The Dead and the Beautiful (20 page)

Victoria said something under her breath, but Nikki ignored her. She didn't know what her mother said. She didn't want to know.

 

The next day, Nikki was checking on the staging of a house in the West Flats when Marshall called. “Maybe a stack of old books to give this corner an Old World look?” she asked the woman there doing the staging.

“Great idea, Ms. Harper.”

Hey,” she said into the phone. “I thought you were still shooting that commercial.”

“Wrapped up this morning. Lunch? I might have something for you.”

“Something for me?”

The woman held up two vases, questioning which one to set on a side table. Nikki pointed at the white Lenox.

“What kind of something for me?” Nikki asked, walking out to the terrace, noting the pool had leaves in it.

“On Diara,” Marshall whispered with obvious delight. “Meet me at The Ivy. One-fifteen?”

Nikki hesitated. She and Jeremy often met for lunch on Wednesdays, but she hadn't heard from him. So it was pretty safe to say she and Jeremy weren't having lunch together today. “Sure.”

“I'll have Eli make the reservation.”

“How's he working out?” Eli was Marshall's new assistant.

“Perfect. He's a good worker and he has lots of drama in his personal life. A love triangle,” Marshall bubbled.

Nikki had to smile. “Thanks for calling. See you at one-fifteen.”

“See you then, sweetie.”

Nikki hung up and considered calling Jeremy. Just leaving a message. Instead, she walked back into the house and went back to work.

Chapter 20

T
he Ivy was a darling open-air restaurant on Robertson Boulevard that featured a white picket fence, English bric-a-brac, climbing roses, and, of course, ivy. Nikki walked up the sidewalk as Marshall was just arriving. He stepped out of his limo, followed by Eli, the new assistant.

Paparazzi camped out on the opposite side of the street stepped to the curb as soon as the limo pulled up. They called to Marshall as he acknowledged them with a wave and a handsome smile.

“Mr. Thunder!”

“Marshall!”

“How's your day going?”

“Great, Martin. Yours?”

There was a round of chuckles. The press didn't just like Marshall Thunder; they
adored
him.

“Having lunch with Nikki? Is this business or pleasure?”

“Always a pleasure with Nikki Harper.” Marshall smiled as he adjusted his Dolce and Gabbana aviator sunglasses.

The cameras across the street were whirring and snapping like insects. Nikki ignored the cameras and the men and women who wielded them. It was always this way when she was out with Marshall. Fortunately, growing up in the shadow of Victoria Bordeaux, she knew the ground rules. Never appear flustered or annoyed by the presence of the press, and never,
ever
step out of a car without lipstick and proper undergarments beneath your clothes. The press could be bothersome, Victoria had counseled many times, but without them, there would be no stars.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Harper.” Eli practically beamed.

“Hey, Eli.”

He led the way from the limo, through the picket fence gate to the open porch of the restaurant. Eli was nice looking, well-dressed, and appeared to be the epitome of efficiency; he held an iPhone in one hand, a BlackBerry in the other.

A slender, cute blonde greeted them. “I'm Amy and if there's anything I can do for you, Mr. Thunder, or Ms. Harper, just let me know. Your table is this way. You requested outside?”

“That okay with you?” Marshall asked Nikki as they followed the hostess. “It's shady. I thought we both could use a breath of fresh air.”

“Perfect,” she answered.

Marshall pulled Nikki's chair out for her. Eli said his good-byes, and Nikki and Marshall waited to speak until after the hostess had left glasses of water and menus with them.

“So?” Nikki said excitedly. She unfolded her pink napkin on her lap.

“Sooo . . .” Marshall studied the menu. “I
should
have the grilled vegetable salad, but I'd love the India's burger, or . . . the fish and chips.”

“You know I love fish and chips.” Nikki sipped her water. “But I should have the salad.”

Marshall groaned in obvious indecision, ignoring the stares from other patrons. Fortunately, their table was in the corner, so it was somewhat private. Sun umbrellas, hanging plants, and potted flowers pretty much blocked the view of the paparazzi across the street.

“I know,” he said, sitting back. He was wearing tan slacks and a Gucci oxford shirt, opened two buttons, to show his sun-glowed, broad chest. “Why don't we order both and we'll share?”

“Works for me.” She set down her menu and glanced at the gorgeous white gardenias in a clay pot on the table. “Then maybe we can split a dessert.”

“Just what I was thinking! Ooh. Maybe an apple croissant, or a red velvet cupcake?”

Nikki met his gaze through their sunglasses. “Both, if you like.” She slapped the table. “Okay, you're killing me here, Marshall. You called saying you had information. What did you want to tell me?”

“Well . . .” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I took a meeting with James Cameron yesterday. You know him?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course, I know who James Cameron is. ‘But this ship can't sink' ” she quoted from the movie
Titanic
.

“Decent British accent you have there,” Marshall quipped.

“Thank you.”

“So, anyway, my agent and I met James Cameron at Patina to discuss a new movie he's writing. I had a fabulous black cod confit. Have you tried it?”

“Marshall.”

“You don't like cod?”

“I swear, you get more like my mother every day. I don't care what you ate. Tell me why I should care that you
took a meeting
with James Cameron. Besides because it's pretty cool, even for Marshall Thunder,” she teased.

“
Because
. . . Diara Elliot and her agent, Lex Bronson, joined us,” he said triumphantly.

Nikki scooted forward. The tables were far enough apart that she doubted the three young women in super-short, super-expensive dresses could hear her and Marshall, but she didn't want to take any chances. Especially since the paparazzi had crossed the street and were now attempting to take pictures from the sidewalk, through the potted plants. “Diara took a business meeting? Already?”

“It's James Cameron, sweetie. James Cameron calls, you take the meeting.”

“So . . . James Cameron is interested in having you star in a film.”

“Diara and me. The male lead is a bigger part, but she'd be billed as female lead.” He fluttered his hand. “But that wasn't what was so interesting. The script isn't even done yet.”

The waiter appeared at the table; he was wearing a pink shirt and a bright blue tie. “Could I take your order, Mr. Thunder, or would you like a few more minutes?” He smiled at Nikki. “Good to see you, Ms. Harper.”

“Nice to see you, Teddy.” Victoria had taught Nikki to always learn the names of maître d's and the wait staff of the restaurants she frequented. “How's your sister?” Nikki recalled that his sister had been ill last time she and her friend Ellen had lunch here. She had been undergoing radiation treatments for cancer.

“She's doing great.” Teddy smiled from ear to ear. “Thanks so much for asking. I can't believe you remembered!”

Marshall placed their order. Both of them declined anything to drink beyond water and the minute the waiter walked away from the table, Nikki leaned forward again. “So?”

“So, do you know Lex Bronson?”

Nikki wracked her brain, squinting behind her sunglasses. “Vaguely. Nice looking, dark, curly hair, expensive suits, and a bit of a head twitch when he's nervous?”

“That's him. Recently divorced.”

“I think I saw him on some kind of list of up-and-coming talent agents.”

“He's got quite a few A-list clients,” Marshall agreed, “and signing more every year.”

“Wasn't he trying to romance you a year or so ago?”

Marshall sipped his water. A young woman two tables over tried to, inconspicuously, take a picture of him with her cell phone. She wasn't all that inconspicuous. He smiled, but went on talking to Nikki. “Funny you should use that word. I think Diara and Lex were playing footsie under the table at Patina.”

“Subversive flirting,” he told her, lifting both dark eyebrows.

She took off her sunglasses. “Are you serious?” Glancing away, she thought for a second. She looked at him again. “You think there could be something going on between Diara and Lex Bronson?”

“I'd bet my mansion on Beverly Drive.” He slapped the table triumphantly. “And my new property in Oahu.”

Nikki sat back in her chair. “Did this seem like something new or . . .”

“Come on. Who starts a new relationship two weeks after her husband is murdered?”

“Wow.” She sipped her water. “Wow,” she repeated. “You know, I met an assistant on the set of
Casa Capri
who told me that Diara didn't have a lot of male visitors. Just Julian, Angel, Gil, and . . . her agent. So, maybe it's been going on for a while.”

“I definitely thought it was interesting, but I don't know how that information helps Alison. So Diara cheated on her husband with her agent. So what? You already know she didn't kill him.”

“But I don't know
he
didn't.”

They were both quiet for a moment, lost in their thoughts.

Marshall broke the silence. “So, now what?”

“I don't know. Guess I'll see what I can find out about Lex.”

“My agent and he are pretty good friends. You want me to see if Alex can find out where Lex was that day? I mean, if he had an alibi, he didn't do it, right?”

“That would be wonderful.”

“I'll look into it. But if there's anything else I can do. Anything, anything at all, just tell me.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You know I would do it.”

“I know. You're a good friend.” She slipped her hand out from under his and reached for her water. “I'm thinking I need to talk to Alison and see if she can think of anyone who came and went in the house who I haven't thought of. Other than the pool boy, the fish guy, the dry cleaners. And I'd still love to speak with Alison's attorney. Just to get a feel for where she stands on the case. I know she won't tell me anything, but I'd like to know if she thinks they'll get as far as a trial.”

“You want to talk to Lillie Lambert? Good luck with that. You can't get anything out of Alison?”

“Not much,” she admitted. “I told her she had to be honest with me from now on, and I think she is, but she's still being pretty close-mouthed about the whole thing. She answers direct questions, but never volunteers anything.”

“Well, if she admitted to making the skin flick, maybe she is being honest.”

Nikki cut her eyes at him. “It's not like she had a choice. She knew I knew. Of course, maybe if she had come clean sooner, Jeremy—”

“
Wouldn't
have kicked her out of his house?”

“He didn't
kick her out.
He just . . . didn't ask her to stay.” She put her sunglasses back on. Someone else was taking a picture of Marshall with her cell phone, this time from the front gate. “It's all going to blow over with Jeremy. Alison and Jocelyn are just staying a few days with me. That's all.”

Marshall listened without arguing. Both of them were quiet while the waiter placed the fish and chips and the salad in the middle of the table and gave them both pretty white plates with ivy painted all over them.

“Tartar sauce, cocktail sauce, malt vinegar, and fresh lemon wedges,” Teddy said brightly, setting down a small tray. “And I'll be right back with water refills. Anything else I can get you?”

“Nope, this is perfect. Thanks.”

When he was gone, Marshall placed a piece of fried fish on Nikki's plate and added some French fries. “So how's that going, having Alison and her daughter in your house?” He took some fish and chips for himself.

“Fine.”

“Alison working?”

“Yeah, I think so. She seems to be doing okay, considering. Salad?”

He let her put some on his plate. “And how about you, love? How are you doing?”

“I don't know. Frustrated. I know she didn't do this, but I don't feel like I'm getting any closer to figuring out who did. I need to talk to Ryan's wife, Ryan's friends; to Gil, Kameryn, Julian, and Angel. And Betsy and Hazel, too. But I don't know how to get to them. It's not like we're friends or anything.”

Marshall chewed on a fry. “Hmm. How about—” He looked up suddenly. “How about if I have a little party. A little cocktail thing to . . . to celebrate the meeting with Cameron and Diara. I invite her and her friends.”

“You think they'd come? Her husband's only been dead two weeks.”

“Diara was
very
eager to do this project with me. She'll come. And she'll make her friends come. I'll just make it a little informal, spur-of-the moment thing. My publicist will be thrilled. And, of course, Lex Bronson will be there. Just think, you'll have them all together at once. You can grill them to your heart's content.”

“That would be perfect.”

“It would, wouldn't it? It actually sounds like fun, now that I think about it. What if the killer is actually there?” He grabbed another fry. “Saturday night. I'll do it Saturday night.”

“You can do it that quickly?”

“I can do anything I want.” He grinned. “I'm a star. Remember?”

She chuckled and took a bite of her salad.

“Okay. So that's taken care of. Now tell me, how are things with Jeremy? Or shouldn't I ask?”

“You shouldn't ask.” She chewed what was in her mouth and went on. “Not great. After the porn film
reveal
Saturday, he left the house with the kids. I haven't seen him since.”

“And it's Wednesday.” Marshall didn't say it in an accusing way; he was just stating a fact.

“It's Wednesday,” she agreed. “I have these tickets for the Dodgers this weekend. Box seats. I thought maybe we could go together. Take the kids. But he's going away for the weekend with the kids. Meeting his parents.
LEGOLAND.
”

Marshall grimaced. “Gads. And he didn't invite you?”

She shook her head and picked up a fry. “I was thinking that maybe I'd go over to his house after work. See if he wants to talk. What do you think?”

Marshall frowned. “I think Jeremy would be a fool to let this thing with his sister come between the two of you. Whether she did it or not.”

“She
didn't do it
,” Nikki said.

The question was, if she said that often enough, could she make it come true?

 

In the end, Nikki chickened out and didn't go by Jeremy's that night. Instead, she called his cell when he should have been on his way home. He didn't pick up. She left a message.