Poison and Prejudice (An Eat, Pray, Die Humorous Mystery Book 4)

by Chelsea Field

  I snatched the phone out of her hand and replaced it with the binoculars. “New topic.”

  While Harper took over watching, I used the opportunity to rest my eyes. The one that was bruised felt particularly weary, and the binoculars weren’t kind to it. And despite drinking sparingly over the past six hours, I needed to pee.

  “Okay, here’s a new topic for you,” Harper said. “When I went to the garage this morning to ask if I could have the day off, you’ll never guess who I saw cozying up to my boss.”

  “Etta?” I said, hoping I was wrong. Surely Etta wouldn’t go so far as to involve Harper’s boss in our matchmaking.

  “Oh. Well, maybe you can believe it.”

  It seemed we were both disappointed I’d guessed correctly.

  “Mom’s overprotectiveness is getting worse if she’s convinced Etta to start checking up on me.”

  I felt a spark of hope. Could that explain it? Etta had just gone to visit Mae, and if Mae had asked her to keep tabs on her daughter, Etta would readily agree. She was always looking for something to keep her entertained.

  But something didn’t quite fit. “It’s strange,” I said. “Mae told Connor off for being overprotective of me when I was investigating that murder for Mr. Black.”

  More specifically, Etta and I—mostly Etta—had chosen to scare off two thugs who were torturing someone instead of safely waiting for the cops. Connor hadn’t been happy about it. Actually, he’d been furious.

  “She said that stopping your loved ones from living out of a fear of losing them wasn’t love and that he needed to learn to be okay with giving them their freedom.”

  I remembered because of the deep impact her words had had on Connor. He hadn’t even lectured me in private later.

  But Harper made a scoffing noise. “Yeah, Mom says all the right things. And it’s true she won’t forbid me from doing what I want, but underneath all that, she’s terrified of seeing us hurt. Any parent is I guess, but losing Dad turned what for most people is a vague fear into a very real and ugly one.” She sighed. “That’s why I’ve never joined the Army. She’d let me of course, tell me it was fine, but it would kill her inside.” Harper glanced at me. “Connor too. They’re both the same, he’s just more obvious about it.”

  I gaped at her. “I didn’t know you wanted to join the Army!”

  “No one does, so don’t go blabbing to my brother. If Mom ever learned about it, she’d torture herself over holding me back, and the whole point of my decision was not to hurt her.” Harper shook her head as if making a sacrifice like that was nothing out of the ordinary. “It’s probably why I date inappropriate men. I need to rebel and get my excitement somehow.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know whether I should commend her for being so selfless or push her to follow her dreams because that’s what her mom would do if she knew the truth. “Wow. Harper, that’s amazing.”

  She made that scoffing noise again. “Whatever. The Army probably doesn’t have any sports cars anyway. Though I wouldn’t mind learning my way around a tank.”

  We lapsed into silence for a while until my bladder reminded me I was stopping it from following its dreams too. I crossed my legs. “Wait, how come the eight-and-a-half-months-pregnant woman hasn’t had to pee yet with a baby bouncing on her bladder?” We’d been watching her for six hours straight.

  “Bitch probably has pelvic floor muscles of steel.”

  I snorted, which made my bladder protest more loudly and was about to suggest we take a toilet break when Taryn moved. We watched as her PA assisted her to the car—never mind that she’d needed no assistance last night—and then slid into the driver’s seat.

  Harper visibly brightened. “Tailing a mark is one time that breaking traffic laws is acceptable, right?”

  I grimaced and loosened the seat belt around my waist in preparation. “Only because of the sob story you just told me.”

  She grinned. “Totally worth it then.”

  But to Harper’s dismay, Taryn’s PA was not an adventurous driver.

  “Man, this is one boring surveillance job,” she complained as we drove sedately through Westside LA.

  “You could entertain yourself by spilling the beans on your brother.”

  She perked up a bit. “What do you want to know?”

  “What was the most embarrassing Halloween costume he ever wore?”

  A wicked expression spread over her face. “He lost a bet once and had to be Princess Leia to my Han Solo.”

  I laughed. “I hope there are pictures. What were his most annoying qualities as a kid?”

  “Same ones as now. He’s almost always right, he doesn’t know how to have fun, and he’s overprotective.”

  “Do you think he’s overprotective for the same reason as Mae?”

  Harper hesitated. “That’s part of it. The other part… you’ll have to ask him about. It’s not my story to tell.”

  She sounded oddly subdued, and I was no longer sure I wanted to hear the story. It had to be bad for her to respect Connor’s wishes.

  Taryn’s PA pulled into the Westside Center for Reproductive Medicine parking lot and found a space. Darn, I’d been hoping we were going somewhere nefarious. I couldn’t see us learning anything useful here.

  On the upside, a waiting room with lots of pregnant women in it would have to have a toilet. I unbuckled my seat belt. Then realized I’d have to use the icky gas station one across the road to avoid being made.

  “Hang on, the name of the clinic rings a bell.” Harper stuck out her hand. “May I have my phone back now?”

  “No childbirth horror stories?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m starting to see why you and Connor get along after all.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Huh. Dr. Dan—that’s the doctor Alyssa was seen with according to those fan sites—works here.”

  Did that suggest we were on the right track? Or just that Alyssa and Taryn were friends and Alyssa had accompanied her to an appointment sometime? What the heck could it have to do with teenage girls? Taryn didn’t even have a horny husband needing a plaything.

  “I have a bad feeling we’re barking up the wrong tree here,” I said, wishing this particular tree had nicer public amenities nearby. “The pieces don’t fit together in any way that makes sense.”

  Harper plonked her phone down and shifted to get comfortable. “Well, it’s the only tree we have to bark up. So let’s stick with it until we find a better one.”

  Despite Harper’s wise words, we did have one other tree left to bark up. We had a stalker to catch. Connor had important meetings he couldn’t miss, so he’d sent one of his security team to follow Taryn while we headed to Zac’s loft.

  My client’s confession and subsequent lockup made it a simple matter to collect bribe material from his home. Getting inside the mind of a crazy person to imagine what they might want was less simple.

  Lucky I had Harper for backup.

  “A photo. His favorite mug.” She ticked the items off on her fingers. “Something he keeps on his nightstand. Hmm, does he keep any memorabilia from his movies? That stuff would be gold.”

  “I think he might have accidentally brought back his fangs one time. But we can’t just steal all this stuff!”

  She gave me a look. “Honey, he’s in jail for killing his wife. A few missing items will be the least of his worries. And didn’t you leave that stalker alone in here? If you’re that worried, you can claim she took it—which will be technically true after we give it to her in exchange for information.”

  She recognized my look of defeat and continued her list. “A T-shirt. Preferably worn so it smells like him. Ooh, definitely his Speedos. And some underwear too. An unwashed pair would be the ultimate bribe.”

  Eww. “If you’re willing to be the one to fetch them, the laundry basket is through there.”

  She eyed the basket. “On second thought, maybe dirty underwear is a step too far.”

  We grabb
ed the other items. But at the back of my mind was the niggling worry that none of this would work. I had left Jennifer alone in here, and she hadn’t taken anything. She’d just replaced the picture of his mom with a picture of herself. Sure she must’ve had a cracker of a headache and known the police would be on their way, but still, what if she didn’t want any of this stuff? What if she only wanted Zac himself?

  We finished collecting our bribes and hustled to get to the police station where Zac was being held. Our Gossip News contact had agreed to publish an online article stating that unconfirmed reports suggested Zachariah Hill would be temporarily released from questioning for undisclosed reasons at two p.m. today. We’d kept it vague and implausible because we were hoping the article would lure out just his most desperate and diehard fans. Nobody wanted the press showing up.

  Once again I had my Taser ready, in addition to all of Zac’s stolen belongings. We sat in our borrowed car and scanned the people and vehicles in the police station parking lot and along the street facing the entrance. My stomach flipped when I caught sight of Jennifer. I wasn’t sure I wanted to face my captor again, but I wasn’t about to make Harper deal with her alone.

  She was kneeling on the sidewalk where she had a good view of the door, pretending to tie her shoe. It was apparently a complicated procedure, as she only straightened when she heard our footsteps coming up behind her. We sped up and secured one arm each to prevent her making a grab for any knives she had handy. Then I pressed my Taser to the small of her back, using my long sleeve to hide it from any officers’ wandering eyes. We had to hope she wouldn’t want to draw attention to herself any more than we did.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” I said. “That’s a weapon against your back if you were wondering.”

  “Let me go,” she hissed. “Zac needs my help to flee the country!”

  “You can help him flee the country in a minute,” I lied. I was intending to walk her into the station when we were finished with her. She was dangerous and needed to be taken off the streets. “We have some questions for you first.”

  Harper hefted the bag she was carrying. “And we have gifts for you if you cooperate.”

  “What kind of gifts?”

  Harper listed them, and while Jennifer’s eyes did spark with interest at the Speedos and fangs, she set her jaw mulishly.

  “Why would I need any of that stuff when I’ll have Zac himself soon?”

  Crap.

  Her gaze landed on me. “I’ll tell you what I want in exchange for answering your questions.”

  What? She wasn’t supposed to be the one setting the terms.

  “I want you to pinky swear that you’ll let me go after this conversation. No police. And that you’ll never press charges for what I did to you.”

  No way.

  But what choice did I have? The girls were more important than this crazy woman. Yet I didn’t feel great about leaving her to stalk someone else. I guess at least with Zac in jail, he wasn’t likely to be endangering any other women by spending time with them in a way Jennifer could misconstrue.

  “I’ll swear it if you hand over your knife.” It was a pathetic gesture, but I didn’t want her gaining the upper hand before we’d even started questioning her. Besides, who knew, maybe she had sentimental reasons for using that knife and wouldn’t be able to find another one to suit her delusional purposes? Yeah, I was being overly optimistic again.

  “No way. What would I chop Zac’s food with then? A good-looking man like Zac needs a woman who can cook.”

  Ugh. “Then at least give me your handcuffs.”

  Her eyes darted between Harper and me. Trying to work out her chances of escape. She must have decided the odds were against her. “Fine. They’re in the van.”

  It seemed as good a place to talk as any. Except for the post-traumatic stress of returning to the place of my captivity. But it was better to talk where she couldn’t make a public scene, and we might be able to confiscate any other weapons she had floating around in there too.

  The dirty and crowded interior of the van was vivid in my memory, but it had undergone a dramatic makeover. All the junk had been carted out, the air smelled like Mr. Clean Summer Citrus rather than stale takeout and unwashed clothes, and it was packed with what appeared to be survival gear. Tinned food. Bottled water. Camping equipment. Suitcases. And an even greater selection of disguises than before.

  Exactly how long had she been planning for this contingency? If Zac hadn’t just confessed, I might’ve suspected Jennifer of killing his wife and dumping her in his trunk to engineer this whole scenario.

  She pointed out the handcuffs, and we used them to secure her to the pull bar. She whined and squirmed and complained it wasn’t very comfortable.

  Good.

  “The sooner you answer our questions, the sooner we’ll let you run off with Zac,” I reminded her. “Now how long have you been… keeping an eye on”—yes, that sounded better than stalking—“Zac?”

  “Ever since the horoscope told me we were meant to be together.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Three months.”

  Okay, that was creepy. But positive since it meant she might have intel for us on Alyssa too. “Did you ever watch Alyssa when Zac wasn’t around?”

  “Yes. I was collecting proof of all her slutty ways so I could show him she was disloyal and unworthy of him.”

  “What kind of proof?” Harper asked.

  “Photos. They’re on my phone.”

  We looked at them with caution, but the photos had only captured Alyssa with other men in public places, not wrapped in the throes of passion. They could’ve been nothing more than friendly business meetings. I flicked through them again one at a time, trying to see if I could learn something.

  Director Torres.

  No surprises there.

  Ashton Kutcher.

  Didn’t mean much. He was the costar in her last movie.

  A Caucasian guy I didn’t recognize.

  Unknown, but judging by the workout gear, there was a good chance he was her personal trainer. I forwarded it to myself for reference.

  Another guy I didn’t know the name of, black this time.

  He looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember what from. Could he be another movie star? He lacked the good looks and stylish clothes you’d expect if that was the case, but Hollywood did occasionally consent to use a normal-looking person. Or maybe I’d seen him in one of the charity photos or snaps from Alyssa and Zac’s honeymoon? I sent it to myself to check later.

  The last photo was of a man Harper pointed out as Dr. Dan.

  The doctor kept popping up. First with Alyssa and then with Taryn who had an “arrangement with Alyssa.” Perhaps that tree might be worth barking up after all. But I still had no idea how the pieces fit together.

  “Have you ever seen any of those same men with Zac?” Harper asked Jennifer.

  “Only the director.”

  I flicked through the photos I’d compiled of possible suspects and brought up a picture of Paul. “Have you seen this guy with Alyssa?”

  “Nope. That’s Zac’s friend. Friends don’t hang out with your evil ex-partners.”

  Okay then.

  I showed her a photo of Taryn Powers next. “What about this woman, have you ever seen her with Zac?”

  Jennifer strained against the handcuffs. “Why? Who is she? She better not be claiming she’s pregnant with his baby!”

  “No. Nope. Definitely not.” Jennifer still looked like she was considering attacking Taryn with a knife, so I added, “That was just a random photo I threw in there to make sure you were telling us the truth.”

  She shoved the phone back to me with the hand that wasn’t cuffed. “You’re wasting my time then. I told you Zac needs me. Let me go!”

  “We have a few last questions. Have you ever seen either Zac or Alyssa with any black teenagers here in America?”

  “No. But I’ve seen photos of them in Africa
with kids of all ages. Do you think Zac would like to go on a second honeymoon to Africa with me?”

  “Um. Maybe.” She was crazier than I thought. Disregarding the fact that Zac wouldn’t wish to go anywhere with Jennifer, who wanted to do a repeat honeymoon with their new love? “Have you noticed either of them acting strangely? Or visiting a neighborhood that seems too run-down for a celebrity?”

  “Zac didn’t swim as long as usual for most of this week.”

  Right. It was disturbing she watched him that closely.

  A smile stole across her thin lips. “And Alyssa got killed.”

  Very helpful. Although while we were on the topic: “Were you at Zac’s Monday night? The night she died?”

  “I might have been.”

  That was a yes then. “Did you see Alyssa arrive?”

  “Yeah, the director of their latest movie dropped Alyssa off at four in the morning.”

  Now, why would Torres do that? If he’d just slept with her, it was an obnoxious move. Could that be why Zac killed Alyssa—in a jealous rage? But then why attack the director last night if he’d known all along?

  “What was she wearing?” Harper asked.

  Jennifer huffed. “That silver scrap of a thing she called a dress.”

  What she’d been wearing on the red carpet. But not what she’d been wearing in Zac’s trunk. What did that mean?

  Harper had taken over the questioning. “Did you hear or see anything after that?”

  “Well, the lights came on, and Zac let her in. But then they closed the blinds.”

  “And?” Harper prompted. “Remember Izzy’s promise not to call the police is contingent on your cooperation.”

  Jennifer stared at us defiantly. “I risked getting closer because I was worried the witch would try to win him back, but I didn’t hear any bedroom noises. Then a few minutes later I heard something crashing to the floor and Alyssa yelling she was going to kill him. Then it got real quiet, and I got out of there in case one of them called the police.”

  “Could you hear Zac shouting too?” I asked.

  “No.”

  Would she snitch on him though? Probably not. Still, it was something I should at least tell Hunt so he could decide what to do with the information. If it was true that Zac had killed her in self-defense, then he shouldn’t get tried for homicide, and Jennifer’s account seemed to support his version of events.