"I need your help, Felix," I said, coming straight to the point.
He raised one of his sandy brows at me. "I see," he said slowly. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, coming around his desk to lean casually against the front corner. "Always happy to do a favor for a friend, Maddie. You know that. What can I help you with?"
"I need some information on John Ratski."
"Ah. Our fist-fighting ballplayer," Felix said with a smile as he moved around the desk to sit behind his computer monitor. "I can't say we have tons of coverage on him. I'll be honest with you, Bucky's usually our target. Ratski has been mostly off our radar, until yesterday."
"Where you hit the jackpot," I mumbled.
Felix's eyes shot up to meet mine, and if I didn't know him better, I'd say there was the tiniest hint of guilt in them. "You know I don't write the news, love. I just report it."
"Nice try. You had to know you were inciting a celebrity feud with those photos of Dana and Ratski at dinner."
"Ricky was pretty angry, huh?"
I nodded. "Angry enough to hit Ratski, obviously."
"What did he say?"
I grinned. "No way are you getting a quote out of me, mister."
He shrugged. "Can't blame a bloke for trying."
That was debatable.
"Well, Ricky can't be too angry with us," Felix continued, switching computer screens. "He's exploding all over the Twitterverse this morning. Right-Hook-Ricky is the top trending hashtag at the moment."
I couldn't help a snicker.
"Followed closely by," he continued, reading off his monitor, "Ratski-struck-again and Battle-Royal. If there was any better press Ricky could get for his action star career, I don't know what it is."
"Well, in that case, I guess I always have a second career as a celebrity publicist," I joked.
"Sorry, love," Felix said, "but everyone knows any real self-respecting celebrity has a gay publicist."
I opened my mouth to argue when I realized he was right. I didn't know anyone who had a straight publicist. "Listen, I need to know who else Ratski has been seen with lately," I told him. "Specifically, if he's been seen with any of the other Baseball Wives. Liz DeCicco or Kendra Blanco maybe?" I paused. "Or possibly Lacey Desta."
Felix's eyebrow rose. "The dead girl?"
I nodded slowly.
"You think Ratski had something to do with that?"
I bit my lip, hesitant to respond in the affirmative. As I well knew, anything said in the presence of the tabloid reporter was sure to end up public knowledge.
"I'm looking into several Stars players."
Felix's eyes cut to mine, that questioning eyebrow lifting again.
"Just to be thorough," I quickly added.
"Uh-huh." He still eyed me. "Well, we can run a search through our archives." He slid his keyboard drawer out and typed in Ratski's name. "I take it this is one of Ramirez's cases?"
"Uh, sorta," I said, sidestepping the issue of Ramirez's suspension.
"And how is the husband?" Felix asked.
The question was benign enough, but I heard the sudden tightness in Felix's voice.
While Felix was my road-not-taken, I sometimes wondered if I was his one-that-got-away. Shortly after I married Ramirez, Felix started dating one of his junior reporters, Allie Quick, who some had described as a younger, perkier version of me. I'd encountered Allie a handful of times, and while part of me wanted to hate her, another part of me sort of wanted to take her under my wing. However, both parts often wondered if Felix was dating her or me-light.
"He's fine. And Allie?"
"She's fine."
"Good. I'm glad."
Felix cleared his throat, breaking the awkward exchange. "All right, I got a blank for Ratski and Lacey, but I found four articles in last two months which mention Ratski and either Liz or Kendra by name."
"That's promising," I said, getting up from my chair and coming around the desk to peer at the monitor over his shoulder. "What do they say?"
"Well, the first mentions the Stars shooting a KPIX commercial in Burbank. There's not much to it, but if you'd like to take a look…" Felix trailed off, pushing his chair back to give me more room.
I quickly scanned the article but didn't see anything to suggest the outing had been anything other than straightforward Stars promo.
"And the next article?" I asked hopefully.
Felix moved his mouse. "Ratski at a restaurant opening."
I looked at the screen, seeing a photo of the woman on his arm. Beth. Again a strikeout.
Felix must've seen the crestfallen look on my face as he asked. "You know, it might help if I knew exactly what we're looking for?"
As much as I wanted to play my cards close to my chest, Felix was right. I was looking for a needle in a haystack, and without his help that haystack was scattered over millions of paparazzi hours. "I'm looking for anything that might indicate Ratski was dating someone."
"Besides Dana?" Felix asked, a teasing note in his voice.
"Ha. Ha. Very funny. Yes, besides Dana. Clearly Ratski can't do much in Hollywood without one of your reporters knowing about it, so I figured if anybody knew who he'd been seeing, it would be you."
Felix nodded. "Well, I can't promise anything. Clearly, if there was any hint of him having an affair with someone else, we would have reported on it."
I was afraid of that.
"However," Felix went on. "I can have Cam pull photos of Ratski from the last month or two and see if anyone shows up with him more often than she should."
I figured that was about as good as I could get. I stood. "Thank you," I said, sincerely meaning it.
Felix shook my hand, holding onto it just a second too long before turning to the speakerphone on his desk again. "I'll have Cam email you pictures as soon as she can compile them. Might be a day or two though. She's following Bieber around, and you know how unpredictable that can be."
I nodded. "Thanks again," I said before turning on my heels and walking back to the Informer's elevators.
* * *
I still had a couple of hours before the party, so I pointed my car toward Melrose. It was unlikely Liz would come right out and admit if she or Kendra had been having an affair with Ratski, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to do a little well-placed hinting and see how the reality actress reacted. Besides, I was sort of regretting leaving that biased-cut blouse there the other day.
Street parking was non-existent, so I opted for the garage on the corner, driving to the absolute top before finding a spot. I figured that jogging down the stairs in my two-inch heels would be my workout for the day.
As I pushed through the glass doors of Bellissima, I immediately spotted Blonde Number One and Blonde Number Two helping other customers. Liz was behind the cash register today, ringing up a purchase for a purple leather handbag that I silently thought would go marvelously with my new kitten heels.
"Maddie, what brings you here?" Liz asked when she finished.
"I, uh, just wanted to see if my manufacturer had spoken to your buyer yet?" I lied.
Liz's eyebrows drew together. "No, I don't think we've heard from him."
Probably because I hadn't called him, but I glossed over that.
"Oh, darn," I said, faking a frown of my own. "I guess I'll have to put in another call." I paused. "Say, how's Beth doing?"
"Beth?" Liz frowned.
I did my most sympathetic face—eyebrows drawn, lips pursed, head tilted to the right. "I saw the pictures in the Informer last night. It must be so hard to be faced with proof of your husband cheating on you."
Liz snorted. "Yeah, like that's the only time he did it."
Bingo.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that guy is always chasing some tail. He even tried to hit on me. Can you believe that? His teammate's wife?"
"No!" I said. Though I had to admit to feeling a little deflated. If she was admitting he hit on her so quickly, it was looking l
ess and less like she and Ratski had anything serious going on.
"Oh, yeah. That guy would have done anything that moved. I'm pretty sure he hit on Kendra when he got drunk at the Christmas party, and he was all over Lacey the first couple of weeks she and Bucky were dating."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but I'm sure he struck out there," Liz said, echoing my earlier thoughts on the idea of the two of them having any sort of romantic relationship. "Lacey said he was a total loser. I guess that's one thing the two of us agreed on."
"But there isn't anyone special that you know of? Anyone he was actually seeing?
Liz screwed up her face. "Not that I know of. And, I mean, Ratski didn't exactly try to hide his exploits."
Unfortunately, she was right. In fact, now that I thought about it, Ratski hadn't seemed particularly worried about being photographed out with Dana the other night. Which made me even more curious about this affair that he was trying so hard to keep under wraps.
"Poor Beth," Liz sighed. "The woman is in complete denial."
"You mentioned that he hit on Kendra," I said, backtracking. "Did she tell you this?"
Liz paused, uncertainty flickering in her eyes as if not sure how much to say about the leader of the Wives pack without her prior approval. "She might have mentioned it."
I took a leap of faith and leaned in. "You know, between you and me, Kendra seems awfully controlling. I think Ratski might have dodged a bullet there."
"Ha!" Liz let out a short bark of laughter, quickly covering it with her hand. "You don't know the half of it," she confided.
I grinned. "Oh, really?" I prodded.
Liz looked over both shoulders, as if Kendra might magically appear, before leaning in close. "Look, you didn't hear this from me…"
I shook my head, putting a finger to my lips. "Of course not."
"…but Kendra told the producers what to say to the police. She said if they didn't, she'd walk. I mean, talk about controlling, right?"
Sadly I had a feeling Laurel and Hardy were only too happy to take the producers' word for anything. "What did she tell them to say?"
"Well," Liz said, getting a wicked twinkle in her eye, "On the morning that Lacey died, we were shooting a promo spot for the show. But Kendra was late."
"How late?" I asked.
"Late late. She always has an earlier call time for make-up than everyone else, because, well, Kendra takes the longest." She paused, leaning in to faux whisper. "She's over forty."
I feigned a gasp while mentally calculating just how many years I had left before hitting the age-of-no-return in Hollywood.
"Anyway, make-up was totally freaking when I got there because Kendra was nowhere to be found, and they knew it was going to take forever to get her presentable."
"What time was this?" I asked.
Liz shrugged. "Our call time was at nine, and the first anyone saw of Kendra was eleven."
"Did she say where she was?"
Liz waved her hands in the air. "She said something about car trouble or some such excuse."
"Excuse?" I asked, jumping on the word. "Where do you think she really was?"
Liz gave me the same big wide-eyed stare that she'd given to Laurel and Hardy, blinking her false lashes up-and-down. "Well, I really couldn't say, now, could I? But I know that she made sure the producers left her call time out of the segment she shot with the detectives."
As interesting as the information about Kendra's lack of alibi for the time of the murder was, I found it equally interesting that Liz was giving this information out so freely. Why was she throwing her friend under the bus? Was she trying to get Kendra in trouble? Or was she just trying to divert suspicion from herself?
I was still trying to decide the diva's motives when the bell over the front door jingled, and we both turned to see Beth walk in.
"Speak of the clueless," Liz mumbled to me, giving me a wink as if she and I were besties who'd just shared juicy gossip. Then she quickly crossed the boutique, switching gears to all-smiles as she gave air-kisses to Beth.
"Hello, darling! You ready for lunch?"
Beth nodded and gave Liz a big smile. One that faded significantly when she saw me.
I gave a little wave. "Hi."
Beth narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing here? Is Dana here too?"
I shook my head. "No. Just me."
The frown between her brows eased some, but she still gave me the wary eye.
"I am so sorry about what happened. It was all a big misunderstanding." A total lie. The only one misunderstanding anything here was Beth. But as long as she remained on my suspect list, I figured it was better to smooth things over. "The press has blown everything out of proportion, haven't they?"
Beth bit her lip and nodded in agreement. "Yes, they have."
"How is your husband? Is his nose okay?"
My words had the desired effect as the tension in Beth's shoulders released a little.
"He'll be fine. It's not broken, just a little bruised," she conceded.
Liz cleared her throat. "Well, let me just grab my purse and lock up, I'll be right with you, okay, Beth?" She didn't wait for a response before flouncing into the back room.
Beth glanced after her friend nervously, as if hesitant to be alone in the same room with me. Geez. It wasn't as if I had hit Ratski
"Liz has some lovely designs here," I said, trying to ease the tension in the air.
Beth nodded. "Yes." She paused. "She mentioned that you were thinking about stocking your shoes here?"
"I think they'd be a great fit."
"Hmm." Beth pursed her lips together.
"What?" I asked.
Her eyes cut to the doorway Liz had just disappeared through. "You didn't hear this from me…"
These women were too good to be true. Must be my lucky day as I "wasn't" hearing a lot.
"Yes?" I prompted encouragingly.
"I don't know if I would invest too heavily in this particular boutique."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Well let's just say I'm not sure it's the most financially stable business decision."
"Oh?" I asked.
"Let's just say I'd steer clear of it if I were you."
She was "just saying" a lot of very vague things, and I had a feeling Liz wouldn't be much longer. Time to cut to the chase.
"Are you saying that Liz's boutique is in financial trouble?" I asked, remembering what the blonde clone had told me about some "unaccounted for" money.
Beth pursed her lips together again but nodded.
"But it always looks so busy here," I countered. Which was true.
Beth shrugged. "I guess Liz just doesn't have a head for business."
"Did she tell you she was in trouble?"
"Well, not in so many words. But I overheard her asking Kendra for a loan."
"When was this?"
"About six weeks ago."
I perked up. That was right before someone started paying Lacey blackmail.
"How much did she ask for?"
Beth looked nervously toward the back room. "Thirty-thousand."
Which theoretically would have covered the first three payments to Lacey. Which would have meant that two payments later, Liz could have been desperate.
"But please don't tell anyone you heard this from me," Beth pleaded. "Especially not Liz."
I did a zipping-the-mouth-shut-and-throwing-away-the-key motion and nodded reassuringly at her.
"I'm ready," Liz said, flouncing back into the boutique, a beautiful navy blue cashmere wrap thrown over her shoulders. "And, boy, after the day I've had with my suppliers, those pomtinis are calling my name."
Beth cleared her throat and shifted from foot to foot as if she'd just been caught, well, ratting out her best friend. "Yeah, me too."
"Maddie, would you care to join us?" Liz asked.
I shook my head. "Sorry, I've got somewhere to be." Even though pomtinis sounded a whole lot better than what I had planned.
I watched them go, my mind turning over the possibilities. Were Liz's "financial difficulties" due to paying off a blackmailer? Or, had the financial difficulties been the subject of blackmail? Was that the "unaccounted for" money they'd argued about before Liz had fired Lacey? Had Lacey threatened to expose it? If so, just how far would Liz have gone to protect her baby?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I thought about stopping at the Starbucks drive-through. I thought about going to the shoe sale at DSW. I thought about buying a plane ticket to Brazil. But, as much as I was dreading this big first birthday party, I realized there was no avoiding it. Sort of like the pimples that come with puberty or the high price tag that comes with California real estate. In the end, it was worth it.
At least that's what I told myself as I pointed my car toward home and ignored the anxiety building in my gut.
As I pulled up to my house, I realized that not only had Marco made good on his word to make this party memorable—huge, wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube men (yes, plural) sat in my front yard—he had also made good on his promise to invite everyone he knew. Because my entire block was bumper-to-bumper parked cars.
I slowed in front of my house (honestly more gaping at the waving inflatable tube men than looking for parking), and a guy in a bright red uniform with the sort of box-shape hat that belonged on a grinder monkey came running out of my front door.
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