by Cheryl Crane
“Have . . . have you heard any news?” the mourner asked Nikki. Her hair was pinched off in little dreadlocks that were actually kind of cute. “I . . . I saw that they arrested someone—the dog walker—but that doesn’t make any sense. If she did it, they wouldn’t have let her out on bail, would they?” She leaned down to adjust an eight-by-ten glossy photo of Ryan at her feet.
“I . . . I haven’t heard anything.”
The blonde looked up at Nikki, then got that look on her face that Nikki knew all too well. “I know you,” she said slowly. She pointed. “You . . . you’re that famous old actress’s daughter. I just saw you on TV on E! with your mom. You were at some fundraiser for the Christopher Reeve Foundation.”
Nikki smiled. “Nikki Harper.”
“Just shoot me! It is you! And your mom is Victoria Bordeaux. I’m Jessie Bondecker. It’s really nice to meet you.” She grabbed her friend’s arm. “Monica, this is Nikki Harper.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, which were growing red. “I can’t believe that you’re here. But, of course, I bet you were friends.” She got a tragic look on her face. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Nikki wondered how she could make a graceful exit.
“It’s really nice to meet you,” the brunette said. “I heard that last night Heidi Klum was here. Did you hear that?”
Nikki gave a quick smile. “I . . . I wouldn’t know.” “Jessie and I once waited all night outside Greystone Manor, you know, the fancy nightclub, because we heard Rihanna was going to be there,” the brunette explained. “But we never saw her. Oh,” she added quickly. “But we think we spotted J. Lo.”
“Nikki was a friend of Ryan’s,” Jessie explained to her friend Monica.
Nikki would have protested that they weren’t really friends, that she’d just met him once, but she doubted it would make a difference.
“You know,” Jessie said, “Monica and I were talking, and I think the police just arrested that poor dog walker woman to throw the real killer off.” She adjusted her frameless glasses. “Do you know if he had any international ties? We wondered if he was involved with some Saudi prince or something. Or . . . or maybe he was working with the CIA. They took his computer, you know—”
Nikki’s ears perked up. “His computer?”
“Uh-huh. There had to be something on it, right? Otherwise, they wouldn’t have taken it.”
“How . . . how do you know the police confiscated Ryan Melton’s computer?” Nikki asked.
“My brother told me,” Jessie said enthusiastically. “His roommate works for a computer company or something. They have a contract with the Beverly Hills police and he heard that one of their IT guys was called in to look at Ryan’s computer.”
“His computer?” Nikki said. “You’re sure?”
A car went by behind them and someone beeped. Nikki took a step closer to the gate, trying not to step on a bundle of daisies.
“I’m sure,” the girl said earnestly.
“When was this? Do you know?”
“Right after it happened. Can you imagine, getting to touch Ryan Melton’s computer? Your fingers touching the same keyboard he touched?”
Nikki knew that people didn’t always tell the truth, but this was too weird not to be true. “I . . . I should go,” she said. “It was really nice to meet you. Both of you.”
“You too.” Jessie whipped a pen out of her handbag. “Would . . . would you mind giving me your autograph?”
“Um . . . sure. I . . . I guess.” Nikki gave a little uncomfortable laugh. This never got any easier. “I’m not really famous or anything.”
“You are to me.” She thrust out the pen.
Nikki took it. “What would you like me to sign?”
“My bag.” She held out the cheap canvas rucksack, the strap still over her shoulder.
The surface wasn’t the easiest to write on, but Nikki signed her name anyway. She couldn’t think of any way to get out of it.
“Just shoot me,” Jessie breathed. “Thank you so much. If . . . if you ever want to stop by Carney’s and say hi, we’re there all the time, me and Monica. We can give away free fries without getting into trouble.”
“Thanks.” Nikki walked away with a wave and strode toward her car.
Ryan’s computer. What on earth could there be on the computer, and what did it have to do, if anything, with Alison?
Chapter 9
With the help of her fancy new iPhone (she’d always been a BlackBerry girl), Nikki found the address of the Age of Aquarius Aquariums on Nielson Way in Venice. The GPS in her car took her right to it. It was only a few blocks off the beach, a cute shop with underwater scenes painted on the glass windows. A bell rang overhead as she entered.
There were rows of fish tanks filled with bright fish that immediately entranced Nikki. She lightly ran her finger along the glass of the nearest tank, watching an electric-blue school of tiny fish swim by.
“Hi, I’m Moon. Can I help you?”
Moon? Nikki looked up, thinking she probably had the right place. “Hi . . .”
The girl was tall and slender with long, blond hair tied back with a hot pink bandanna. She was wearing board shorts and a surfing tee, and was barefoot.
Nikki smiled. “Is . . . Mars in?”
“Sure, hang on. Daddy!” the young woman hollered over her shoulder.
Nikki guessed the girl was in her early to mid-twenties. She had a hot bod, super-healthy look with a gorgeous sun-glowed face. She didn’t wear a bit of makeup. Nikki wistfully imagined the girl’s life in Venice, California: working in a fish store, hanging out at the beach, rollerblading the famous boardwalk.
Nikki and Moon waited for Mars; they got no response but the bubble of fish tanks.
Moon rolled her eyes. “Dad!” she hollered again; then she looked at Nikki. “Sorry. He’s a day trader when he’s not being fishy. He had some kind of alarms going off in the back. I guess one of his stocks is tanking—no pun intended. He’s got six or seven computer monitors.” She grabbed a little net and scooped something out of the tank with the little blue fish.
It wasn’t until the girl dumped the object into a trash can on the floor that Nikki realized it was a dead fish.
“Be free,” Moon said.
Nikki must have had a look on her face that begged explanation.
“When I was little,” Moon said, “and I played here, I thought I had to have a funeral for every fish that died. A box, a hole in the backyard. The whole thing.” She wrinkled her delicately freckled nose. “It got old. Now I just wish their little souls good luck.” She peered into the next tank. “You think fish have souls?”
“I . . .” Nikki hesitated. “I don’t know.”
The man Nikki had seen in Ryan Melton’s living room walked into the room from the back. He was dressed similarly to his daughter. He was wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt that looked to be from the seventies. He was also sans shoes. “Hi, can I help you?”
When he looked at Nikki she could tell he was trying to place her.
“Nikki Harper.” She offered her hand.
He shook it hesitantly.
“We met,” she said. “Actually, we didn’t meet. I’m a friend of Alison Sahira’s. I was at Ryan Melton’s house last week right after the murder. I saw you in the living room.”
“Right,” he said slowly. Then he shook his head. He was one of those people who took his time before he spoke. “Crazy, awful day.”
There was an awkward silence. Now that she was here, Nikki wasn’t sure how to proceed. “What kind is that?” she asked, pointing to a black and white fish that looked more like a piece of ribbon.
“Pennant Butterfly. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”
She could tell by the change in his expression that he felt passionate about his fish. “And this is a saltwater tank, right?” Nikki asked. “That’s why the fish are so beautiful.”
Mars tugged on his ponytail. He was a nice-looking guy in a California beach hippie kind o
f way. Nikki guessed he was about her age.
“Only way to go,” he said. “You have a tank?”
“No, I’m not sure I’d be good at taking care of it.”
“That’s where we come in,” he explained with a lazy cadence. He seemed like a man who had all the time in the world. It was actually kind of refreshing.
“We set up the tank,” he said. “Add the fish. Fifteen-day guarantee on all the fish.”
“He says that”—Moon walked by them with her little fish net—“but he’s a pushover. Some lady in Beverly Hills called him the other day complaining someone was floating belly up in the tank in her husband’s office. A doctor’s office. They’ve had the tank at least three months. Dad drove a new Nemo all the way over to Beverly Hills.”
“Nemo?” Nikki watched a miniature skate-looking fish glide along the bottom of a tank.
“You know, a clown fish. Finding Nemo. Pixar flick.” Mars rested his hand on the tank Nikki was peering into. “We’re having a special on these hundred and fifty gallon tanks.” He named a price. “I can have you rolling in a couple of days.”
Nikki tore her gaze from a school of thumb-sized orange fish. “I didn’t come to buy a fish tank.”
“I didn’t think you did.” He had a nice smile beneath his blond mustache. “But they brighten up any house.” He glanced at her, taking in her business attire. “Or office.”
A phone rang and Moon trotted to the back of the small store.
They both watched her go, suntanned bare feet soundless on the tile floor. “Nice girl,” Nikki said. “It must be great having her here to help you with the shop.”
“It’s the only way I ever get to see her.” He was still watching his daughter, his eyes looking misty. “When she plays hooky and comes home to hang out with me.”
“Hooky?” Nikki wondered if she’d misjudged the girl’s age. Was she still in high school? She couldn’t be.
“Getting her PhD in marine science at UCLA.”
Nikki cut her eyes at the young girl leaning on the counter, talking on a cell phone.
“Following after her pop, I guess.”
“Wow.” Nikki looked at him. “Congratulations.” So much for stereotypes, she thought as she adjusted her Prada on her shoulder. “Mars, I came to ask you about Ryan Melton. About that day.”
“You a cop?” His gaze narrowed, causing tiny lines to form at the corners of his dark brown eyes.
“No, a real-estate broker in Beverly Hills. I knew Ryan.” Barely a fib.
He hesitated. “Not much to tell you. I gave Detective Dombrowski my statement. He seemed cool with it.” He shrugged. “At least I think he was. He didn’t arrest me.”
“But he did arrest my friend Alison Sahira,” she said quietly. “And she didn’t do it either.”
He nodded. “I saw that in the L.A. Times and was kind of surprised.”
Nikki found it hard not to jump in. She was so used to the lightning speed life of Beverly Hills. Everyone talked fast there. Interrupted each other. Venice and Mars seemed a million miles from there. She waited patiently for him to go on.
“No way she did it.”
Nikki met his gaze, surprised he would offer that information so easily. “What makes you think she didn’t kill Ryan?”
“Her aura was all wrong for a cold-blooded killer.” He pointed to a tank with hot pink fish in it. “What do you think of these? They’re cardinal fish. They’d look great in your tank.”
Moon was now walking around the store, her cell phone to her ear. She was laughing, obviously talking to a friend.
“Um . . . they’re beautiful.” Nikki wasn’t sure how to respond to the aura remark. It was great that Mars didn’t think Alison did it, but she was relatively certain that a wrong aura defense wouldn’t hold up in court. “Did you tell Detective Dombrowski that you don’t think Alison did it? I mean, she just happened to be at the house, right? Like you.”
“He wasn’t asking for my opinion. Just the facts, so I gave him just the facts. I was pretty freaked out. I never saw a dead man before. Just in a funeral parlor. My grandfather. I had nightmares for months after, and he died last year.” He pointed to the tank that had caught Nikki’s eye when she’d first come in. “Electric Blue Cichlids. I could see you being happy with these, too.”
“So . . . what did happen when you arrived at the Melton house that day? Alison’s so upset. She’s not really sure what happened, and now that she’s been arrested, her lawyer doesn’t want her talking to anyone. Not even to friends.”
“Just trying to make sure she doesn’t get run out on a rail, huh?”
Nikki wasn’t quite sure what he meant, so she smiled the smile.
“That’s good. She’s lucky to have a good friend like you.”
Moon, who was one aisle over, lowered the cell phone. “Dad, Tulip says the Dalai Lama tickets at USC are all sold out. Think there’s any way you can get them for us? We were going to go for her birthday.”
Mars grimaced and dropped a pinch of food into a tank. “Doubtful.” He glanced at Nikki. “I’m just an adjunct professor.”
“You’re a professor at USC and you service fish tanks?”
Moon walked away. “He doesn’t think he can get the tickets.”
“On sabbatical,” Mars told Nikki. “Writing a textbook for the marine biology department.”
He didn’t look like a college professor. Nikki wasn’t entirely sure she believed him. Did college professors service fish tanks in Beverly Hills bathrooms? “That day,” she said, going back to their previous conversation. “You arrived and . . .”
“Well, I went in the back gate like I always do. I’ve got the security code. Ryan was a hell of a nice guy. Used to bring me a beer while I worked. Anyway, I went in the back door as usual. I checked the tank in the master bath first. There was a pH issue.”
“Did you speak to Ryan before you checked the tank?”
“Nope, a lot of houses, I just go in, do what needs to be done, and go out. They’re on a monthly billing plan. Goes right to a credit card.”
“Was Alison there when you arrived?”
“Not in the house. I’d been there about fifteen minutes when I heard the dog bark. I was finishing up the powder room. Not long after that I heard the front door open—”
“Wait a minute,” Nikki interrupted. “You heard the Rottweiler bark? That doesn’t make sense. Alison was bringing the dog back from the dog park.”
He shrugged. “I’m just telling you what happened, Nikki. It’s what you want to know, right?”
He looked at her with such sincerity that she glanced at the clean tile floor. She followed his lead and paused to think before speaking again. “If the dog was already in the house, do you know why Alison came back?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t really think about it. There are service people coming and going all the time in houses in Beverly Hills. I didn’t know it was her until I saw her in the hall. She was headed down the hall one way, I was headed the other.”
“You saw her?” Alison had said she never saw Mars until he came out to tell her Ryan was dead. Had she forgotten? Or lied?
He nodded.
“Was she going toward the front of the house?”
“For the front door, I assumed.”
“Did she say anything?”
He thought for a second. “Nope. I said, ‘Hi.’ She just sort of nodded. She was in a hurry.”
Nikki closed her eyes for a second. She didn’t know what to say. Clearly Alison had lied . . . to her and to the police. She opened her eyes. “How did you find Ryan? I mean . . . how did you come upon him if he was out on the pool deck?”
“I just wanted to let him know that I was on the pH problem. He’d left me a voicemail the evening before. Usually, if he’s home, he’s out on the pool deck. So I went out to the pool.”
“And that’s when you found him dead?”
Mars pressed his lips together. He looked like he might cry. “He was
lying there on the lounge chair, his eyes open. But I knew his soul was gone. His eyes were empty. You know?”
“So you called the police?”
He nodded. “That’s when I saw Alison again. Through the window. When I went back into the house to make the call. I couldn’t stay with him. I just couldn’t do it. So I went out the front door.”
“Alison was in her van?”
He nodded. “She was on her cell. I made the 911 call. Then I went out the front door and told her about Ryan. I thought she might want to come in and put the dog up. Muffin would probably get scared, all the police and everyone there.”
“Did Alison seem upset?”
“Of course she was upset. Who wouldn’t be?”
“Did she act . . . strange in any way?”
“Strange how?” he asked.
“I don’t know . . . guilty?” she dared.
He blinked. “No, she acted upset. She started crying when I told her.” He stared at the pink fish. “So what do you say? Can I interest you in a hundred and fifty gallon fish tank?”
A few minutes later, Nikki sat in the front seat of her car, staring at the receipt in her hand for a fish tank. She couldn’t believe she’d bought a fish tank. What the heck was she going to do with a 150-gallon fish tank?
She had no idea why she’d done it. It was just that Mars was so nice, and he seemed to really think she would enjoy the tank.
Nikki tossed the receipt on the passenger’s seat and started her car. She was just pulling onto the street when her cell phone rang. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen in the center of the dashboard. She’d splurged and traded in her old black Prius for a new one, just so she could have the integrated phone and navigation system.
She pressed a button on the steering wheel. “Hello?”
“Hey, Nikki, it’s Moon.”
Nikki slowly eased into traffic. “Hey.” She hesitated. “How’d you get my number?”