“You’re going?” It hadn’t occurred to me Denise might go.
“Of course I’m going. Cesar invited me. I’m to be his cover. He can’t show up at a memorial looking like a cop, not if he’s supposed to be looking for a murderer.”
“I thought Detective Romero wasn’t working the case and didn’t think Jared was murdered.”
“He doesn’t, but Jared’s father does and insisted LAPD keep investigating. The doctor’s convinced whoever murdered Jared will show up at the memorial. You know how money talks in this town. If the doctor wants a detective, the doctor gets a detective. So Romero’s going. Detective Williams asked him to help out. How about you? You going, too?” Denise asked as though Jared’s memorial was going to be the big social event of the year.
“Amy insisted,” I said. “She—”
“Trouble is,” Denise prattled on, “I have this fabulous, frilly, little lavender number I want to wear. Scoop neck. Sleeveless. And now what am I going to do? I can’t go all broken out like this. People won’t want to talk to me. They’ll think I’m contagious or something awful.”
“It’s a memorial, Denise. You really think a sundress is appropriate?”
“Why?” Denise looked at me. “What are you going to wear?”
“Really?” I gestured with my hands open and looked down at my uniform, my tie-dyed t-shirt, long skirt, and Ugg boots.
“You’re missing the point, Misty. It’s Jared Conroy. His memorial. Do you know what that means? The entire Conroy clan will be there, and so will Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth?”
“Ugh!” Denise tossed her head and looked at the ceiling. “For someone who used to read for some of Hollywood’s biggest names, you amaze me. Elizabeth Conroy?” She looked at me, shaking her head, her hands in the air. “The doctor’s sister? President of CTA? Do I need to spell it out for you? Conroy Talent Agency? One of the largest talent agencies in the world?”
“Ahh, of course.” I sat down. “And you’re hoping to use Jared’s memorial as an opportunity to introduce yourself?”
“Don’t judge me. An actress has to seize the moment. Which, by the way, is escaping me as I speak. And if I don’t hurry, I’ll miss my appointment with my allergist. Cross your fingers that this, whatever it is, is nothing I can’t cover with makeup. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter 9
I was relieved when Wilson and I arrived at the church and saw Jared’s memorial was not an open casket. Detective Romero explained that upon the coroner’s release of the body to the funeral home, the doctor had decided to scrub the idea of a viewing. While the final results of tissue and blood tests were still pending, the coroner had finished with the body, and the doctor had arranged to have it cremated. The doctor felt Amy wouldn’t be able to withstand the shock of seeing her fiancé laid out to rest. So, rather than an open casket at the front of the sanctuary, the altar was surrounded by large bouquets of fresh flowers and a life-sized color portrait of Jared.
The church, which I estimated to easily seat several hundred people, was standing room only. A few veiled, old Hollywood stars, former conquests of the doctor’s who wouldn’t dare let the sun touch their faces or want the paparazzi to take their photo, and business associates from the cosmetics world, all dressed in traditional black funeral garb, tight-lipped and unapproachable. The rest of the crowd, Jared’s friends—his rat pack—were dressed in sportscoats and jeans. Most were longer-haired, some tattooed, some not, but all definitely hip, and they hung together in their own group.
Romero, Denise, and I stood in the back of the church with me on my tiptoes so that I could get a better view of the crowd. Denise had forsaken her decision to wear her fancy, frilly frock in favor of a high collar, long-sleeved black dress. A decision I felt she had made not so much because she thought it appropriate, but because of the allergic reaction she had to the flowers the day before. I couldn’t help but smile as I stood next to her and noticed her incessant scratching. Sometimes the universe dishes out a little bit of poetic justice to those overly ambitious, self-absorbed souls.
Finally, just as the organ music started, I spotted Amy as she joined the doctor and several members of the Conroy family in a small, private section that had been reserved for them to the right of the nave. Amy sat next to the doctor, who I recognized from his billboard ads and magazine photos. Next to the doctor was his sister, Elizabeth; his brother, Edward; his wife, Madeline; and two adult children, Mathew and Marilyn. A complex snarl of personalities who I felt mourned more for the loss of a free Saturday morning than that of Jared’s life.
Unlike the other mourners in black, Amy wore a long white organza dress and looked paler than when I had last seen her. While Dr. Conroy, despite his loss, looked as distinguished as ever with a gray goatee, and silver-framed glasses. The doctor was not nearly as handsome as his son. It was obvious Jared had his mother’s good looks and bone structure.
A program prepared by the church listed less than a handful of speakers: Jared’s aunt and uncle, Dr. Conroy, and Raul Santos, the young man Jared had picked to be his best man. I was struck by the fact that Amy wasn’t on the list. But from the look of her, seated next to the doctor, with her head rested against his shoulder, she was in no condition to address anyone.
My eyes swept the chancel area for any sign of Jared’s spirit. Why wasn’t he here? The fact I didn’t feel his presence affirmed my belief that Jared’s death had been no accident. Spirits frequently attended their own memorials. However, if there was a sense of fear or anger among those present—like guilt—they may choose not to let their presence be known. It’s only when the living were clear of their negative feelings, washed away with tears and hugs from well-wishers, that a spirit would feel safe to approach.
But I was wrong.
When Raul stood up to speak and began to talk about his relationship to Jared, it was then I sensed that Jared might be present after all. There was a change in the room. A non-believer might have said all those bodies packed into the sanctuary on a warm summer’s day had kicked up the heat, and as a result, caused the air conditioning to click on. But when Raul’s notes began to flutter and took flight like butterflies, scattering to the floor in front of the pulpit, I knew this was no accident. This was Jared’s signal. He was here.
Rather than pick up his scattered notes, Raul spoke from the heart. “I don’t need my notes to share with you all how I felt about Jared. He was my best friend. He wasn’t perfect. He had his faults, and he could get on your nerves. But, Amy, when Jared first started bringing you around, none of us could believe how perfect you were. And I don’t just mean pretty, Jared dated lots of good-looking girls. But you were more than another pretty face. You made Jared a better person. You brought out a better side of him. He really loved you, Amy.”
Raul paused, then pointed to one of the men in the front row. “And, Billy, you were new to our group–our rat pack–but your friendship meant a lot to Jared. He loved you, man. He loved us all.”
It was the third time Billy’s name had come up in connection to Jared. I made a mental note of it, then scanned the sanctuary for Carlene. Where was she? Jared’s friends were all sitting together. I would have expected Carlene, one of Amy’s only friends in the area, to be there. But I didn’t see her anywhere.
It wasn’t until the church emptied, and Detective Romero, Denise, and I were standing outside on the patio that I noticed Carlene off to the side of the church by herself. Had I not been looking for her, I wouldn’t have recognized her. She was dressed in a long, black caftan and wearing a large, straw sunhat that covered most of her face and dark glasses.
I moseyed over in her direction, careful not to attract attention. “Carlene?”
“What are you doing here?” Carlene looked nervously at me, then cast a quick glance over her shoulder.
“Amy insisted I come, and I felt I should.” Sensing Carlene didn
’t want to be seen, I put my hand on her elbow and led her further away from the crowd, to a semi-private garden area off the patio. “Pardon my curiosity, dear, but may I ask why you weren’t sitting with Amy?”
“I’m not what you might consider a friend of the family,” Carlene said.
“But you and Jared were friends.”
“Jared’s father would disagree with you about that, and he wouldn’t be at all happy to see me here today. Amy knows that.”
“Knows what exactly?” I asked.
“Only that Jared and I were friends in high school, and Jared’s father didn’t approve. And he wouldn’t like it if he saw us talking either.” Carlene exhaled and looked away. Several of the mourners had begun to gather near us. Carlene looked worried they were getting too close.
I pulled her closer to me and lowered my voice. “What’s going on? There’s more to this, isn’t there?”
“No, it’s nothing. Just leave me alone.” Carlene tried to back away.
I sensed a secret. Something beyond what Amy understood or what Carlene had shared with me.
I held tight to her arm and whispered. “Did you plan Jared’s party?”
“Yes, but that’s not what this is about. And I can’t talk about it here.” Carlene pulled away. “Please, don’t make a scene. Let go of me.”
I let go. Whatever was going on, now was not the time.
Carlene stepped away, then turned back and grabbed me by the shoulders and whispered in my ear. “I’ll call. I promise. Just look after Amy, okay? I’m worried about her.”
Carlene slipped through the crowd, avoiding contact with anyone, and disappeared into the parking lot. Whatever secret the girl harbored, I felt it weighed heavily on her soul. I could feel her pain within my chest as though each breath was hard to take. The girl had much to say and no one to say it to.
I was about to rejoin Denise and Detective Romero in the courtyard when someone grabbed me from behind. Before I could respond, my attacker spun me around, wrestled my wrists together, and held them tightly in front of me.
“You! You thief, you.” Lupe’s voice was barely above a whisper. “How dare you show up here.”
Anyone noticing and not hearing Lupe’s muffled words might have mistaken the action as nothing more than an embrace. Two old friends holding tight to one another in a moment of shared grief.
“Lupe, please.”
“I’ve got you now.”
I tried to free myself from her grasp. Clearly, my previously attempted disguise as a mortician’s assistant had failed. Not only had I been recognized, but Lupe believed me to be a thief, a con artist who had made off with Jared’s tux and Amy’s engagement ring. Like a rabid dog, she was mad and wanted her pound of flesh.
“Hold on. Give me a moment, I can explain.”
If Lupe could have hit me without drawing attention to herself, I knew she would have. But because of the crowd, she restrained herself.
“Please.” I opened my fists, palms exposed. “I’m working with the police.”
“You’re what?” Lupe took a step back, my wrists still tight within her grasp.
“I’m undercover with LAPD.”
“You’re lying.” Lupe tightened her grip. She wasn’t about to be fooled twice.
“Look, the police are investigating Jared’s death. I know you know that. They were at the house the night Jared died. Dr. Conroy insisted the police look into Jared’s death. But so far, they haven’t been able to prove anything. That’s why I’m here.”
Lupe released my wrists. My ruse appeared to be working.
“You really think he was murdered?” she asked.
“I do.”
“That’s why you were at the house? You were snooping around?” Lupe put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God, do the police think I did it?”
“No. Of course not. Relax, nobody thinks you’ve done anything.” I reached into my bag, found my business card, and pressed it into her hand. I wanted to move away from her before she had a chance to ask me about the ring. “Here take this. It’s my number, call me. We can talk.”
Lupe stared at the card. “This says you’re a psychic.”
“That too,” I said. “Call me.”
I left Lupe and wandered back through the sea of mourners in search of Detective Romero, hoping he might have seen someone or something that might reveal a clue concerning Jared’s murder. I had come up empty. Jared’s presence when Raul got up to speak made me wonder if perhaps I was wrong. Maybe Jared’s killer wasn’t here among us. Why else would Jared be here? Unless, when Raul’s papers had flutters and landed on the floor in front of Billy, it had been a signal.
Billy? I scanned the crowd for the young man whose name was coming up more and more and for whom I had no answers. A man Amy claimed to be an old friend, who I suspected might be more, and whom Lupe had identified as Conroy’s beekeeper. Despite the number of young men dressed in jeans and dark jackets, none appeared to be the man I was only able to get a glimpse of in the front row of the church. I would have to find another way to meet Billy, so I abandoned my search in favor of finding Amy.
I wanted to offer Amy my condolences and let her know she had my complete support. Instead, I spotted Denise. She had cornered Conroy’s sister, and with arms flailing, was in the middle of what appeared to be a pitch. From the look on Elizabeth’s face and her wandering eyes, it wasn’t going well. Not wanting to interrupt, I backed away. As I did, I heard my name.
“Misty?” I turned around and saw Amy as she pushed through the crowd. “You came. I hoped you would.”
I put my arm around Amy’s thin shoulders and hugged her tight, then noticed Wilson, several feet behind her. “Where’ve you been?” I mouthed.
Wilson shrugged.
I narrowed my eyes. I suspected he had been off with his lady friends. It’s not like we were tethered together. There was no till-death-do-us-part clause in our relationship. Still, he did work for me. And I had warned him.
I whispered in Amy’s ear. “How are you doing?”
“Numb,” she said, her eyes looked glassy.
I sensed she had taken something to help her through the day. “It’s never easy.”
“I still can’t believe it. I was supposed to be married here, in this very church, and now this.” Amy looked around as though she didn’t recognize the church or any of the mourners, who under different circumstances would have greeted her joyously.
“Where are you staying?”
“With the doctor. He insisted, he thinks it’d be a good idea if I moved in for a while. It feels strange to be there, but everything does right now.”
Wilson nudged a sharp elbow to my mid-section, as Dr. Conroy approached.
“Amy, dear, where have you been? I was worried about you. You mustn’t wander off like that.”
The doctor leaned onto his silver cane; his veined hands all that showed his age. His tanned face lineless. No doubt due to the wonders of the cosmetic king’s empire.
Amy squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Doctor, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Not at all.” The doctor’s eyes met mine. “I don’t believe I know your friend.” He extended his hand, and in the nanosecond it took for him to scan me head to toe, I knew I had failed his evaluation.
“Oh, this is Misty Dawn, the psychic I told you about.” Then turning back to me, Amy added, “I told the doctor about our visit. How you didn’t think the ring was lost.”
I shook the fingertips of the doctor’s hand and hoped the surprise I felt hadn’t registered on my face. Last we had spoken, Amy said she was too afraid to say anything to anyone about the ring. I had been left with the idea that the only people who knew the ring was missing were Jared, Amy, Carlene, myself, and, after my visit to the Conroy Estate, Lupe.
“I shared that you thought my
ring was just missing, and I needn’t worry,” Amy said.
The doctor dropped my hand. “I do hope you’re right, Ms. Dawn. Amy’s been terribly upset about it. It’d be a shame to lose such a valuable heirloom at a time like this. But let’s not worry about that now.”
“Elliott?” From behind the doctor, Madeline, the doctor’s sister-in-law approached. Trim, with a short blonde bob, and deep tan that could only come from hours in the sun, she grabbed the doctor’s arm. “We need to be going. Elizabeth is waiting with the car.”
“In a moment, Maddie.” The doctor looked annoyed, gave me one final look, a curt nod of the head, then slipped his hand beneath Amy’s elbow. “Shall we? You know how Elizabeth hates to be kept waiting, and you do need your rest.”
Amy kissed my cheek. “Thank you for coming, Misty. I’ll call. Later.”
The doctor pulled Amy away from me and handed her off to Maddie like he might a piece of baggage, and waited until the two of them were out of earshot.
“Let me make myself very clear, Ms. Dawn. Amy doesn’t need the advice of some fortune teller. If she calls again, tell her you’re busy. You understand?”
Chapter 10
I was upset. Whether it was Dr. Conroy’s dismissive attitude or that Wilson had slipped my bounds and disappeared for much of the ceremony, I wasn’t sure. I settled myself into the passenger seat of Wilson’s vintage Jaguar, unable to hold my tongue and lashed out.
“I don’t like that man,” I yelled to Wilson, my voiced buffeted by the Jag’s angry roar. “There’s something off about him. I find him—”
“What? Controlling?” Wilson’s response smacked of sarcasm. “You think he might be a tad-bit overprotective?”
I dismissed the remark, and with the flick of my hand, sank further into my seat. Maybe I was a bit controlling, but it was for his own good. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You sure?” Wilson gripped the wheel and sailed through a yellow light. Our second in as many blocks.
THE HOUSE THAT VANITY BUILT Page 7