly, pleased. “Detective Dombrowski, you believe me, don't you? You know she didn't do it.”

“We've got her fingerprints on the murder weapon. Her fingerprints also came back on computer equipment”—he met Nikki's gaze—“used to record the security footage in the house. The security footage that was erased. But I bet you already knew her fingerprints were on the home's security laptop, didn't you? She tell you?”

Nikki didn't answer. The coffee was good. She took another sip.

“Maybe Ms. Sahira would like to come in and talk with
me.
Explain herself.”

“What's Lillie Lambert say about that?”

He scowled, then took a sip of coffee.

Someone approached the door and Nikki and Dombrowski stepped to one side.

“I have an appointment,” Nikki said. “I should go.”

“Ms. Sahira tell you what was on Ryan's laptop we confiscated?”

Nikki hesitated. “She did.”

“And you don't think that's awfully suspicious?”

“Too easy.” Nikki shook her head. “He tries to blackmail her, so she kills him?”

“She does have that child custody case coming up. Maybe she was afraid her husband would use the porn film against her.”

“It happened too long ago,” Nikki came back. “It was filmed before she met the husband. Before she had her daughter. She's obviously reformed.”

They were both quiet for a second. They sipped their coffee.

“I'd tell you again to back off, but I'm thinking that's going to be a waste of my time and yours.” Dombrowski met her gaze. “If you find any real evidence that suggests she didn't do it, will you let me know?”

She stood there thinking for a minute, savoring the warmth of the cup in her hand and the aroma of the coffee beans. “Did you look into any of the Fab Four?” she asked. “Did you question them?”

“Didn't have cause. You know we have limited access to celebrities. And as soon as they hear that the police want to speak with them, they're calling their attorneys.”

He didn't say they couldn't be suspects. She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Well, I have that appointment. I should go.”

“If you had any information that might suggest I should talk to them,” Dombrowski said under his breath, “you'd tell me, right?”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Of course, Detective. Thanks for the coffee. Have a good day.”

On the ride up in the elevator, Nikki wondered if it was time
she
talked to the Fab Four. She could probably finagle a way to speak with Kameryn on the set of
Casa Capri
, but Julian and Angel would be trickier. Maybe it would make more sense to talk to their spouses? They'd certainly be easier to get to. It also made sense to her to look into the Fab Four's past. She knew they all met in their teens when they were cast on
School Dayz
. They had to have worked with many, many people. She thought about Asami and Megan. They were the kind of people who knew what kind of person Victoria Bordeaux really was.

Nikki stepped off the elevator. “Good morning, Carolyn,” she called to the receptionist.

“ 'Morning. An Oda left a message that she'd given the names at the door of the nightclub for Thursday night.” She held up a yellow
While You Were Out
notepad. “She said you'd know what she meant.”

Nikki grinned. The call she'd made to Oda had panned out. Jessie and Monica would be the happiest girls in L.A. this week.

“And Mr. Belka is waiting for you in the conference room. He didn't want anything to drink.”

“He's early?” Nikki hurried down the hall. “Thank you, Carolyn.” In her office, she pulled her cell out of her Prada and dropped the bag into a drawer in her desk. She grabbed a file and her laptop and, with a smile, walked into the conference room down the hall. “Mr. Belka, great to see you again.”

He stood and pumped her hand enthusiastically. “You looking as pretty always, Nikki.” Originally from Poland, his English wasn't always perfect, but she never had a problem understanding him. In fact, she found his accent as charming as his personality.

“I apologize for making you wait. Please, sit down.” She took the chair next to him. He was a balding, paunchy man in his early sixties; nothing to look at, but a really nice guy. “Crazy morning. I have house guests, and I had to drop my car off at the dealership for an oil change, and—” She chuckled. “So it goes on a Tuesday morning.”

“You should call me, I come later. Tomorrow.” He raised his voice at the end of his sentences, as if asking a question.

“You're a busy man, Mr. Belka. I wouldn't do that.”

He pulled an envelope from inside his suit jacket and slid it across the table to her. “I have
dese
tickets. Six of
dem
. American baseball, Dodgers. Goods seats. Box seats. For you.”

She looked at the envelope in front of her. “That's so nice of you, but I couldn't take them.”

“For Saturday. I will not in town. You take
dem
. You go, or”—he shrugged his broad shoulders—“you give
dem
to friend.” He laid a hand on the envelope and slid them toward her. “Please. Someone else,
dey
give
dem
me. You make me feel bad,
dey
go to waste, you not take
dem
.”

Nikki smiled. Jeremy and Jerry loved baseball. Maybe they could all go together? She smiled. “Thank you so much, Mr. Belka.”

“Please. We will do business together you and I. You call me Jakub.”

“Okay.” She slid the envelope of tickets aside. “Jakub, I think you're going to be happy with the properties I've found for you to take a look at.” She flipped open her laptop. “I thought you could see what you might be interested in, and we can meet later this week and go take a look.”
Which will give me time today to get back to work on my murder investigation.

 

After Jakub Belka left, Nikki took care of some paperwork on her desk. She set up two appraisals and an inspection, and called a bank to look into a snag with one of her client's escrow accounts. Then she called a broker to talk up one of the properties she'd had listed for a while, and ended up in a long conversation about the guy's mother-in-law's illness. Nikki was trying to get off the phone gracefully when her cell rang. It was Jeremy. Seeing his number come up made her smile; then she felt silly. What? Was she still in high school? Of course, Jeremy hadn't called her very often when they were in high school. He was too busy being a teen mega star.

“Sorry, John,” she cut in. “I've got a call on another line. Big client. Big,” she repeated. “I've got to go.” She barely let him say good-bye before picking up her cell from her desk.

“Jeremy!”

“Hey, Nik.” He didn't sound like himself, but he didn't sound too down in the dumps either.

“I was going to call you at lunch,” she told him. “How's your day going?”

“Fine. Had a cancellation.” Phones rang in the background. “Just thought I'd . . . say . . . hi.”

Nikki hated the awkwardness she heard in his voice. The awkwardness she felt. What if she was wrong about Alison and she lost Jeremy over this? “I . . . was going to call you,” she said, “and see if you and the kids wanted to go see the Dodgers this Saturday. A client gave me box seat tickets.” She eyed the ticket envelope on her desk. “I've got six, so I thought we could even ask Jocelyn. If you want.” He wasn't saying anything on the other end of the line. “Or not. If you . . . just want to take your kids.”

“Saturday? Sorry. Can't.”

She felt an immediate sense of disappointment. Her first impulse was to say, “Can't or don't want to?” but she caught herself before the words came out of her mouth.

“We made plans with my mom and dad. LEGOLAND. They're coming up from San Diego to meet us. Staying in the LEGOLAND hotel and everything. Everyone is looking forward to it.”

This was the first Nikki had heard about LEGOLAND. She usually knew everything that was going on with Jeremy. “Oh . . . okay. Well . . . that should be fun. It'll be nice for you to get away. You and the kids. See your mom and dad.”

“Yeah, definitely. Jocelyn's coming, too.”

“But not Alison?” It was out of her mouth before she could catch it.

“No.”

They were both quiet for a second.

“Jeremy,” she finally said. “I invited Alison and Jocelyn to stay a few nights because I thought it might be easier on you. To give you some space.”

“No, it's fine. You're right. Space.”

Nikki squeezed her eyes shut. Opened them. “They didn't move out of your house. They just came to mine to . . . stay a few nights. To give everyone some room to breathe.” She exhaled. “Jeremy, I don't want this thing with Alison to be a problem between us.”

“I don't either,” he answered stiffly.