I thought about my five years waitressing in bars around the US and knew he had a point. I pushed myself to my feet. I was more tired than I’d been in a long time.
“Well, it’ll be nice to see Evan . . . and maybe Cheri, too. I’m heading up to my room, Dad. I’ve just got to check out a website before I crawl into bed.”
He saluted me with his right hand. “Sleep tight, kiddo. Remember, tomorrow’s a shiny, brand new day.”
. . .
Jada and I met in our office at eight a.m. I’d picked up coffee and muffins on the way and we took a minute to eat before we got down to it.
“This case I took on yesterday couldn’t have come at a worse time,” Jada said. “I agreed to follow a man to see if he’s cheating on his wife. She wants an answer by the end of the month.”
“I can handle Nick’s case alone,” I said. “No problem.”
Jada’s eyebrows went up, as if she didn’t believe me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” Jada took a sip of coffee. “Okay. You start checking out Lena’s work situation and love life. I’ll do some online research when I can. Let me know if you need me for something specific.”
“Will do. I’m heading over to the set of A Model Life to talk to the other models and crew. I’ll also talk to people in Nick’s town house development, although I doubt any of them talk to each other. People with money don’t like to be sociable as a rule.”
“Cynic.” Jada crunched up the wrapper from her muffin and tossed it in a high arc into the garbage.
“More like realist,” I said. “Whenever I think someone’s going to impress me, they always disappoint.”
Jada searched my face. “Nick’s not a bad guy,” she said softly. “You have to keep the faith.”
I stood and grabbed my jacket. “Faith has let me down too many times. I deal in facts now. They never lie or give false hope.”
Jada shook her head but didn’t say anything. She knew that I wasn’t going to be easily talked out of my new world view.
CHAPTER FOUR
A Model Life was being filmed in a house in a section of the city called Kanata, in the west end. The two-storey, grey brick house sat on a big lot, although a three-car garage took up most of the front yard. The three models lived in the house and let a cameraman film their every move. The words “fish bowl” and “insanity” came to mind.
I was sorry to see Jimmy’s squad car parked in the driveway. I thought about going for breakfast and coming back later. Thought about it, but realized I’d be running into Jimmy often if I was going to help Nick. Be bold, I told myself, and parked my car on the street in front of the house.
I started up the sidewalk and the front door opened. As my bad luck would have it, Jimmy and another detective stepped outside. Jimmy squinted in my direction before putting on aviator sunglasses. He ran a hand through his messy black curls and waited for me to reach him. The other detective headed for the car without looking back.
“Don’t tell me you’re working this,” Jimmy said.
“Then I won’t tell you.”
I passed where he was standing at the bottom of the steps.
“You can’t just waltz into this case, Anna. You aren’t on the police force anymore.”
“Nick Roma hired Storm Investigations. I have every right to interview people.” I could feel my chin jut out and my anger begin to boil. “Someone has to make sure he gets a fair trial.”
“Ouch.” Jimmy pretended to jump back and clutched his chest. “Don’t let Shaw hear you talking like that. He might take offence.”
“It’s more you I’m worried about getting the facts right.”
Jimmy grinned at me and held out the hand he’d had on his chest. “Truce? I promise to deal fairly with Nick if you stop thinking the worst of me.”
I looked at Jimmy’s hand for a second before walking toward him and reaching out to take it. “Truce.” I was going to need his cooperation more than he was going to need mine. I tried to pull my hand away, but he held on.
“How’s Cheri?” I asked, my eyes on his.
“She’s good.” He frowned and dropped my hand. “See you around, Sweet.”
“Yeah. See you around.”
I watched him join his partner in the car before I turned and stepped inside model land.
I followed women’s voices to a kitchen at the end of a long hallway. A large open space to my right was a living room and dining room area. Camera equipment and lights were everywhere. The furniture was modern and expensive—glass, chrome, and white leather in abundance. Latin tango music filled the space, from speakers hidden in the walls.
I recognized Ella Blom and Sang Hee Yum from the one time I’d watched the show. Ella was a tall Swede with long, white-blonde hair and blue eyes the size of quarters. Sang Hee was tinier, but no less beautiful, and from Korea. She had long black hair and a smile that lit up the room.
They looked up at me from the couch as I walked over. Both models’ faces were sad and they had tears in their eyes. I introduced myself and sat on the chair across from them.
“A PI?” Sang Hee asked. “Are you for real?”
“I am, and I have a few questions if you’re willing.”
Ella shrugged, her mouth set in a grim line. “Sure, why not?”
“Let me first say how sorry I am for your loss.” I paused for a moment of respect, then said, “When is the last time you saw Lena?”
Sang Hee answered first. “The evening she died. We were filming in the afternoon and had supper together afterward. We ordered in Chinese food. If we’d only known it would be our last meal together.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
“Was she worried about anything? Acting strangely?”
Sang Hee shook her head. Ella frowned. “She’d been down all week but I figured it was her time of the month. She told me that she was thinking of leaving the show.”
“Any reason?”
“None that she said.”
Sang Hee looked at me as if she was remembering something. “I overheard her talking on the phone—I don’t know to who—and she was upset. I asked her about it after, and she said that a man from her past was bothering her. I guess it was that Nick Roma guy.”
Not good.
Ella said, “Lena liked the rich life. I was worried about her a bit.”
Sang Hee nodded. “She was our party girl on the show. You know, the one who drank too much and said crazy things. She’d fight with her fake boyfriend even though he always acted totally in love with her. The script was getting sexier and they had some steamy scenes. She complained to the director but he said ratings were up.”
Ella added, “The real Lena was kind and fun to be around. But she had secrets.”
I never got to ask my next question. Both girls sat up straighter and stopped talking when two tall men entered the room. They had the self-important look of people in charge. The rest of the television crew trailed in behind them. One of the first two men walked over to stand in front of Ella and Sang Hee.
“Hi John,” Ella said. “I don’t think we’re up for filming today.”
John Shore, the director. I’d found his name on the show’s website the night before.
Shore nodded as if he understood. The expression on his face was sad and sincere enough to make me think he cared about their grief. “I know this is tough, girls. But we’re going to film your reaction to Lena’s death . . . for the fans. Raymond has quickly put together a script.” He pointed to the other tall man, now standing behind him with a stack of papers in his hands. Raymond had a shaved head and wore a suit jacket over a white T-shirt and jeans. He was staring at me with curious eyes. Shore’s voice got harder, not allowing for any argument. “You can read it over while we set up.” Then he spotted me. “And you would be . . . ?”
“Anna Sweet. I’m one of the investigators.” Let him think I’m with the police.
Shore’s pale blue eyes challenged me before he looked over
at Ella and Sang Hee. He had a face pitted with acne scars that a full beard didn’t quite hide. His hair was straight and brown and reached his shoulders from under a black baseball cap. He looked fit inside his tight T-shirt. Without looking at me, he finally said, “Fine, but don’t get in the way.”
Raymond handed out the sheets of paper to the models. Neither looked happy with the assignment. I could hardly stomach it myself.
By now, a cameraman, a lighting guy, a makeup artist, and a hairstylist were busy getting the set and the actors ready. Raymond was standing alone near the gas fireplace. I walked over and stood next to him.
“Is it hard writing for models?” I asked.
He pushed his black-rimmed glasses further up his nose and laughed. “It might have been, but these models are smart as well as beautiful.” He had the trace of a French accent.
“What will you do now that Lena’s gone?”
Instantly, his face became serious. “We put a call out for a new actress this morning. The show must go on, even though we’re all devastated by Lena’s death.”
“Murder,” I said. “Lena’s murder.”
The muscle in his square jaw jumped. “Right, yes. Thank goodness they’ve caught the guy who did it.”
“And who would that be?”
“Her ex-boyfriend. Nick somebody. I heard he confessed to stalking her.”
I decided to play along. “Did Lena say she was being stalked?”
Raymond nodded his bald head. “She told me a few days before she died.”
“What exactly did she say?”
Raymond took a step closer and spoke quietly into my right ear. “Lena said someone from her past wouldn’t leave her alone. She was scared, I can tell you that. I guess now we know that she had a reason to be.”
“Did she actually say it was Nick Roma?”
“Not in so many words. But we all knew he was trying to get her back.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I checked in with Jada before I headed over to Nick’s neighbourhood. “Not looking good,” were my first words. “Everyone in the model house seems to think Nick was actively pursuing Lena. He’s the only one who says it was the other way around.”
Jada snorted over the phone. “I believe Nick over the others any day.”
“How can you be so sure?” After all, we’d only known Nick for just over a year. He’d been a good worker but hadn’t shared much about himself. We couldn’t be blinded by how attractive he was. Only trouble lay in that direction.
“Because I think he had his sights set on someone else.”
My heart fell. Nick probably had brought a woman to the office when I wasn’t there. I forced myself to ignore my disappointment and focus on the case. “Well, whatever. I’m going to see if any of Nick’s neighbours saw anything that could help with an alibi.”
“Good idea. As for my following-the-husband update, I’m about to leave my car and tail him into Herongate Mall. So far, he’s been to the gym and had coffee at Starbucks. No cheating as of yet.”
“Let’s hope your case has a happy ending. Because I’m seriously beginning to doubt that Nick’s will.”
. . .
Nick’s three-storey town house stood on a street lined with identical structures. Each had a small yard but the more expensive ones had a view looking onto the Rideau Canal. I knocked on four doors before a young woman in stretchy workout clothes answered. She lived in the town house directly across the street from Nick’s place.
“Most people are at work now,” she said after looking at my ID. She wiped sweat from her forehead with a pink towel. “Yeah, I know Nick to see him. I mean, how can you not notice the guy. He’s drop dead gorgeous.” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean any offence when I said ‘drop dead.’”
“None taken,” I said. I held up my iPhone to show her a photo of Lena Caruso. I’d uploaded it from the internet. “Did you ever see this woman with Nick?”
“She’s the one who was . . . no. I never saw her aside from on the TV show. What a shame about her murder.”
“Did you happen to notice any of Nick’s comings and goings two nights ago?”
“I saw his car pull out after I finished with my trainer. It would have been going on ten o’clock. I didn’t see Nick come home, though. I was out for a jog and stopped by a friend’s place.”
“So you have no opinion about Nick Roma one way or the other.”
“Well, he always seemed like a nice guy. No women or wild parties. I never would have believed in a million years that he’d kill anyone.”
“Okay. Thanks for your help.”
I wasn’t sure if Nick was home but I crossed the street and pressed on his doorbell. I was almost relieved when he didn’t answer. It was time to head back to the office and do some research on my computer.
I drove the side streets back to Wellington and found a parking spot in front of a used clothing store. On my walk to our office, I passed by Roma’s Pizza Shop, which took up the bottom floor of our building. Gino was behind the counter, waving one arm in the air as he spoke on his cellphone. I slipped past the window without him seeing me. I wasn’t up for his questions about how I was going to prove that Nick was innocent. I’d have had to make up something to stop him from worrying about his son’s chances.
I climbed the stairs and found the office door locked. Happily, I would have the place to myself. It crossed my mind that Nick wasn’t at home or at work. I wondered where he might be but didn’t let myself worry about him. My energy would be better spent working on his defence.
The first thing I did was a Google search on Lena Caruso. A number of articles popped up and I started reading about her early years in the movie industry. The reviews were not good. “Can’t act.” “Beautiful but wooden.” “She should stick to modelling.” The first movie she’d acted in when she was eighteen, with Nick Roma, had been a success. Nick received great praise for his role as an Italian student, but reviewers had not been kind to Lena. I imagined how crushing that must have been for her.
There were several articles about Nick and Lena as a couple, along with pictures from different social events. They were truly two of the beautiful people. One article announced their breakup after two years together. Nick was quoted as being devastated.
Lena didn’t make any movies for the next few years, although she kept modelling. She was in the big fashion shows and in several magazines. From what I could tell, she was travelling to shoots in exotic locations right up to her death. A Model Life was her first big acting role in a long time. I found the last few episodes online and settled in to watch.
I’d just finished viewing the last show when I heard footsteps on the stairs. A few seconds later, Jada burst into the office. She threw her bag on the desk and flopped into the chair next to me.
“What a day. I’ve been all over the place following the husband. I almost thought he was innocent but he’s disappointed me. I have pictures of him meeting another woman outside a motel. I kept wishing it wasn’t so, but they went inside one of the rooms together.”
“Too bad,” I said. “But not unexpected. Most men cheat.” If Jimmy Wilson is anyone to go by.
Jada rolled her eyes at me. “Where did that come from? You used to believe in love.”
“Let’s say that I had an awakening when my fiancé made out with my sister.” I turned the computer screen toward her. “By the way, have you seen any episodes of A Model Life?”
“I love that show. It’s so corny that I can’t stop watching.”
“I don’t get the attraction of reality TV. They treat these models like sex objects. Do you know they even filmed them having a shower? Lena is shown with that pretend boyfriend in some very intimate scenes.”
“That’s half the fun.” Jada frowned. “But now that you mention it, I suppose they do treat women terribly.”
“Has Nick ever talked to you about Lena or his acting career?”
“Nope.”
“Strange.” I stood a
nd stretched. “I’m heading home. What are you up to tomorrow?”
“I’ll be following the husband another day or two as I agreed to do in my contract with his wife. I’ll check in.”
“Where’s Nick?”
Jada looked around as if she might find him hiding in a corner. “I told him to lay low for a few days while you sort this out. He said he has faith that you’ll uncover the truth.”
“I really hope he’s not going to be disappointed.”
Especially if the truth is that he killed his ex-girlfriend.
CHAPTER SIX
Dad had left a note saying that he was at his ballroom dancing lesson. I’d find a plate of meatloaf and potatoes in the fridge with my name on it. He’d drawn a big happy face wearing tap shoes at the bottom of the page.
I was humming as I heated up my supper in the microwave. I thought about Dad’s unusual new hobby. The owner of the dance studio was the daughter of one of Dad’s army buddies. She’d asked him to come out because they were short of male partners. So my grumpy dad, who had never danced a step as long as I knew him, was now dressing up, putting on aftershave, and trotting down to Bank Street a couple of nights a week. Climate change wasn’t the only major shift going on in the world.
My cellphone rang as I was climbing into bed. I leapt over to where I’d left it on the dresser and clicked the receive button.
“I hear you’re making yourself into a pest.”
I caught my breath, then said, “And a good evening to you too, Shaw.” Jimmy must have told him that I was working for Nick. “Kind of late for you to be calling.”
I could hear Detective Shaw’s loud sigh in my ear. “Come by the station tomorrow morning before nine, Sweet. We may as well fill you in on what we’ve got so you don’t keep getting in the way.”
I smiled. “I’ll set my alarm.”
“You do that.” Shaw clicked off without wishing me a good night.
. . .
The rain was pouring down when I left Dad’s Alta Vista home the next morning to drive to the Elgin Street police station. I parked and dodged puddles as I made my way to the main entrance. A gusty wind knocked leaves from the trees and swirled them around my feet as I ran.
A Model Death Page 2