by Cheryl Crane
“How can I help you, Anita?”
“One of the house staff took the message last Monday,” Nikki said, trying to sound aggravated, “and it makes no sense whatsoever. Something about an old security code was used to enter the front gate?”
“I’m sorry . . . who am I speaking to?”
“This is Anita.” She cringed, not knowing Anita’s last name. “Mrs. March’s assistant.”
“Could I have the password, Anita, to access the information?”
Shoot . . . Nikki tried not to panic. She didn’t know the password! “I’m not asking you for the security code, Dave. I’m simply asking you to translate the message left on October 4th at . . .” She paused. “Nine twenty-five a.m. I’m not privy to the password. Mrs. March is funny about her security codes, which I imagine you would understand, especially in light of what happened last week,” she said, taking on the tone Victoria used when she was trying to gently bully someone into doing something for her.
“Ummm . . .”
“The message was that the security code used . . .” she prompted.
“On Saturday the 2nd. Ummm, it was expired.”
Her phone beeped. Another call was coming in. Mother again? She ignored it. “Expired?”
“According to our records, the code was changed March 27th of this year. Mrs. March called it in herself.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she said, having an ah-ha! moment. “That would have been after Mr. March’s death. His first death,” she clarified. “So the code used was the previous code?”
“That’s correct,” Dave said. “Access was denied. Then we received a phone call . . . from a man,” he said, obviously reading notes out loud. Then, “Shit.”
“Yes?”
“The caller provided the password and the last four digits of Mr. and Mrs. March’s social security numbers.”
Her phone beeped again and she lowered it for a second to see who was calling. It was Jessica. Nikki spoke into the phone again, using her Anita voice. “What time of day?”
“It’s logged in here. Two-ten p.m. He . . . he provided the password. I . . . I’m terribly sorry for the . . . um . . . error. Was . . . was there a security problem?”
“Let’s hope not, for your sake, Dave. Have a good day.” Nikki’s hand was shaking as she set her cell phone on her desk.
So who had called into Star Security and demanded access to the Marches’ Outpost Estates home? Had it been Rex? A boyfriend of one of Rex’s hussies? Maybe, but not likely. Thompson, trying to create a lie? Who else would have had access to the information? Ramirez? Probably. The only information the security company had was that a male with the required information had called. What if this was some sort of setup leading to Rex’s death? Thompson, Rex, Ramirez? Or was it really Rex? And where did Edith, who supposedly didn’t know Rex was alive, fit into all this?
Nikki’s BlackBerry rang, startling her, and she picked it up. It was Jessica again. “Sorry, Jess, I was just going to call you—”
“Oh, sweet Jesus, Nikki. You’re not going to believe this. The coroner released some kind of preliminary report and he’s determined when Rex was killed.”
Nikki switched gears. “And?”
“Saturday night. The night of the party.” She sounded like she was close to hysterical.
“Well, that’s good, Jess. You were at Edith’s party that night. You have more than a hundred witnesses.”
“No, you don’t understand, Nik. He was killed after I left the party. Now I don’t have an alibi . . .”
Chapter 18
The next day, Nikki eyed Edith’s gate from half a block away and returned her attention to the comp sheets on her lap. She’d taken a chance driving up to Outpost Estates when she had an eleven-thirty staff meeting back at the office, but she wanted to catch Thompson alone. She’d thought about phoning him, but decided it would be better to catch him off-guard. Obviously, he wasn’t being honest with Edith concerning his whereabouts. Who knew what kind of mischief she might catch him in?
When her cell rang at 9:45, Nikki grabbed it off the seat. “Chessy?”
“Eagle One done left the building,” Chessy stage-whispered.
“What?”
Chessy cackled. “Eagle One, the president. That’s the kind of thing the Secret Service say when the president leaves. You asked me to tell you when Mr. Christopher left this morning. I’m tellin’ you, he’s leavin’.”
“Oh.” She laughed. “I get it now. Thanks, Chessy. Thanks so much.”
As Nikki hung up, she looked up to see the gate at the end of Edith’s driveway open and heard the loud sound of an engine. A moment later, a black Ninja motorcycle flew onto the street. Thompson was in the full getup: black helmet, black boots, black leather jacket.
Nikki grabbed her sunglasses off the dash, and practically laid rubber pulling away from the curb. She tried to stay off his tail as she followed him through the neighborhood. Then he hit Franklin Avenue and headed west. There was more traffic on Franklin, so she put a couple of cars between them. When he turned left on North Vista, she had to cut off a white SUV to make the light.
Thompson suddenly gunned his engine, passed a red convertible illegally on the right and made a sharp right onto Hollywood Boulevard. Had he seen her, or was he just being yet another jackass on a crotch-rocket?
She followed Thompson for a couple of blocks, changing lanes when he changed lanes. When he suddenly darted into the right-hand lane near Courtney Avenue, she had to let two cars go by before she could move over. Then someone cut in front of her and she had to hit the brakes. By the time she made the next right turn onto a residential street, Thompson was nowhere to be seen.
Shoot! She hit her steering wheel with her hand in frustration. She hadn’t realized how hard it was to follow someone and not be—
Thompson stepped out into the street from the far side of a panel van, helmet under his arm. He didn’t look at all happy. Nikki braked hard. She looked at him, he looked at her, and a car behind her blew its horn. She pulled over behind his bike.
Thompson took his time getting out of the way of the car. Nikki shut off the engine, put down her window and waited, feeling a little bit like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“You’re following me,” Thompson said.
It seemed pointless to argue, so Nikki didn’t say anything.
“Nikki, why the hell are you following me?”
Still, she didn’t answer.
“Edith told me you were at the house yesterday asking questions. About Rex and Alex Ramirez. Look, I’m sorry your friend is in hot water over this whole Rex thing. I get you wanting justice and all that, but you can’t involve me,” he said angrily. “And you can’t involve Edith!”
“Seems like you’re kind of already involved,” Nikki said quietly. She glanced up at Thompson. He looked pretty pissed, but he still didn’t look to her like a killer. He was so stinkin’ cute.
“I’m not involved,” he said bitterly. “We’re not, and if you don’t knock it the hell off, all of it, I’m going to call the cops. I don’t think they’ll appreciate the fact that you’re playing private eye in the middle of Rex’s case.”
“I’m not playing. This is serious, Thompson. They think Jessica killed him.”
“Well, I’m sorry about that, but that doesn’t change my situation, or me wanting to protect Edith.” A car passed on the street and he had to move closer to Nikki’s car.
He was a little intimidating, standing so close. Nikki nibbled on her lower lip. “Can I ask you where you’re going?” she said in a small voice.
“No, you may not.” Taking his helmet from under his arm, he gestured toward her with it. “I want you to leave us alone. Do you understand?” There was emotion in his voice that she couldn’t identify. “You have to leave us alone before you ruin everything.”
“And that was it? That was all he said?” Victoria was sitting up in bed in a pretty cotton robe, a book beside her.
After Nikki’s strange conversation with Thompson, she’d barely had time the rest of the day to think about where she was on the case. The sales meeting had gone on forever, then she’d had to show two houses, then she’d been on the phone tussling with an attorney’s office about a client’s escrow account. After that, she’d met with a potential new client moving to L.A. from New York. By the time she’d picked up her dry cleaning, stopped for dog food, and gone home to feed her starving boys, it was eight o’clock.
Nikki sat on the edge of Victoria’s bed. All the information she’d gleaned about Rex and the potential players seemed like a jumble to her in her head. She needed someone to bounce ideas off. Jeremy was entertaining his in-laws this weekend; she intended to stay far away from that. Besides, she didn’t want to get Jeremy involved.
And Jessica . . . She didn’t dare talk to Jessica right now about anything pertaining to her case. It had taken Nikki an hour the day before to talk Jessica down after Detective Lutz had called to say that Rex had died Saturday night and that she needed to come downtown to be reinterviewed. Nikki hadn’t heard how it had gone and was half-afraid to call Jessica to ask.
According to Detective Lutz, Rex’s time of death had been narrowed down to between nine p.m. Saturday night and three a.m. Sunday, the night of Edith’s party. So now Nikki had to adjust her timeline. She needed to know where all her suspects were during that time frame.
“Nicolette?”
Nikki turned to her mother. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “Long day.” She reached down to stroke Ollie’s head, then Stanley’s. Both lay at her feet. Actually, Ollie was lying on her foot, looking up at her with those big brown eyes. She’d been neglecting them these last two weeks and they had no qualms about letting her know it. “Yes, Thompson told me that if I didn’t leave him and Edith alone, I would ruin everything. He was semi-rude again.”
“Can you blame him?” Victoria smoothed her pink and white bedspread.
Nikki spotted the shape of a pack of cigarettes under the bedspread and the faint scent of air freshener. She imagined there was an ashtray somewhere. But she only had so much fight in her and tonight she was running on reserves. She let it go.
“Still, Edith needs to work on his manners,” Victoria continued. “Imagine, not even being at the party to greet the guest of honor Saturday night.”
“He wasn’t there Saturday afternoon.” She was getting such a kink in her neck leaning over to pet the dogs that she got off the bed and sat down on the floor. “I told you that.”
“What are you doing on the floor, Nicolette? I’m trying to talk to you.”
“They miss me,” Nikki crooned to Ollie. “They’ve had more attention from Sabrina this week than from me.”
“Who’s Sabrina?”
Nikki rubbed Stanley’s back and he rolled over so she could rub his belly. He made sweet little grunting dog sounds as she rubbed vigorously. “My dog walker. She takes them out midday for me.”
“Get back up here where I can see you.” Victoria patted the bed. “Them, too.”
Nikki looked at her mother. In Nikki’s house, there was nowhere that wasn’t fair game for the dogs, except maybe the refrigerator. They had full rein of the house: beds, couches, lawn chairs. They had their own chair in the family room. Victoria did not allow dogs on beds. “You serious?” she asked her mother.
Victoria batted her eyelashes. “Hurry up. Put them up here before I change my mind.”
Nikki scooped up Oliver and dropped him on the bed. He immediately sashayed up to Victoria and plopped down on the pillow beside her. Stanley made the decision to stay near Nikki once she was seated on the bed again. He lay down and rested his muzzle on her thigh.
“Anyway,” Victoria said. “Christopher . . . Thompson, whatever his name is, was not there to greet me. Can you imagine the gall? Edith was positively mortified. Rightly so.”
“Okay, go back,” Nikki said. “What do you mean, Thompson wasn’t there? I saw him. I spoke to him.”
“Apparently he was called away.” She scratched Oliver beneath the chin. “Edith apologized profusely. Maybe he had a waitress emergency?”
Nikki shook her head. “That rumor wasn’t true. I told you that. Tiffany was dating Rex, not Thompson.”
“Dating?” Victoria arched one perfect eyebrow. “Is that what you call it these days?”
Nikki rolled her eyes and then went on. “Mother, this is a big deal. Don’t you see? Rex was killed the night of the party. Now we know Thompson wasn’t there for the entire thing.” She narrowed her eyes. “You sure he wasn’t there? He didn’t just go upstairs or something?”
“Are you asking me if he was intentionally avoiding me? I don’t think so, Nicolette. He likes me. He thinks I’m funny.” She scratched Oliver behind the ears. “You think he ran off to kill Rex?”
“I don’t know. But we have to consider the possibility, don’t we?” Nikki sighed, trying to think clearly. “Do you know what time he left the party?”
“How would I know that?” Oliver had inched his way across the pillow and was now resting his head on Victoria’s lap. “He simply wasn’t there when I asked Edith where he was.”
“I wonder who would know for sure if he left that night and if so, when?” Nikki thought aloud.
“What about her housekeeper? Ina certainly knows more about the comings and goings in this house than I do.”
Nikki turned to her mother with a smile. “You’re brilliant. You know that?”
Victoria stroked Oliver. “So I’ve been told.”
On the way home, Nikki called Jessica. She didn’t pick up, but she called right back.
“Hey,” Nikki said, lowering her headlight beams as a car approached. “How’d the interview with Detective Lutz go?”
“Fine,” Jessica sighed. “He asked me all the same questions, just about Saturday instead of Monday.”
Nikki thought she heard a man’s voice in the background. “You out?”
“No, I’m home.”
“Someone there?”
“Just Pete from next door. We were having a glass of wine. So, anyway, the interview was fine.”
“What did you tell him?”
“What do you mean, what did I tell him? I told him the truth. I went to Edith’s party, then I went to In & Out and got a burger, and then I went home to eat it. I used my credit card to pay at In & Out and Pete can verify what time I got home.”
“Wait a minute.” Nikki stopped at a stop sign. There were no cars behind her so she sat there for a minute. “What about you saying yesterday that you didn’t have an alibi?”
“Yeah, I was kind of a mess yesterday. I didn’t mean to flip out like that. PMS.” She gave a little laugh. “Sorry. After I talked to you, I remembered seeing Pete in the hall that night. He already talked to Detective Lutz.”
“So you’re no longer a suspect?”
Jessica sighed. “I’m still a person of interest. You know, because he was dead in my apartment.”
Nikki heard the male voice again. Pete. “Well, I’ll let you go.” She glanced into her rearview mirror to see that the dogs were sitting nicely in their kennel, and then pulled through the intersection. “Enjoy your wine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Thanks!”
And then Nikki was alone, just her and her boys.
* * *
Saturday morning, Nikki pulled up to Edith’s gate five minutes after Edith left for her tennis lesson. She called the house and Chessy opened the gate for her. When Nikki walked into the kitchen, she was greeted with the heavenly smell of chicken and potatoes. Chessy was standing at one of the counters, rolling out dough.
“Smells great, Chessy.”
“Chicken potpie. My grandmama’s recipe. I got extra. You want me to whip up one for you and Miss Victoria?” She was wearing a flowered apron right out of the 1940s. “Your mama says I’m the best cook in Hollywood, better than any of those chefs in them fancy restaurants.”
“ ’Course it’s not necessary. It’s what nice folk do for each other. And your mama, she’s nice folk.” Chessy continued to roll out the pie crust with a big wooden rolling pin. “You know what your mama did the night of the party? She come back here to the kitchen to thank me for them hors d’oeuvres we served. I tol’ her, most I didn’t make. It was all the caterers done that, but she said she wanted to thank me anyway because she knew it was a big job, servin’ all them people at the party and keepin’ everything straight.”
“She came back here? My mother?” Nikki leaned on the opposite side of the counter.
“Sure did. She does things like that. My cousin Ida’s friend JoJo said she was once workin’ some party at a hotel downtown and Ms. Victoria Bordeaux come into the bathroom, told JoJo she looked like she was tired, and said they should both sit down. Right there in the bathroom. On them little stools they got.” Chessy threw a pinch of flour on the dough. “It was years ago, but people don’t forget them things.”
Nikki smiled, imagining Victoria and a ladies’ room attendant taking a load off in a bathroom at some $2500 a plate benefit dinner. It sounded like something Victoria would do. “The party was actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Edith’s party.”
“You didn’t come to peel shrimp?”
Nikki shook her head with a laugh. “No, but I’ll peel them if you need me to.”
“I’m just messin’ with you, Nikki. Shrimp don’t go in chicken potpie. You don’t cook much, do you?”
“Back to the party, Chessy. Do you know if Mr. Christopher left during the party?”
She wrinkled up her nose. “How would I know that? You know how many people I had runnin’ in and out of my kitchen that night? It’s a wonder I know if I was here!” She cut her eyes at Nikki. “Why you askin’?”
“I talked with Mr. Christopher early on in the evening. Shortly after my mother arrived, I left. Mother said she never spoke with Thompson. That Edith said he’d been called away.”
“Called away where?” Chessy harrumphed as she lifted the perfect circle of dough and laid it in a glass pie plate. “I don’t think they got emergencies on the toothpaste commercial set on Saturday nights, do you?”