by Lee Hollis
Curtain up.
With a concerned look on his face and a somber tone, Matt greeted Shirley, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his beating heart. “I am so sorry about your tragic loss, Ms. Fox. I know you and Olivia were close friends.”
Shirley stared at him, not sure if he was joking or not.
Poppy had e-mailed Matt a full dossier on where they stood with the case, all the residents they were investigating, and the contentious feud between their client and Olivia Hammersmith. He clearly had forgotten or had neglected to read it.
“He means you were close friends once,” Poppy interjected. “Way back when.”
“Yes, I’ll admit, there was no love lost between me and that woman,” Shirley spit out. “And everyone knows it. That’s why I’m here.”
“Poppy, why don’t you fill Ms. Fox in on what we have so far regarding our efforts to recover her jewelry,” Matt suggested.
Because he had absolutely no idea.
She would scold him later for not doing his homework.
Shirley and Jayden sat down in chairs and looked at her expectantly.
“Yes, well—” Poppy said, rifling through some notes as Violet brought two cups of coffee from the mini-kitchen for Shirley and Jayden.
“I don’t care about that anymore,” Shirley interrupted. “I want you to change the focus of my case.”
“You don’t want us to find your jewelry?” Matt asked, dumbfounded.
“If you do, that’s fine. But I would prefer you concentrate your talents on clearing my name, Mr. Flowers.”
“I’m not following . . . ,” Matt whispered.
Poppy sighed and gingerly stepped forward. “I believe Ms. Fox would like you to help her prove she did not kill Olivia Hammersmith.”
“Oh,” Matt declared, as if lightning had finally struck.
But, alas, it hadn’t, because he still sported a screwed-up, confused look on his face.
“Your secretary is right, Mr. Flowers. Most of the residents at the Palm Leaf were at that tribute for me the day before Patsy here discovered Olivia’s body. . . .”
“Poppy . . . ,” Matt said.
“I’m sorry?”
“Her name is Poppy, not Patsy. And that’s Violet and that’s Iris over there,” Matt said, beaming. “They’re all named after flowers. Isn’t that the cutest damn thing you’ve ever heard?”
Shirley Fox was not amused.
“And they were all witnesses to Olivia publicly humiliating you, and now everyone is convinced that her crashing the tribute was the motive for you to murder her,” Iris said, impatient that it was taking so long to get to the point.
“That’s correct,” Shirley said, sipping her coffee. “I am a lot of things, but I am not a violent person. I would never harm anyone . . . ,” Shirley said before adding, “Physically.”
There were a lot of ex-husbands, past lovers, and mistreated costars who might argue about Shirley’s penchant for mental abuse.
“If that’s what you want us to do, then that’s what we’re going to do, am I right, ladies?” Matt asked, turning to his team of “assistants” hovering in the background.
They all nodded and smiled.
“Then I won’t take up any more of your time, so you can get started,” Shirley said, reaching out for Jayden to help her up on her feet.
Matt gallantly took Shirley by the arm to assist in escorting her to her Rolls-Royce parked outside, but they had not quite made it to the door when it suddenly burst open and Heather stormed into the office.
“Heather, I thought you were working . . . ,” Matt said softly.
“I’m on a break!”
“Have you met . . . ?” Matt asked weakly, gesturing to Shirley, who had been startled by Heather’s sudden and dramatic appearance and was at the moment trying to catch her breath.
“Nice to meet you,” Heather barked without waiting for a proper introduction. “I saw all your movies when I was a kid! But I’m not here to get a selfie with a celebrity. I’m here to put a stop to this ridiculous charade!”
Matt’s bulging eyes pleaded with her to keep her mouth shut, while Poppy, Iris, and Violet stood next to each other, frozen in place, afraid their very first case was about to explode in their faces.
Before she could get another word out, Matt grabbed her forcefully by the arms, pulled her into him, and planted a big sloppy, wet kiss on her face, effectively sealing her lips shut and preventing her from talking anymore.
He held his mouth in place for what seemed like an eternity, but soon realized Shirley and Jayden were not going anywhere. They were too curious to know just how long this kiss was going to last.
Finally, Matt released Heather, who gasped for air as Matt continued to quickly usher Shirley and Jayden out to her Rolls.
“Hold that thought, honey. I’ll be right back,” Matt cooed before turning to Shirley, whom he quickly led out the door. “My girlfriend. We’re very much in love.”
“I can see that,” Shirley said.
Jayden just smiled at Matt lustfully, as if he was picturing himself on the receiving end of one of Matt Flowers’s long, deep kisses.
There was an awkward silence while Matt was outside.
Heather refused to make eye contact with her mother.
“Can I get you some coffee, dear?” Violet offered, attempting to break the tension.
“No, thank you,” Heather answered in a clipped tone.
“I’m sorry I haven’t called, Heather. I’ve been very busy lately,” Poppy said.
Heather half nodded, then looked away again.
Matt bounded back into the garage office.
“Man, that was a close one! I thought Heather was going to blow our cover!” Matt cried, laughing with relief.
“That was my intention before you stopped me,” Heather said.
Matt moved in to kiss her again. “I’m glad you’re here.”
She pushed him away.
“Heather . . . ,” Poppy admonished.
Heather still did not look at her mother. She kept her eyes trained on Matt. “I know my mother is a lost cause. She’s never going to stop putting her life in reckless danger just to make a quick buck. I can beg her until I’m blue in the face, and she’s never going to listen to me. Whoever murdered Olivia Hammersmith could have been still hiding in the house, but she just blundered in there on her own, without any thought to her own safety.”
“To be fair, I wasn’t expecting to find a dead body when I entered the house, Heather . . . ,” Poppy argued.
But Heather ignored her.
Which, in Poppy’s mind, was a cruel slap in the face.
“I have no control over her actions, that’s for damn sure,” Heather growled as her eyes bored into Matt’s. “But you, you I can at least reason with. I want you to stop this big fat lie about you being a world-class detective. I don’t care if it’s some kind of cool acting challenge, and I don’t care that you’re doing this as a favor to my mother. . . .”
“Heather, just let me get through this one case, and then I’ll hang up the Matt Flowers character forever.”
Poppy knew by the look on his face that he could never stop now.
He was having way too much fun.
Matt crossed his heart with his hand. “I promise.”
“That’s not good enough,” Heather said flatly. “Either you give up this ridiculous, foolhardy enterprise right now or we’re finished.”
Another long, awkward pause.
Interrupted only by Iris slurping her coffee, riveted on the showdown like she was engrossed in watching a really good TV drama.
Matt’s head drooped forward, and he sighed.
“I’m sorry it’s come to this, but you leave me with no choice,” Heather said, distraught. “If you’re not outside in five minutes, I’m leaving. For good.”
And then she walked out.
Matt stared at the floor for a long time and then slowly turned to Poppy, Iris, and Violet, who we
re still glued in place, having watched the whole ugly scene unfold.
He smiled sadly and said, “I’m so, so sorry, ladies, but I love Heather too much to let her go.”
After a melancholy tip of his fedora, he walked out of the garage office.
“So what do we do now?” Violet wanted to know.
“We’re going to recover Shirley Fox’s valuables, solve the murder, and get justice for Olivia Hammersmith,” Poppy said with a charged vehemence. “With or without the great Matt Flowers.”
Chapter 33
Poppy immediately went into overdrive on her mission to clear Shirley Fox before the story that she brutally killed her archrival, Olivia Hammersmith, began to firmly take root in the Palm Leaf complex. The following morning, she drove straight to Shirley’s house, where Dash greeted her at the door.
“You’re early. Shirley’s not quite ready yet,” Dash yawned, bare-chested and wearing only white boxer shorts.
“May I come in and wait, please?”
Dash thought about it for a moment, then shrugged and stepped aside, allowing her inside the house.
The place was exquisitely decorated with expensive art pieces from Shirley’s many world travels. Unlike Olivia, Shirley chose not to flaunt the awards she had received from her acting work. If she still possessed the trophies, it appeared they were stuffed in a closet somewhere.
Dash padded into the kitchen, leaving Poppy standing in the foyer. Not bothering to turn his head, he asked, “Want some coffee?”
“No, thank you.”
Dash puttered in the kitchen for a few minutes before roaming back to Poppy, coffee mug in hand, scratching his tousled hair on top of his head. “So why didn’t Flowers come himself?”
“He’s busy questioning other potential suspects,” Poppy lied.
In fact, Iris and Violet were out canvassing the neighborhood and doing all the necessary legwork.
She hadn’t heard from Matt since he left their garage office, chasing after Heather, tail between his legs.
Dash sized Poppy up and down. “You know, you’re still a very attractive woman.”
“Thank you, I think,” Poppy said, racking her brain for a way to quickly change the subject.
“Very fit,” Dash said with a wolfish smile as he kept stepping into her personal space.
“I do Pilates.”
“Is that all? You have a rocking body for a woman in her sixties. What other kinds of exercise do you like to do, Poppy?”
The subtext was obvious.
He wasn’t talking about exercise.
Poppy’s skin crawled as she deliberately inched away from him.
Dash relished the idea that he was making her uncomfortable, and advanced ever so slowly, getting closer and closer, backing her almost up against the front door in the foyer.
Poppy checked the time on her phone.
“Shirley better hurry up, or we’re going to be late.”
“It’s no secret I’m a big fan of older women.”
“Older women or their purse strings?”
“Ouch,” he laughed, raising a hand to his heart. “You hurt my feelings, Poppy.”
He then extended the hand from his heart toward her face, and she recoiled, disgusted.
“If you don’t get out of my personal space, I’m going to knee you in the balls,” Poppy said coldly.
“I consider that foreplay—”
“Sorry I’m late,” Shirley interrupted, putting on a diamond earring as she entered from the bedroom. “It takes me a lot longer to put on my face these days.”
She stopped suddenly at the sight of Dash practically on top of Poppy by the door, but she chose not to comment and simply let it go.
“You look beautiful, darling,” Dash said, playing the dutiful husband.
Shirley wasn’t buying any of his bull and just rolled her eyes. “Is Matt meeting us at the police station?”
“No, I’m afraid not. He sent me as your escort today so he can be free to follow up on some other leads,” Poppy said.
Shirley paused, thought about it, decided to buy the excuse, and then nodded, turning to Poppy. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
“Do you know what you’re going to say to Detective Jordan?” Poppy asked.
“Yes. That I was here with Dash, having dinner, on the night Olivia was killed. I was very upset about what had happened at the tribute earlier in the day, and Dash was doing his best to comfort me, and then, after watching the local news, we went to bed.”
“Do you need me to come with you and corroborate your story?” Dash asked.
“No, Dash,” Shirley said. “This is my statement. If the police want to talk to you, they’ll contact you. You just stay here and do what you do best. Lounge by the pool and get drunk.”
He ignored the slam. “I’ll be here waiting when you get back.”
He gave her a peck on the cheek and then did an about-face and ambled off to the sliding glass door that led to the pool outside, winking at Poppy as he left.
“They’ll probably want to take a DNA test to prove the skin that was found underneath Olivia’s fingernails doesn’t belong to you,” Poppy said.
“I’m happy to do anything to prove my innocence.”
“Once the results come back, Iris . . . I mean Matt, has a reporter friend at the Desert Sun who we can get to write about the mountain of evidence the police have that excludes you as a suspect.”
“I’m very impressed with how Matt is having us go on the offense like this,” Shirley said as they headed out the door.
“Yes, he’s very good,” Poppy said, smiling to herself.
Shirley insisted they go in her Rolls-Royce.
Poppy was too nervous at the thought of getting behind the wheel of such an expensive car, so Shirley drove them to the police station in Palm Springs where Detective Jordan worked.
After they signed in and waited almost an hour, a heavyset police officer whom Poppy recognized from the crime scene after she had been attacked by the intruder waddled out and accompanied Shirley back to a private room where she could provide a DNA sample.
“I’ll wait for you right here,” Poppy said.
Shirley didn’t respond or look back. She was either too nervous or was uninterested in conversing anymore with one of Matt Flowers’s lowly employees.
Forty-five minutes passed.
Poppy plucked her phone out of her bag and called Iris, who answered gruffly, “What?”
“I’m still at the police station with Shirley.”
“Good for you. Is that all?”
“Am I getting you at a bad time?”
“Yes. I’m at the office, talking to Shirley’s assistant.”
“Jayden? What’s he doing there?”
“He wanted to go over Shirley’s alibi with me so we can share it with the cops and get her name cleared.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ve already heard everything from Shirley, and she’s giving her statement to Detective Jordan now.”
“Oh, well then, this is a total waste of time,” Iris sighed. “So you were with her until what time?”
“Eleven thirty,” Poppy heard Jayden answer on the other end of the phone.
“Eleven thirty at night?” Poppy asked.
“This was p.m.?” Iris asked.
“Yes,” Jayden answered.
But that didn’t make any sense.
Shirley’s official story was that she spent the whole evening alone with Dash, who commiserated with her about the embarrassing scene earlier in the day, at her tribute. She never mentioned Jayden being there.
“Iris, ask him what he and Shirley were doing until eleven thirty.”
“What were you two doing?”
“Going over her upcoming concert dates in Hollywood next month, which have now been canceled, after all my hard work getting them set up in the first place,” he said, frustrated.
Poppy could picture him pouting.
Another call began beeping in
.
It was Violet.
“Iris, I have to go. I’ll meet you at the office after I’m finished with Shirley and drop her off at her home.”
Iris began to mutter something, but Poppy was already off the call and was now talking to Violet.
“Violet, what have you got?”
“Something potentially big.”
“What?” Poppy gasped.
“I was hanging out at the clubhouse, grilling the locals, and who should turn up for breakfast but my old friend Esther.”
“The one with the grown son still living with her?”
“Yes. Sammy. She told me she and her son were out walking their dogs around six o’clock on the night Olivia was killed, and they saw her arguing with a young man in her driveway. It got so heated, Esther sent Sammy over to make sure Olivia wasn’t in any kind of danger. Well, the second the man saw Sammy, he got spooked and ran off. Apparently, when Esther asked if Olivia was okay, she just brushed it off and went back inside her house.”
“Did Esther recognize the young man who was arguing with Olivia?” Poppy asked.
“No, but she described him as African American, around twenty-three or twenty-four years old, about five feet nine inches tall, lean, and wearing a bright orange, expensive-looking shirt.”
Jayden Emery.
Or someone who sounded an awful lot like Jayden Emery.
And at the moment, Jayden was nailing down his alibi with Iris under the guise of wanting to clear his boss, Shirley Fox.
But his story was at direct odds with what Shirley and Dash were claiming.
Which begged the question.
Why would Jayden lie?
Unless he had something really big to hide.
Chapter 34
Chill Bar was one of the new bars on Arenas Road, the epicenter of the gay scene in Palm Springs. Violet had tailed Jayden Emery the previous evening, and his first stop was the bar’s outdoor patio facing the street, where he hugged and kissed nearly every patron sipping a cocktail during happy hour. He was obviously a regular here, and so it quickly became clear to Violet that if they were going to find out more about him in order to shed some light on why he had lied about his alibi for the night of Olivia’s murder, this club might be the best place to start.