The Dead and the Beautiful (19 page)

“Good for you. Can you tell me what the four of them were like?”

He hesitated. “I don't mean to be a jerk or anything, but why are you asking?”

“Because my friend Alison didn't do it. I'm checking around. Trying to get some information on other possible suspects.”

He looked around. They were alone now in the shop: no customers. Sean had disappeared into the back. “You think it could have been one of the Fab Four?” he asked, incredulously.

“No . . .” She hesitated. “I don't know. I just . . . to tell you the truth, I'm suspicious . . .”

“Of Diara,” he finished for her.

“What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “Because she married a nobody. Maybe she was tired of him.”

“But they all married nobodies,” she countered.

He thought for a minute. “I guess they did, didn't they? Maybe none of them wanted to be overshadowed by their partners?”

She didn't know how much she should reveal to him, so she didn't respond to his statement. “They were all good friends, right? Did . . . were any of them a couple at some point?”

“Did they date each other? No. Well, Angel and Kameryn had a thing for a little while, but then she started dating some musician that was quite a bit older than we were.”

As Nikki listened to Maurice, she found herself pleasantly surprised by his demeanor. From what she had read on the Internet, she had expected a has-been star who was bitter about the Fab Four's careers taking off when his didn't. But he wasn't that guy.

“Of course, they dated plenty. We all did. We were just supposed to be discreet about it.”

“And they were, I guess?”

“Publicly?” He thought for a minute, then nodded. “Yeah, they were. But on the set? They all had a bit of a reputation. Particularly Julian.”

“Really?” Nikki asked.

“The weird thing was,” again, he lowered his voice, “they . . . shared.”

“I think I'll take both of these comics.” She handed them back to Maurice. “
Shared,
like would kiss and tell?”

“No, shared like Julian would have a girl from makeup in his trailer one week and Angel would have her in his trailer the next. Then she might be with Julian the following week again.” He walked back toward the register and she followed him. “I knew they were good friends,” he continued, “but I always thought, even then, it was weird.”

“That
is
weird,” Nikki agreed, wondering why their promiscuity hadn't come out on the Internet.

“A camera guy once told me they took the same girl home for a weekend and really
shared
her.” He made a face. “But that guy was a known gossip, so who knows?” He stepped behind the counter.

“And Diara and Kameryn? What did they think about the
boys'
behavior?”

“
Think
about it? Shoot.” He rang her up. “Diara and Kameryn were as promiscuous as Angel and Julian.”

Chapter 19

V
ictoria gazed down. “I wasn't expecting to see you this evening, dear. What a pleasant surprise.”

Nikki sat on the floor of her mother's legendary pink boudoir, a sealed, cardboard box in front of her. She'd brought it down from the attic Saturday but hadn't opened it yet.

Victoria was on the couch, wearing a fluffy white robe, her hair twisted up in a white turban. She had scrubbed her face clean and covered it with a film of moisturizer. Without makeup, Nikki thought her mother actually looked younger. Softer. She liked Victoria this way, slightly exposed. Here, safely in her room, Nikki had found that her mother could be herself. Or, at least, she could be less guarded.

They were sitting in the lounge area of the bedroom suite of pink walls and pink and white draperies. The flat-screen TV was on, turned to an entertainment news show, but the volume was down. Nikki had brought her spaniels and both relaxed beside her on the plush Turkish wool carpet. Stanley rested his muzzle on Nikki's leg.

Seeing the attention his friend was getting, Oliver inched forward until his head was in Nikki's lap. She stroked his soft, spotted red and white coat. Oliver was a Blenheim. Stanley, a cousin twice removed to Oliver and two years older, was a black, white, and tan tri. Nikki had brought them with her tonight because she felt guilty leaving them home for the evening, when she'd already been gone all day. Besides, she missed them.

Nikki had left Alison and Jocelyn with takeout Thai and a rented DVD, giving them a little time to be alone; talk in private, if they wanted. Nikki didn't know who Alison's arrest was harder on, mother or her teen daughter. What Nikki did know, from observation, was that they had an excellent relationship. Certainly better than Nikki had had with Victoria when
she
was Jocelyn's age.

Nikki stared at the cardboard box in front of her. The word
John
was written in bold black Sharpie in Victoria's handwriting. John Harper was Nikki's father, dead almost ten years now. He'd been murdered during an armed robbery of his East Side apartment in New York City. The cops had botched the investigation, then the DA the prosecution. The perpetrator ended up being released on a technicality, only to kill again in a robbery with a similar MO. Because of her own run-ins with the law when she was in her late teens, Nikki wasn't fond of police in general, but her father's case had made her trust them less.

Overworked, underpaid, she knew that most police did their best, but her father's murder was proof that their best wasn't always good enough. That was how Nikki got involved in the Rex March and the Eddie Bernard murder investigations. In both cases, she hadn't trusted the justice system with the lives of her loved ones who were.

Nikki hadn't really thought about it, but that was one of the reasons she had to see her questioning through with Alison's case. She knew Tom Dombrowski was a good guy, that he wouldn't intentionally make a mistake or falsely accuse the wrong person. But he had nothing personal at stake. Nikki did. And now that she was knee-deep into her own investigation with no real leads, she felt as if she was fighting not only for Alison's freedom, but for her relationship with Jeremy.

“You going to open that box or just stare at it?” Victoria asked. She was sorting a stack of old photos on her lap. She'd been approached about writing an autobiography and was seriously considering taking on the project. If she did, she wanted to use previously unpublished pictures of herself . . . but only good ones.

Nikki ran her fingertips over her father's name, then stroked Oliver. “I went to a comic-book store today.”

“Did you? I didn't even know there was such a thing.” Victoria reached for her electronic cigarette on the table beside her.

She was trying to stop smoking. Again. She'd smoked on and off her whole life, but never, ever in public. She could go days without a cigarette, which made Nikki think it was more a habit than a dependence on nicotine. She was pleased her mother was giving the smoking cessation aid a try.

“Taken an interest in reading comic books, have you?” Victoria asked, one eyebrow arched.

“I went to talk with the owner of the store. He starred with Diara and the others in the TV show that made them famous.”

“A kids' show, wasn't it?”

“Arguably the most popular teen drama
ever
on TV. It's still making a ton of money between residuals and merchandising.”

“I never saw it. Oh my, whatever made me think that dress was attractive?” Victoria rejected a photo. “What was this TV show called?”

“
School Dayz
. I bet we could find it on On Demand.” She reached for the remote control on the white coffee table between her and her mother. “This guy I talked to, Maurice, he started out as one of the stars on the show, just like Diara, Kameryn, Angel, and Julian. But as their parts got bigger, his got smaller until he was written off the show. He never did anything else big again. He owns a store now and sells comic books for a living.”

Victoria drew the ceramic cigarette to her lips. “Did this comic book gentleman have anything helpful to say?”

“I don't know.” Nikki flipped through screens on the TV. “Possibly.” She glanced at her mother. “He suggested that the four of them, while working on the show, were pretty promiscuous.”

“How old were they?”

Nikki thought for a minute. “I think they were all around seventeen, eighteen when they were hired. They always played characters younger than themselves. But the show ran for five seasons, I think. So they were
old enough.
I'm just surprised. You know, because it was Disney backing them.”

“Not all that surprising. You don't want to have that conversation, do you? Young people today . . .”

Nikki chuckled. “I do
not.
” She continued to flip through screens on the TV, in search of
School Dayz
reruns. “He hinted at an even racier suggestion than simple promiscuity.”

“Maybe he wasn't telling the truth.”

“Maybe. Aha!” Nikki found a listing for episodes of
School Dayz
.

“What did he tell you they were doing?”

Nikki glanced over her shoulder at her mother. “That not only did Angel and Julian date a lot, but they dated the same girls at the same time. And Diara and Kameryn were doing the same thing.”

“When you say
dated,
I assume—”

“The word has a broader meaning than it once did.” Nikki turned back to the TV and selected the first episode available. It was from the third season, after Maurice was gone.

“Hmmm,” Victoria mused. “And you feel this comic store gentleman is reliable?”

“He didn't seem vindictive. Or eager to trash their reputations.” She thought for a minute. “I do believe him.” She hit PLAY and the episode began.

The two of them watched in silence for ten minutes. The episode revolved around a misunderstanding between three girls, which included Diara's and Kameryn's characters. Several boys, including Julian's and Angel's characters, got involved. As well as the goofy female biology professor. Confusion and laughter ensued.

“What kind of school is this supposed to be?” Victoria finally asked. Obviously, she wasn't enjoying the show.

“It's supposed to be a boarding school for rich kids, but Kameryn's and Angel's characters are kids from
da hood,
there on scholarship.”

“Well, who on earth would pay a salary to
that
woman?” Victoria said, indicating the biology teacher on the show. “She shouldn't be teaching kindergarteners.”

Nikki chuckled and paused the show. She'd watched enough, too. It was interesting seeing the Fab Four younger, but the comedy, aimed at middle-schoolers, was pretty silly. She turned to her mother, peeling the tape off the cardboard box in front of her, as she spoke. “I spent hours on the Internet today looking for negative gossip on the Fab Four and there was nothing. Not a hint of impropriety.”

“What kind of impropriety are you looking for? Whose?”

“My first thought was Ryan Melton's. If he was cheating on his wife—”

“Maybe she killed him,” Victoria said dryly. “Or had someone do it for her. Regrettably, an age-old story.”

“Right. It was, at least, worth looking into. Only no one I spoke to knew anything about Ryan ever cheating on Diara. What I did hear, from two separate sources, was that Diara may have been cheating on him.” Nikki hesitated. “Have you heard any gossip like that on the set?”

“I haven't.” She laid a black and white photo of herself in a one-piece bathing suit, standing on a beach, on a separate pile on the table beside her. It looked to be from the 1960s. “But that doesn't surprise me.”

“That she might have been cheating on Ryan?”

“That I haven't heard anything,” Victoria sniffed.

Nikki slid Ollie off her leg and rose on her knees to open the box. “Why does that not surprise you?”

“Because Diara is a Disney sweetheart. She always will be and she knows how to behave herself, at least publicly. That's probably why there's nothing on the Internet about their inappropriate behavior when they were working for Disney. Their images were being protected.”

“By whom?”

She dismissed the TV with a wave of her hand. “By everyone associated with that inane show.”

Nikki rested her hands on the box, letting her mother go on.

“That's the way the studios used to do things. Back in the days when stars were made. Actors and actresses didn't just change their names and allow the studios to give them personas, they agreed to behave in a certain way, to give the public a certain impression. We signed morality clauses. We agreed not to leave the house without being dressed like a star, hair done, makeup on.”

Nikki listened as her mother continued.

“And when we did step out of line, the studio executives and public relations staffs were there to cover it up. To hide it from the public. I knew stars who dabbled in drugs, did away with pregnancies, and committed adultery. The public never heard about that nonsense. We were shuffled around in the middle of the night in limos. Bribes were paid to keep witnesses' mouths shut.”

“But things are different now,” Nikki countered. “Studios don't own actors and actresses the way they once did.”

“I understand that. That doesn't mean in this instance that the reputation of the young actors and actresses wasn't protected.”

“So . . . just because there's nothing on the Internet about the Fab Four being wild, doesn't mean it didn't happen,” Nikki said, thinking out loud.

“True. Though what does that have to do with Ryan's murder?”

“I don't know.” Nikki sighed. “Does what Maurice said suggest that they're at least capable of less than G-rated behavior?”

Victoria set the remaining pictures on the couch beside her. “I know one thing. Nowadays, inappropriate behavior is harder to hide, what with tweeting and such.”

Nikki smiled, shocked her mother even knew what Twitter was. After all, she was just getting the hang of using a cell phone. “Tweeting?”

“Well, I don't
tweet,
of course, but I know what it is!” She frowned and reached for her glass of tonic water with lime. It was a weeknight and she had to work the next morning, so she had passed on the evening cocktail Amondo had offered her.

Nikki stared at the cardboard box in front of her.

“Oh, for goodness sake, open it, Nicolette.”

Nikki didn't know if she was up to it tonight. It had been a long day. She should be getting home and letting her mother get to bed. And . . . she just didn't know that she needed to stir up all those feelings, looking at her father's possessions. “What's in here?”

Victoria sighed. “I don't remember. Pictures, I suppose. Of us. A paperweight you made him for Father's Day. Things.”

Nikki pushed the box away from her and stood up. “I think I'll go.”

“Nicolette, what on earth has gotten into you?”

“What do you mean? I'm tired. You're tired. You have to be on the set in the morning. I should go home and let you get some sleep. The box can wait.”

“I'm not talking about just the box. I'm talking about this whole thing with Jeremy's sister. Ina said that Maria said that you and Jeremy are barely speaking. Why do you feel compelled to dig into other people's personal business for her sake?”

“Because I know she didn't do it,” Nikki said firmly. “And Jeremy . . . he's afraid she might have.” She went on faster. “And . . . and someone should believe Alison. Someone should be there for her the same way you were there for me when people didn't believe me.”

“Ah . . .” Victoria held up her finger. “I knew there was something going on with you. You're talking about
the incident.
”

“Mother, that's silly.”

“Do you want to talk about it? It's been a long time since we have. Maybe not since your father's death.”

Nikki picked up her Prada and snapped her fingers. Both dogs popped up off the carpet and ran for the door. “This is not about me. And, no, I don't want to talk about it.”

“Dear, an incident like that—”

“It wasn't an
incident,
Mother. I killed someone. I pulled the trigger and I killed someone!” The last words came out louder than Nikki intended and she immediately felt guilty. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I'm going to go,” she said softly. “Good night. I'll talk with you tomorrow.”