I felt distinctly exposed, like at any moment the principal might come by and catch us smoking in the bathroom.
“Can you go any faster?” I prodded, my eyes scanning the empty expanse of lawn for the fiftieth time.
“Not if you want to get in.”
I bit my lip, trying to channel patience from somewhere I didn’t think I really had.
Finally a small click broke the silence and Felix pushed the door open.
“Yes,” I said, moving to slip inside.
Felix held up a hand to stop me, instead going in ahead. He pulled an electronic device that looked like an overgrown pager from his pocket, then paused inside the door, locating a security panel. Two red lights blinked over a keypad. Felix held the pager thingy up to it. Three seconds later, the lights went from blinking red to steady green.
“Alarm, disabled,” Felix said, a distinctly smug smile on his face.
“I’ll admit it, you’re good,” I said, closing the front door behind me.
“That’s what all the girls say.” Felix winked at me. “So… telephone bill?”
I scanned the entry hall. Marble floors gave way to a sweeping staircase to the right. To the left, open French doors revealed the impressively oversized room I had seen through the windows.
“Upstairs?”
Felix nodded. “All right, let’s go see.”
I ascended the stairs, Felix a beat behind, our footsteps muffled by the plush white carpeting. I prayed I didn’t have any sludge stuck to the bottom of my feet as I gingerly followed the banister upward. It felt eerily quiet in the house, as much due to the tomblike silence as the fact that I knew the inhabitant would never again be back here. But I tried to shake it off, focusing on the task at hand.
At the top of the stairs the landing opened up to three different rooms. Through the open door ahead, I spied a large, canopied bed, the other two doors were closed shut.
“I’ll take number one, you take two,” Felix offered, heading toward the canopy.
I nodded, and opened the door of the first room, pushing into a spare bedroom. A queen-sized bed sat in the middle of the room, adorned with a floral-print bedspread that instantly made me question Gigi’s taste. Beside it was a matching nightstand and vanity set. All perfectly accessorized with vases of flowers and pastel candles that had yet to be lit. Your average spare bedroom. No files, no phone records.
“Nothing in here,” I called. “You?”
“Not yet,” came Felix’s voice.
“I’ll try number three.”
I poked my head in the next room to find a home gym that would have Dana drooling. Dumbbells lined against the wall, floor to ceiling mirrors covered the back of the room, and an array of nautilus equipment with all kinds of complicated looking pulley systems sat in the center.
No file cabinet.
I closed the door and walked back down the hall to Felix’s room.
I found him rifling though a dresser drawer, a pair of pink panties in one hand.
“What are you doing?” I asked, striking a hands-on-hips pose.
Felix spun around, caught panty-handed. “Being thorough.”
“In her underwear drawer?”
“No stone unturned.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Phone bill,” I said, enunciating like I was talking to a child. “Not panties.” I crossed the room and grabbed the lingerie from Felix’s hand, shoving it back into the dresser drawer with a thud. “The poor woman is dead.”
“That poor woman is the most sensational murder since OJ didn’t slip on a pair of black gloves.”
I shot him a look.
“I feel horrible that she’s gone,” he said, putting one hand over his heart in what I’m sure he thought was a very sympathetic gesture, “but me selling fewer papers isn’t going to bring her back now, is it?”
“You are sick.”
I tore my gaze from Tabloid Boy and let my eyes scan the room.
The canopy bed took up most of one wall, while framed art pieces filled the others. A long chaise in pale peach sat by the window, positioned to take full advantage of the morning sun. Beside it sat a marble end table and a mahogany file cabinet.
And Bingo was his name-o.
I crossed the room to the cabinet and grabbed the handle on the top drawer, pulling toward me. Only it didn’t budge. Locked.
I scanned the room looking for a good place to find a teeny tiny key.
Only, what I saw was Felix at the panty drawer again.
“Jesus, have some decency, will you, Felix?”
He straightened up and turned around. A tiny gold key dangling from his index finger.
“Oh. Right.”
He grinned, showing off two rows of white teeth. “Did you really think it was Gigi’s knickers I was interested in?”
I gulped down a blush. “No. Of course not.”
Neither one of us believed that for a second.
Thankfully,though, he didn’t say anything, instead slipping the key neatly into the lock and sliding the file drawer open.
Labeled hanging files indicated this was where Gigi had kept her old credit card receipts, gardener bills, insurance papers, and (I did a silent thank you to the gods of snooping) her phone bills.
I pulled one from its file, handing it to Felix.
“This have what you need on it?”
His eyes roved the page, quickly scanning the account numbers.
But he never got to answer me.
Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires made us both freeze.
“Oh shit.”
Instinctively I ducked down behind the chaise, pulling Felix with me, then crab walked over to the window. I lifted my head up, trying to stay hidden behind the thick, damask curtains as I peeked over the sill to see who our unwanted visitor was.
My heart bottomed out my toes as I watched a dark-haired figured emerging from a black SUV just outside the front door.
Ramirez.
Chapter Fifteen
“Figures,” Felix mumbled under his breath as he slipped the phone bill into his pocket
“What do we do?” I asked, watching Ramirez approach the house. Like a deer frozen in headlights, I couldn’t move.
“The phrase ‘beat a hasty retreat’ comes to mind.”
Right. Good plan.
We crab walked away from the window until I was sure we were out of Ramirez’s line of sight, and then we both bolted for the door. I hit the landing a beat after Felix and almost rammed right into his back as the front door opened and he froze at the top of the stairs.
Too late.
Ramirez was already in the house.
I spun around, retreating back into the cover of the bedroom.
Felix crossed my path, ducking into the home gym instead, shutting the door behind him just as Ramirez’s footsteps echoed in the front hall.
My eyes scanned the bedroom for someplace to hide. Under the bed? I lifted the duvet.
Crap. Gigi had filled the entire space with back issues of Modern Bride.
I stood up and started to panic as I weighed my other options. Behind the curtains? Under the rug? Even on my Dana diet the chaise was too skinny for me to really hide behind.
That left only one place.
The closet.
I threw open the white sliding doors and dove inside, shutting them behind me just as I heard Ramirez ascend the stairs.
I made myself as small as I could beside a hanging show caddy (have I mentioned how much I coveted her Prada collection?) and a shelf full of sweaters, praying my bad luck would give me just a one day reprieve.
I held my breath, waiting for any sound to indicate Ramirez’s approach. Of course, with Gigis’ plush white carpets, I heard nothing. Any footsteps were swallowed up in the mausoleum-like silence.
I did a three count, willing myself to breathe silently as I slowly slid one door open a crack, peeking out into the bedroom.
No
thing.
I opened the door a teeny bit farther.
And saw Ramirez’s black boots step in to the room.
Yikes! I jumped back, closing the door again ever so stealthily. I hoped.
I watched through the tiny crack between the door and frame as Ramirez did a thorough sweep of the room. His jaw was clenched, his menacing gun pointed straight in front of him. He was no fool. An unlocked front door and a disabled alarm system raised red flags. Especially considering the home’s occupant was six feet under.
I breathed low and shallow, an acute sense of déjà vu washing over me as I watched Ramirez look under the bed (good thing I didn’t hide there after all!) and behind the curtains (ditto). The first time I’d encountered Ramirez I’d been in exactly this same position – hiding in a closet, watching him and his sleek black gun sweep through a bedroom. Only the last time it had been my ex-boyfriend’s bedroom and I’d been pretty sure it was Ramirez that had been doing the breaking and entering.
Now I was the guilty one.
A thought that made me cower just a little closer to the plastic shoe rack filled with pointy-toed pumps.
Ramirez crossed the room, slowly circling the bed. I could see his entire body tense, on alert, ready to pounce at any second. His trigger finger the only part of him relaxed. Deceptively so, considering I knew he could shoot the balls off a fruit fly at fifty yards. Ramirez was nothing if not good at his job.
Which was why, of course, he turned toward the closet next.
Trying not to crinkle the shoe caddy, I turned to slip behind it, covering my legs with a beige sweater in loose cable knit. I closed my eyes, doing a silent “please, please, please” that he opened the opposite door of the closet, the one not currently hiding a cowering blonde.
The last time we’d played out this scene, Ramirez had taken one look at the closet and found what he wanted, leaving me thankfully obscured.
Apparently I’d used up all my luck then.
He threw open the door right in front of me, thrusting me nose to nose with a threatening black gun barrel.
I’m not sure, but I think I may have peed my pants a little.
Ramirez immediately lowered his weapon to his side, his shoulders slumping, his entire body releasing pent up adrenalin.
“Jesus, Maddie!”
I gave him a half-hearted smile and a one-finger wave. “Hi, honey?”
“What the hell are you doing in there?” he yelled. Then offered a hand, which I gratefully took, as he hauled me out of the clothing and to my feet again.
“Um, well, see…”
He held up his free hand. “Wait. I don’t want to know.”
“You don’t?”
He clenched his teeth together. “No. Because if I do, I’m probably gonna have to handcuff you and take you downtown.”
I bit my lip. “Um. Thanks. For not arresting me.”
He grunted. Then ran a hand through his hair and let out a few choice curses in Spanish.
“Sorry,” I said.
He paused. And shook his head at me. “You always are.”
Ouch.
“Yeah, but this time I’m really, really sorry.”
He narrowed his eyes, that vein in the side of his neck starting to pulsate.
“But,” I added, “you did say I could investigate. That was the deal, remember?”
“Without breaking the law.”
“Technically, I said I wouldn’t impersonate any more officers. I never said anything about not breaking the law.”
His vein bulged, his eyes went dark, and a deep growl rose in the back of his throat. I was not making a convincing case.
“Okay, fine.” I held up one hand. “I, Madison Louise Springer, do solemnly swear not to break any more laws during the course of this investigation.”
“Turn around.”
“Why?”
“I want to make sure your fingers aren’t crossed. Turn around.”
I rolled my eyes. But did a slow spin for him, holding up both hands, all digits spread wide.
“Satisfied?”
He didn’t answer. But he didn’t growl again either. Which I took to be a good sign.
I stole a glance at the window as Ramirez holstered his gun and thought I caught the tail end of a blue Dodge Neon burning rubber down the circular drive. Deserter!
“So, what are you doing here?” I asked.
Ramirez spun around, hitting me with the evil eye.
“What? I’m just asking. You know, if some new lead brought you to Gigi’s to look for anything in particular. Just… kind of wondering.”
His cop face slowly broke, a wicked smile sliding across his features. “Sorry, Springer. You don’t get any help. That would be cheating now, wouldn’t it?”
I narrowed my eyes. Then retaliated with, “And how are the shoes coming along?”
It might have been my imagination, but I swear I saw his smile falter just the slightest bit.
“Fine. They’ll be done tomorrow.”
“Good.”
“How’s your investigation going?”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
We stood there in a silent standoff. Both of us pretty sure the other was completely full of bullshit.
Finally I was the one to break it, glancing out the window again. “Um, so… would you mind giving me a ride home?”
His eyebrows hunkered down. “How did you get here if… Wait! Never mind. I don’t want to know.” Ramirez shook his head. “Damn, you’re a lot of trouble, girl.”
I grinned. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”
“Most days.” He shot me a teasing wink. Then he grabbed my hand in his and led me down the stairs. I’d like to think the gesture was a peace offering.
But I was pretty sure it was to make sure I didn’t grab any evidence on the way out.
* * *
Forty minutes later I was back at my car and Ramirez’s SUV was headed back onto the freeway for parts unknown. At least to me. I still thought it was a little unfair he wasn’t sharing any information with me. Okay, fine, I hadn’t exactly been sharing with him either. What can I say? I really wanted to win. Not that I needed him to do that. I had plenty to investigate all on my own.
I grabbed my cell, dialing Felix’s number, then waited while it rang twice on the other end.
“Felix Dunn,” he answered.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Me who?”
“You know who it is!”
“Mum? Is that you, love?”
I gave my phone the finger. “Very funny, Tabloid Boy.”
“I do try.”
“By the way, thanks for ditching me at Gigi’s.”
I could almost hear Felix’s grin through the phone. “I figured you’d provide a little cover for me.”
“So you were banking on me getting caught?” It was official, I hated him.
“Now, don’t get all surly on me. If you do, I won’t share Gigi’s text records with you.”
“You’re in already?” I asked, trying to keep the admiration out of my voice.
“I know, I’m good.”
Apparently I failed.
“Okay, spill it. Who texted her on Friday?”
“She had two outgoing that afternoon. One in the morning to Hollywood Florist saying the tulips should be red. One to an 818 number saying she was terribly sorry, but she’d have to cancel their meeting.”
“Mitsy,” I interjected. “How about right before that. Any incoming?”
“Five minutes before. From a Kaufman. Said he could meet with her ASAP to draw up the paperwork.”
“Paperwork? What kind?”
“Didn’t say in the text. But the number it came from is local.” He rattled it off.
“I’m on it.” I hung up, immediately dialing the number Felix had given me. I waited while it rang on the other end, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel.
Three rings. Four.
&nb
sp; Finally a perky voice answered on the other end. “Johnson, Levy, and Kaufman, attorneys at law. How may I direct your call?”
“Uh… Kaufman, please,” I answered. Attorneys, huh? My mind whirled at the kind of paperwork an attorney might have ready for Gigi. Lawsuit? Contracts? A will?
“Kaufman.” A man’s voice came on the line, deep, baritone and gravelly, indicating the owner was no spring chicken.
“Uh, hi. My name’s Maddie Springer. Gigi gave me your number,” I lied.
“Oh.” He paused. “Yes, tragic. I was so sorry to hear about her passing.”
“Did you know her well?” I asked.
“We’d been acquainted for some time,” he said.
Hmm. Typical lawyer - evade a direct answer at all costs. I tried another angle.
“She was very happy with the work you did for her.”
“I only wish I could have done more.”
Right. More what?
I bit my lip, trying to figure out what the magic password to this puzzle might be.
“Well, you came highly recommended. Especially regarding the current work you were doing for her,” I tried.
“Well, it was long overdue.”
“Right.”
“So, what can I do for you Ms. Springer?”
“I…” I closed my eyes, taking a stab in the dark. “I wanted to have a will made up?”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry, but that’s not really my area of expertise.”
Okay, cross will off the list.
“Oh, right. I mean, I wanted to draw up a will because… I’m suing someone and I want to make sure my assets are taken care of. But the lawsuit is what I really wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” he asked. “Are you suing a former spouse?”
“Spouse? No. Why?”
“Listen, Ms. Springer, I’m sorry if Gigi led you astray, but I’m not really sure I can help you with your problem.”
“Wait, you didn’t let me finish,” I said, wheels clicking into place. “I meant I wanted to talk to you about the lawsuit because it reminded me that I need a… prenup?” I mentally crossed my fingers.
High Heels Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-5) Page 118