Undercover in High Heels

by Gemma Halliday

  “Well, we’re naked most of the time.”

  Aha.

  “You’re awfully nosy, ” Jasmine said, planting her hands on her hips again. “What’s all this about?”

  “We’re helping the police investigate Veronika’s death, ” I lied. Hey, the police were investigating; we were investigating—it was almost like we were working together.

  “Veronika was killed on the set, not here. Besides, I saw on Extra that Mia was the real target anyway.”

  “Maybe, ” I hedged. “But we’re looking into all possible leads.” Wow, that sounded official. Finally, all those hours of watching Law & Order were paying off.

  “Well, I didn’t do it, ” Jasmine said, crossing her arms protectively over her boobs again. “I’ve got nothing to hide. Everything we do here is perfectly legal. See for yourself.” She stepped back to allow us entry.

  I admit, curiosity got the better of me. I’d never been inside a real live den of iniquity before.

  As we stepped into the marble-tiled foyer, I realized that the inside of the house was even more decadent than the outside. To the right lay a sunken living room lined in plush red velvet sofas. A black-lacquer coffee table sat in the center of the room, in the corner a matching bar, fully stocked with colorful bottles. The walls were painted in deep reds and burgundies, and the windows were all covered in heavy curtains, though bright, strategically placed spotlights on metal stands blazed throughout the room.

  And in each corner, mounted into the ceiling, were white Web cams, little red lights blinking on each of them.

  “Are those on?” I asked.

  “Always, ” Jasmine responded.

  I resisted the urge to cover my face.

  Two girls walked past us, into the living room (both clad only in their itty-bitties), sat down on one of the sofas, and started to play a game of Go Fish.

  “Seriously, guys pay for this?” Dana asked.

  Jasmine smirked. “And girls. I cleared three mil last year.”

  I was so in the wrong business. “Three million?” I gasped out. I looked over at the Go Fish players, wondering if they needed a third.

  “What can I say? Sex sells.”

  “So, Veronika worked here for you. Doing what? Playing”—I gestured to the two girls. One was taking her top off now. Apparently it was strip Go Fish—“cards?”

  Jasmine nodded. “Among other things. I gave her room and board free, and her hours were flexible, so she could go on auditions. Most of my girls are aspiring actresses. Of course, when she landed the gig as Mia’s stand-in, it cut into her hours here some, but she worked nights. I gotta get my beauty sleep, you know.”

  “Do you know if Veronika was seeing anyone special?” I asked. “Maybe a boyfriend?”

  Jasmine puckered her collagen-enhanced lips. “Veronika kind of kept to herself. Not real friendly. Unless, of course, the cameras were on her. I remember she did bring this one guy home once. After that she started getting the same guy logging in to watch her every day. I figured maybe it was a boyfriend.”

  “When was this?” I asked, mentally crossing my fingers.

  “I dunno. About five months ago. Maybe four. But like I said, he’s logged in every day since then.”

  “What about since Veronika’s been gone?” Dana asked.

  Jasmine cocked her head to the side. “Once or twice, I think. Mostly just quick stints. Nothing longer than a couple of minutes.”

  “Any way you could find out this guy’s name?”

  Jasmine shook her head, her red hair whipping across her cheeks. “Nope. All our transactions are done through a secure online payment system, Pay-Mate. The clients enter their credit card information, the company tracks their online time, then sends me a check. It’s all anonymous. The clients can’t find us, and we don’t know who they are.”

  “Well, surely someone at PayMate must have his personal info then?”

  “Someone, ” Jasmine replied. “But it ain’t me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to work. You can let yourselves out.”

  With that, Jasmine walked into the living room to join the rousing Go Fish game. She stripped off her spandex shorts to reveal a pair of Brazilian-cut panties so skimpy they left little to the imagination as to what else might be Brazilian on Jasmine’s body.

  Dana and I quickly ducked out the front door and down the pathway to her borrowed Porsche.

  “So, ” she said once we’d settled in, “how do we get to PayMate’s records?”

  Chances were, if they catered to the adult industry, they weren’t likely to give out their clients’ names and addresses to a couple of blondes just because we asked nicely. What we needed was someone who knew computers and how to get around them.

  Unfortunately, I knew only one computer hacker.

  Felix.

  I debated the merits of calling him. It felt a little like poking at a slug—like some of that slime might rub off if I stood too close. On the other hand, the fact that Jasmine had bought our “we’re working with the police” spiel meant the actual police had yet to attack her with the same line of questioning. They were so busy focusing on Dusty’s altercation with Mia that they’d likely have Dusty handcuffed, fingerprinted, and on her way to San Quentin before anyone ever got around to checking PayMate’s records.

  So figuring I was doing a favor for a friend of a friend of my college roommate, I dialed Felix’s cell.

  He picked up on the first ring, no doubt hoping I was a hot lead on Jessica Simpson’s latest nude-sunbathing location.

  “Felix Dunn, ” he answered.

  “Hey. It’s Maddie.”

  He paused on the other end. “Yes?” he asked cautiously. Apparently he knew how I felt about the slime factor.

  “Listen, I need a favor.”

  He laughed. “Don’t you always? And what do I get in return for this favor? You know, my editor wouldn’t even print that story about Deveroux being gay. I got bumped off the front page.”

  “Oh, don’t pout. One story about Liberace’s ghost and you’ll be back on top.”

  “You know, for a girl who needs a favor, you’re not being very nice to me.”

  He was right, I wasn’t. What can I say? Old habits died hard. “Sorry. How about this: Pretty, pretty please will you do me a favor?”

  “Am I going to get a real story out of it?”

  I looked up at Jasmine’s Mediterranean. “Uh-huh.”

  “Does it involve sex or starlets?”

  “Both. In spades.”

  “I’m in. What’s the favor?”

  I quickly explained Veronika’s involvement in Jas-mine’s Web site, the credit card company, and the regular customer. As I talked I could hear him mentally putting together a sensationalized headline: Cyber-sex Starlet Slain by Sweetheart—Bigfoot Involved? (Okay, I added that last part, but ten to one he’d be in the story somewhere. I mean, this was the Informer we were talking about.) By the time I finished he was practically salivating into the phone. He said to meet him at his place in twenty minutes and he’d pull up the PayMate site.

  The address Felix gave me was in the Hollywood Hills, up Laurel Canyon, down Mulholland, and winding around until we broke through the trees and were treated to a spectacular view of the city that made my breath catch in my throat faster than a lungful of freeway smog. Below us the entire valley spread out like a fine mosaic of twinkling lights, and through the trees I could make out the Hollywood sign, starkly white against the dark hills. It was the kind of view that would make a location scout stand up and cheer.

  And the house standing in front of it wasn’t any less impressive. It was a large glass structure, constructed of sleek modern angles. I could tell it was the work of some famous architect, the angles leaning to the side as if they might topple over with a strong Santa Ana. The front of the house was paneled in pale blond woods, while what I could see of the back was one solid wall of glass. In the driveway, as if to mock the grandeur of the structure, sat a blue Dodge Neon
with a dented front fender.

  Last year while working with Felix on the story in Vegas, I’d learned that, while he was swimming in family money from his father’s side (though he wouldn’t divulge just how much), he was a cheapskate of the highest degree, courtesy of his mother’s Scottish upbringing. I’d teased him at the time about being a cheap rich guy. Though I hadn’t realized until now just how rich he must be.

  “Wow.” Dana stared up at the imposing structure. “You sure your tabloid guy lives here?”

  “He’s not my tabloid guy, ” I protested a little more loudly than I’d meant to. “And I guess we’re about to see.”

  Dana locked the Porsche, doing the little beep-beep thing with her rabbit’s-foot remote, and we walked down the neatly laid stone pathway and up a flight of slate stairs to the front door.

  “How come you haven’t introduced me to this guy before?” Dana asked, taking in the multimillion-dollar view. “What, is he, like, hideous or something?”

  “Not if you like slugs, ” I mumbled as the door opened.

  Felix was dressed in the same rumpled button-down shirt he’d been in the last four times I’d seen him, though tonight he was going casual, pairing it with jeans, ripped at the knees. His feet were bare, and while his hair was still sticking up in that messy-chic way (though knowing Felix it was a messy didn’t-bother-to-comb-my-hair-after-rolling-out-of-bed way), I was glad to see he’d at least shaved since the last time I’d seen him, giving his face a deceptively boyish look.

  “Maddie, ” he said.

  “Felix.”

  I felt Dana nudge me in the ribs. “Ohmigod, he’s Hugh Grant-alicious!” she whispered in my ear.

  Uh-huh. With the moral fiber of pond scum.

  “Some place you’ve got here, ” I said as I pushed past him. The floors were a polished hardwood, the furnishings simple, yet stylish, obviously the work of an interior decorator who knew when to stop knickknacking. Low sofas, pale woods, smooth, clean lines. Overall a calming atmosphere made to showcase the natural beauty of the surrounding hills.

  Felix looked around himself, as if he hadn’t really noticed. “It’s a roof.”

  “How many square feet have you got?”

  He grinned. “Enough.”

  “Hi, I’m Dana.” I watched as Dana thrust her hand out at Felix, doing a big-eyed eyelash-batting thing.

  Oh brother.

  I almost felt sorry for Felix. (Almost. He had, after all, spliced my head on Pamela Anderson’s body.)

  “Pleasure to meet you, ” Felix said, pumping Dana’s hand. “Felix Dunn.”

  “Oh, I know! Maddie’s told me so much about you.” Dana fluttered her eyelashes and leaned in closer.

  “Has she now?” Felix asked, cocking an eyebrow my way.

  I pretended not to notice.

  “Oh, yes. I think it’s so cool that you’re a reporter. You must see some amaaaaaaazing things, ” she said, drawing out the word with a Betty Boop giggle as she laid a seductive hand on his arm.

  Oy vey. It was only a matter of time before the flattery started getting laid down thicker than sunblock on a Venice lifeguard.

  “Yes, just last week he saw Bigfoot run off with the Crocodile Woman, ” I added.

  Felix grinned, extricating his hand (with no small effort) from Dana’s grip. “Our Maddie’s ever the comedian, isn’t she?”

  The sad thing was, I think the Informer had actually printed that story last week.

  “No, I’m onto bigger and better things, ” he continued. “Like starlets who work for cyber-sex sites, right?”

  Right. I forced myself to rein in my sarcasm. “Where’s your computer?”

  “This way, m’ladies.” Felix did a mock bow, gesturing to the back of the house.

  Dana giggled and touched his arm again.

  Good grief. One week off sex and already her standards were dropping faster than Paris Hilton’s panties.

  My wedges echoed on the hardwood as we followed Felix through the foyer and down a small flight of stairs to a large office overlooking the back of the house. The wall of glass capitalized on the unobstructed view of the valley. Beyond the glass sat lush, obviously professional landscaping and a bubbling hot tub perched atop a large wooden deck.

  “Wow, what a great view, ” Dana said, pressing her nose to the glass. “And check out the size of that hot tub. I bet you could fit fifteen people in there, easy.”

  “Honestly, I’ve never tried. But it fits one quite nicely.”

  “Or two…” Dana purred.

  That was it. I was driving her straight to an SA meeting after this.

  Felix crossed the room to a large, Craftsman-style desk. Beside it an array of printers, fax machines, scanners, and lots of other scary-looking electronics lined the low bookcases. A slim, state-of-the-art computer hummed to life on the desktop, a flat-screen monitor bigger than my television just above.

  Felix sat behind it and jiggled his mouse until the screen came to life.

  “What’s the name of this bird’s site, then?” he asked, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

  I gave it to him, he typed it in, and almost instantly Jasmine’s pouty lips filled the monitor, the caption You know you want to watch beneath her. He clicked the “enter here” button, surfing through the free trial pages. I tried not to look as images of the red-velvet living room flashed across the screen. A pair of brunettes who looked like twins were playing a game of strip Candy Land. Apparently badly, as neither was wearing much.

  He clicked through to a different page and came up with a shot of the kitchen, where two women were doing something completely unsanitary on the counters. Ewwww!

  “This the site?” Felix asked.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Jasmine said all their credit card info goes through a company called PayMate. Do you think you can hack into it?”

  “Hack is such a crude word, ” Felix chided me. “I prefer to think of it as visiting.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Can we pay them a visit?”

  “I’m going to set up an account with Jasmine’s girls, ” he replied, clicking through the motions as he talked, “to find out what ISP the information is going through. Then hopefully I can find some sort of back gate to their system that will unlock the security code.”

  “Won’t that be hard to do?” I asked. “I mean, it is a credit card company. If just anyone could hack into their system, they’d be ruined.”

  Felix grinned at me, showing off a pair of dimples. “Luckily, I’m not just anybody.”

  “Wow, you must be, like, really smart to know this much about computers, ” Dana crooned, tearing herself away from the window. “Where did you learn this stuff?”

  Felix shrugged noncommittally. “Around.” I watched as he created a screen name. Ppingtom07. Cute.

  Finally a screen verifying his account came up. Then it asked him if he’d like to make a secure payment now. He clicked yes, and as the screen transferred us to PayMate.com’s home page, Felix opened a new window. This one had a black screen with a little flashing cursor prompt.

  “Bingo, ” he said.

  “What, are we in?”

  He chuckled. “Hardly. As you said, it’s no simple task to break into a secure network like this one. But I’ve got their location now. It’s a start.”

  He did a few more clicks, and a sequence of numbers started appearing on the black screen.

  “Are those supposed to mean something?” I asked.

  Felix didn’t look up, intently watching the numbers grow. “Not yet. Give it time, love.”

  Fifteen minutes later my eyes were starting to bug out from watching numbers fly. I rubbed at my neck, trying in vain to work out some of the stiffness. I rummaged in my purse for an aspirin, then remembered I’d given the last one to Dana.

  “Hey, do you have an aspirin or something?”

  Felix motioned down the hall. “Bathroom’s the first left. Check the medicine cabinet.” He looked up from the screen. “Y
ou all right?”

  “Just dandy, ” I told him as I went in search of relief.

  I followed the hallway and made the first left into a bathroom the size of my entire studio. A sunken Jacuzzi tub took up one side, while a marble-topped vanity spanned the other. To the right of it hung a beveled-glass medicine cabinet. I swung the door open and, to my relief, spied the aspirin right away. I downed two with water from the faucet, resisting the urge to snoop through Felix’s cupboards.

  Okay, almost resisting.

  With a quick over-the-shoulder, I opened the two beside the sink, disappointed to find only a stash of clean linens. I tried the next two, coming up with a Water Pik, a hair dryer (that, judging by the perpetually tousled state of Felix’s hair, had likely never been used), and a Costco three-pack of Listerine. Well, at least he valued dental hygiene. I opened the next cupboard and instantly blushed as I saw that mouthwash wasn’t the only thing Felix bought in bulk. A double pack of the biggest Trojan boxes I had ever seen. A bright red sticker on the front touted, Value pack—30 more free! I couldn’t help picking one up and checking the size. (Hey, I was already snooping; I might as well go all-out, right?) My blush turned into an full-body flush when I found it. Magnum, extra large. Either someone had an inflated image of himself or there was more to Tabloid Boy than met the eye.

  I quickly put the box back and scuttled back down the hall to the computer room, ducking my head to conceal my ruby cheeks.

  I found Dana hovering over the monitor, her head bent toward Felix’s as they whispered about something.

  “Ahem, ” I said, clearing my throat loudly.

  Both Felix and Dana jumped at the sound of my voice. Dana got a sheepish look on her face and began guiltily twirling a lock of hair between her fingers, no doubt thinking what Therapist Max would have to say about her flirting with tabloid reporters.

  Felix cleared his throat. “Say, this looks like it could take me a while. Why don’t I call you when I have something on this guy?”

  “Works for me.” I grabbed my purse and, steering the reluctant Dana by the elbow, made for the front door.