“You’re screwed,” he responded.
Thanks. Gus grabbed his phone and hit the first number on his favorites. Being Hollywood, it was his publicist.
“There you are,” Nina said through the speakerphone. “I’ve been blowing your phone up—”
He cut her off. “The police are following me.”
“Which is why I’ve been blowing your phone up.”
“What’s going on?”
“Dayna.” For a second, I thought she wanted to talk to me, but then she kept on. “She’s an idiot—”
At that moment, I agreed with her. Still, I quickly jumped in. “Hey Nina! It’s me. Dayna, the idiot. Just wanted to let you know you’re on speaker. You know, in case you say something you might regret.” Or more likely, I’d regret.
“Great! Tell Gus how you think he’s a murderer.”
Like that.
I glanced at Gus, who gave me the side-eye of death, which was expected considering the news. “Why would I think he was a murderer?”
“Because you couldn’t pin Lyla’s murder on me so now you’re harassing poor Gus.”
Glancing at Gus, I shook my head and mouthed, “Ignore her.”
He didn’t. “What do you mean? She’s here for an interview.”
“That’s how she tricked you? With me, she hid in the bathroom so she could eavesdrop.”
“I wasn’t hiding! I had to pee.” I just happened to eavesdrop at the same time.
I tried to figure out the best method of escape. The good news was we weren’t moving and the cops were right behind us, even if they weren’t doing anything but sitting there. The bad news? I didn’t have a door. I’d have to crawl over some random hump between the seats to get out the exit in the back.
“Dayna seems to think Lyla’s killer didn’t act alone,” Nina said. “That you hired him.”
I hoped Orlander was getting this all on camera so it could play at my murder trial. I tried to diffuse the situation. “I don’t necessarily think it’s you, Gus. I’m just exploring all options.”
“Why am I even an option?” He had the steering wheel in a death grip. “Why would I kill Lyla? She was the best publicist we had. No offense, Nina.”
Nina sighed. “First, Lyla was the best because I taught her to be. Second, Dayna doesn’t think you killed Lyla. She thinks you killed Anani Miss. They were the same person.”
“No, they weren’t,” Gus said. “Someone told me Anani was really some woman who worked at Fox.”
“That ‘someone’ was probably Lyla,” Nina said. “She told me the same thing.”
I could see him working it out in his head. He finally spoke. “This looks bad for me.”
Really bad, but I sure wasn’t going to say that. So I said nothing at all. Instead, I glanced at the mirror. The cops were still there. What were they waiting for?
“I never spoke to Junior,” Gus said. “He kept leaving messages, said his grandma was a huge fan, but he didn’t say why he needed to talk. When I figured out he was connected to Lyla’s death, I called him back. Hoping to get some info to help the police. But we never talked. Just played phone tag. I swear.”
I didn’t believe him. “I believe you,” I said. He looked encouraged. “I’m sure you have a good explanation for the blackmail, too.”
Judging by his abrupt change of expression, it was the wrong thing to say. Nina piped in from the phone. “I forgot to mention she thinks you blackmailed Mack Christie.”
If ever I wanted a dropped call, this was it. I spoke. “Mack Christie claims, even though he’s been super-duper hesitant to provide any actual proof whatsoever, that you secretly recorded his closed rehearsal for the show last year and have been blackmailing him. He thinks you might have killed Lyla to keep his money coming in and protect yourself.”
Yes, I was throwing Mack under the bus, but that’s what he got for not calling me back. Gus was now gripping the steering wheel so hard his brown knuckles were turning white. “And the police believe this?”
Considering they were behind us, I would say yes. “Like I said, Mack’s been super sketchy about it. He claims he has emails from you.”
Gus laughed. “I don’t email. We always talked on the phone and even then it was only to help him. I told him I’d take care of the video. And I did. I know the donations don’t make me look good, but there is a line.” Clearly, a very very thin one. “We would never resort to blackmail. But of course, if a rich, handsome, award-winning celebrity says so, it must be true. I don’t know why he’s lying but he is. Now they’re going to arrest me because of it. I can’t go to jail.”
He was definitely going to jail. “You’re not going to jail. Just explain it to them just like you explained everything to me. You’ll be fine. It’s not like you can run from the police.”
I laughed then.
“Of course not,” he said. Then he turned on his engine and pulled out.
Not good. At all.
LA has been known for its car chases since the time OJ got into that Bronco. It wasn’t uncommon for them to even be aired live. I’d watched more than a few myself. Just never thought I’d be in one. It was not on the bucket list. About the only good thing was at least we were traveling with a bathroom. Important, considering there was a 99.99999 percent chance I’d pee my pants.
I glanced in the side mirror again. The cops were so close I could make out the detective’s wrinkles. Blurg. I forced myself to look on the bright side. At least it wasn’t a high-speed car chase. In fact, it wasn’t really a car chase at all. Those involved sirens.
Maybe this would all be okay.
Then I heard the noise. I glanced back to see the car’s police lights going as well.
And that’s when Gus hit it.
Twenty-Six
It fortunately was the brakes. Luckily, I was wearing my seat belt because he slammed on them hard. Never mind we were in the middle of the road. The cops swerved to the right to avoid a collision. I made a mental note that if I ever was in another potential police chase, I’d request the driver pull into a parking lot in a safe and sound manner.
Nina immediately hung up to call a lawyer. We stayed in the car. They didn’t get out either but we definitely heard them. A male voice on their speaker told us to step out of the vehicle with our hands up. I raised mine immediately even though they couldn’t see, then waited as Orlander and Gus got out before me. It was the first time I was happy no one insisted ladies first.
By the time I got out, Gus was already in handcuffs and on his way to the back of the detective’s car. He stayed there while they questioned me and Orlander, then told us we were free to go. They made it clear that Gus wasn’t under arrest. He was simply a “person of interest” being taken in for some “routine questioning.”
I walked the block back to Omari’s car, my feet joining my brain in being thankful it wasn’t a long chase. Z leaned against the car, a manila envelope in his hand. I was so annoyed I didn’t even bother looking both ways before crossing the street. He wore his patented amused expression and all-black suit. I stopped a few feet away but still could smell the cinnamon. “You following me or you just happen to be in the area?”
“I have something for you.”
I glanced at the envelope. It had to be the emails, which were a moot point now. I took them anyway. “Thanks but I already figured everything out—without these. The police just took Gus in to question him about it.”
It felt good to rub it in his face. Really, really good.
He nodded. “Great job. You saved the day.”
But there was something in his tone. I narrowed my eyes and held the envelope up. “You gave these to the police already, didn’t you?”
“Of course. I would never want to obstruct an investigation.”
“So you just told me about them to get me off Mack’s back.
You were planning on giving them to the cops first the entire time. Then hand them over to me with a ‘I have something for you.’”
Pissed, I motioned for him to get out of my way. He spoke as he did so. “I wasn’t talking about the emails.”
I didn’t care. I was over it. As I pushed past him, he gently grabbed my hand and pressed a piece of paper into it.
“What is this?” I asked.
“My apology,” he said. “If Aubrey is serious about getting back with the sheriff’s department, all he needs to do is call the number written on there.”
If this was some melodramatic reality show, I’d have torn that scrap of paper into a million pieces. But it wasn’t. So instead I just asked a question. “Who does it belong to?”
But Z was already walking away. “One way to find out.”
He knew he had me. That he could screw me over and think if he gave me something else I wanted then everything would be fine between us. He was wrong. He would not be forgiven.
Of course that didn’t mean I wouldn’t pass the number on to Aubrey. I wanted to get to his house the next morning by eight. I made it by nine.
I’d been up half the night checking for updates on Gus. His being brought in had, unsurprisingly, made the news. Someone even managed to get cell phone footage of him being driven away. The video played on a loop on almost every major blog, social media account, and news site—all with different variations of the same headline: Awards Show President Questioned for Own Publicist’s Murder.
The articles weren’t nearly as juicy as the headlines. They knew less than I did. None mentioned Mack. Or Anani. Or the blind item. Being short on details, the article writers had embellished with recycled info about the Silver Sphere Awards history, Lyla’s death, and Gus’s bio. After refreshing Buzzfeed for the twentieth time only to find the same old information, it was finally enough to put me to sleep.
I woke up to the same news—no news—and then decided to get dressed and go see Aubrey. He was on his sliver of a porch with his feet kicked back, eyes closed, and cooler at the ready beside him, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
I knew better.
I got about two steps before he spoke. “Ms. Anderson.” I was beginning to wonder if I had a certain scent. Or, more likely, I was his only visitor. “I have been trying to reach you.”
I was aware. I had the six missed calls on my iPhone to prove it.
“The news is reporting the police questioned Mr. Ortiz,” he said.
I nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “There’s emails proving he blackmailed Mack Christie. And I found out Junior left a message on his voicemail. Motive. Means. Opportunity. Check. Check. Check.”
That made him open his eyes. “Congratulations, Ms. Anderson. You are already an amazing investigator and you will only become better. You just have to ignore the mistakes because even the best of us make them. The key is not giving up but instead trying to correct it.”
I was all for the warm and fuzzy moment. “I know. You’ve taught me that. You’ve taught me a lot these past few months. Most important thing? Bring a jar on stakeouts.”
He laughed. I was shocked. Before that moment, I didn’t even know Aubrey’s lips were physically able to stretch like that. I took the paper Z gave me out of my purse. “I have something for you.”
“And what may that be?”
“My apology.” It had sounded way cooler when Z said it. I placed it next to him. “That number should help you get back with the department.”
He stared at it. “How—”
“It’s probably best if you don’t ask any questions. Just call the number.” I got up. Aubrey was too busy staring at the paper to look at me. “Let me know if you need a reference.”
Sienna and I were on my bed giving ourselves sheet mask face treatments. The liquidy white paper covered our entire face save for our eyes, nose, and lips. We looked like the World’s Cutest Horror Movie Villains. Since the Glam Squad and Omari’s mom weren’t due for a bit, I was updating Sienna on the past twenty-four hours. It wasn’t something you could cover in a TL;DR version so it took a while. I was at the part where I’d just burst out of the bathroom in Omari’s trailer. “The kicker? She used the money to pay for Omari’s award.”
“I’m completely and utterly shocked.”
I couldn’t make out her expression through the mask but there was something in her voice. Sienna, God bless her, was not the world’s best actress. What she lacked in actual skill, she more than made up for in enthusiasm. And this one wasn’t even enthusiastic.
“You knew … ” I said.
“Of course not.”
“Sienna Michelle Hayes … ”
“Fine. Fab told me people paid for their wins when we first thought Gus killed Lyla. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t think Omari was gonna win. I knew you’d both be devastated. Of course, if I’d known the awards just went to the highest bidder we could have started a GoFundMe months ago.”
“You’re not helping,” I said.
“Not now, it’s too late. But definitely something to think about next year.”
I was about to answer when my phone rang. I checked the ID. Nina. I wasn’t really in the mood to talk with her but I answered anyway, putting my phone on speaker. Last thing I needed was sheet mask gunk on my cell. It definitely didn’t need coenzymes and peptides. “Hey Nina! I can’t talk long. Sienna and I are getting ready for tonight.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m calling. You’re both no longer invited.”
Sienna ripped the sheet mask off as I sat up. “What? Why not?” I asked.
“Well, let’s see. You thought I killed Lyla.”
I needed to save this before Sienna never spoke to me again. “Yes, and I feel really bad about that. In fact, I’m sending you an Edible Arrangement.”
“Like you sent Gus to jail?”
You’d think she’d be appreciative that I’d helped find Lyla’s killer—again—but no.
“I’ve been dealing with calls all day,” she continued. “Instead of discussing tonight’s show, the news keeps replaying Gus in that police car. No one cares he was released.”
Released? Hadn’t heard that. Probably because I was too busy face masking and body scrubbing to check the news. Great. “They didn’t charge him with anything?”
“Of course not. He didn’t kill anyone. Just like he didn’t blackmail anyone. I just wish they’d let him out before the members voted. I had to take over.”
By that point, Sienna was pacing. I would do anything to get her to those awards, even beg. “I get why you don’t want me there, but at least let Sienna go. She didn’t accuse anyone of anything.”
“Yeah, she just forced Kitt to get you both into the 18th Annual Silver Sphere Awards Official Gift Lounge Presented by the Brand New Toyota Prius so you could run rampant and attack Todd Arrington. Yeah, I know it was you. Gus doesn’t want you there. I don’t either. But we do hope you both watch the show tonight and share your thoughts on social media. Bye now.”
With that, she hung up. I looked over at my best friend. “Sienna, I’m sorry.”
As a response, she walked out of the room. A few minutes later I heard the front door slam. She’d left.
Fudge.
She still wasn’t home an hour later, so when our intercom buzzed I hoped it was her—even though I knew she had a key. It was her condo, after all. But it was Omari’s mom at the door. Great.
I buzzed her in while wondering how I could artfully explain that I’d been uninvited to the awards we were all getting ready for. I wanted to make a good impression. This was definitely not it. I was weighing my options when she swept into the condo and embraced me.
Miss Erica wasn’t just a cool mom. She was a hot mom, the suburban neighbor in the movies the nerdy leads all secretly lust after. And s
he looked just like she had when we were in high school. “How you doing, sweetie?”
By then I’d settled on my excuse: Classic Sick. It had served me well throughout childhood. I hoped for the same this go-round. “Not that great. I’ve been nauseous all day.”
She smiled—definitely a weird reaction. “Sweetie, you’re pregnant!”
I may have jumped back in horror. “No! Never.”
She looked me up and down. “You sure? You look kind of bloated.”
True, but from food, not babies! Last thing I needed was that idea going back to Augusta with Miss Erica. Mama would freak. The only way she’d be even remotely happy was if she thought it meant Jesus was making his return to this good Earth. “I can’t be pregnant.”
I meant birth control, but she thought I was discussing something else. “Are you worried about the whole out-of-wedlock thing? Because I’ll make Omari marry you.”
“No!” I screamed a bit too loud. “I mean, I want Omari to marry me, just not because I’m pregnant.” Her face lit up. “Which I’m not.”
In what had become my custom, I was making things worse. I was two seconds away from showing Miss Erica my period-tracking app when Sienna burst through the door accompanied by Fab and another woman holding a makeup bag.
“Hi guys! Time to get ready for the show. Don’t want to be late.” Sienna was in way too good of a mood for someone who’d just been banned from the Biggest Party of the Year.
I waited until Miss Erica was getting glammed up before I pulled Sienna to the side. “What’s going on?”
She handed me a laminated All Access pass. It looked just like the ones I’d seen at the Shrine. At least on one side. The other side was blank. I glanced up to find Sienna cheesing up a storm. “Some intern posted a pic of it on her Instagram,” she said. “Even hashtagged it.”
“I don’t want to know any of this.”
She kept going. “I got them printed out and laminated at Staples. Only cost five bucks. I’m so giving them a good review on Yelp—”
Hollywood Ending Page 25