The Dead and the Beautiful (25 page)

Nikki looked at Angel.

“What do you want?” he asked quietly, surprising her with his vicious tone. When she didn't answer, he went on. “Leave
us
alone.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” She held his gaze, wondering if it was the gaze of a killer. Mostly, right now, it looked like the gaze of a drunk. “Where were you when Ryan was killed?” she dared.

“Why do you care? The police already arrested the dog walker.” He smirked. “But if you must know, I was having lunch. At Pizzeria Mozza. Check, if you like.” Again, the smirk. Then he went on. “So, listen, I don't want you bothering my wife. Or Julian's. I don't want you talking to Diara, or Kameryn or Gil, either.”

“Why?” She kept her voice down, but she felt like steam might be coming out of her ears. “Are you afraid that people are going to find out that the Fab Four aren't the sweethearts your publicity wants us to believe?”

He took a step toward her. “I'm warning you, back off. You don't know what we're capable of.”

Nikki stared into his eyes for a moment. Was he threatening her? Or revealing a clue as to what had happened to Ryan? Either way, there was something in his green eyes that would have frightened her if she were more easily frightened.

“Nikki, good to see you again.”

Nikki looked over to see Diara, arms linked with Kameryn. Had they come to diffuse the situation?

Nikki smiled. “Diara, I'm so sorry about Ryan.” “Thank you.” She looked away and a few tears glistened in her eyes. She was dressed in a gorgeous white cocktail dress and sparkly white heels. Every hair on her long, blond head was perfect.

“Your mother's a delight to work with,” Kameryn said. “We have a few days off from shooting. I hope she enjoys them.”

Nikki watched Angel walk away. “I'm sure she will.”

“Gil, honey, come say hi to Nikki.” Kameryn waved her husband over. Like the other men in the room, he was dressed in a nice tux. Again, Nikki was struck by how similar in looks he was to Angel.

“Hey, Nikki.” Gil flashed a handsome smile. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days, but it looked good on him. He could have done a menswear ad in
GQ
with his jawline. “It's good to see you again. It was nice of Marshall to invite us. Nice for all of us to get out. You know, after the tragedy.” He slipped his arm around Diara, then his wife.

He was smooth; Nikki would give him that.

“It's nice to see you, too, Gil.”

After that, they fell into conversation about
Casa Capri
and what was going on with the characters. It was awhile before Nikki could break away from the group. She tried several times to get to Lex Bronson, but he seemed to be purposely avoiding her. And watching Diara. Seeing him in the same room with her, Nikki could tell he was definitely enamored. He excused himself within an hour.

Nikki must have had a look of disappointment on her face because Marshall came over with a canapé for both of them. “I didn't get a chance to talk to him,” she said quietly.

“Doesn't matter. He
is
having an affair with Diara. He thinks he's in love with her, but he didn't kill her husband.”

She popped the lemongrass cured salmon canapé into her mouth. “No?”

He passed her his cocktail napkin so she could wipe her mouth. “Nope, in Brussels the week it happened.”

“Guess I can cross him off my list.” She turned to him. “Hey, why didn't you tell me Tom was a Tisch?”

A shrug. “Never came up, I guess.”

“So he's a multimillionaire . . . and a cop?”

“I don't know his personal finances, but he grew up well, yes. So,” he lowered his voice, “you find out anything?”

She glanced in the direction of the Fab Four and their three remaining spouses, all standing together, alone, heads together. It reminded her of the first night she met them, at Victoria's garden party. That evening Ryan hadn't been with them either . . .

“Possibly,” she whispered. “Very possibly.”

Chapter 25

S
unday morning, Nikki's phone rang as she was making coffee. She wore boxer shorts, a T-shirt, and a robe. It was early for a call. She picked up her cell from the counter.

Victoria didn't wait for Nikki to speak. “How was the party at Marshall's? I don't know why I wasn't invited. I could have questioned the suspects.”

Nikki frowned. If she kept it up, she was going to need Botox. “I thought you thought Alison did it,” she said, keeping her voice down. Alison was still upstairs, but she could hear her moving around.

“I never said that.”

“Mother, you most certainly—”

“So do you want to hear what I found out or not?”

Nikki poured boiling water over the fresh ground coffee in a French press. “Found out from where?”

“A party rental company in West Hollywood.”

Nikki fitted the lid on the French press. “How did you—”

“I made phone calls, of course. Yesterday. I said my planner dropped the ball when she was arrested for murder and she wasn't returning my calls.”

“Mother, whose name did you give?”

“I didn't
give a name,
Nicolette.”

“And you talked to someone who knew Alison?”

“Ah, so
now
you want to hear what I know.”

Nikki groaned.

“Have you thought any more about what we talked about, darling? About seeing a shrink?”

“That's an awful word. I don't need a psychiatrist.”
What I need is caffeine before I talk to my mother.
She thought it, but knew better than to say it. “Back to what you found out?”

“Fine. Alison was buying some sort of party favors, renting costumes—”

“Let me finish,” Victoria said. “She was renting costumes and props twice a month. She always rented them on a Friday or a Saturday and returned them on Monday. She refused delivery.” She added, “Even though it's free.”

Nikki leaned against the counter, utterly impressed. And a little in awe. “How do you
know
all this?”

“Joshua.”

“Joshua who?”

“Heavens, I don't know. The young man who answered the phone at the seventh place I called. I told him I knew Victoria Bordeaux and offered to send him a signed glossy.”

Nikki laughed. “I can't believe you, Mother.”

“I can't believe myself sometimes,” she chuckled.

“What made you decide to call party rental stores?”

“I saw no reason for that nice girl in the park to lie to you. Which meant maybe Alison was doing some sort of party work again. Maybe she doesn't like dogs as much as she thought she did. I, myself, don't understand how one can make a living
walking dogs.
”

“Back to the parties, Mother.”

“From what I gather, Alison was throwing some sort of themed parties: knights, pirates, and so forth.”

“Unbelievable,” Nikki whispered to herself. “And you're absolutely sure it was Alison?”

“Well, I wouldn't have been calling to tell you if it wasn't Alison, now would I?”

She had a fair point.

“Did this Joshua know who she was giving parties for?”

“He did not. But he said it was a small group.”

Nikki felt a buzzing in her head. It wasn't caffeine because she hadn't had any yet. “Did you ask how small?”

“Well, of course. Honestly, Nicolette.”

Nikki waited. Victoria did know how to create drama.

“Eight,” she finally said. “Always for eight. Four men. Four women. So four princes, four princesses, four pirates, four tavern wenches.”

Nikki couldn't help herself. She laughed when her mother said “wenches.”

“What on earth is so funny?” Victoria inquired.

“Nothing.” Nikki grabbed a mug from the cupboard. “Thank you, Mother. I really appreciate this.”

“Well, do you know what it all means?”

“No.” Nikki poured her coffee. She heard Alison coming down the steps. “But I'm going to find out. I'll call you later.”

“You do that.”

Alison walked into the kitchen as Nikki poured half-and-half into her coffee. She didn't give Alison time to speak. “We need to talk.”

“O . . . kay . . .” She drew out the word.

“Grab your coffee. Come on outside. It's beautiful out.”

Alison stared at Nikki. “Is Jocelyn all right?”

“I'm sure she's fine.” She grabbed an orange from a bowl of fruit on the counter and called to Stan and Ollie, who raced to the back door.

Her backyard was fenced in and overgrown with gorgeous flowering plants and bushes. Marshall was always telling her she needed to clean it up, but she liked it this way. It reminded her of an old English garden. She even had a little patch of herbs she could snip from for cooking.

There was a table for two under an arbor covered in clematis and honeysuckle. Nikki tied her robe around her waist before sitting down with her coffee. Stan and Ollie trotted down a stone path that wound around toward Rob's house. “Stay here, guys,” she called after them. “No visiting this morning.”

Five minutes passed before Alison came outside, looking pale and scared.

“Jocelyn's okay?” she asked again.

“I haven't heard from Jeremy, which means she's fine. Sit down.”

The air smelled divine under the arbor. Nikki took a sip of coffee, letting Alison get settled in the teak chair across from her.

“At my mother's garden party, you told Marshall that Diara and Ryan didn't spend much time at clubs or out partying. You said they dined privately with their friends.”

Alison kept her gaze downcast, concentrating on the coffee in her cup.

“You were talking about the Fab Four and their spouses.”

Alison said nothing, but her pale face was looking paler by the second.

“I need to know what you were doing for them, Alison. Besides walking their dogs. Costumes? Twice a month?”

Alison was quiet for a moment; then her voice was shaky when she spoke. “Do you think it has anything to do with Ryan's murder?”

“I don't know,” Nikki answered evenly. “Because I don't know what
it
is.”

Alison pressed her lips together. She looked like she was going to cry, but she was fighting it. “The whole point was confidentiality. I signed something saying I'd never tell.”

“And go to jail for murder if you had to?” Nikki challenged. “To keep their secrets?”

“If this gets out, if Farid finds out . . .” Alison's voice quickly took on a desperate tone. “No judge will let me keep Jocelyn. Making a skin flick fifteen years ago, before I was a wife or a mother, when I was young and foolish, that's one thing, but this—” Tears finally filled her eyes and she looked away.

“So tell me, tell me everything and maybe we can keep it from getting out.” Nikki slid her hand across the teak table. “I'll do everything I can to keep the information private.”

“It's too crazy. You won't believe me,” Alison murmured.

“Try me.”

Alison slowly dragged her gaze up to meet Nikki's. “Please find out who killed Ryan. I can't go to trial. I can't risk it.”

“So tell me,” Nikki insisted softly.

Then Alison launched into a tale that Nikki had to admit was far-fetched, but the longer Jeremy's sister talked, the more the puzzle pieces fell into place.

“I don't know how it even came about that they asked me,” Alison began. “That . . . Angel asked me.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I didn't just walk their dogs. I planned private parties for them. Very private parties.”

Nikki kept her face blank. She didn't want to appear judgmental. She wasn't judgmental.

“They wanted private, themed parties at their houses. I was to provide the food, decorations, costumes, props, whatever. It was at different houses, but only the four houses.”

“The houses of the Fab Four,” Nikki said.

Alison nodded and went on. “It was always the same. I went in on a Friday or Saturday afternoon and set up. Just me. No help. I even went to the caterer and took the food to the houses myself. I carried the stuff in my van.”

“So it looked like you were there to take care of a client's dog,” Nikki said, “but actually . . .”

“Oh, I took care of their dogs, too.” Alison nodded her head up and down. “This was just a way . . . to make extra money. You know what real estate costs these days. I'll show you my bank accounts. I can prove to you that I've been saving every penny I could. I wanted to get a nice place for us. For Jocelyn and me.”

“So . . . you set up for the party on a designated day . . .” Nikki nudged. “And then what?”

“And then I left. And I went back the next morning and cleaned up the house. I removed all the costumes, props, caterer's equipment, whatever. And erased any video recorded on their security systems for the previous twenty-four hours. They said I wasn't to look and I never did. I didn't want to see what they were doing.”

Nikki almost smiled at Alison's seeming innocence, which was interesting, considering the film she had once made. “That's why you knew how to erase the security footage at Diara and Ryan's house the day he was murdered?”

She nodded. “No one ever said what the parties were. What the eight of them were doing.” Her voice trembled. “But I had a pretty good guess.”

Nikki waited.

“I read about it in a magazine. It's called swinging. They . . . you know, share partners. Have sex with other people's husbands and wives.”

Share partners
. . . that was exactly what Maurice had suggested. It was what the men had been doing years ago when they were still filming
School Dayz
. And he'd said the girls were worse than the men.

“I didn't ask,” Alison said. “They paid me well. To be discreet. It wasn't my business what they were doing.”

And Alison had been discreet, hadn't she? The Fab Four had gotten away with it. There had never been a word about their
private parties
in print, blogged, or spoken. Their reputations had been protected.

“I'm sorry,” Alison whispered. “I knew it was wrong, but I wasn't making enough money with the dogs. And this seemed like a quick, easy way to buy a home to take Jocelyn to.” She gripped her coffee cup. “So do you think their parties have anything to do with Ryan's murder?”

Nikki sat back in her chair to think. She reached for the orange she had brought out and began to peel it. Her dogs had returned from whatever adventure they'd found in the garden and now lay under the table. Stan rested his head on her bare foot.

Her thoughts were flying in a hundred directions. They had paid Alison well to keep their secret. So what would they have done to protect it if it had been threatened from another source? Would they have paid to keep someone else's mouth shut? Even if
the someone
was one of them? That would explain Betsy and Hazel's meetings once a month with Ryan and the envelope. What if he was blackmailing the Fab Four? What if he was threatening to disclose their secret sex lives and destroy their squeaky-clean images?

Ryan had wanted money to open a club. An expensive club. It all made sense, in a crazy way.

So what happened? Why kill him? Had he demanded more money? Is that why he was murdered?

Which led to the next question. Who had done it? Not Diara or Kameryn. They had been at the studio.

Nikki looked at Alison, who sat in the chair looking like she just wanted to disappear. To fade away. “Can you tell me again what happened the day Ryan was murdered?”

“I've told you everything. I swear I have.”

“I believe you. I just want to hear it again. In case . . . there's some detail you missed. I missed.”

Alison exhaled. “Okay.” She exhaled again. “I went to Ryan and Diara's house to pick up Muffin. Ryan was in a towel in the living room. He came on to me. He said he liked what he'd seen on the film he found on the Internet. He said he was tired of Diara getting away with whatever she wanted. He was going to do what he wanted to do.” She stopped.

As Alison spoke, Nikki tried to picture it all in her mind. She'd been to the house. She remembered the white living room. “It's okay. Go on when you're ready.”

“When I went into the living room to get Muffin, Ryan touched me. I pushed him away, and I left the house. I took the dogs to Runyon Canyon Park. When I took Muffin back to Ryan and Diara's house, he waved to me from the pool deck.”

“But he was seated in the lounge chair, right?”

“I hung up the leash in the back and left by the front door. He waved from Diara's chair on my way out. I left the house, but I pulled over on Mulholland because I got to thinking about the security recordings and how paranoid Diara was about them. When they had the parties at their house, she always erased them herself. I was supposed to check, but they were already always erased.”

“Wait. Go back. You said Ryan waved to you from Diara's lounge chair?”

She nodded. “Hers is the white one. Everything she had was white. You should have seen her bedroom.” Alison took a deep breath. “So then I went back to the house, and I went to the pantry and erased the security recording for the day so Diara wouldn't know that Ryan and I had . . . had an altercation. I was on my way out of the house when I saw the fish guy. I went to my van. Then he came out and said Ryan was dead.”