"No," I admitted. "But Tina doesn't have twins to pick up from preschool. I do." I looked at my dash clock as I pulled away from the curb. "And unless I get going, I'm gonna be late."
Dana let out a resigned sigh as I pointed my car in the direction of the studio lot again.
Forty minutes later, I dropped Dana back off at the cast parking lot with a promise to call her later. I waited until she had gotten into her car then took off in the direction of the preschool. For once traffic was light, and I arrived just as the school was dismissing. The twins were busy gathering their backpacks and paper artwork out of their cubbies when I arrived and wrapped them both into a tight hug.
"Mommy!" Livvie shouted as she placed her tiny arms around my neck. This was always my favorite moment of the day.
"Did you guys have a good day?" I looked over the drawings Max had stuffed into my hand as they skipped toward the minivan with me. After they were buckled into their booster seats, I placed the drawings on the seat next to mine. "These are beautiful. We'll put them on the fridge when we get home."
"Did you see mine, Mommy?" Max asked eagerly. "It's better than Livvie's."
"No, it's not," Livvie yelled.
Max ignored her. "We had to draw pictures of our family."
I glanced at the picture again. There were two big stick figures and two little ones in the drawing. "Oh, it's lovely."
"The big people are you and Daddy," Livvie explained. "The little ones are Max and me."
"Yeah," Max said proudly. "I drew your hair, too."
There were bright yellow lines shooting out of my pear-shaped head in a complete disarray. Max had gotten my picture exactly right. "She looks just like me. What's the black thing in Daddy's hand?"
"His gun!" Max yelled.
"The teacher asked Max about that," Livvie piped in. "Max told the whole class Daddy shoots people."
Oh boy. "Daddy does not shoot people," I said. "He keeps people safe."
"Right. With his gun!" Max yelled, making little pew, pew noises as he shot his index finger at Livvie.
Livvie retaliated with a few pew, pews of her own, and pretty soon my car was filled with a fake shootout. "I'm gonna shoot you with so many bullets!" Livvie screamed.
I had a feeling this was one of those teachable moments all the parenting books talked about. I tried to think of what Good Mom would do in this instance. In the end, all the fake gunfire noises made it too hard to think, so I went with what Tired Mom would do instead and pulled into a McDonald's drive-through, getting them Happy Meals. Hey, at least with their chubby fists full of french fries, they couldn't make gun shapes.
I was feeling pretty good about my mommying—and possibly the fries I was munching for the second time that day had elevated my mood a little—as we turned down our street.
"Can we have cookies for dessert?" Livvie asked.
"That sounds like an excellent idea." I turned the minivan into our driveway and spotted a sleek Honda motorcycle parked at our curb and its owner sitting on my front porch.
"Who's that lady?" Max wanted to know.
And just like that, my french fry high crashed. I stifled a groan as I got out of the minivan. "Oh, just a lady Mommy knows."
"You mean a friend?" Livvie asked.
Not exactly. In fact, I could think of a whole lot of other words to describe the woman right about then.
"Hiya, Maddie!" Tina Bender stood up and gave a wave. "Remember me? The person you keep trying to ignore?"
CHAPTER NINE
"Well, aren't you two cute little creatures," Tina said as I got the twins out of their booster seats and made my way to the front door.
Both Max and Livvie stared at her, wide-eyed.
"Is that your motorcycle?" Max asked.
"Who are you?" Livvie inquired.
Tina grinned at her. "You've got a couple born reporters here, Maddie. They ask all the right questions."
"Your hair is really bright. You look like a clown," Max told her.
Tina's smile faded. "Your mother told you to say that, didn't she?"
Good grief. "What are you doing here?" I asked, grateful that Ramirez's car was not in the driveway.
"Just thought I'd pop by. See what kind of progress we're making," she said sweetly. "Okay if I come in?"
"Sure," Max answered for me. "You can watch SpongeBob with us."
Livvie shook her head. "No, Max. She's a stranger."
"Now, is that any way to talk about your Aunt Tina?" Tina asked. "Why, your mother and I are old friends."
That was good enough for Livvie. "Okay." She held the door wide open for Tina. "We're having cookies. Want some?"
I had to have the most hospitable children in the neighborhood. They had no idea that they'd just invited a vulture in to keep them company.
"Wait in the kitchen," I said to Tina. "I'll be in in a minute." I didn't want the twins to overhear our conversation. Mostly because I feared a "grown-up" word or two might slip out of me while talking to Tina.
She complied, and I turned the television on in the living room for the kids, promising to bring them cookies. They instantly forgot about "Aunt Tina" and plopped down on the rug to watch SpongeBob.
It was tempting to make a run for the door, but I couldn't abandon the kids that way. Not with the vulture in their midst. Instead, I hurried into the kitchen, wondering if Tina was going through my kitchen cabinets and taking notes.
She was sitting at the table, texting away, and didn't even bother to look up when I entered the room. "Not nice to ignore me all day, you know."
I poured some milk for the twins. "I haven't been ignoring you. I have a life. In case you didn't notice, I've got twins to take care of."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh please. I saw the Hamburger Helper in your cabinet."
"Hey, that stuff is delicious." When you didn't forget to pick up hamburger. I made a mental note to stop by the grocery store soon.
"Whatever. Just tell me what hubby said. Did he confirm that Dog died of ethylene glycol poisoning or not?"
I pursed my lips. As much as I feared what Tina would print with this info, I feared what she'd print without it more. "Yes," I finally said. "Ethylene glycol was in his system."
Tina's face broke into what could only be described as a wicked grin. "So it is a homicide."
"He did not confirm that," I said emphatically.
"He doesn't need to. If Dog had poison in his energy drink, there's only one way it got there," she said, jumping to much the same logical conclusion I had.
"Okay, even saying someone did deliberately put it there, there were lots of people who might have wanted Dog dead."
Tina raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh? Has someone been playing detective today?"
I shot her a death look. "I haven't been playing anything. I simply happen to know that not everyone was a Doggy Z fan."
She put her phone away, giving me her full attention. "Okay, spill it. Like who?"
"Well, for starters, Dog has four ex-wives. And he cheated on all of them. And the first wife receives no alimony."
"Any of them at the Jeopardy! taping?"
I sighed. "No. At least, not that they're admitting."
"Admitting?" Tina grinned. "You have been playing detective, haven't you? How many ex-wives did you talk to?"
I cleared my throat, not entirely comfortable with Tina knowing my daily itinerary. "Look, you can't print that any of this came from me, okay? No quoting some anonymous wife of a homicide detective?"
"Cross my heart." Tina drew an imaginary X on her chest. "What else do you know?"
"Well, as Angela pointed out, Aunty Mae was backstage at the taping. Only, I doubt it was just to wish Dog good luck. She didn't seem to be a huge fan of his, and she resented having to do a show with him to boost her ratings."
Tina frowned and tilted her head from side to side as if weighing the merit of that idea. "I dunno. Feels thin as a motive for murder. Next?"
"What about Rupert Blick?
Did you know he's married to Aunty Mae?"
"Of course. What kind of gossip of columnist would I be if I didn't know that?"
Right. I was grasping, feeling like I was tossing sinkers. "Well, Rupert Blick argued with Dog just before taping started on the Jeopardy! set."
"I know. Angela Gold already said that."
"Well, maybe whatever he argued about was bad enough to make Blick want Dog dead."
Tina shook her head. "I still think a fellow contestant makes a better story."
"Tina, Fernando had nothing to do with this. I'd stake my life on it." I paused. "But it's possible Angela Gold did."
Tina pounced on the tidbit like it was the last designer handbag at a Macy's sale. "You do know something. What is it? What do you know about Angela?"
I sucked in a breath, almost hating to throw the soap star to the tabloid wolves. But if it was her or Fernando, it was an easy decision. "I know she knows Dog a whole lot better than she made it seem this morning." I gave her the condensed version of the story we'd gotten from the Delmoores.
Tina looked like she'd just won the lottery. "So they had an affair?"
"I don't know about affair. I mean, who knows how involved they were? It could have been just the one time."
"So let's go ask Angela." She rose from the table.
"I have children in the other room," I objected. "I can't just leave them alone."
"All right, bring them along."
Tina was going to make a great mother someday. "I'm not dragging them along on some paparazzo ambush."
She shrugged and pulled a pair of sunglasses from her pocket. "Fine. I'll go have a little chat with Angie myself. See what she has to say for herself."
I thought back to the last time Tina had talked to Angela. Angela had all but accused Fernando of cheating on Jeopardy!, and Tina had all but accused him of being a phony. I wasn't sure it was wise to leave those two to their own devices.
"Wait," I said, holding up a hand.
Tina spun around, the wicked grin back on her face. "Yes?"
I sighed. "Let me call my mom to come watch the kids."
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, I pulled my minivan into the studio parking lot and watched Tina roll down the passenger side window to address the security guard at the main gate.
While we'd waited for my mom to show up, Tina had texted a few of her many "sources" around town—a network of bribable folks who worked as productions assistants, extras, and delivery people—to find out where we might be able to catch Angela Gold. Turns out, she was taping a scene for All My Husbands. While I'd told Tina there was no way we could get on the studio lot without our names being on the list, she'd assured me she'd get us in. The wink that had accompanied that promise (or threat?) had not filled me with a lot of confidence she'd be doing so through official channels.
"Hi there, Dan," Tina said, glancing down at the name tag pinned to the chest of the robust security guard with a sparse tuft of orange hair on his head. "We're here to see Angela Gold on the set of All My Husbands."
The guard eyed her suspiciously and glanced down at the clipboard in his hands. "Names, please."
"You can just tell her that Mary Richards from People magazine is here." Tina gestured to me. "And I brought our makeup girl with me."
It could have been worse. Tina could have said I was her housekeeper.
The guard ran his finger up and down the paper twice and stated the obvious. "You're not on the list."
"I'm not?" Tina feigned confusion, leaning out the open window as if trying to get a good look at the list. "Ms. Gold's assistant was supposed to call it in."
"Looks like she didn't do it."
"Well, darn." Tina frowned. "Look, Ms. Gold is going to be waiting for us. She's going to get impatient. And I don't want to get her assistant in trouble. I mean, you know how Ms. Gold can be, right?" She chuckled.
The guard smiled and raised his eyebrows, silently agreeing.
"Look, maybe you can just let me in, and we can keep the poor assistant's gaffe between us? I mean, I really don't want anyone to lose their job over this."
Security Dan frowned. "I don't know. I really need to verify all guests. Maybe I should call Ms. Gold."
For a brief moment Tina looked panicked. Then her second nature kicked in and she spun another great lie. "Sure! In fact, why don't you just text her assistant. I've got her number right here." Tina pulled her phone out and flipped the screen around so the guard could see.
"I guess that will work." He grabbed a phone of his own and squinted at Tina's screen as he typed the number in. Then he bent his head down, thumbs moving slowly as he typed out a text.
A second later my phone vibrated against my hip.
I shot Tina a death glare.
Luckily, she was too busy distracting Security Dan with a story of how Brad Pitt's assistant once forgot to put her name on the list too.
I surreptitiously pulled my phone from my pocket and held it down low to check the screen.
This is front gate security. I have Mary Richards from People here. Let her in?
With one eye on unsuspecting Security Dan, I typed back a quick reply.
Yes. Sorry I forgot to call her in earlier.
I hit Send and mentally hoped karma wasn't going to come back to bite me for lying through my teeth.
A beat later, Security Dan's phone dinged with my response. The look of relief on his face was unmistakable. He gave Tina a wide smile and a wave as he opened the lift gate for us to drive through and directed us to a visitor lot near Studio 12.
"Thanks, Dan!" Tina called as she sat back in her seat with a satisfied smirk. "Piece of cake," she added under her breath.
"Does the truth ever pass your lips?" I asked, navigating through the buildings toward the parking lot he'd indicated.
"Occasionally, but I try not to make a habit of it."
I shook my head at her. "Okay, so who is Mary Richards?" I asked.
Tina grinned. "Mary Tyler Moore Show. I like to think of myself as a pioneering woman in journalism."
"Pioneering?" I asked, unable to take the disbelief out of my voice.
She shrugged. "Or at the very least good enough at my job that it royally annoys the male-dominated powers-that-be in the media." She sent me a wink.
I couldn't help but grin back as I found an empty spot near the front. I parked, and we walked the few paces to a large grey building marked as Studio 12. A pair of bay doors were open, and several crew members in headsets and utility belts filtered in and out. No one paid us any attention as we walked onto the All My Husbands set.
To our right I could see a sound stage made to look like the interior of a restaurant, a long bar running along a wall lined with prop liquor bottles. To the left was the interior set of the office where Angela's character Kaley Kingston worked as an ad executive, several hot lights and fake palm trees just on the other side of the wall serving as background scenery through the glass-less windows. And ahead of us was Kaley Kingston's bedroom, a large, four-poster bed covered in royal purple satin sheets in the center of the room surrounded by only three wallpaper clad walls. The fourth was open to a host of cameras, focusing on a woman in the center who bore a striking resemblance to Angela as crew members adjusted lights and angles.
"That must be her stand-in," Tina said, gesturing toward Angela's double. "They use them to set the cameras and stuff so the stars don't have to be on set the whole time."
This I already knew from being on set with Dana in the past, but I just nodded. "I take it this means Angela will be in her dressing room?" I said.
"Let's go find out," Tina replied, taking a left down a short hallway with a series of small rooms leading off of it. Through the open doors of the first two, we could see actors having their hair and makeup done. The third held the name of Jasper Rait, Angela's costar who played a billionaire doctor turned firefighter turned private eye (he'd been on the show for several seasons), and the fourth read in s
hiny brass letters, Angela Gold.
Tina gave a shave-and-a-hair-cut knock before pushing in without an invitation. "Hello? Angela?" she called.
The soap star was sitting at her dressing table in a blue silk robe applying powder to her forehead with a large puff that looked almost comical in size. She glanced at us in the mirror, frowned, then turned around.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Hi. Remember us?" Tina asked, waving.
Angela blinked, recognition slow to dawn. Clearly we hadn't rated high enough on the Hollywood food chain to stick in her mind.
"From the Kid's Wish Foundation?" Tina supplied.
Only, Angela's frown deepened. "I thought you said it was called Wishes for Kids."
Huh. Maybe her memory was better than I gave her credit for.
But Tina's silver tongue was quick as always with a reply. "We're still working on the official language. Anyway, we were so impressed by you earlier today that we were hoping to invite you to our upcoming fundraising gala."
"Gala?" Angela said. Her voice was dubious, but she had perked up a bit at the mention of a fancy party.
"Uh-huh," Tina said. "There'll be lots of press, big-name celebrities, and of course, you'd be the guest of honor."
Angela raised an eyebrow Tina's way, setting down her powder puff. "I suppose I could attend a gala. Guest of honor you say?"
"Great!" Tina said, pulling up a chair from the edge of the room and sitting next to Angela. "We just need a little background information on you. You know, for our introduction speech."
"Sure," Angela said, absently picking up a hairbrush and running it through her long locks. "What do you want to know?"
"Well, let's see," Tina said, pulling her phone out and taking notes. "Let's start with where you were born."
"Phoenix," Angela said, eyes on herself in the mirror again as she stroked her hair.
"Uh-huh. And when did you move to LA?"
"About seven years ago."
"Uh-huh. And when did you start dating Doggy Z?"
Angela's brush froze mid-stroke. "Excuse me?"
"You did date the late rapper, right?" Tina asked.
Jeopardy in High Heels (High Heels Mysteries Book 12) Page 9