Hollywood Ending

by Kellye Garrett

  I happily showed the pic to Andy. She grabbed it out of my hand and took a nice, long look. “That’s definitely her.”

  I exhaled. It wasn’t a direct link to Gus, but it was the next best thing. Kitt and I were still on for lunch. Maybe if I plied her with a few drinks, she’d inadvertently incriminate her boss.

  Andy handed me the phone back. “That pink shirt she’s wearing is horrible. She had a similar one on when she came here.”

  One problem. Kitt wasn’t wearing a pink shirt.

  Nina was.

  Twenty-Three

  I’m not sure why I was so surprised. Yes, I’d declared Nina my lifelong sworn enemy. Sure I was certain she’d wanted to kill me as many times as I’d wanted to kill her, but I never took her for an actual murderer. Of course, Nina had taken pains to portray her relationship with Lyla as a good one, but then she was a publicist. It was her job to spin things like a wheel. This one obviously landed on the ‘I taught Lyla everything I knew before passing her the Silver Sphere reins to start my own PR agency’ section.

  Something clearly wasn’t adding up. After Z and I left Claremont, I quickly texted Emme to run a background check on Nina, including a peek into her finances. Of course, that wouldn’t give me a peek at their relationship. And I knew Nina wouldn’t volunteer what was really going on. Luckily I’d already made lunch plans with just the person who could: Kitt. I still planned to ask her about Gus. I’d just ask her about Nina too. If things went well, I’d have a clear motive for one of them so I’d know what steps to take next.

  I’d never heard of the place where Kitt wanted to meet for lunch, Say Cheese. It was only after Z dropped me off at my car—which shockingly decided to play nice and start—and I made my way to Wilshire that I realized why. It was a food truck.

  Every day, trucks hit different locations in the city, using Twitter and the like to let LA’s hungry know exactly where they’d be during the lunch and dinner rush. It wasn’t uncommon for five or six trucks to line up back to back on the same busy street. I got out of the Infiniti and spotted Kitt near the front of a long line five trucks down. That had to be Say Cheese. As I walked over, I couldn’t help but scope out the menus. Sushi burritos. Lasagna cupcakes. Something called Wachos.

  When I finally got to Say Cheese, Kitt was already near the front of the line. After I’d stopped hitting the LA club scene, I vowed never to stand in a long line again—unless of course it was for the bathroom. I hugged her and settled in next to her, ignoring the exaggerated sigh of the person behind me. Like he wouldn’t have done the exact same thing if he had any friends. “Have you tried their grilled cheese before?” Kitt asked.

  I shook my head. As much as I loved myself some food, Sienna and I had never been a huge fan of trucks. Her reasoning was she didn’t chase food, much like she didn’t chase men. I just preferred not to eat standing up.

  “This is my favorite truck in all of LA. I eat here the days they’re in Miracle Mile. Ronnie is a master of the mac and cheese sandwich.”

  I’d heard of her kind, people who followed their favorite truck all over Los Angeles proper like they were the Grateful Dead. Kitt was a food truck Dead Head. Would that make her a Food Dude? Or, since she loved this truck in particular, a Cheesy?

  We took our sandwiches back to Kitt’s car, a classic pink Volkswagen Bug complete with eyelashes glued on the headlights. Cute but probably a pain when it came to the Cali emissions test. We settled in. “You excited for the show?” she asked me.

  Nope. “Yep. I’ve been to the People’s Choice Awards but never something as big as this.”

  “We’re still figuring out seating arrangements, but I’ll messenger your tickets over as soon as we do.”

  I thanked her and bit into my taco grilled cheese sandwich. I must have audibly sighed because Kitt spoke through a mouthful of mac and cheese. “Good, right?”

  It was, but as much as I enjoyed the sandwich, it was not why I’d come. I needed to shift the convo to suspect number one: Gus. “I see why you follow it all over the city. Gus doesn’t mind you leaving the office twice a week?”

  “He’s barely there himself. As long as I’m available by phone, we’re good. Besides, it’s awards week. Only people in the office right now are the poor interns. Rehearsals start tomorrow and Gus is busy running around town getting last-minute interviews for his site.”

  “I barely visit his page. I kind of prefer Anani Miss,” I said, knowing full well I was baiting her.

  But Kitt just laughed. “Me too. Of course, I’d never tell him that.”

  “Please tell me they had beef? I kinda love the idea of people who report on other people’s drama having their own.”

  “Not really. I don’t think he paid her much attention. He didn’t consider people like her on his level.”

  “He never mentioned her at all?” Mack had claimed Gus wasn’t one of Anani’s biggest fans.

  “Only if she scooped him. Like that whole Omari Grant/Toni Abrams thing. He swears he had it first, but he wanted to check his sources before revealing it.”

  I thought back to his exclusive. “He certainly is on board now, even though they aren’t together.”

  “Do we really care if they are?” Kitt asked.

  Kinda, especially when he’s your boyfriend.

  She continued. “I mean, that’s the whole point of blinds and gossip, right? Guessing is the fun part. Who cares if it’s accurate?”

  I used to agree with her. Instead of arguing, I changed the subject. “What else did she scoop him on? He also have the Piper blind first? He must know who it is.”

  “I asked, but he just got annoyed and didn’t answer. Who do you think it could be?”

  I figured I didn’t have anything to lose by telling the truth. “Mack Christie.”

  Kitt dang near choked on her food. “No way!”

  “It’s not impossible, right?” I went through exactly how he fit Piper’s description but didn’t mention that I’d had a personal confirmation.

  “You may be right,” she said when I’d wrapped up.

  “You must know him since he’s been so involved with SSO these past couple of years. There haven’t been any hints?”

  “Not really. His people are always calling the office offering to have Mack and J. Chris do things. Gus finally relented and let them host this year after Chris Rock fell through. It was too late to get anyone else.”

  That was definitely not how Mack had portrayed it. Made me wonder if he was suddenly avoiding my calls because he had lied to me about his relationship with Gus. Also made me want to just call him again to ask. In the meantime, I figured I’d ask Kitt first. “Did they get along? Mack and Gus?”

  She shrugged. “Gus felt like J. Chris was a piece of work but he never complained about Mack. Mack really wanted to win last year. Campaigned hard for it. Performed, even. They seemed disappointed when he didn’t win but they came back to host this year, right? Couldn’t have been that upset.”

  Or it could also have been blackmail. Kitt’s response made me wonder who else besides Gus knew about the lip-syncing. I could see Gus keeping a tight lid on the actual lip-syncing—Kitt clearly didn’t know, after all. But people talked. Folks at least had to know there’d been some type of situation, even if Gus had explained it away as technical difficulties. “How was their performance last year?” I asked. “I’d heard there were issues beforehand.”

  Kitt swallowed the last of her food. “Don’t know. Didn’t have time to watch rehearsals or the show. Honestly, I just kind of suspected Piper was his wife. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  That reminded me that no one knew Lyla and Anani were one and the same. No one except Nina. “True,” I said. “Right after the awards, too. I know Nina’s running you ragged.”

  “She’s worse than ever. I was really looking forward to not working with her this
year. I’m going on vacation as soon as the show is over and I cannot wait to get away from her.” Kitt paused before speaking again. “God, that sounds so selfish. I’m working with Nina again because Lyla’s dead and I’m complaining about it.”

  It was true. What was also true was she was helping find Lyla’s killer. She just didn’t know it. I had to keep her focused. “Lyla was probably well aware of how Nina could be,” I said.

  “We used to try to one-up each other on what Nina asked us to do. Lyla always had me beat. She was basically doing Nina’s job while Nina got all the credit.”

  That didn’t surprise me. “Nina acts like she taught Lyla everything, including how to tie her shoe.”

  “Typical Nina. I’m sure she told you she left Silver Sphere to fulfill her long-held dream to start her own boutique agency, right? More like she was fired.”

  Now that did surprise me. “Really? Why?”

  “I don’t know the details but I do know it had to do with Anani. Word on the street was that Nina was feeding Anani info. Nina denied it, but next thing I know, Nina’s out and Lyla’s taking her place. Don’t even think they let her box up her stuff. Lyla just sent it to her.”

  I finally understood why Nina was so busy looking into Anani. I still had one more question. “Why would Nina come back?”

  “Because she never wanted to leave.”

  Aubrey wanted to meet at Runyon Canyon, which was technically a park situated in the Santa Monica Mountains. Key word: technically. It was Hollywood’s outdoor workout of choice. On a good day, you could find more celebs than on NBC’s primetime lineup. Even on a bad day, you might catch a news anchor. If you entered from the southern end at the bottom of the hill on Fuller Ave, it wasn’t uncommon to pass outdoor yoga classes before making your way up a hiking trail that ended way up on Mulholland Drive. At least that’s what I’d heard. I’ve never made it that far. Hadn’t even tried.

  Aubrey knew me better than I realized because instead of suggesting we meet at the entrance, he chose a lookout point about a mile up that had an amazing view of Los Angeles proper.

  I wasn’t happy about the trek, which is why I’d gotten the ice cream on the way there. Call it the “Calories In, Calories Out” exercise method. I made sure to time things perfectly so I made it to the landing just as I finished my first scoop. I sat and pulled out my phone. There was a text from Emme.

  She’d written “Nina” and attached two screenshots. The first was a bank statement with an available balance of $879.77. Ehh. I’d seen much worse. I had much worse. It wasn’t a big deal. The $50,000 withdrawal, however, was. The next screenshot was of the check. Nina had made it out to cash.

  Bingo.

  I looked up in time to see Aubrey finally approach. “Could you have not left your ice cream in the car, Ms. Anderson?”

  Of course not. It would have melted. “I have good news.” Well, as good as news could be when it came to murder.

  “So you got the ice cream because you were celebrating this news?”

  Nope. “Yes.”

  Aubrey nodded but I suspected he didn’t believe me. Before he could confirm my suspicion, I kept going. “Anyway, I found out Nina lost her job because of Anani. With Lyla dead, she gets revenge and her old job back. And get this. Nina took out $50,000 from her checking account. Depleted almost her entire savings. She could have used that money to pay Junior.”

  He stared at me for a good thirty seconds. “How do you know this, Ms. Anderson?”

  Emme. “Nina. She mentioned it to Omari.”

  Sometimes it scared me how easily lies rolled off my tongue. Aubrey wouldn’t approve of Emme’s illegal searches, even if they were for the greater good. It helped, though, that I didn’t consider it lying but rather necessary acting. Tomato, tomahto and all that.

  “We just need to figure out how much Geppetto paid Junior,” I said. “I bet it matches.”

  He gave me a look. “Who is Geppetto, Ms. Anderson?”

  Oh. “I gave our killer a nickname.”

  To his credit, he didn’t question it. “I have already spoken to Ms. Ruth about checking to see if her grandson hid any money from our Mr. Geppetto—”

  I cut him off. “Geppetto. Not Mr. Geppetto.”

  There was a pause as he just stared me, like I was in the wrong for expecting him to get my nickname right. “As I was saying,” he finally said, “I have already explained to Ms. Ruth that Junior might have hidden cash somewhere. As you may imagine, she has been more than willing to look.”

  “Guess she hasn’t found anything.”

  He shrugged. “I doubt she would tell us if she did. She was too busy watching something called The First 48 when I stopped by earlier.”

  I narrowed my eyes. A&E hadn’t aired a new episode of The First 48 since December. The only way to watch it was to catch the daily rerun at 11:00 a.m., which didn’t make any sense. “How were you downtown at the licensing exam at 10:30 and at Junior’s grandma’s at 11:00? I thought the test took two hours.”

  “I did not make the test.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Traffic?” I asked, even though Aubrey didn’t own a car.

  “I decided not to go.”

  He must have lost his mind. “And when did you decide this?” He certainly hadn’t informed me of this change of plans. And I was his partner. Kind of.

  “I decided this morning. You were the one who was anxious for me to talk to Ms. Ruth.”

  “Yeah, but not at the same time as your test.”

  “I will take the exam—after we solve this case. We are making too much progress to worry about anything else.”

  Yeah, like going to jail ourselves for impersonating licensed investigators. I was about to say as much when I realized what was what.

  He was scared he’d fail.

  It was kind of sweet, when you thought about it. Aubrey had never told me his age but I’d had Emme look it up. Thirty-six. Not old by any means, but it meant he probably hadn’t taken a standardized test going on twenty years. Couldn’t blame him for feeling rusty. I got SAT prep flashbacks any time I had to do so much as fill out a tax form.

  But as endearing as it was, it also wasn’t helpful. We needed a license. I wouldn’t last in jail. “You know, I came across a website offering license tutoring,” I said. “I’m sure it’s not that expensive.”

  “I have stayed up to date on procedures. I do not want to be behind when I am back with the sheriff’s department.” He said it so casually I thought maybe I’d misheard him.

  “Back? You mean reinstated?”

  He shook his head and I was immediately relieved. That lasted until he opened his mouth again. “Not quite, Ms. Anderson. I resigned from the department, so it is not a matter of being reinstated. However, I can apply for a new position. My lawyer thinks I have a good shot since there were no charges regarding my … incident.”

  It was my turn to stare. This was the reason that Aubrey didn’t have a license. It wasn’t that he didn’t have time. Or that he was nervous. Or that he needed a partner to help him out. He was biding his time and just never bothered to tell me.

  I was pissed. “Were you going to let me know or just surprise me? ‘Hello, Ms. Anderson, I have been reinstated as a deputy so you are on your own with becoming an investigator. I wish you luck in your future endeavors.’” My Aubrey impression was pathetic, but at the moment I didn’t give one flying fudge.

  “Ms. Anderson, do you not think you are overreacting a bit? I am not returning to the sheriff’s department tomorrow.”

  “But it’s going to happen, right? Even after how they treated you? Those people you want to be back with? Guess what? They made you the sacrificial lamb for that poor girl’s disappearance. I’ve been in enough dysfunctional relationships to recognize one.”

  He showed no emotions. “Ms. Anderson … ”


  But he was talking to my back. I was going for a grand exit. Of course, I was midway up a mountain trail, which made things a bit difficult. Normally I could just stomp to my car and drive off in a huff. Instead, I huffed and puffed for fifteen minutes, regretting eating that second scoop. What made things worse was that Aubrey continued his workout. He ran past me not once, but twice.

  Neither of us spoke.

  Twenty-Four

  I’d gotten the routine down pat. Text Mack. Call Mack. Stalk Mack’s social media. My last phone call revealed a full voicemail. Good to know I wasn’t the only one he was avoiding. If I’d been able to leave (yet another) message, I’d have told him I wasn’t harassing him about Gus, I was harassing him about Nina. He knew them both. I wondered if Lyla had ever said anything about her, either as herself or as Anani.

  When I wasn’t blowing up every available method of contact I had for Mack, I was doing the same with Nina. She was a publicist. Translation: she had to answer her phone. What if I was People offering a cover story on Omari?

  When I actually listened to her outgoing message instead of just hanging up, I learned that Nina was currently out of the office at the Silver Sphere Awards rehearsals. She would return my call at her earliest convenience—provided I clearly left my full name, phone number, and company.

  I didn’t. Instead, I got in Omari’s car. I’d borrowed his Mercedes after dropping my Infiniti at the mechanic for the kajllionth time. If Nina was at rehearsals, Gus and Mack were probably there too. Both my suspects and a key, possibly unreliable, witness in one location? I was there.

  I found a short-term spot in the parking structure behind the Shrine auditorium and headed to the nearest backstage entrance—careful to avoid the University of Southern California coeds riding bikes in short skirts and three-inch heels while simultaneously texting. I spied the production trailers serving as Ground Zero for the television crew and staff farther up, next to what would probably become the Red Carpet. I also spotted Gus’s Big Bird-yellow Airstream and Mack’s tour bus.