I couldn’t imagine.
“Though she did have to be careful any time she went outside. The paparazzi were always trying to get a photograph. I think that’s why she liked the idea of this.” She swept her hand around. “A gated community with very strictly controlled access.”
“You live here at the house?” I was beginning to see a pattern. I’d asked about other people at the house and on the road with whom Lavender came in contact, and Purple had insisted it was just her and Mandy.
“I was planning to.” She brushed the dirt off her knees. “I’ve been with Purple for a little over ten years. Most days it’s just MB, Lavie here, and me around the house.”
“MB?” I hadn’t heard anyone by that name mentioned either. But then I hadn’t heard of Sheron until today.
“Oh, sorry.” She laughed. “Mandy Barton, Purple’s assistant. You know her, right? She’s the one that keeps everything running around here. What am I saying? Not just around here, but in all facets of Purple’s life.”
“Oh, yes. Mandy.”
“I’m sure the girl could run a country if asked. And some days between the concerts, and the recordings, and the appearances, and all, it is almost like running a country.”
“Can you think who would have wanted to kill, Purple?” I had to ask. Here was someone with intimate knowledge of the singer, and I couldn’t pass up the chance.
Her eyes teared up. “She was a challenge at times, but I will miss her. She was a tough business woman, and I can’t imagine you make it in the entertainment business without making some people upset. But upset enough to kill her? No, I don’t think so.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Now what can I help you with?” She blotted her eyes with the sleeve of her top. “You’re the pet therapist?”
She seemed like a really nice lady and I hated to mislead her. I really was there under false pretenses.
“Well, it’s a long story but she actually fired me a couple of days ago. But I wasn’t sure if the new person would be following up with Lavender given the circumstances, and I wanted to check in and make sure she was doing okay.”
“She’s a good dog.” Sheron’s voice got a reaction from the dog who came running and barreled into her. “Oops, I used my treat voice.” Sheron smiled.
“Seems like you two have a good relationship.” Truth was the little dog seemed more attached to Sheron than I’d seen her with Purple. Which might explain Purple’s failure to mention the hair lady. I’d worried that Lavender was more accessory than companion to the star, but Purple had insisted they were inseparable. Even so, I’d sensed something lacking.
“We both do a lot of waiting and so I guess we sort of bonded.”
“Well, I’m glad to see everything is okay.” I glanced back at the house. “Is Mandy around?”
“I believe so.” With Lavender following her closely, she ushered me back through the house to the living room where the red-haired lady was cleaning windows. “Do you know where Mandy is?”
“She’s out front,” she answered without missing a swipe.
“Thanks, Sheron. It was nice to meet you.” I handed her one of my business cards. “Please feel free to call me if Lavender runs in to any problems.”
“Thank you. We appreciate your concern.” She reached down and picked up the dog. “Don’t we, poochie?”
After thanking Sheron again, I stepped outside. Mandy was out front near the street talking with a guy with spiky hair who looked vaguely familiar. They stood near a late-model white Subaru. A nice enough car but one that looked out of place in the posh Diamond Cove community. He reached for Mandy’s arms and held them at her side.
As I descended the wide front steps, I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but it was clear there was a problem.
Mandy’s face was pink and she looked upset. Never afraid to wade in, I started toward them. He suddenly let her go and stepped back.
The guy got in his car but leaned out and said loud enough for me to hear this time, “We had an agreement. I don’t know what I was thinking trying to deal with someone who holds grudges.”
He put the car in gear and sped off just as I reached Mandy’s side.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Mandy pulled herself together quickly but a tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m fine.”
That’s what they always said.
I waited. Sometimes silence will bring forth honesty. It didn’t, so I asked, “Your boyfriend?”
“What? No.” She shook her head. “That’s Trevor. He had some dealings with Purple and they were not settled when she . . .” Mandy gulped. “Anyway, we’ll get them sorted out.”
“Still, to take it out on you.”
“It’s no big deal.” She wiped her face. “Now what can I do for you?”
Back to business. Mandy was the epitome of control. Well, you know what. People deal with grief in all sorts of ways. I worried that by holding it in too long, there would come time when all that emotion came out in a rush.
“I stopped by to check on Lavender.”
“But, you aren’t—” she began.
“I know I’m no longer Lavender’s pet therapist and that Geoffrey will probably be checking in, but I wasn’t sure what your arrangement was with him and was just concerned about her.”
“Oh, she’s with—” Mandy turned toward the house.
“I already spoke with the hair stylist. Lavender seems attached to her. Purple had never mentioned Sheron.”
Had Purple’s pride kept her from mentioning Sheron? Had she not wanted to admit the pooch’s attachment to someone other than her? It seemed really callous to be upset with a dead woman, but I couldn’t help the irritation I felt. Seriously, people. I can’t help your pets if you won’t be honest with me.
“Yes, I’m pretty sure she left the care of the dog to Sheron in her will,” Mandy noted. Again, the one dealing with all the details. “At least I hope so.”
“Is there extended family? I mean anyone other than the grandpa she talked about.”
“Just him and he died last year,” Mandy affirmed.
“That must have been hard for her.”
“It was.” Mandy swept her hair off her face. “She canceled a performance in London and went home for the funeral.”
“Have you worked for her for a long time?” This had to be more difficult for Mandy than she was letting on.
“We met in college. She had a band and I fancied myself a singer,” she answered, her voice flat. “Turned out I was a much better manager of things than a singer.”
“What will you do now?” It suddenly occurred to me she’d lost both a friend and an employer. “Or have you even had time to think about it?”
“I’ve got so many loose ends to clear up that I can’t even think about it right now.” Mandy looked off into the distance. “What will the Barking with the Stars group do?” she asked. “Will the show go on?”
“That’s still up in the air.” I couldn’t share Danny Mahalovich’s idea to snag Nora Worthington. “If the event continues, we’d definitely want to do some sort of tribute to Purple.”
“Still the big star even after she’s gone. Well, I’d better get back to work.” Mandy turned and walked back toward the house.
I climbed into my car and started it. As I drove away I suddenly realized where I’d seen the guy, Trevor, who had been arguing with Mandy. He’d been the one in the dressing room area the day we’d been checking accommodations, chasing Purple down the hallway, after her curse-filled pomegranate rant.
Chapter Eight
MULLING THE IMPLICATIONS of the guy’s presence both backstage and now at Purple’s house, I wondered what Mandy had meant by “dealings” with Purple. She’d dismissed my concern for her,
and I was sure if there had been any reason to think he might have been the killer, she would have told the police about him. Nevertheless, when I arrived back home, I made a note to be sure to mention him to Malone.
The opportunity to do so presented itself sooner than I’d thought it would. Once I’d greeted pets, taken care of needs, and brewed myself a cup of tea, I checked my phone for messages and saw I had a phone call from Malone wanting to meet with me. I called him back and we agreed to meet at the Koffee Klatch the next morning. A local spot right on PCH, it seemed the easiest location as it was on my way, close for him, and I liked it because it was neutral ground.
Promising Dogbert and the cats I’d be back soon, I headed out for my afternoon appointments. I had a packed schedule and though I enjoyed all my clients by the time I’d headed back home, I was mentally and physically ready to be done with the day. I stopped by to pick up a few groceries and added the ingredients I needed for a new pupcake recipe I’d wanted to try. I liked experimenting with different dog and cat treat recipes and I found cooking relaxing. It was probably all those weekends making cookies with Grandma Tillie in her big country kitchen at the Montgomery ranch. Mama Kat didn’t allow cookies at our house. She was perpetually on a diet and endlessly worrying about both her own figure and mine.
Once home, I went through what had become a nightly routine: feed the cats, walk the dog, feed myself, and call it a day. Yes, I lead a very exciting life.
I debated about a run on the beach or staying in and looking up some information on Purple. It was still daylight and the storm had not materialized. I truly needed a relaxing, head-clearing run, but curiosity won out. I settled in in front of my computer and did a little research on the pop star and her career.
In the past, Detective Malone has not always had the greatest respect for my insights. Maybe if I could figure out what exactly was the connection between this Trevor and Purple, he’d take my information on the exchange I’d observed between Mandy and the guy more seriously. And then, of course, I was curious about the missing pieces in what I’d known about Purple and her life. She was engaged but had never mentioned her fiancé to me. And the mysterious Sheron who claimed to have been with Purple for ten years and yet had never been present during my appointments with Purple and Lavender. Hopping from site to site can suck you in and before I knew it hours had passed.
The gossip sites confirmed Mandy’s mention that she’d taken a break when her grandfather passed away. There were several sites with really bizarre reasons for why she wore the wigs. She was severely disfigured, she’d been in a fire, she was a twin and they took turns making appearances, she was a man, she was an alien.
She’d been in multiple relationships. Currently engaged. I already knew that.
I didn’t learn a lot that I hadn’t already known, but there was one news site that mentioned she’d had a stalker a year or so ago. Again, like the dealings with Trevor, I would like to think Malone and his people had access to way better information than online sites and had followed up on the stalker angle already. But I made a note to myself to ask Mandy about the incident.
Dogbert, who’d been sitting at my feet, stood and gave me the I-need-to-go-out woof, so I shut down my computer and took him out for a quick break. When we returned, my cell phone, which I’d left on the counter, buzzed letting me know I’d missed a couple of phone calls. One was from my mother and the other was from Sam.
I sighed. I wasn’t wild about returning either call at the moment, but for very different reasons. What a chicken I’d turned into lately. I straightened up my attitude and made the calls, but had to admit I was a bit relieved when I got voicemail with both Mama Kat and Sam.
WHEN I ARRIVED at the Koffee Klatch the next morning, Verdi, my favorite barista who also worked as a part-time receptionist at my office, was on duty. She spotted me and automatically called out my hazelnut latte to the guy in the prep area. Then she nodded toward the back of the coffee shop.
I glanced in that direction. Malone was already at a table.
I waited for my drink and then carried it to the secluded corner where he sipped a black coffee. No fancy coffee for this guy.
I dropped my bag on the floor and slid into a chair. “Good morning, Detective.”
He grunted hello and took another sip of his coffee, his expression unreadable. Obviously, he had not yet had enough caffeine. I felt his pain.
“How’s the investigation going?”
“About as you’d expect.” He leaned back and crossed his long jean-clad legs at the ankle.
“I’m guessing from your phone call you didn’t want to just chat.”
“I just have a few questions.” He tipped his head back and gave me a look I was sure he’d perfected questioning bad guys.
This was the place in the movies and television shows where the detective always pulls out his little notebook and references his notes or writes things down. Not Detective Malone, he kept it all in his head.
“We think there may have been multiple people in Purple’s room at the hotel.” He waited for me to respond.
“Hard to tell with the security cameras out of commission, though, right?” I felt a little twinge of satisfaction at his flinch of surprise.
See, Detective, I’m not just some dumb former therapist who now practices therapy on foo-foo pets. I’m a smart former therapist who now practices therapy mostly on the parents of foo-foo pets.
“That’s true.” He sighed. “There’s no usable recording on the security feed after seven in the evening.”
“We are concentrating on the time between ten and when she was found by her assistant. You and your group saw her in the lobby around ten o’clock.”
“That’s right.” I nodded. “Maybe a little bit before. Her assistant said she was staying at the hotel because the noise of the remodeling at her house was so bad.” I was sure he knew that already.
“But the workers don’t work at night.” He sipped his coffee thoughtfully.
“True. Any theories on who disabled the security cameras?” Of course, they had theories but whether Malone would share them with me was something else.
“No, the footage prior to that is just the usual coming and going of guests and staff. And then starting about seven the recordings have nothing.”
“Nothing on the tape?” I wondered how that was possible.
“No one uses tape recordings anymore. It’s all cloud-based so our culprit had to have enough computer knowledge to access the recordings or the controls.”
“When I was at Purple’s house yesterday . . .” I began.
Malone gave me a look.
“I was checking on the dog.”
“Has it finally stopped barking?” The pained expression on his face said he wasn’t a Lavender fan.
“Yes, she has.” I paused, remembering the dog’s reaction to Sheron. “I think she’s going to be okay.”
He waited for me to continue.
“Anyway, when I was at the house, there was a guy there. Mandy called him Trevor. Young, spiky hair.” I thought back to the conversation. “He and Mandy were arguing and it sounded like there was something he had wanted from Purple. Something she had promised but he didn’t receive.”
“Here’s the thing.” Malone took a deep breath. Apparently, we weren’t going to talk about Trevor. “I need some clarification about when you saw Purple.”
“Oh, no.” A flash of bright color had caught my eye.
“What?”
“Don’t look up. Betty Foxx at your two o’clock.”
“Oh, man.” Malone dropped his chin and slid down in his chair as if he’d like to disappear.
I’d come to love the feisty senior rascal, but I swear I would never get used to her penchant for lipstick eyebrows and PJs as day wear. Today’s ensemble was a nod to the war
m days we were having. A tropical print cotton, the bright pinks, oranges, and yellows were an assault on the eyes of the unwary. And, as always, the finishing touch. Her ever present pearls.
She picked up her carrier of coffee cups and had started out the door when she spotted us. An order for the Bow Wow Boutique, I’d bet. I could almost smell Mel’s chai tea latte. Betty made a hairpin turn and stopped at our table.
She parked the drink carrier right in front of me. Now I really could smell the spices of the chai tea. Up close, the pink slashes that were Betty’s eyebrows were startling. It was a good thing I’d had my coffee.
“Hey there, Detective.” She sidled a little closer to Malone and wiggled her rosy eyebrows. “I’ve been a bad girl. Want to frisk me?”
Malone had to try hard not to spit his coffee across the table.
“Are you okay, Carmen?” She leaned in to look at me.
“I’m fine, Bertha.” As I said, I was never sure if she really couldn’t remember my name or if she was messing with me. Some days I let it go, some days I messed with her.
“Cookie’s worried about you.”
“Why?” Cookie was her pet name for Melinda. Surely Mel knew I wasn’t in any danger. It wasn’t like this was my first encounter with a murder investigation. Nor hers.
“She’s worried about you and the Greek.”
“The Greek? Oh, Sam.”
“Yeah, Sam.” Betty shook her head. “Keep up, will ya.”
“Why is she worried?” I was trying to keep up.
“This.” Betty snapped open the white patent-leather pocketbook she carried and pulled out a newspaper clipping and handed it to me.
It was a color shot of a New York society event, and sure enough there was Sam, his arm around a buxom blond who was identified in the caption as the daughter of French billionaire, William Bellerose.
I handed it back. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” She peered at me, her lipstick eyebrows scrunched together.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
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