It was Omari.
I hit the smile emoji button again, then typed, Different look for you.
It’s called “Hit the first option for everything because you’re on lunch break.” Trying to make it a thing. Omari had a night shoot, so even though it was evening, they still called it lunch.
I nodded and made my avatar do the same. Then I kissed him.
“You guys are moving fast!” Sienna said.
“It’s Omari.”
“Oh. If you take him to the closet, we’ll probably still be able to see you. FYI.”
I don’t know if it was the Avatar or alcohol, but my usual PDA hesitation went out the window. I grabbed his hand. Sienna thinks I should take you to the closet.
He responded: I’ve never done it in a closet. Real or fake.
“Aww. Closet sex is great,” Sienna said. “Definitely try it.”
Wait, what? “How do you know what we’re talking about?”
“Because I can read. Your chat is public.”
Oh right.
Fudge. I typed again. Let’s discuss in person.
He said nothing. He did nothing too. It was like he was asleep standing up. After a minute, I finally realized he’d had to go back to work. I spent the next ten minutes standing next to him in case he came back. Emme approached me while I stood guard. A chat popped up above her head. Thank you for the Focals! Everyone is jealous I got the new ones already.
That had been the plan. I shrugged as if to say “No big deal” but it wasn’t as effective on screen as in real life. She motioned to Omari, still shut down next to me. Who is that?
Omari. I think he got called to set. Is he just gonna stay like that?
In real life, I would’ve made sure he got to the car and then tucked him in. But here, I wasn’t sure what to do.
If he doesn’t come back soon, he’ll just disappear, she wrote. How’s the case going?
I hated to talk shop at a birthday party but she brought it up. My other option was discussing Phishing and Whaling. And the only reason I knew whaling didn’t involve a sea creature was because I’d eavesdropped on the guys next to me. Not quite willing to—literally—chat about it, I called her on the phone. “How come no one ever figured out who Anani was? Wouldn’t someone connect her to the domain?”
“You can pay to keep it private. Instead of having your addy, it would list a company.”
No doubt that’s what Lyla did. I closed the Vitality box to pull up a domain search site. Sure enough, Anani Miss’s domain owner was listed as Private Parts, Inc., with an address in Claremont, California. It was local—if you considered a forty-five-minute drive east on the 10 to be local. I did another search and was surprised how easily I found the owner of Private Parts, Inc. Someone named Andy Stevens. “Have you heard of a domain registration company called Private Parts?” I asked Emme.
“Yep. Cheap but you pay for it. Technically they mask your personal data so no one can find your name or even personal info. But the joke is they’ll give out your info to anyone who stops by and says hello.”
Worked for me.
I’d been to Claremont exactly once—three in the morning at that. That trip had started off badly before ending with a key revelation in the Haley Joseph case. Fingers crossed I’d hit the investigation jackpot twice. Maybe Claremont was lucky for me. I made a mental note to buy a lotto ticket in town just in case.
Aubrey had his PI exam that morning, so I didn’t even bother to ask him to ride with me. Factor in Sienna having an audition and Emme already reaching her monthly quota for leaving the house, and I was riding solo to the Private Parts office. Couldn’t say I was happy about it. Mainly because I lacked what one might call a game plan.
So I asked the investigation gods for assistance. When none immediately came, I did the next best thing. Procrastinate. I called Mack. When he—shocker—didn’t answer, I left a message, then texted him to tell him to check his voicemail. Then went on Instagram and fired off a DM telling him to check his text message telling him to check his voicemail. I was nothing if not thorough. All bases covered to my complete satisfaction, I had no choice but to figure out the best way to see if Gus had contacted Private Parts, Inc.
It wasn’t like I was the police. I couldn’t just storm into an office building demanding info. Of course, maybe that was a good thing. Granted, my knowledge of domain privacy sites was extremely limited, but there was one thing I was pretty sure about—they probably didn’t want cops coming anywhere near their office. A $9.99 annual fee to mask a domain probably wasn’t worth jail time or huge lawyer fees. I could use that to my advantage.
Especially since I didn’t even want to know who owned the Anani Miss site. Already had that one pretty much figured out, thank you very much. I wanted to know if someone—specifically, Gus—had wanted to know who owned it. Hopefully he’d stopped by and didn’t just call. I’d flash the photo that I’d screen-grabbed from his website. The Private Parts receptionist could nod yes and I’d be out of there—no police involved. And that would be all, folks.
I practically skipped to my car and got in. I cranked the engine. And—non-spoiler alert—the freaking thing didn’t start. Again. Luckily, this wasn’t my first rodeo. I knew exactly what to do.
I had my Lyft app open when Z walked up on my driver’s side, giving me a sense of deja vu. This time I was determined to wait him out. And I would, granted I didn’t have to go to the bathroom.
At least my doors were locked. Three months ago, that wouldn’t have been the case. But Aubrey had an annoying habit of opening other people’s car doors and taking a seat. To his credit, Z didn’t try to get in. He didn’t even bend down to look at me. He just stood there, giving me a front row view of another all-black ensemble. His cufflinks were once again purple, pale lavender jewels that could’ve doubled for studded earrings.
I forced myself to stop thinking about wearing his accessories and start thinking about what he wanted and why wasn’t he in a rush to tell me. Last time he’d made an appearance, he’d taken me to see Mack. Conveniently, Mack was the exact person I was now anxious to see. Was Z sent to fetch me?
I jumped out of my car so quick he barely had time to get out of the way. He retreated to my hood, leaning against it with an amused expression on his face. “Two minutes,” he said. I just gave him a look. One he incorrectly took to mean continue. “That’s how long you held out.”
He walked toward his car, not bothering to look back. It was like he knew I’d follow him like a Twitter account. I did. It might have been foolish, but I rationalized it with the fact that he hadn’t kidnapped me during our last go-round. Plus, I really wanted to talk to Mack Christie. I texted Sienna and Emme just to be safe. A few minutes later, our seat belts were fastened and we stared at each other. “So where are we going?” I asked.
“You’re supposed to tell me.”
Huh? I would’ve definitely remembered any discussions with Mack about meeting somewhere. Had I missed a voicemail or a text? “He didn’t tell you?” I asked. Z just gave me a blank stare. “You’re supposed to take me to see Mack. That’s why you’re here, right?”
The look on his face said he wasn’t.
“I’ve been calling your boss nonstop and he’s been ducking me.”
“He’s not my boss.”
“Right. He’s not your boss. You’re not a fixer. And I’m not having much luck confirming the info he gave me. He promised he’d look for some things I need. Time’s a ticking.”
It seemed like news to him. He finally spoke. “I’ll let him know.”
He made no move for his phone. Guess he didn’t mean right then. I was about to get out when Z spoke again. “So where are we going?”
I looked back at him. My brain screamed “Bad idea.” So of course I did it anyway, reasoning I needed a ride to Claremont. I pulled up the address on my GPS ap
p and we were on our way. He didn’t even blink at how far inland we were going.
It turned out Z wasn’t much of a talker. He didn’t even ask me why we were heading to Private Parts. Fine by me. I was uploading photos to Sienna’s Lady of the Red Vine Instagram account when Kitt texted me: U still comming today, right?
Another text immediately followed it. *Coming. Always spell that wrong.
I’d almost forgotten I’d invited Kitt to lunch to get intel on Gus. I wrote back, No prob. Knew what you meant. Where are we meeting?
She responded: Say Cheese on Wilshire. Coupla blocks up from Fairfax.
I sent a brown thumbs-up emoji, then went back to uploading Instagram pics and trying to ignore Z. It would have been easier if it weren’t for that cologne reminding me of cinnamon. This time I could also smell sandalwood and amber. It was intoxicating.
We’d just gotten off the 10 when his glove compartment rang. He leaned over me and took out a cell. I inhaled.
“Did you just smell me?” he asked.
Yes. “No,” I lied, and would have gotten away with too except I sniffed him again. “I was just trying to guess the scent. Valentine’s Day is coming up and I need some ideas for what to get my boyfriend.” I looked at him smugly. That’s right. I had a boyfriend. A super-hot, famous boyfriend.
Z didn’t even blink. “You want your boyfriend to remind you of me?”
That went left quick. I couldn’t even think of a witty response. Not that it would have mattered. He somehow managed to misinterpret anything I said. I settled on just rolling my eyes.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.
I changed the subject. “Let’s go over the plan for when we get there.”
“Okay.”
“The plan is, you stay in the car.”
“How long did it take you to think of that one?”
Longer than I would have liked. “I’m just gonna run in, head up to their office for a sec, and come back down. Shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”
“You’re the boss.”
My first hint things weren’t going to go as planned was when Waze, the GPS app I used, assured us we’d reached our final destination. Considering we were smack-dab in the middle of a residential neighborhood, I wasn’t quite buying it. The lawns were plentiful. The houses were all modest and one-story. Not even one person had slacked on taking down the Christmas lights. I half expected to see a straight white couple walking their dog along with their 2.5 kids.
But Waze insisted. I had to change up my game plan. The lack of an office probably also meant lack of a receptionist. This was clearly a solo operation, probably one Andy Stevens, owner extraordinaire, operated out of his childhood bedroom while his parents were at work. I wasn’t above using that to my advantage. “Okay, well there’s a slight change of plans.” I got out of the car. Z got out with me. I turned to him. “The part of the plan where you stay in the car is still intact.”
“Got it.”
Good. I headed toward the door of the address. So did he. This would not do. At all. Andy Stevens, who’d probably never known the touch of a woman yet was very familiar with the touch of his own hand, might be way less forthcoming talking to Z and not my fake boobs.
“What happened to me being the boss?” I asked.
“I can’t use the bathroom?”
I had no business turning someone away for having to use the facilities. Especially since I had to use them myself. “Fine, but make it quick and leave as soon as you’re done.”
We rang the bell and a woman answered in a track suit. She was the classic, busybody mother in the rom-com who constantly parent-pressures her daughter to finally get married. The one who called the lead actress from her Zumba class to tell her she’d met a nice man perfect for her. Her head bobbled back and forth between me and Z before settling on him. I jumped in, eager to let her know I was the one in charge.
“Hi, I’m looking for Andy Stevens. Is he home?”
She didn’t look the least bit shocked. Made me wonder how many people came rolling up to talk to Andy. “Who’s asking? And what is it about?”
I gave her my business card. She didn’t even glance at it. “I’m Dayna Anderson of ASAP Investigations. And it’s a private matter. Is Andy home?”
“Yes.” That was all she said.
“Can I speak with him?”
“I need to know what this is about.”
“It’s for an investigation. Not sure you’d understand.” I wasn’t sure if she even knew her son ran a website. It sure as heck wouldn’t get me brownie points if I snitched.
“Try me.”
“It’s about the Anani Miss blog.”
She nodded, then spoke. “I’ll tell you the same thing I tell everyone else who’s asked about that blog. I don’t reveal my clients. You’ll have to come back with a warrant.”
My clients? This was Andy. Oops. Z turned to me. “Going well so far.”
I ignored that to play my ace in the hole. “I actually don’t need to know who owns the blog. I’m more interested in the ‘everyone else.’ We have reason to believe”—not really, but it sounded good and I needed to redeem myself for the completely and absolutely understandable Andy confusion—“a person of interest in a murder may have inquired about the owner of the blog. I have a photo. You’d just need to say if he’s been here.”
“How serious are you about finding this person out?” Andy asked.
“Very … ”
“Okay, then I’ll tell you the same thing I also tell everyone else. I need to get my roof replaced.”
“That sucks,” I said, because it did. “Maybe you can start a Go FundMe or something? That’s how my cousin bought Beyoncé tickets.”
“Yeah, well, I need something a bit more immediate,” she said.
“I bet.”
Z leaned into me. “She wants money.”
We’d already covered that. “Yeah, I know. For her roof.”
“For her to tell you who else has been looking for the blog owner.”
Oh. Wasn’t expecting that. At all. I reached into my bag to grab my wallet. A cursory check confirmed my cash reserves were currently four bucks, most of which was nickels and dimes. At least no pennies though. “I don’t suppose you take Venmo or PayPal.”
She didn’t even warrant that with a response. Not that I was honestly expecting one. I turned to Z and tried my best to whisper. “Can we chat for a sec?”
He and I made a big show of moving off her porch.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You don’t have any money.”
“If I’d known bribery was on the day’s agenda, I would’ve stopped by the ATM.”
He sighed and reached for his wallet. “How much?”
“I don’t know, like, $50?”
“You’re going to owe me.” There was only a 50 percent chance he was talking about money but at that point, I was willing to risk it. Turning so his back was to Andy, he pulled out a stack of cash. He handed me a hundred-dollar bill and we walked back over to the front door.
I tried to hand her the money. She didn’t even blink, much less motion to take it. The only thing that moved was her mouth. “Know how much a roof costs these days?”
I nodded, then looked at Z. “Can I get another hundred?”
“Make it two,” Andy said.
“Two hundred,” I said.
“I only have an extra fifty,” Z said. “Take it or leave it.”
Now was not the time to negotiate, especially when I knew he was lying. He’d pulled at least $300 from his wallet. Their standoff was just long enough for me to regret not just offering to run to the nearest Wells Fargo. After a moment, Andy held out her hand. “Fine.”
“Not so fast,” Z said. “You look at the pic first.”
Another standoff. Z won th
at one as well. Andy impatiently motioned to my phone. I showed her Gus’s pic. Her eyes barely took him in before she was talking again. “Never seen him before in my life.”
Blurg. “Maybe you’ve talked to him on the phone. His name’s Gus Ortiz.”
She shook her head. I sighed. The only thing I had connecting Gus to Anani was a Country music star who not only was an admitted liar, but who also seemed horrible at checking text messages and social media. I needed Aubrey. I couldn’t even call him because he was in the middle of his exam. I didn’t know what to do, so I did what I always do. Asked if I could use the bathroom.
Andy must’ve felt sorry for me because she pointed me down the hall. I left her and Z to make small talk. Maybe they’d talk about the weather. Maybe they’d talk about the Clippers. Maybe they’d talk about how I suggested she start a GoFundMe campaign for her bribery scheme. So many options.
When I came back, they weren’t discussing a thing. Both stood as if someone had pushed pause until I got back. I smiled at Andy. “It was nice meeting you. Good luck with your website domain business.”
I walked past but Z stopped me. He motioned to Andy. “Tell her what you told me,” Z said.
She did, though she didn’t look too happy about it. “There’ve been quite a few people over the years looking for Anani. Most call, but a woman stopped by January 5th or 6th.”
I did the math. That was a few days after the Piper blind. “She give you her name?”
Andy shook her head. “I didn’t ask. She contributed to the roof fund and I let her peek at the files. She didn’t seem surprised. It was as if she knew and just wanted confirmation.”
Gus obviously wasn’t a woman, but he did have an assistant who was. One that did everything for him. Did that extend to unwittingly helping him plan a murder?
Needing a pic of Kitt stat, I pulled the Silver Sphere Awards site up on my phone. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any pics. I also couldn’t remember her last name. I googled Kitt and Silver Sphere Awards, stumbling across their Instagram account and a photo of her with Nina from the press conference. It was supposed to be candid, but I could tell it wasn’t, mainly because Nina was smiling and her claws weren’t showing.
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