The Proof is in the Pudding

by Melinda Wells

  Reaching for the only positive thing I could think of, I said, “At least they didn’t slice up my cushions and mattress and pull out the stuffing.”

  Relatively speaking, my bathroom was in the best shape. Towels and washcloths had been swept from the shelves and left on the floor. The top of the toilet tank had been taken off but not put back on, just leaned up against the corner of the shower stall. The contents of my medicine cabinet had been hauled out and left in the bathroom sink. Even Emma’s box has been emptied out onto one of the used towels.

  Adding insult to injury-I hate a cliché, but in this case it expressed exactly how I felt-the toilet seat had been left up. Nicholas never left it up, so it meant that one of those rampaging “Protect and Servers” had relieved himself here. That made me mad enough to stop the tears.

  I closed the lid, resolving to scrub out the toilet later, before I used it myself.

  “Let me straighten this up quickly,” I told John, “and then we can settle Emma in here for a while.”

  While John stood holding the carrier, Liddy quickly put dirty laundry into the hamper and replaced the clean towels on shelves. I folded the spilled litter into the dirty towel where it had been dumped and refilled Emma’s box with fresh crystals from an unopened box beneath the sink. Finally, I refilled Emma’s water dish and spread a fresh towel out on the floor and took the carrier from John.

  I unzipped it and coaxed her out. She was tentative. I know how upsetting it is to an animal when their familiar territory is changed in some way. It’s hard on human beings, too. I stroked her and said, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll be comfortable here until I can let you back into the rest of the house.”

  Emma crept over to examine her litter box, and I backed out of the bathroom and closed the door.

  ***

  Eileen’s bedroom and bathroom were an ugly mirror image of mine. Total disarray.

  “We’ll have this put back together before she sees it,” I told John.

  Jaws clamped, John nodded. I guessed that he didn’t trust himself to speak at that moment.

  As bad as the living room and the bedrooms had been, the worst pain whacked me in the heart as soon as I came to the kitchen.

  Liddy groaned, and John muttered a string of expletives I’d never before heard him use.

  All of my dishes and cooking utensils had been taken out of their cabinets and left on the counters, the table, and the floor. All of my cleaning products had been removed from the area beneath the sink and my brooms and mops and vacuum cleaner cleared from the utility closet. My large crockery jars of dried pastas, sugar, and flour had been emptied onto paper towels and obviously pawed through. Rendered unusable by hands I was sure were dirty, those supplies would have to be thrown away.

  They hadn’t opened Tuffy’s and Emma’s sealed bags of Natural Balance dry food, but they’d emptied the already opened bags onto newspapers. I’d have to discard that, too.

  With growing dread, I opened the refrigerator. Hatch and his team had taken everything out, but at least they’d put back the items that needed to stay cold, although not in the logical arrangement in which I kept my supplies.

  Last came the freezer. This news was semibad. The frozen items in sealed supermarket packaging had been left alone, but everything that I’d wrapped in foil or freezer bags had been opened and not resealed. I’d have to get rid of that food, too, because I didn’t know what contamination had occurred and I wasn’t going to risk my health, or anyone else’s.

  John’s expression was grim, but-perhaps trying to sound a positive note-he said, “For anything that they’ve destroyed, you can be reimbursed. There are forms. Want me to pick one up for you?”

  “No, but thanks. Figuring out the cost of the ruined food will take more time than it’s worth.”

  As I stared at the disaster that was my kitchen, heartsick and virtually paralyzed, Liddy stooped down, picked up a stack of dinner plates, and put them onto the cabinet shelf where they belonged.

  “It’s a start,” she said.

  My best friend’s simple act-and her encouraging smile-were just what I needed to snap myself out of the emotional morass I’d sunk into.

  I indicated the lone pile of plates that Liddy had put back on the otherwise empty cabinet shelf. “One thing done. Only a thousand more to go.”

  Filling a bowl of fresh Natural Balance for Dogs, I said, “I’ll take this to Tuffy.”

  It was a relief to go out into the fresh, cool air. I hadn’t realized it until that moment, but the search party had managed to raise dust that I didn’t know I had. I resolved to be more thorough when I vacuumed.

  Seeing me at the back door, Tuffy trotted over from where he’d been playing with a rope toy I’d hung from the limb of my one orange tree. I put the bowl of Natural Balance on the bottom step.

  Ignoring the food, Tuffy nuzzled me, and I hugged him. His warm body and soft fur in my arms was a comfort.

  “I’ll let you inside soon, Tuff. In the meantime, you’ve got food and water and shade and toys.”

  He looked at me with his dark, intelligent eyes and I felt he understood. In any case, having Tuffy and Emma reminded me that it didn’t really matter how big a mess Hatch and company had made of our home. Whatever was ruined were only things, and things could be replaced.

  Back in the kitchen, John was closing his cell phone.

  “I gotta go. There’s a double homicide in the Hollywood Hills.” He looked around at the chaos. “I hate to leave you girls with all this.”

  “We’ll be fine,” I said. “Liddy knows where everything goes as well as I do.”

  Liddy blew him a kiss. “Go solve the crime, Big John. We’ll work faster without having to tell you what to do.”

  As soon as we heard the front door close, Liddy tugged at my sleeve. “We’re alone now. So tell me why the Sicilian isn’t here.”

  “He thinks I was sleeping with Keith Ingram.”

  Liddy huffed. “Men! We can’t do without them and it’s illegal to kill them. Where’s the justice in that?”

  ***

  It took us two hours to put the kitchen and my bedroom back together. While we worked, I filled Liddy in on what had happened at the coffee shop.

  “I love his novels,” Liddy said, “but he’s not exactly a darling of the New York Review of Books. Maybe it was one of those snobby critics who shot at him.”

  I smiled. “When he’s well enough, I’ll tell him your theory.”

  I’d opened the bathroom door and was enticing Emma into the bedroom, when I heard the doorbell ring.

  “I’ll go,” Liddy said.

  “Thanks.”

  I lifted Emma up and put her on top of my freshly made bed. After giving her a few gentle strokes, I closed my bedroom door to keep her inside until we put the rest of the house right.

  My bedroom was finished. Now it was time to begin restoring Eileen’s room and bath. I’d started down the hallway when I heard Liddy’s voice from the front door.

  “I don’t know if I should let you in,” she said. “Is your medical insurance paid up?”

  27

  I met Liddy and Nicholas in the archway that led to the living room. He carried a large bag from Junior’s Restaurant and Deli on the corner of Westwood and Pico Boulevards. He knew it was my favorite place for sandwiches. I could smell the wonderful scent of Junior’s pastrami from twenty feet away.

  Nicholas held the bag out in front of him like a shield. “I come in peace.”

  “I’m so hungry if you won’t forgive him, I will,” Liddy said.

  Nicholas kept his eyes on me and waved the Junior’s bag so as to waft more enticing aromas in my direction.

  “Extra lean pastrami on fresh-cut rye,” he said.

  I took a few steps forward, but kept ten feet between us. “What’s on the sandwich?”

  “Russian dressing on one side of the rye, mustard and coleslaw on the other. No pickle. I got you your favorite extra lean corned beef, Lidd
y. And sides of potato salad, and three slices of New York cheesecake for dessert.”

  “I forgive you,” I said.

  “Thank God.” Liddy took the bag. “I’ll set us up in the kitchen. You two need a few minutes alone.” She winked at me as she left the room.

  “I was a total jerk,” he said.

  “Agreed. But what made you come to that conclusion?”

  “When I cooled off, I thought about the kind of person you are and figured out that you must be taking heat for Eileen. I’m guessing Ingram made a video of her. That’s why O’Hara decked him and why you broke into the bastard’s house.”

  “Off the record?”

  Nicholas nodded agreement.

  “You’re partly right,” I said. “John didn’t know about the video when he hit Ingram. He just knew that Ingram had done something that hurt Eileen badly. I’m sure John’s put it together now because he knows what Hatch got the search warrant for, and that SID found my fingerprint on Ingram’s back window.”

  “O’Hara stuck around while I left. He really does know you better than I do.”

  I smiled at him. “In one particular way he doesn’t know me at all. Now, I’m trusting you, that you’re not going to write about this.”

  “Not unless somebody else in the media gets the story, or parts of it. If that happens I’ll have to report it, but I’ll keep you and Eileen out of it as much as I possibly can.”

  “Fair enough,” I said.

  “I noticed O’Hara’s car is gone.”

  “He was called away on a double homicide in Hollywood. Shouldn’t you be covering that?”

  “Ted Jaffe is. I wanted to see you.” Nicholas looked around at the disaster in the living room. “Is the rest of the house as bad as this?”

  “It was even worse, but we started in the back and have been working our way forward. We just have Eileen’s room and the living room yet to do.”

  “I’ll help,” he said.

  “After we eat.”

  I turned and began to walk toward the kitchen, but Nicholas caught my hand. Gently, he pulled me into his arms. We kissed until I felt all the tension of the day drain out of my body.

  ***

  After eating lunch, the three of us finally managed to restore the house to the way it had looked before Hatch and his invaders tore it apart. Miraculously, they hadn’t broken anything, but cleaning up took most of the rest of the afternoon.

  Liddy went home to take a bath and to make dinner for Bill.

  I gave Tuffy and Emma their dinners, and made a fresh pot of coffee for Nicholas and me. When it was ready, and I’d poured mugs for us, I took out a pen and one of the pads of paper I kept in a kitchen drawer, and joined Nicholas at the table.

  “What are you doing?” Nicholas asked.

  “I’m going to try to make some sense out of what’s happened,” I said. “I think better when I write things down. Let’s make an investigation plan.”

  Nicholas smiled.

  “Don’t laugh at me,” I said.

  “I wasn’t going to. That was a smile of recognition. When I’m working on a complicated story I make lists, too. I start with what I already know.”

  “Here’s what I know.” I talked as I began to write. “One: Ingram had a hidden video camera in his bedroom and taped women with whom he was having sex.”

  “Some of them might have been all right with that,” Nicholas said. “Exhibitionists.”

  “Eileen didn’t know about it, and I’m guessing some of the others didn’t either. One of those women might have been angry enough, or frightened enough, to have killed him.”

  “Did the tapes have names on them?” Nicholas asked.

  I shook my head. “Only initials. As soon as I found Eileen’s-and I made sure there was only the one tape of her-I grabbed it and left the house.”

  “Can you remember any of the other initials?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to recall what I’d seen in the collection of DVDs, but no images came into my head. I opened my eyes. “Nothing. I was so nervous about being in his house the only label that registered with me was Eileen’s. The police have those other DVDs. They’ve probably figured out who at least some of the women are.” I made a note. “I’ll ask John to find out from Hugh Weaver.”

  “What makes me doubt that one of those women killed Ingram is that the attempted murder of Roland Gray was done by a sniper.”

  “There have been female snipers.” I said it a touch defensively, as though I was trying to stand up for the equality of female killers.

  “But a female sniper in Beverly Hills? I think we’ll find that all of Ingram’s sex conquests were wealthy, either married to or divorced with a big settlement from rich men.”

  “Eileen isn’t wealthy.”

  “She’s young and beautiful. That’s its own kind of wealth. I’m sure Ingram went after her out of lust. She must have been a nice change from targeting women whose most attractive qualities were their fat checkbooks. You told me that when he connected with Tina Long, the only child of a billionaire, he dropped Eileen, but was still trying to force her to be available for booty calls.”

  “If Ingram had married Tina Long, her father would have been smart to hire a food taster.” I felt my eyes widen. “Hey, I thought I was making a joke, but I just realized that if Eugene Long figured out exactly what kind of an unscrupulous opportunist had captivated his daughter…”

  “It could be a powerful motive for murder,” Nicholas said. “He wouldn’t have had to do it himself. He can afford to hire a thousand hit men.”

  That was an exciting thought, until I fell back down to earth with a thud.

  “But then why would he, or his hit man, try to kill Roland?” I said. “I have to find out what the connection is between Long and Roland.”

  “We have to find out a lot of things,” Nicholas said. “I’ll use my sources to see what I can dig up.”

  “Most of us were watching Wolf Wheeler’s juggling act when the smoke bomb went off. It might have been coincidence, or-”

  “Or part of a plan.” Nicholas nodded and made a note of Wolf Wheeler’s name.

  “Next: I want to get the guest list for the gala. Maybe one of the people attending had something against either Ingram or Roland, or both.”

  “I can get the list from the Chronicle’s entertainment editor. And I’ll get copies of the pictures our photographer took.”

  “Perfect. I’ll ask our publicity man, Phil Logan, to get a guest list, too. Double-check of who was there.” I made another note. “Yvette Dupree. I want to talk to her. She seems to know Long, very well, and she’s close to daughter Tina. About Tina: I’ll have to figure out how to do it without Hatch going crazy, but I want to talk to Tina.”

  “I’ll check our files to see what we have on Dupree and the Longs.”

  “Ah!” I stood up. “I’ve got an idea. Don’t move.”

  I hurried to the bookcase in my bedroom and found the copy of Roland Gray’s new thriller, Terror Master.

  Back in the kitchen, I showed it to Nicholas. “Roland gave this to me when he came to the studio Thursday night.”

  “So?”

  I opened the book to the Acknowledgments and scooted my chair around so that Nicholas could see it, too.

  “There’s a lot of information in these author ‘thank you’ pages.”

  We studied the names, but I let out a sigh of disappointment when we didn’t find any we recognized.

  “Most of these people gave him information about nuclear weapons,” I said. “It’s not likely we’ll find any of them on the gala list.”

  “Let’s see who he dedicated the book to.” Nicholas turned a page. “Hey. What do you make of this?”

  I read the dedication aloud: “ ‘To the one who got away…’ ”

  “Jeez-novelists! They think they’re so clever. Do you have any idea who that ‘who’ is?”

  “No, but I’ll see him tomorrow. Right now I’ll call Phil Logan a
nd ask him for the list of people who attended the charity cook-off.”

  Nicholas got up from the table. “I’m going to the paper to get our entertainment editor’s list, and copies of the file pictures. I’ll e-mail them to you. Then I’m going home to sleep.”

  “You’re welcome to stay here.”

  “That’s not called ‘sleeping.’ ”

  Inside the front door, we kissed. For quite a while. Finally, Nicholas stepped back. “I want us to make a rule.”

  “What rule?”

  “We don’t have sex every time we’re alone together,” he said.

  “All right. Do you play gin? Poker? Scrabble? Do cross-word puzzles?”

  He smiled, but his tone was serious. “What I’m saying is that I want to live to be a very old man, and have you there to wipe the drool from my chin.”

  That declaration veered too close to a subject I wasn’t anywhere near ready to think about: the future. More specifically, our future.

  I kept my tone playful. “What woman could resist such an appealing prospect?”

  And then I kissed him lightly on the chin. “Good night.”

  28

  By the time Eileen came home that evening, Phil Logan’s messenger had delivered the gala’s guest list, and Nicholas had e-mailed the Chronicle’s list, as well as copies of thirty-six pictures taken by the paper’s photographer.

  I was at the kitchen table again, with the two lists and the photos spread out in front of me. Tuffy must have been alerted by the sound of Eileen’s car, because he stood up and began to wag his hindquarters before I heard her open the front door.

  “Hi, I’m home,” she called.

  Tuffy loped off to greet her.

  “I’m in the kitchen, honey.”

  Eileen came in with Tuffy close at her heels.

  “I’ve got interesting news-actually, delicious news-from the shop,” she said. “We’re going to have a new line to sell.”

  Her excited smile gave my heart a lift. It was the first time I’d seen Eileen smile since the night she told me about Keith Ingram’s repulsive threat.