He’d pushed her away and watched in horror as her head hit the kitchen counter, as Joe had said. Shocked and terrified, it had taken him a long time to get a grip on the awful truth of her death.
Zac swallowed hard and rubbed at his eyes. “There was blood on her dress. And I knew she was gone, that it didn’t matter, but she would’ve hated that. Blood made her queasy. So I got out these old clothes of mine she used to borrow when it was just the two of us staying in, sweats and this cheesy souvenir T-shirt we found on our honeymoon, and put her in those instead.”
The way he told it was deeply compelling. Heartbreaking. And while Connor’s voice in the back of my head kept forcibly reminding me that Zac was an actor who’d had plenty of time to practice his lines, the fact Hunt had let him out must mean they’d bought the story too.
After he’d finished and I’d made the appropriate expressions of sympathy—not hard to do since he had me tearing up along with him—he spoke again. “I know this must be very awkward for you, but you’re welcome to ask me any questions about it.”
I could think of only one. “What did she say to you that night? On the red carpet?”
His face broke in grief once more. “That she was pregnant, and there was a one in six chance it was mine.”
23
I was sure Joe and Jeff would’ve mentioned Alyssa’s pregnancy to me when they were relaying the coroner’s findings, so I was betting it was fake. But as awful as I felt that Zac was under the illusion he’d killed not only his wife but his child too, I wasn’t going to risk the girls by saying anything.
I thanked him for his candor, regretted the lack of mine, and we drove the rest of the way in near silence.
By weird coincidence, we arrived at the hotel hosting Alyssa’s post-funeral reception right behind Dr. Dan. As I watched him hand over his keys to the valet, the pink pacifier key ring distracting me enough that I managed not to glare, an idea popped into my head. Harper should be around here somewhere since she’d been surveilling him. I asked Zac to excuse me for a bit and gave her a call.
“Hey, I noticed Dr. Dan has a delightful pacifier key ring and was thinking I’d like to take a closer look. Maybe copy a few of his keys so if we ever find that facility of his we have a better chance of getting in without setting off alarms. What do you think?”
“I think if we can get rid of the valets, it’s a good idea.”
“That was where I was hoping you’d come in. They’re busy enough right now that we should be able to wait until they’re down to one, and you could distract the remaining person while I grab the keys.”
“Let’s do it.”
We didn’t have to wait long for every spare valet to be gone parking cars, leaving just the one that seemed permanently attached to the stand. Harper waltzed up to the kid who barely looked old enough to drive. His slight frame, unfashionable, shaggy hair, and spotty face made me suspect he got friend-zoned a lot.
“Hey, honey. I’ve always thought this would be a cool job. What’s the most awesome car you’ve ever gotten to drive?”
He looked both flustered and pleased. “A Tesla Model S.”
“Ooh, the newest model rated as the third fastest car in the world?”
He nodded, perhaps wondering whether to pinch himself. A hot chick talking to him who also loved cars?
“That’s amazing,” Harper cooed. “Zero to sixty miles in two and a half seconds. Be honest, do you ever take them for a joyride?”
“Nuh-uh. A lot of these folks watch their odometers like hawks.”
“I can fix that.”
“What?”
“I’m a mechanic. I can fix that if you wanna go for a spin with me.”
The poor kid looked like a martyr refusing a quick and painless end. “I can’t,” he choked. “I have to stay and watch the stand. Boss wants someone here at all times; he’s very strict about it.”
“That’s a shame. There are so many beautiful cars lined up waiting to be parked. Like that convertible just there. You wouldn’t get in any trouble for letting me sit in it would you?”
“Well, actually…”
Harper wandered over and jumped in the open top.
The kid bustled helplessly after her. “Ma’am, I must ask you to step out of the car.”
I glanced around to make sure no other valets were returning yet and went up to the stand. The kid watching it had been in such a hurry to get Harper out of the car that he hadn’t locked it. I grabbed the doc’s keys with their stupid but convenient pacifier and got away as fast as possible.
Harper was telling the valet how she’d always wanted to make love in a convertible, with the stars shining down, and his voice was getting squeakier as he insisted she exit the vehicle.
I gave Harper the thumbs up sign so she could stop torturing the poor kid and disappeared into the hotel.
Now I just had to figure out how to make a copy of them and get them back to the valet stand before anyone realized they were missing. Oh, and return to Zac as soon as possible.
When I’d formed my hasty plan, I hadn’t thought this bit through. I had a vague recollection of seeing a YouTube video once where someone made a key out of the lid of a sardine can, but I didn’t have time to watch three videos to learn how to do it. I didn’t have a sardine can either. I called Connor.
No answer. Not unusual. He was often in situations where answering his phone wasn’t optimal.
I called Harper. No answer there either. Maybe she was under Doctor Evil’s car and couldn’t afford to draw attention. Or maybe she was chatting up some new arrogant knucklehead with a car that’d caught her fancy.
That left me with only one other option. An option that would cost me dearly unless I could come up with a very creative cover story. I called Etta.
“How can I make a copy of a key? Fast?”
“Now why would I know how to do that?”
“Drop the harmless-old-lady act. I know better.”
“Good girl. Do you need the copy right away or just to be able to copy it later?”
“Later’s fine.”
“Easy way or the fun way?”
“Etta!”
“All right. Hold your horses. You’re going to need a lighter, sticky tape, and a sheet of paper or some other kind of flat surface to stick the tape onto.”
“Are you messing with me?”
“No. Can you get that stuff or not? There are other methods, but they’re less precise.”
“Um, yeah, I guess so.”
“Okay, here’s what you’re going to do. Hold a lighter over the key until it goes black. Wait a little while for it to cool, then stick the tape over the key which will pull an exact print of it, and stick the tape onto the paper. You’ll need to do that with both sides of the key. Then you can just give the impressions to me, and I’ll have a shiny new key for you by morning.”
I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking. Right then. Time to bum a lighter and sticky tape of some kind. At least I had an old grocery list in my bag that would serve as the paper.
I power walked to the front desk to ask for tape, but there were three people in front of me. I couldn’t afford to wait. I followed the hotel signs to one of the smoking areas and smiled at the elderly woman inside. “I was wondering if I could borrow your lighter?”
“Sure,” she said, “get your ciggy ready, and I’ll light it for you.”
“Ah, no, I mean, actually borrow the lighter. I’ll have it back to you in five, maybe ten minutes.”
She raised her drawn-on eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”
I rummaged in my purse. Damn, I only had two twenties in there. I pulled one of them out. “I’ll give you twenty for it.”
She raised her other drawn-on eyebrow. “Make it fifty and you have a deal.”
I almost choked. “Fifty?” Her lighter was the cheap, generic kind you’d find at the Dollar Store. I bet it cost less than a dollar.
She breathed out a mouthful of smoke, unconcerned.
Time was ticking. “I only have forty in my purse. Will that do?”
She smiled. “Sure. That’ll do.”
I handed her the cash, snatched the lighter, and raced back through the door only to run into Doctor Evil. Or Dr. Dan I reminded myself.
Recognition dawned on his face. “Oh, hello. Nice to see you again so soon.”
I noticed he avoided my name, probably because he’d forgotten it. That was fine with me. His keys were burning a hole in my bag, and the less attention he paid me the better.
The recognition turned into a light frown. “Although I don’t remember seeing a history of smoking on the forms you filled out for us…”
I shot him a sheepish smile. “Stress smoking, you know? I’m here for a funeral.”
He nodded sympathetically. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything in front of your partner.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. What brings you here anyway?”
“The same as you by the sound of it. The reception for Alyssa Hill.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you knew Alyssa?”
“I didn’t. Not well. But I’ve always been a huge fan of hers. I got into the business because I love children, and she was all about saving them, so I wanted to come by briefly to pay my respects.”
My mind filtered through the bullshit he was spouting and landed on the word “briefly.” That could be problematic.
I extricated myself as fast as I could and rushed back to the front desk. Now there were four people waiting in line. Dammit. Where else could one get tape in a hotel?
A woman walking past with a dress that was barely hanging on to her voluptuous figure gave me an idea. Hollywood fashion tape. That would probably work.
Unfortunately, I was out of cash, so I’d have to rely on charm. I checked to see whether she was carrying a bag—she was—and hurried after her. “Excuse me, miss. My friend is having a wardrobe malfunction, and I was wondering whether you had any spare Hollywood fashion tape on you?”
She looked me over. “I can see why your scrawny ass wouldn’t know any better, but when you’re blessed with abundant assets like mine, you don’t need any tape to hold the fabric in place.”
I eyed her abundant assets and the leopard-print material clinging to them. “Um, my mistake then. Sorry.”
“But it just so happens I’m carrying some for a friend who’s too vain to carry a purse that doesn’t match her outfit. How much do you need?”
Eek. I hadn’t considered that part. Doctor Evil had three keys other than the one for his car. Since I had to get a print of both sides, that meant a significant length of tape.
“A lot, I’m afraid. My friend is having a major wardrobe malfunction. The kind that teenage nightmares are made of.”
My generous rescuer pursed her lips but rummaged through her giant bag and gave me enough fashion tape for six key impressions.
“Thank you so much.”
I raced to the nearest bathroom to maintain my wardrobe-malfunction story, blessing her abundant assets all the way. Then I locked myself in a cubicle and got to work. To save time, I blackened all the keys at once and only mildly burned my fingers doing it. Thankfully, there was very little smoke. The last thing I needed was to set off an alarm.
I waited a minute for them to cool, then stuck the fashion tape on the first side of one of the keys as Etta had instructed, peeled it off again for a perfect imprint, and stuck it onto my grocery list. Five repetitions later, I was left with six neat key impressions… and three black keys.
Should’ve seen that coming.
I grabbed a few sheets of toilet paper and rubbed at the black coating. The good news was the soot was starting to come off. The bad news was the toilet paper was the cheap variety and kept disintegrating. With visions of Doctor Evil finishing his cigarette and strolling to the exit, I ditched the toilet paper and used the inside fabric of my dress.
Ta-da. Wiping a last smudge off the pink pacifier, I shoved everything into my bag and hotfooted it to the valet stand.
This was another bit I hadn’t thought through. The valets were still busy, with just two of them milling around. But there was no way I could slip the key back into place without Harper’s assistance, and I didn’t think we could use the same trick twice.
With no better ideas, I chose a casual path that would take me behind our young friend who was guarding the stand, checked that neither of them were looking in my direction, and dropped the keys by his feet, coughing as I did so to cover the noise. One of the valets would notice them soon—the pink pacifier would make sure of that—and would be puzzled but none the wiser. Or so I hoped.
I sent Harper a quick message to warn her the doc would be leaving soon, then entered the relevant function room to find my long-abandoned client.
24
The rest of my time at the hotel was uneventful. Zac caught a lot of questioning looks, but no one was rude enough to ask him outright what the police had detained him for. Although he did request that I keep an eye out for Alyssa’s estranged mother so he could avoid her at all costs.
I thought Alyssa’s reception suited her well. Beautiful, elaborate, and glamorous but lacking sincerity and substance. By the time we were done, I was itching to get back to searching for the girls. Not that I could do anything Harper wasn’t already handling in surveilling Doctor Evil.
Zac dropped me home, thanking me over and over again for accompanying him, and I headed from there to my self-defense lesson. For once, I didn’t mind being stuck in traffic. I needed all the time I could get to come up with a plausible cover story to tell Etta. But when I pulled into a parking space at Stiles Security and Investigation, my best effort—to steal a phrase from Torres—wouldn’t have convinced a bleeping squirrel to pick up a bleeping acorn.
A surprising amount of self-defense involves aiming feet, knees, and elbows at the attacker’s groin, and I remembered Nick had been pleased with the strength of my blows yesterday. So I tapped into my feelings of anger and helplessness at the situation with the girls and put a great deal of effort into rendering an imaginary Doctor Evil infertile. Nick looked worried even with all the padded armor he was wearing, and I considered the lesson a success.
Wrung out and exhausted, I returned to Palms—trying and failing to invent a better story to tell Etta—and hauled myself up the steps. I would have dearly loved to pass by Etta’s door and postpone the inevitable, but if I wanted my afternoon’s efforts at the hotel to amount to something, I had to face her. I knocked.
She took longer than normal to come to the door, or so it seemed in my state of exhaustion and dread. When she did, she was wearing a silk robe instead of her usual elegant dress, and her hair was mussed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your—” I was about to say nap when I spotted the police cruiser out of the corner of my eye. Oh no. Please don’t let Hunt be in the bedroom. “—evening,” I finished awkwardly.
Dudley didn’t feel awkward at all, so I focused on him for a bit.
“No problem if you make it quick, dear,” Etta said.
I gave Dudley one last pet and retrieved my grocery list with the Hollywood tape stuck to it. “I wanted to drop this off to you.”
She smirked. “Is that nipple tape?”
“I had to improvise. Will it work?”
“Sure. I’ll leave the new set under your dead cactus first thing tomorrow morning for you.”
“Um, about why I need them. It’s a pretty crazy story, but—”
She glanced toward the bedroom. “Forget it. We both know you’re making this up. You can keep your secret, but you owe me one.”
Then she shut the door in my face for the second time this week, leaving me free to stumble on to the refuge of my own apartment.
I was halfway across the landing when I remembered my pledge to Harper.
But now wasn’t a good time for Etta. Or so I justified it to myself, and as bad as I felt for Harper, I was already treading on eggshells thanks to the key thing. Quizzing Etta abou
t her mysterious behavior would have to wait.
It was selfish of me, but boy did I hope it was Mae’s fault rather than mine.
Meow wound herself three times around my legs, which I took as my cue to pick her up. Correction, pick her up, feed her, then pick her up again. The cat knew what she wanted. I had to admire that. And regardless of what people said about cats owning their humans instead of the other way around, I was a willing slave to her desires.
She’d just finished her sea-caught tuna and shrimp, and I was carrying out her third demand when Oliver walked through the front door. His T-shirt said KEEP CALM AND KICK THE QUEEN, but despite this and his usual laid-back disposition, his face was anything but calm.
“Uh-oh,” I said. “What did Her Majesty do this time?”
He threw down his keys and went straight for the cookie stash. “It’s not Her Majesty I’m mad at right now. What the bollocks has gotten into Etta? For the past two days, she’s been staking out my bar when I’m on shift and scaring off any girl who comes near me. My tips have gone down the toilet, and there are so many rumors floating around I don’t even know where to start! She told at least three women about her hemorrhoids, which I’m fairly certain she doesn’t have, another half a dozen that I was gay, infertile, or riddled with STDs, and I have no idea what she told this other one, but the girl slapped me on the face and tipped a drink over my head. A drink I’d made her, mind you!” he added as if that was the worst offense. “What the dickens is going on?”
I had a terrible feeling I knew the answer to that question. Well, not the exact answer since I couldn’t even begin to fathom how Etta thought this would get Harper and Oliver together. But as much as I’d like to believe that there was an alternative explanation where I wasn’t to blame, the simplest one was the most plausible.
There was nothing else for it. I was going to have to come clean. But just on that tiny shred of hope that it wasn’t my fault, I’d wait to talk to Etta first.
“I have no idea,” I said.
In lieu of a confession, I cheered Oliver up by coaxing him down in front of his favorite movie and making up a giant bowl of honey-caramel popcorn. By the time I was done making it, Meow was contentedly curled in his lap and I knew I had zero chance of winning her over to mine.
Poison and Prejudice (An Eat, Pray, Die Humorous Mystery Book 4) Page 20