by Alex Ames
About two weeks after Rip’s getaway, I was jogging on the beach toward Redondo pier and passed a group of surfers who were tending their boards and waiting for surf up. One blonde surfer dude got up when I came closer and started jogging alongside me.
“This supposed to be a come-on?” I puffed and continued running.
“Hey, babe, want to take a ride on my surfboard?”
“That pickup line must work with your teenage target group, but not with me. Beat it, sweetie,” I said.
“I knew it,” the Dude mumbled. “She was only in it for my beautiful black curls.”
I stopped and stared at him. “Rip! Robert! Whatever!”
“Hi, Calendar, doing all right?” Rip sported bleached blonde short hair with blackened tips here and there. His chin was underlined by a fashionable goatee, and his eyes were hidden under Ray Bans. Not even his mother would have recognized him.
“Should I be afraid? Should I scream for help?” I moved my right arm in a wide arc to indicate that there were people around and inconspicuously moved my left hand to my pepper spray hidden under my running shirt.
“Fear nothing, Cal. I just wanted to congratulate you for your sky high victory. Nice going with the mailbox office. My client was surely pissed off when I couldn’t deliver the Acura.”
“Of course, I have no clue what you are talking about, Rip.” You never knew who was wearing a wire these days.
“Come on; you did it. I heard it from my East Coast connection. You ever dealt with ‘The Fence’ organization?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing illegal for me.” I looked at the ground modestly and drew a line in the sand. “I have to say, the whole affair was unexpected and a shit hard piece of work and nerves, but I managed. Some victories are sweeter than others, but let me congratulate you for the clean getaway.”
“Piece of cake, the police department where they kept me before going to court was overpopulated with a group of raving techno-hippies after an ecstasy drug bust. No one cared about a well-groomed, well-dressed young man after twenty minutes of chant and trance time. I only had to walk out.” Rip smiled.
“You still planning to hit the LA area, or are you done here?”
“I am out of here for a while. Haven’t decided yet what to do next. I will miss the nice ladies in LA, though.” He smiled sheepishly, and I had to smile back. He looked over the waves as if to conjure surf. “All in all, apart from the Swan Collins disaster, it had been a good run in LA’s movie scene.”
“You can keep the proceedings from my safe as a tip,” I said. “I am good with the insurance money, and my new collection is coming along great.”
“Hey, Calendar, here is to crossing swords again sometimes. Give my regard to the old man if you should talk to him.” Rip gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, saluted me, and jogged back to the surfer posse. No need to call the police; Rip was much more valuable free and roaming than locked away and clearing up the Hollywood break-ins completely. Security by obscurity.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Cat, Dog and Mouse
“Swan, are you there? Swan?” Nicole Berg called through the large living room where I had spent part of that Oscar after-show party. That party! Seemed like ages ago, now.
“Oh, hi there, Nicole. What brings you here?” I stood up from the large, sprawling sofa where I had idled and browsed through an Italian high gloss fashion magazine that sold for twenty-eight dollars.
“I don’t know, frankly? Swan called me yesterday and invited me for a casual lunch. Told me some other girls would be there, too, but I didn’t expect you here.” Nicole looked a little bit confused. “Swan’s not here?”
“She just stepped out for a moment. Her agent called with something urgent, contract stuff, it seems. She just drove down the road for a quick fix and will be back in a minute,” I explained.
Nicole stepped up and sat down close to me. “Strange, an invitation from Swan for lunch. I mean, we are not exactly BFFs.”
“Even I had noticed,” I admitted. “Drink?”
“No, if there’s lunch soon, I can wait. Had a workout this morning and drowned myself with European spring water afterward.” She looked around. “Are we alone, or is someone else invited?”
I shrugged. “I forgot to ask. The patio is set for four, so maybe someone else will be coming in.”
Nicole looked at me curiously. “You look very calm, my dear. I heard in the news that your party boyfriend and cat burglar Rip Delaware escaped a few days ago while he was being transferred to the court house.”
I sniffed. “Yeah, pretty annoying business. I had to catch him—”
“And what a catch that was, honey,” Nicole interrupted.
“They let him escape again, but I am not worried. They cleared me of the Swan Collins diamond theft completely, and Rip doesn’t gain anything by hounding me,” I said easily.
Nicole wiggled her finger. “Do not underestimate a bruised male ego. You are a woman, and you overpowered him intellectually and physically at that chase. He may remember that for a long time.”
I shrugged. “I am cool. Let him run. Let him come. Live and let live.”
Nicole frowned. “Hope you are right, Calendar. Does anyone have a clue yet of how he stole Swan’s diamonds and got them out of the party unnoticed?”
“Well, the unnoticed part was pretty easy to establish. He simply walked out escorted by the police. Rip was about the only person who hadn’t been searched that night because he was with me. Very convenient. I became a major suspect and he a major witness to my alleged deeds. While the police concentrated on me, they forgot to search him. The police already conceded to that mistake; it is just not that public.”
“And he stole the two diamonds from Swan’s safe that very night of the party?” Nicole asked.
“No doubt about that,” I lied. “Though we haven’t figured out the details yet. But, I mean,” I gestured around the large living room, “you were there at the party yourself. It was packed with people roaming all parts of the mansion. It had to be possible to move into the private quarters, open Swan’s safe, and get to the stones. And as Rip had some experience and training by all those other Beverly Hills thefts, he turned the possibility into successful action.”
“And then of course the maneuver to implicate you by slipping Pretty McAllister’s necklace into your purse,” Nicole added.
“Everyone assumes so,” I said.
“Why ‘assume’? Isn’t it obvious?” Nicole asked, looking confused.
“Obvious, yes, but is it the truth, Nicole?” I asked back.
“What do you mean?”
“There is one thing you don’t know, Nicole. I spent the latter part of the after-show party at Rip’s side. He was present when I found the necklace in my possession, and he seemed as surprised as I was.”
“But he was an actor. Should have been easy for him to fake surprise and fool you.”
I shrugged. “Turns out he wasn’t an actor after all, was he? Anyway, when I met him a few days later, he confronted me on the beach. He didn’t admit the necklace trick then, though he could have.”
Nicole still looked confused. “But wasn’t that his ticket out of here?”
“Come on, Nicole; why would he need a ticket out of the party? His plan was easy: break into the safe, remove the diamonds, and carry them for about an hour while he hit on beautiful actresses. Probably had a hard-on the whole time because he had diamonds for some million dollars in his pockets while he flirted with some girls. And then, he’d simply leave with a bunch of guests.”
Nicole lifted a finger, like in school. “But the drug raid didn’t allow him to leave the party as planned. He needed a diversion.”
“I agree, but he was with me from the time that you introduced me to your friend Sandra Mueller up to the announcement of the raid and all time afterward until my arrest. He didn’t have a chance to steal Pretty McAllister’s necklace. No motive, no opportunity.”
Nico
le sat back. “But then, who did?”
“Well, it took me a while to figure that out, but the answer is, like so many things, easy in the end.” I looked straight at her. “It was you, Nicole.”
She stared at me and then gave a small laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Do you know how much money I have? I don’t need to steal necklaces from any B-actress.” She waved it off with her hand.
“Brilliant acting, Nicole, but you don’t fool me. There are three people who could have slipped me the necklace: Rip, who we already disqualified, your friend Sandra Mueller, who has no motive whatsoever, and yourself. You three people were on hugging terms with me and could have managed to slip the necklace into my purse. No one else.”
Nicole’s eyes started to sparkle fire. “And of course you will provide me with a motive, little Miss Know-it-all?” Her voice suddenly had an acid undertone.
“Pick any motive you like: you hate Pretty McAllister’s guts. She recently stole away your guy. Another motive: she got into the movie business recently and landed the lead in that Epstein movie vehicle plus an option as female lead in the sequel to Conner—roles that would have been tailor-made for you.” It was nice to have all that background information—credit went to Mundy’s reporter friend, of course.
Nicole folded her arms. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing. Even though I don’t like that TV tramp, why would I steal her necklace? And then of all things, why slip it to you?”
I evenly looked at her. “You did it because you wanted to embarrass Pretty McAllister. She had probably been snorting a line of coke or had sex in a spare bedroom, took it off, was unconscious, I don’t care. But you probably rose to the occasion and took it. Simply to make her look stupid. The girl who lost a million-dollar necklace in a house full of celebrities.”
“But why slip it to you, Calendar? Why would I incriminate you with the crime?”
“My theory is that I gave you the best opportunity. Right after we went into the party tent to wait for our turn to give a blood sample and get searched, we had another quick conversation. And you were eager to get rid of the necklace because you hadn’t had a chance to get rid of it right after the raid announcement. You were in this room under a lot of eyes. No opportunity then. So you spotted me in the party tent and slipped it to me there—and maybe it even looked like a good idea to you. The jewelry thief turns out to be a jewelry maker. That fits; everyone would have nodded at the discovery. Oh, and on top of that: she’s a Hollywood outsider, too.”
We were silent for a minute after that and just stared at each other.
I continued, “You single-handedly performed what probably was planned as a spontaneous prank and in the end risked me a jail sentence and ruined my business—and put the real jewelry thief on my trail.”
Nicole mumbled something inaudible.
“What was that, Nicole?”
“Who would have thought that there were two independent jewelry thefts at one party?” she said, weakly. She sniffed a little, and I had long given up on determining whether this was acting or for real. “It was so easy, you know. Pretty was in that studio room upstairs when I stumbled on her. She did a line of coke and was doing some wild dance alone. I watched her, such a pretty thing. I mean, I don’t think she will make it as far as Swan or even myself. Her drug habit will start ruining her looks within a few years. But then, she had stolen two important roles from me the week before. There are only few true A-class movies being made each year, and the A-list to cast these movies is short. We are able to play similar types … so, yes, I felt threatened, and I felt a little old. The way I saw her dancing with her head high in that coke cloud, or whatever she had taken. Then suddenly she was spinning around and headed quickly for the toilet and threw up heartily. The drugs had some kind of reverse effect, from high to overdrive to overthrow. When I saw my little competitor on her knees, holding the dirty toilet bowl in her manicured little hands, I decided to teach her a lesson.” Nicole looked at me as if to excuse her actions. “Not that she was unconscious; she was simply not paying attention. Throwing up was an all-consuming business for her at that second. All I had to do was step up to her and open the lock of the necklace. I had tried on a similar necklace a week before, shortly before I had stumbled on your truly magnificent collection. So I knew how that particular locking mechanism worked, and it was one twist and I had the necklace in my hand.” Nicole snapped with two fingers. “That easy.”
We were silent again. “Go on,” I tipped her.
“Why do you want to know?” Nicole asked, fear in her voice.
“I just want to know the truth about a crime that I had been accused of and now another person is accused of,” I said. “Please go on.”
“There is nothing more. The raid came, I looked for a way out, and you were the only person I managed to slip the necklace. And the great thing is, you almost made it out of there without being detected.” Nicole looked at me admiringly. “I watched you as you found the necklace in your purse. That look of astonishment and surprise. Priceless. And not a single ounce of fear, not for a second.” Nicole shook her head, remembering. “I have to study that reaction for a future reference. Marvelous! And the switch from surprise to determination. Of course, I didn’t have a clue what you were trying to achieve, but your hands started to get busy under the table. Such coolness when the cops came closer.”
Nicole looked at me and almost gave me a smile. I almost threw up.
“Calendar, you deserve an Oscar for that scene,” Nicole said with a malicious glint in her eyes.
“I do, but not for that scene,” I said and got up to fix myself a drink—and to end the charade.
Lucas Graves stepped in from the library next door and clapped. “Thank you, Miss Moonstone. That was a brilliant piece of acting.”
“What?” shrieked Nicole as she saw Graves, Swan Collins, and another detective coming into the room. “You two-timing bitch, I will have your ass for that!” She tried to jump at me, her fingernails clawed like a lioness, but I simply stepped aside, and the detective got hurt. Better him than me. Another detective had to step in, and both subdued Nicole and arrested her formally. The commotion was over before it even really began. They led her out, and Lieutenant Graves came back a few minutes later.
“You have helped crack that one, but of course this will make some high waves in the movie community,” he explained to Swan and me. “Nicole Berg is a high-profile star, and this turn will produce yellow press fodder for months to come.”
“Better her than me,” I said to Graves. “It will be a pity about pulling Miss McAllister into this affair.”
Graves gave a smile. “Drug abuse is nothing to be afraid of in this business. On the contrary, she can clean up, sell her story, and come back as a different, better person, all under the eyes of her fans. As long as she remains a hot actress ticket, no one will mind.”
“Lieutenant Graves is right,” Swan added. “I know from experience. With me, it was alcohol, not drugs, but all the same. It makes your star profile more attractive, basically. Nicole’s career, on the other hand, is downward from now on.”
Graves said goodbye to us, asked me to come over to the station the next day to give my statement, and left.
Swan and I stepped on the terrace. We had a last drink together.
“What are your plans now?” Swan asked, sipping an Evian.
“Getting my business back on its feet. Plus, I have to show up at the chair meetings of my charity foundation. I missed the last few meetings because of my troubles,” I explained.
“Ah, yes, Margaret Peters’ charity. I’ve heard a lot of great things about it.”
I nodded. “Mainly about building up infrastructure that supports children and their mothers in underdeveloped countries. Food, water, hygiene, medical, and education.” I smiled at Swan. “If you have some money to spare, we are always willing to accept.”
“Maybe I will, Calendar. Do you need any referrals for your own business? Think of
it as compensation. I could drop in with my gossipy, bored, rich girlfriends and buy up your recent collection if you like.” Swan had a sly smile on her face but was perfectly serious.
“Would you think me mad if I declined? But after the events of the last few weeks, that movie star cut-throat business is too much for me. Customers are fine, but I like my regular clients better—the ones who simply buy because they like my stuff and not because it is trendy or relieves you of spending-boredom.”
“Accepted with no hard feelings, Calendar,” Swan said, and we clinked glasses. “Thanks for bringing back the Acura diamond. By the way, would you like to have a look at it?”
“If it is not too inconvenient?” I said.
We went up to the second level through the crystal chandelier-dominated front hall stairs. Swan opened the safe and got out the Acura, placing it on a small satin cushion in front of me.
“Very, very beautiful!” I agreed and had a look at it from various angles. “If you ever decide to make a permanent setting for it, feel free to seek my counsel. I would love to wrap this little baby up and pamper it in style.”
Swan had to laugh. “No need now, but you never know. I’ll keep you in mind.” She put the Acura back into its little pouch and placed it into the safe.
“Sorry about the Metro Imperial, but it’s probably now in the secret private viewing room of a Dubai real estate tycoon.”
Swan shrugged. “So be it. I have the insurance money now.”
“Can I go to the little girls’ before I drive? It’s going to be rush hour, and you never know….”
“Sure, always be prepared for the worst. Just on this level on the other side of the hall.”
Now for the last act.
I walked across the hall close to the hand railing and close to the monster chandelier that must have been made out of one million crystal pieces. A million and one, to be precise. I confirmed no one was watching me, and then I stretched my hand and fingers out and brought the count back to a million. I closed my left fist around the Metro Imperial diamond, letting my hand fall to my side.