I pursed my lips. "I'm not sure that will help." What were the chances that Katrina would confess all in an email via eBay's messaging system? "What about a phone number or address?"
Mom shook her head this time. "No. eBay won't give out personal information. Trust me, I've tried. I had this guy sell me a 'designer' scarf," she said, doing air quotes around the word with her index fingers. "Turns out it was a knock-off from China. I contacted eBay every which way to get my money back, but all they could do was flag his account. I never saw a dime."
Mrs. Rosenblatt nodded. "Sometimes a deal is just too good to be true."
I clicked back to the eBay listing page, watching the counter for the auction to wind down to sixty-eight minutes now.
I sat back in my chair chewing my lower lip. "Okay, let's say that Irina lets her twin onto the set of DWC. Katrina is jealous that Irina is a star while she's dancing the pole at the Glitter Galaxy. So Kat sees an opportunity to make a little money. She starts stealing items from the set and sells them on eBay. Irina finds out, she kills Irina."
"But where does the smuggler come in?" Mom asked.
I narrowed my eyes at the screen. "Good question." And one I intended to ask Katrina as soon as I got my hands on her.
"What happens if we bid?" I asked Mom.
She shot me a look. "Seriously, Maddie, you've never used eBay?" She tsked at my lack of internet skills, shaking her head back and forth.
"I prefer to shop in person. It's a whole sensory experience, the smells of the new clothes, the feel of the fabric, the sound of the register dinging back at me as my credit card is accepted."
Mom smiled at me. "You're so cute."
"Okay, so enlighten me. What happens if I put a bid in for the shoes?"
"Well, its pretty simple. If you're the high bidder at the end, you get them."
"Perfect." I leaned forward, typing in an amount in the little "bid now" box.
"Wait!" Mom shouted, her hand shooting out and grabbing the mouse from me. "You can't bid now!" she told me.
I gave her a blank look.
"If you bid now, the other bidders will just bid again, too," she explained. "You're only driving the price up."
I looked down at the listing. The screen showed that eight other bids have been placed already. The current high bidder was bunhead89.
"So, how do I win?"
"You wait until the last second," Mrs. Rosenblatt jumped in. "When the clock starts counting down, you swoop in with a bid that's so high the others won't have time to outbid you before the clock runs out."
I had the distinct impression I was in the presence of eBay shopping masters, so I took their advice. Instead of bidding, I made a fresh pot of coffee, changed the babies' diapers, and did some very productive pacing as I watched the auction timer tick down the minutes.
At thirty-seven minutes Dana showed up at the front door. I opened it to find her dressed in a head to toe silver sheath with Swarovski crystals along one side and a pair of Louboutins in hot pink on her feet.
I blinked. "Please tell me you have a red carpet event to go to this afternoon?"
Dana breezed past me. "No. Why?"
"'Why?' Have you looked in the mirror?"
"Oh, this old thing," she said, waving me off.
"You're in a thousand dollar dress."
Dana pursed her lips. "Okay, look: I figure if we're hot on Katrina's trail, so is Allie Quick. If she's going to photo-stalk me, I want to look fabulous, okay? No more pics of me stuffing my face or wearing shlumpy sweats."
She had a point. "Got the cover-up?" I asked.
She handed me a beige tube. "It's the thickest stuff money can buy."
I hoped so as I took the tube into the bathroom and squeezed out a generous helping. Almost immediately it started to dry into a thick paste. I rubbed it along my nose. The consistency reminded me of bubble gum, but as I sculpted it onto my swollen features, I had to admit, it did the trick. I looked almost normal. Slightly larger than usual, but the purple was covered.
"So what's happening on eBay?" Dana asked.
I quickly filled her in about the auction, then we all hovered around the computer again, watching the countdown.
At fifteen minutes, my palms started to sweat. Max had a poopy diaper, and I changed it faster than I have ever changed before, coming back to the screen just as it flipped over to five minutes.
"Should we bid now?" I asked. "It's getting close."
"No!" Mom yelled. "You have to be strong. Wait until the last minute."
"The very last minute," Mrs. R said, nodding sagely beside her.
I bit my lip. I felt sweat break out along my spine as I watched the numbers count down. I bobbed my knee up and down with nervous energy. This was our only connection to Katrina and the last chance to find out what really happened to Irina. If I didn't win this bid, we were sunk. "How about now?" I asked at a minute-thirty.
"Wait," Mom instructed me.
I did, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Anxiety was jumping in my belly like a five-year-old in a bounce house.
"And… now!" Mom yelled.
"Go, go, go," Mrs. R shouted in my ear.
I did, fingers fumbling as I typed in $379.
"No! Maddie, you can't bid that!" Mom screamed.
Forty-five seconds to go.
"Why? What did I do wrong?"
"Quickly! Change it! Higher!"
Thirty-six seconds.
I did, striking the "delete" key with such force, I was afraid it might pop off. I put in $400.
"No round numbers!" Mom shrieked.
Delete, delete, delete.
Twenty-two seconds.
"Hurry!" Dana cried at me.
"Move over, let me do it," Mom instructed.
I did, sliding out of the chair, and bouncing up and down on my tip-toes as I watched her fingers fly across the keyboard. She typed in the amount of her bid. $1769.
I almost swallowed my tongue.
"I can't pay that!?"
"You won't have to. Trust me," Mom said, hitting "commit to buy."
I closed my eyes doing a silent prayer to the Paypal gods that she was right.
Eight seconds.
We all leaned forward, breath held, eyes bulging, the tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a stiletto heel.
A bar appeared next to the price, stating that I was the high bidder.
I sucked in a breath, crossed my fingers, toes, and legs.
Then with five second left, the price changed.
"What's going on?" I asked, panic in my voice.
"Bun Head is trying to outbid us," Mom told me.
"Will she?"
She shook her head. "Not likely. Not with my number."
I watched the price climb as she tried to outbid me. $467. $492. $512.
Three seconds, two seconds, one… the screen flashed, and the auction ended.
I held my breath as the screen changed.
Then a notice appeared telling me that I was the high bidder and had agreed to purchase the shoes for $539.
I let out an audible sigh of relief. Dana whooped so loudly the twins started crying again. Mrs. R did a war cry. And Mom just smiled. "See, I told you I knew what I was doing."
I wrapped my arms around her neck in a hug. "You rock."
She beamed even bigger. "Thanks." She clicked on the "pay now" button. "Now, how do you want to pay?"
I only cringed slightly at paying $539 for the stolen shoes, clicking on the "overnight shipping" option at checkout.
"What are you going to do with them?" Dana asked.
"It's not what I'm doing with them," I said, following the procedure on the screen to check out. "It's what I'm going to do with the person who now has to ship these shoes to me."
* * *
An hour later Dana, Mom, Mrs. Rosenblatt, and the twins, in their matching car seats, were all strapped into my seven passenger minivan, staked out across the street from the Mailboxes N More shop faci
ng Katrina's apartment building.
"Are you sure she'll show up?" Dana asked, crossing her legs awkwardly in the minimal room in my backseat to keep her gown from wrinkling.
I shook my head. "Honestly? No. But it's my best guess."
She nodded. "What do we do when she does?"
That was the part of the plan I hadn't gotten to yet.
The twins started to cry in the back. Two rounds of "Where is Thumbkin", two bottles, two battles with Mom over just how many blankets babies needed in eighty-degree L.A. heat, and one stinky diaper change done in my trunk later, a beat-up Chevy Malibu pulled up to the mailboxes store, and a woman got out. She was tall and slim, with dark hair and exotic eyes. The spitting image of Irina.
I heard Dana suck in a breath behind me. "It's her!"
I agreed. The similarity was too much not to be her. It was almost eerie, like seeing Irina's ghost. She was dressed in a skin-tight, spandex skirt, platform heels, and a tank top - all done in various colors of cheetah print.
I watched as she pulled a shoebox-sized package from her backseat and walked into the mailboxes store. Five minutes later, she walked out again, minus the shoebox, and got back into the Malibu.
"Follow her!" Mom yelled.
I did, putting the minivan into gear and pulling out onto the street behind her. I followed her parallel to the 134, then watched her turn right onto a side street. I did the same, catching up to her as she pulled into traffic on Verdugo. I lost her at a red light a block later, my knee jiggling up and down as I waited for it to turn. When it did, I jumped forward, scanning the cars ahead for any sign of her.
"There, there!" Dana shouted pointing to our left. The Malibu turned down another side street. I cursed, pulling around the block as quickly as the traffic would allow and cutting across at the next intersection.
At first I thought we'd lost her again. But then I heard Mrs. R yell from the backseat, "There, on the left!"
Sure enough, three cars ahead on the left was the Malibu. I surged forward in traffic, and, a second later I was smack dab behind the it.
It wasn't the most stealthy move, but with L.A. traffic the chances of her spotting us were still slim. Besides, I wasn't real keen on the idea of a high speed chase with my twins strapped in the back of the car.
I held onto her bumper for a full five more miles down Burbank, heading east toward the Inland Empire before she pulled into a parking lot and cut the engine. It was a mini mall with an outdoor array of shops, dress barns, and discount shoe stores.
I followed Kat's lead, parking three spots down, watching as she got out of the car and headed toward one of the shops.
"Now what?" Dana asked.
"Let's go after her!" Mrs. R shouted.
I swiveled in my seat, looking at my motley crew. I had a movie starlet dressed for the red carpet, a three-hundred pound woman in a neon green muumuu, a pair of fussy three month old twins, and my mom, who was wearing faded jeans pulled almost up to her armpits and a sweater with a Scotty dog printed on the front. Incognito, we were not.
"Let's wait," I suggested. "She's got to come out sometime."
I could tell Mrs. R was itching to do some cloak and dagger moves, but when I offered to hit the drive-thru McDonald's on the corner, I got agreement from everyone. Well, almost everyone. Livvie started to cry, but Dana popped a binky into her mouth and all was well.
Three frosty milkshakes and one no-sugar iced tea later (Guess who the iced tea was for. God, I hated dieting!), we were all making slurping sounds with our straws in the parking lot, once again parked three slots down from the Malibu when Katrina made her return.
I shot bolt upright, almost spilling my iced tea.
"There she is," Mom said. "Follow her!"
Again, I did, turning over the engine as she pulled out of her space and back onto the road. I waited a beat, trying to stay back a car length while still keeping her in sight this time. Which wasn't easy as the noontime drivers had cleared considerably, and we were now in much sparser traffic. I hung back, following her north this time, along North Hollywood Way, then watched as she turned onto a side street that ran between two large apartment buildings. I made a sharp right behind her, following her at as safe a distance as I could while still keeping her in sight.
"Hurry, she's getting away!" Dana urged.
"Can't. Speed limit is 35 here," I told her.
She leaned forward in her seat and shot me a look like I'd grown two heads. "You're kidding, right?"
"I have to be careful. I have babies on board!" I said, gesturing to the diamond shaped sign suctioned to my back window as proof.
Dana rolled her eyes at me.
Another left, then a right, and I pulled onto Victory just in time to see the Malibu's taillights sail through a yellow light.
"Sonofa-," I stopped myself just in time as I hit the brakes on the red. I watched the Malibu go a block down, then make another right. I tapped my fingers in anticipation on the steering wheel. "Come on, come on, come on," I encouraged the light. Finally it changed to green, and I hit the gas with such force, Mrs. R surged backward in her seat, almost toppling over.
"Sorry," I called to my passengers, chasing after the Malibu and making the sharp right like I'd seen her do.
Only I realized two things as I turned the corner and the next street came into view. One: that as we had engaged in our very safe, low speed chase along surface streets, we'd wound our way north, almost to the 5. And two: losing Katrina along a back road was the least of our problems. Because I knew exactly where she was going.
"Oh no," I said out loud, as I watched Katrina's taillights pull to the right, past the Bob Hope Metrolink Station.
Leading right into the Burbank airport.
Chapter Eighteen
"Ohmigod, she's making a run for it," Dana said, realization hitting her too as the big, bold "Welcome to the Burbank Airport" sign came into view.
While "run" might not be the accurate word for the speed her car was going through the terminal, the sentiment fit. Clearly Kat was taking the money and leaving town. My money, to be exact.
We watched her pull into long term parking, though I had a sneaking suspicion that she had no plans to pick up her junker car again later. I followed her, pulling into a slot two rows over as I watched her get out of the car, pop her trunk, and pull out a suitcase big enough to fit my entire shoe collection in.
"She doesn't look like she's going on an overnighter," Mrs. R remarked.
I nodded. "No kidding."
"So, what are we waiting for? Let's go after her," Mom said, hand on the door handle.
I paused. While I didn't want to let our one and only suspect get away, the last thing I wanted to do was expose my babies to a woman who was at best a thief and at worst a cold blooded killer who'd murdered her own twin. Plus, the babies were asleep. Everyone knows you never wake a sleeping baby.
"You guys stay here. I'll go stop her," I told Mom and Mrs. R.
Mom's eyes cut to the babies. She nodded, as if understanding my motivation.
"I'm going with you," Dana said, hopping out of the van in her couture gown before I could stop her. "You might need backup."
There was no "might" about it. I totally needed backup. While it was reasonably safe to assume that Katrina wasn't carrying a weapon with her into a high security airport, as I knew from my past experience with her, it didn't take a gun to put someone down.
I left the keys with Mom, and Dana and I quickly made up time, following in Katrina's footsteps from the long term parking lot to the short line of terminals. While Burbank was a busy airport, it was nowhere near the size of LAX. Burbank was the locals' choice for easy commuter flights, servicing mostly flights going to west coast hubs. It was a domestic airport, meaning Kat wasn't making her international run from Burbank. But with the amount of international hubs that Burbank connected to, it was also an easy way out of town. I knew for a fact from my days at the Art Institute, that several flights a day went b
etween Burbank and San Francisco, which was an easy connection to anywhere overseas.
Dana and I hung back as Katrina got in line behind a group of girls in volleyball uniforms at the Delta counter. And we might have done a bang up job of blending in with the other travelers, too, had Dana not looked fresh from the red carpet.
"Ohmigod, ohmigod," a chubby, short teen guy in a Moonlight T-Shirt yelled. "I know you! You're Dana Dashel!"
"Uh… no?" Dana said. "I'm not?"
"Ohmigod, I totally loved you in that HBO series, Lady Justice! You are, like, the hottest lawyer I've ever seen."
"Um, thanks," Dana said, keeping her voice low. "But I'm not really a lawyer-"
But Super Fan didn't take the hint. "I am so sorry about Ricky!" he went on. "I totally know he's, like, innocent. I mean, hello? He's a movie star."
The fanboy moment was attracting a crowd. A couple at the next ticket counter turned and stared, and a family of four was pointing and whispering. In the waiting lounge, heads were turning, and I saw three tween girls pop up from their chairs and get a running start toward us.
I whipped my head around to the Delta counter.
Katrina was staring straight at us.
I swallowed hard, watching her take in the scene, then quickly turn on her heels and head toward the departure gates.
If she made it past security, there was no way we'd catch her.
I thought of alerting one of the many security personnel milling in the area, but so far all we had her on was selling stolen goods on eBay. And I didn't even have proof of that; she'd just mailed it to me. I wasn't sure that my say-so was the level orange kind of risk these guys would care about.
"Can you sign my chest?" Super Fan asked, shoving a sharpie at Dana and pulling up his shirt to expose a pair of pimply man boobs.
Dana's eyes shot from the chest to me to Katrina's departing back. She mouthed the words, "Go. I'll catch up."
I did, quickly following Katrina.
Katrina turned, saw me approaching, and took off at a run. She knocked into a couple with carry-ons, narrowly avoided a magazine rack, then ducked into the women's restroom. I chased after her, hitting the door just as a large Asian family emerged. I navigated around them and was confronted with dozens of shiny, metal stalls.
Danger in High Heels Page 15