Mayhem in High Heels

by Gemma Halliday

  I heard Marco pipe up in the background. "You know I'm right. It's just too tacky."

  Oh great. If Marco thought it was tacky, we were in real trouble.

  "What is it that you disagree about?" I asked.

  "Well, I think you should come look for yourself."

  "You're worrying me."

  "No, it's no biggie," she said. Only the forced lightness in her voice didn't make me feel any better.

  "It's a very big biggie," Marco yelled in the background.

  "Dana..."

  "Listen, just meet us here in an hour," she said, rattling off an address. I grabbed a pen from the glove box and quickly wrote it down on my hand. "We'll show you everything then," she promised, "and you can make a decision. K?"

  "Okay, but Dana-" It was no use. She'd already hung up.

  "Trouble with the dream wedding?" Felix asked, crossing his hands behind his head and leaning back against the headrest.

  "Everything's peachy."

  "You're a terrible liar."

  "So I've been told," I mumbled.

  "So, where are we off to then?"

  I punched him in the arm.

  "Ow. You've been working out, haven't you?"

  Was it awful that a little part of me was pleased someone noticed my newfound gym body?

  "All right, if you won't spill it," Felix went on, "I'll tell you what I'd like to know. I for one would like to know who Gigi was meeting the day before she died who was so important she cancelled on Mitsy Kleinburg."

  I bit my lip. I had to admit I'd been wondering that, too. "We could go ask Allie."

  "Allie?"

  "Gigi's assistant. She kept a copy of Gigi's schedule on her phone organizer thingie, but I didn't actually ask which appointments she kept."

  The corners of Felix's mouth tilted up. "'Phone organizer thingie'?"

  "Shut up."

  "Is that a technical term?"

  "Shut. Up."

  "See, what I'd like to know is how you can tell a thingie from a doohickey. Or a thingamabob for that matter."

  "You are really annoying, you know that?"

  He shot me his most charming grin, showing off two perfect little dimples.

  I gave him the finger. "As I was saying, Gigi was in the habit of scheduling everything. If something came up, maybe Allie would have a guess who or what that something was."

  "It's certainly worth a try. Let's have a chat with her, shall we?"

  As much as I'd rather have "chatted" with Allie alone, it was clear Felix was in this for the long haul. I shrugged, resigned to my tag-along.

  "Fine. But you're pitching in for the gas."

  Chapter Ten

  I dialed Allie's cell as I pulled away from the curb. She answered on the third ring and informed me she was at school today but had a break between classes in half an hour. I hopped back on Santa Monica, heading west toward UCLA, snaking my way through Westwood until I hit the ginormous campus. After parking in a lot near the building she'd indicated and spending a full ten minutes trying to figure out the complicated parking voucher machine (I finally gave up, crossing my fingers the lot Nazis didn't catch me), Felix and I made our way across the campus to the student center, were Allie was waiting for us at an outdoor cafe, iPod buds in her ears, a Red Bull in one hand and a textbook in the other.

  I waved as we approached.

  She looked up, her eyes still rimmed in the same dark smudges as the last time I'd seen her. Apparently between Gigi and algebra, Allie still wasn't sleeping. She was dressed today in a pair of faded jeans, Ugg boots, and a v-neck sweater dipping low enough to illustrate just how much kinder the boob fairies had been to her than they had to me.

  "Hey, Maddie," she said, pulling her headphones out and letting them dangle around her shoulders

  "How are you doing?" I asked, putting on my most sympathetic voice.

  "Oh, you know..." She trailed off, looking at a spot on the ground.

  Felix cleared his throat. I turned to find his eyes riveted to Allie in a way that clearly spoke of V-neck approval.

  "Allie, this is a... uh... a friend," I said, almost choking on the word. "Felix."

  "Hi," Allie said, extending a hand his way.

  He took it. Holding on just a little too long. "Charmed."

  "He's a reporter," I told her.

  Suddenly Allie's big brown eyes lit up, taking Felix in with renewed interest. "Cool."

  "Allie's a journalism major," I explained.

  Though, I probably could have said, "Allie's a two-headed dragon who can fart rainbows" and it wouldn't have made any difference. She was blonde, perky, and had big boobs. Felix was riveted.

  "Well, any tricks of the trade you'd like to learn, I'm happy to impart my wisdom."

  I'd bet my Manolos that wasn't all he'd like to impart.

  "Who do you write for?" Allie asked, leaning so far forward I feared the girls would pop out any second.

  "The L.A. Informer."

  And just like that the interest tanked. "Oh. A tabloid." Allie sat back in her seat again, all but sneering out the word 'tabloid'.

  My thoughts exactly.

  "Listen, Allie," I said, pulling out a chair, "I was wondering if we could ask you something about Gigi's schedule?"

  Allie nodded. "Sure. What's up?" She pulled her super phone out of a book bag with little hearts on it resting on the seat beside her.

  "Gigi's appointment with Mitsy Kleinburg the day before she died. Mitsy says Gigi cancelled it at the last minute."

  "Oh. Wow," Allie said, clearly taken aback. "Gigi was a stickler about schedules, that's not like her."

  That's what I thought. "She said something came up unexpectedly. Do you have any idea what that may have been?"

  Allie pursed her lips together, wrinkling her forehead in a way that would surely mean chemical peels later, but was completely adorable on a perky co-ed.

  "No," she finally said. "Like I said, that was really out of character. But it must have been something important."

  "Any idea who would rate such importance? Could it be another client?" Felix asked. "Hot celebrity perhaps, bumping Mitsy?" I could see him fishing for a story.

  But Allie shook her head from side to side. "No way. Gigi didn't do favoritism. She treated all her clients the same way. One reason why she was so popular. Everyone felt like a celebrity with her."

  I had to admit, it was true. I'd always felt like Gigi was there to cater to my every wedding whim when I'd been with her. Not that I had a lot of whims. But I'd always felt she was as invested in my having a fabulous wedding as I was.

  For a brief moment I felt a pang of regret that Gigi wouldn't be around to see all her hard work come to fruition.

  Then again, considering the way things were shaping up with the Theme Team, maybe that was a good thing.

  "Sorry, I really wish I could help," Allie said, "but there were some things Gigi kept to herself, you know?"

  "Any idea how well Gigi and Paul Fautson got on?" Felix asked, changing gears.

  "Oh, they've known each other for ages," Allie said. "I got the impression there might have even been something between them at one point. Oh, but that was long over with," she quickly added, noting the juicy-gossip light flicker on in Felix's eyes.

  "How long is long?" I probed.

  "Before her ex-husband. I know Paul always resented him."

  "The ex?"

  She nodded. "Gigi didn't talk about him around Paul much. But a few weeks ago she mentioned his name and Paul got all tense and red in the face. He said he couldn't wait until she was 'clear of the bastard for good.'"

  "Any idea what he meant by that?"

  She shrugged.

  A lot of help she was.

  But... if Paul still carried a flame for Gigi, it was possible he wasn't all that thrilled about her seeing a new guy, either. I wondered just how tightly wound the stoic baker was. Enough to snap at the idea of losing Gigi again?

  I was about to ask her just how well
she knew Fauston, when her phone vibrated to life in her hands. She flipped the little screen around.

  "Sorry, text from my study partner," she explained, flipping the mini keyboard out and sending back a reply.

  A light bulb went off in my head as I watched Allie's fingers fly across the keyboard. Mitsy had said Gigi texted her to cancel their appointment. I wondered how many other messages might be stored on Gigi's phone...

  "Did Gigi do much texting?" I asked as Allie sent off her message and set the phone down.

  She nodded. "Totally. It was her fav mode of communication. She rarely spoke on the phone, said it took too long wading through chit chat to get to the important stuff."

  That sounded like Gigi all right.

  "So, it's possible that whoever caused her to cancel on Mitsy might have sent her a text that day?"

  Allie nodded. "And if she did, the message would still be stored on her phone."

  "Which is likely in the hands of the LAPD," Felix reminded us.

  Right. I slumped back in my chair. So much for my light bulb moment.

  Allie chewed her lower lip. "But wouldn't the phone company still have a record of that stuff?"

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "She's right." Felix nodded. "Any information that gets sent from your phone has to go through your wireless company. While they don't like you to think about it, any data you have, they have as well."

  "Wait-" I said, holding up a hand. "You mean if I text something to my boyfriend, some employee at T-mobile is reading it?"

  "It's not exactly that simple, but, yes, there is a record of the data buried somewhere in their server."

  I felt my cheeks go hot, remembering the racy messages Ramirez and I had exchanged that night he'd been on a stakeout near the Hollywood Bowl.

  That's it, I was never texting again.

  "Generally they erase the data after a few days to make room for more, but," Felix said, leaning forward with excitement now, "if Gigi did receive a text from Mr. Anonymous that day, there should still be a record of it at the phone company. All we need to do is get the record."

  "But I doubt they'd give that sort of information up to us," Allie reasoned.

  "Give, no. But that doesn't mean we can't take a peek on our own."

  Uh oh. I knew that twinkle in Felix's eye.

  Felix hadn't become one of L.A.'s most hated tabloid reporters without learning a few key skills along the way. Most of which I couldn't discuss in front of Ramirez without giving him a dozen different reasons to arrest Felix. While I didn't condone some of his practices, I had to admit they had come in handy on one or two occasions. Most notably, his ability to hack into anything with a USB connection.

  As Felix explained the intricacies of slipping in the phone company's back door, my eyes started to glaze over from the techno babble.

  Allie, on the other hand, was leaning so far forward I could see her bra color. Hot pink.

  "You can really do that?" she asked, her voice a little breathless.

  "It may take a bit of time, but, yes, I'm pretty sure we can."

  "Wow, I'm impressed."

  "Ah, er, thanks."

  I looked over. Good lord, was Felix actually blushing?

  "I will need some information about her account first, though," he added.

  "Anything," Allie breathed.

  Felix shifted in his seat. Yep, that was totally a blush. I swear to God if I saw a snake in his pants, I was leaving - bet or no bet.

  "A copy of her phone bill should have all the account information I need."

  Allie nodded. "Done. She kept copies of all that stuff at the office as well as at home. I can easily grab one from L'Amore."

  "Allie, you are gem."

  She grinned, showing off a row of white teeth.

  She took a sip of her Red Bull, then glanced down at her watch. "Oh shit. I've got class in five," she said, gathering up her books. Then she paused, turning her big doe eyes on Felix. "I've got a study group tonight, but maybe we could get together for lunch or something tomorrow and I could bring you a copy of the phone bill then?"

  "That would be lovely," Felix said, grabbing a pen and writing his address down for her on a napkin.

  Why did I have the feeling I was witnessing some sort of hook up here?

  Allie shoved the napkin in her book bag and gave Felix one more cute co-ed smile before chucking her Red Bull can in the trash and getting up.

  "Bye, Maddie," she said. Though I noticed her eyes hadn't left Felix since he said the word "hack." Apparently that was one skill they didn't teach serious journalism students at UCLA. "See you later, Felix," she said, practically skipping away from the student center.

  Poor kid. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

  I jabbed Felix in the side as he watched her walk away.

  "I think you're drooling."

  He didn't answer, mesmerized by the sway of her round little hips in those skinny little jeans.

  "You know she's like twenty, right?"

  Felid tore his gaze (with difficulty) away from Allie's butt. "And?"

  "And she's way too young for you."

  He grinned. "Is that a note of jealousy I detect?"

  "No!" I said. A little louder than I meant to, I realized, as a group of pigeons fluttered out of my way. "No," I said again in a normal person's voice. "I'm just pointing out how ridiculous it would be to get involved with someone that much younger than you are."

  "Your advice is duly noted," he said. Though I caught him staring at Allie's butt again as she rounded the corner of the student center.

  I rolled my eyes.

  "Listen," I said, glancing at my watch, "I've gotta go meet Dana. Wedding stuff," I added.

  "Ah." He cleared his throat, quickly looking away. "Well, I suppose I'll be off. I think I've done enough groom duties for one day."

  "Cute. Listen, let me know when you get something from the phone company."

  Felix cocked his head to one side. "Does this mean we're working together again?"

  I bit my lip. As much as I wanted to say 'no,' I was the one who needed him this time. I cringed inside as I forced my lips to form the word, "Yes."

  Two dimples appeared in his cheeks. "I knew you'd come around."

  I tried to ignore the conflicted feelings in my gut as his mega-watt smile aimed at me. Instead, I turned away, making for the parking lot.

  "Call me," I shot back once more.

  He nodded. But I noticed he didn't follow. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets, sauntering off the way Allie had disappeared.

  A tiny undistinguishable feeling gnawed at my gut. I told myself it was disgust at seeing him make a fool of himself for someone who thought 'Pong' was something to be played at keggers.

  Because one thing was for certain.

  No way was it jealousy.

  * * *

  I hopped onto the 405 south and fifteen minutes of mid-afternoon traffic later, I pulled up to the address Dana had given me.

  And blinked.

  It was a small suite in one of those brand new retail complexes where all the stores looked the same. A Pier One sat at one end, a Payless Shoes and a Trader Joe's at the other. In the middle was Happily Ever After Animals, a sign on the window advertising ring-pillow dog collars for your canine best man.

  My first urge was to drive away. Fast. My hand hovered over the gear shift.

  But, knowing Marco and Dana, if I didn't go in there and rein in whatever harebrained scheme they'd come up with to make my "special day" more memorable, I'd likely end up with a toucan at my Romance in Paradise themed wedding.

  How did I get myself into these things?

  I parked in an empty space near the door and, clubbing my steering wheel, took a deep fortifying breath.

  A bell chimed as I entered and got my first glimpse of the place.

  Racks of shelves held tiny little tuxedos and white dresses for animals of varying shapes, sizes and species. Matching li
ttle top hats and bridal veils with elastic straps and ear holes cut out sat beside them. Silk leashes, collars, and brightly colored bows lined the walls, along with bags of environmentally friendly bird seed in little wedding bell-shaped cups. From somewhere near the back I could hear a bird squawking and the faint scent of animal droppings mixed with cedar shavings filled the air.

  All in all, nothing about the place jived with the wedding I'd envisioned.

  "Mads, I'm so glad you're here," Marco called, emerging from the aisles. He grabbed me by the arm and propelled me toward the back of the store, where the pungent animal scents grew. "Honey, we have got a huge dilemma."

  "Uh huh. Why are we here?"

  Marco ignored me, racing on. "We have been going back and forth for simply ages and can't seem to agree. I told Dana you wanted a fun, modern wedding, but she's stuck on some old traditional thing."

  "Uh huh. Fun how?"

  "See, I knew you'd agree with me. Wait until you see what we have picked out. You are just going to die, dahling!"

  That's what I was afraid of.

  Marco propelled me to a line of metal cages, all filled with birds. Dana stood at the last one, making little kissy faces through the bars at the occupant.

  "Aren't they adorable?" she asked as I approached.

  I looked into the cage. Four white doves sat inside, perched on a wooden twig.

  "Doves?" I asked.

  Dana nodded vigorously, her blonde bangs bobbing up and down. "Uh huh. We're going to release them at the ceremony right after you say, 'I do.'"

  "Or..." Marco said, turning me around to face the opposite wall.

  I noticed it was lined with glass terrariums like the one my nephew kept his pet lizard in. Only these were filled with butterflies. Hundreds of butterflies.

  "Or, we release butterflies! They're so much more colorful. Can you imagine the scene? Hundreds of tiny butterflies spreading their wings toward the heavens as you and Ramirez are joined as one." Marco looked up toward the stained ceiling tiles as if he could see them now.

  "Yeah," Dana said, spinning me back toward the birds. "But doves are symbolic. The say 'love.'"

  Marco grabbed my arm and spun me back the other way. "Doves are so overdone. Butterflies are fresh, new. Like your life with Ramirez will be. A new beginning."