by Tracy Kiely
“How much is gone?” I asked.
“I don’t know for sure. But I’d say three, maybe four tapes. And yes, Officer Hax, we’re talking about the tapes from A Winter’s Night. DeDee said she was going to work on a few of them while she was here,” Nigel said as he rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. I moved next to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He put his hand over mine, but he didn’t say anything.
“Did anyone know that Ms. Evans was here and working on the tapes?” Officer Hax asked.
Nigel shook his head and started to reply, when I cut him off. “Nigel,” I said. “The phone call.”
Nigel jerked his head back, his startled eyes meeting mine. “Shit,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “Shit.”
“So, I’m guessing that that’s a ‘yes’ as well,” said Officer Hax, flipping open another page of her notebook. “Do me a favor, Kelly. Go get me my cup of coffee. I have a feeling that we’re going to be here a little while longer.”
nineteen
“Tell me about this phone call,” Officer Hax prompted.
“It was from DeDee,” Nigel said. “I guess it was around eleven when she called. We were still at the Vanity Fair event, and it was really loud. I could barely hear her. At first I thought she was calling about Skippy. Well, I should back up. I thought she said she was calling about Giuseppe.”
“And who is Giuseppe?” Officer Hax asked.
Nigel shrugged. “I have no idea. I thought it might be a neighbor of ours from down the street. His Labrador recently had puppies, and he’s convinced that Skippy here is the father.” He looked down at Skippy, who still lay sprawled on his back, his paws in the air and his tongue hanging to one side of his mouth. “It’s ridiculous, of course. Skippy barely knows her.”
Office Hax stared in silence at Nigel for a beat. Then she scribbled something into her notebook. I could only imagine what.
“But it turns out she wasn’t talking about our neighbor,” Nigel continued. “And in any case, his name is Gaspari, not Guiseppe.”
“I see,” said Officer Hax. “Who was she talking about then?”
Nigel shook his head. “That’s the thing. I honestly don’t know. It sounded like she was saying something about this Giuseppe having our pen, but as I said it was impossible to hear in there. I went to take the call outside, but DeDee said she’d just tell me when we got home.”
Officer Hax rubbed a tired hand over her face. “So, perhaps she was scared about this Giuseppe person?”
“No,” said Nigel leveling her with a dark look. “While I couldn’t hear her exact words, DeDee definitely wasn’t scared. I wouldn’t have stayed at that party if I thought DeDee was in any kind of danger or was even the slightest bit nervous.”
I put my hand over Nigel’s. “Nigel considers his staff as an extension of his family, Officer Hax. I don’t think DeDee thought she was in any danger when she called us.”
Officer Hax nodded. “I’m only asking questions, Mr. Martini. I’m not accusing you or passing judgment. I just want to get an idea as to her state of mind when she called.”
“I understand,” said Nigel. “She seemed fine.”
“Can you remember who might have overheard your phone call?” she asked next.
I recited the names of those who were at the table at the time. Officer Hax dutifully wrote it all down. “Of course, I walked away to try and hear her better,” Nigel added. “Anyone around me could have overheard what I was saying.”
“I understand. Still, this is a start. Is there anything else you can think of ?” Officer Hax continued. “Anyone else you know that might have wanted to get those tapes?”
Nigel and I looked at each other and simultaneously said, “Mr. Luiz.”
Officer Hax flipped open a new page of her notebook. “Okay. Who is Mr. Luiz?” she asked.
I quickly explained about the reporter who approached us on the red carpet. “Do you still have his card?” she asked.
Nigel fished it out of his pocket and handed it to her. She stared down at the card. “David Luiz,” she read. “Hollywood Foreign Press Association. Brazil.”
“Isn’t there a famous Brazilian soccer player named David Luiz?” Officer Kelly suddenly asked.
Officer Hax turned and stared at him. “There is. What’s your point?” she asked.
Officer Kelly shrugged. “Just wondering if there is a connection.”
Officer Hax stared at him for a beat and finally said, “I don’t see how there could be, but if you want to check into it, by all means, go ahead.”
Officer Hax then shut her notebook and stood up. “Thank you for your time,” she said. “Hopefully, Ms. Evans will recover sufficiently to be able to answer more questions for us. In the meantime, I suggest you two get some sleep. We’ll be in touch.”
Officer Kelly stood as well. He looked at both of us and then cleared his throat. “Don’t worry. We’ll get the person that did this. My dad always said, it’s always darkest before the dawn. Thanks for the coffee,” he added as he put down his cup and followed Officer Hax out of the room.
Nigel and I sat together in silence. At the sound of the front door closing, Nigel turned to me with tired eyes. “Isn’t it darkest in the middle of the night?” he asked.
“That’s always been my understanding.”
He looked back toward the door. “I think I like Officer Kelly better when he doesn’t talk,” he said.
twenty
Nigel and I changed out of our formal attire and took a quick shower before driving to Cedars-Sinai. There we met with DeDee’s attending physician, Dr. Leah Boht. She was a petite woman with high cheekbones and skin the color of warm caramel. Dr. Boht told us that DeDee had suffered several broken bones in her face, a broken shoulder, and three broken ribs. “She’s a tough lady,” Dr. Boht said. “And damned lucky, too. As bad as it is, it could have been much worse. It’s a good thing that you found her when you did. You saved her life.”
“Is she awake? Can we see her?” I asked.
“I don’t see why not,” said Dr. Boht. “As long as you keep the visit short. However, she may be sleeping. We gave her something for her pain.”
She motioned for us to follow her down the hall to DeDee’s room. “Did she say anything to you?” I asked. “Anything about who did this to her?”
Dr. Boht shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. She hasn’t said anything yet.” She stopped in front of a doorway and motioned for us to go in. “Keep it brief,” she reminded us.
Nigel and I walked into the room. DeDee lay on the bed, her eyes closed. Bandages covered the rest of her face. “Hey DeDee,” I said softly. At the sound of my voice, her eyelids fluttered and opened. Nigel and I smiled at her.
“Hey there,” Nigel said. “How are you doing?”
DeDee’s eyes flickered from Nigel to me and then back to Nigel. “Not so good,” she croaked.
“Well, the doctor tells us that you’re going to be just fine,” I said, taking a step closer to the bed.
“That’s good to know,” she said.
“Do you know who did this to you?” I asked.
DeDee started to shake her head, but the movement caused too much pain. “Where am I?” she asked, her voice groggy.
“Cedars-Sinai Hospital,” I answered as I gently reached for her hand.
“Oh,” she said. After a brief pause, she looked at my hand and then at me, her eyes questioning.
“What is it?” I asked.
DeDee held my gaze. “Well, for starters,” she said, “who are you?”
twenty-one
Back in the hallway, I stared at Dr. Boht. “Amnesia?” I repeated dumbly.
Dr. Boht nodded. “I’m afraid so,” she said. “It’s not uncommon, especially with these kinds of head injuries. In most cases, however, it’s temporary. Does she
have any family that you know of ?”
I nodded. “Yes. She has a sister in New Jersey. I’ll call her.”
Dr. Baht nodded. “Fine. If she has any questions, have her call me. It might be helpful for her to come out, if she can. Familiar faces can help jog the memory back.”
I nodded again, my movements wooden. “Right. I’ll see if I can book her a flight.”
Dr. Boht reached over and touched my arm. “She’ll be fine. I promise you. It just takes time,” she said kindly. “Now, I think the best thing you two can do is to go home and get some sleep,” she said. “You look exhausted. If there is any change in Ms. Evans’s condition, we’ll call you right away.”
Nigel and I thanked Dr. Boht and numbly walked out of the hospital and to the parking garage. I then called DeDee’s sister, Nancy, and relayed what little information I had. After arranging a flight and hotel for her, Nigel and I drove home. There we collapsed into bed, where we remained for several hours. When I finally awoke, it was to the sensation of a long body stretched lazily over mine. Opening my eyes, I found myself looking up into two brown ones.
“Nigel?” I said, as a nose nuzzled against my neck.
“Hmmm?”
“Are you comfortable?” I asked.
“Very. Why?”
“Because, I’m not. Help me out, will you?”
Next to me, Nigel rolled over, laughing when he saw me pinned underneath Skippy’s massive frame. “Aw, don’t make him get off of you,” he said. “He’s just saying ‘hi.’ Besides, he looks so comfy.”
“That’s great, but I think my lungs are in danger of collapsing.” Skippy wagged his tail and began to enthusiastically lick my face. “That is, if I don’t drown first,” I amended, as I tried to push Skippy off of me. With Nigel’s help, I was finally able to squeeze out from under him, and roll toward Nigel’s side of the bed. Skippy happily settled into my vacated spot and laid his massive head on my pillow.
“See, he just wanted to snuggle with us,” Nigel said as he used his T-shirt to wipe the drool off of my face.
“That’s not snuggling,” I said. “That’s full-body-contact sleeping. In fact, in some countries I think we’d be legally engaged now. I feel like I’m covered from head to toe in dog slobber,” Nigel laughed and continued to wipe off Skippy’s drool, until I pointed out that “head to toe” was only an expression, and that I wasn’t comfortable performing in front of an audience. Nigel conceded the point and made the necessary adjustments. When we finally stumbled out of our bedroom sometime later, Skippy was patiently waiting for us on the living room couch.
While Nigel made us coffee, I attempted to shove Skippy off the couch. After awhile, I gave up. When Nigel returned, I was curled up in the club chair reading the recaps of the evening. There were pictures of various celebrities as they left the Vanity Fair Party: Frank and Barry clinking their Oscars together in celebration; an unsmiling Jules and John as they ducked into a black limo; and one that seemed to catch a laughing Christina, Sebastian, James Franco, and Seth Rogen as they ran from something inside. There was also a shot of Nigel and me. Nigel’s face wore an easy smile. Mine looked like I’d just been goosed. Which was only fair, seeing as I had been. “You made the gossip page,” I said as he handed me my coffee.
Nigel took a deep breath. “I was afraid of that,” he said as he took a seat in the chair opposite mine. “Let me just start by saying that it was David’s idea to begin with. You see, he bet me …”
“Nigel, it’s an article about the Oscars,” I said before taking a sip of my coffee.
Nigel affected a look of relief. “Oh. That does make more sense, now that I think about it.”
I smiled at him over the rim of my cup. “But since you mentioned it, what bet?”
“Exactly,” said Nigel with a wink. “Best to play it dumb should anyone ask.”
I rolled my eyes and resumed reading the paper. After a minute, I said, “Why do they always have to mention the fact that I’m an ex-detective like I did a stint in prison?”
Nigel laughed. “What did they say this time?”
“Among last night’s attendees was Movie Magic founder, Nigel Martini,” I quoted. “The former playboy attended the ceremony with his wife, Nic, and their dog, Skippy. Mr. Martini looked impeccable as always in a tux by Oscar de la Renta while Mrs. Martini donned a lavender gown by Christian Dior—a far cry from her days in uniform as a New York City Homicide Detective. Not to be outdone, Skippy was also dressed for the occasion, sporting a black silk bowtie on his stately neck.”
I threw the paper down. “‘A far cry from her days in uniform’? Honestly? Detectives don’t even wear uniforms.”
“A fact which, as I’ve said before, makes role-playing all the more difficult. But look on the bright side. You got top billing over Skippy.”
After we finished our coffee, we inspected the damage from DeDee’s attacker. “This makes no sense to me,” he said as we surveyed the living room. “If it were the tapes that they were after, why would they rip open our cushions? They can’t have possibly thought that we would have hidden them in there, could they?”
The room was certainly a disaster. It looked as if someone had turned the room upside down, shaken it violently, and once it was righted again, ripped open everything that hadn’t fallen open. “Is anything missing?” I asked.
“Besides the tapes—no,” he answered. “Thank God, the rest of the tapes are at the office. At least they didn’t get all of the footage.”
I drank from my cup. “I’m guessing that the person who did this wanted to draw attention away from the tapes,” I said. “I mean, even we didn’t think of it right away.”
Nigel walked over to the desk and bent down to put the drawers back in, while I began to put books back on their shelves. “If that’s the case, then someone went to a hell of a lot of trouble,” he groused.
“That they did,” I agreed. “But, I’ll be damned if I let it pay off for them.”
twenty-two
Nigel and I spent the rest of the day undertaking the Sisyphean task of trying to put the house back into some semblance of order. By nine-thirty, I was tired, grumpy, and seriously considering leveling the house with a boulder just to complete the theme. I flopped heavily onto the couch, unleashing a cloud of feathers from the rent cushions in the process. The feathers swirled around me, sticking to my hair and clothes. “I think it might just be easier to move,” I groused as I watched Skippy bark and pounce on those that floated to the ground.
Nigel plucked a feather from my hair. “You need dinner,” he said. “You always get cranky when you have an empty stomach. Just sit here and relax while I go get us something.” He removed a few more feathers from my person before kissing the top of my head and disappearing into the kitchen. I closed my eyes rather than look at the mess around me. I must have dozed off because it seemed that only a few moments later Nigel had returned. “Here we are,” he said. “Dinner is served.”
Opening my eyes, I looked at the tray on the coffee table in front of me and blinked in confusion. “We’re having a bottle of Merlot for dinner?”
Nigel nodded as he uncorked the bottle. “It’s an old family recipe,” he said. “But, to be safe, I also ordered some Chinese food from that place you like.”
“You’re always thinking, Mr. Martini,” I said as I carefully made room for Nigel on the couch so as not to upset any more feathers. I needn’t have bothered. With a deftly executed backward hop, he vaulted onto the couch. A flurry of white plumes exploded around us. Skippy immediately jumped back to attention, alternately barking and trying to catch each and every feather.
“Forgive me for asking this,” I said, as I pulled a feather out of my mouth, “but why?”
Nigel brushed a feather from his face. “You never wanted to see what it would be like inside a snow globe?” he asked as he leaned forward to pour m
e a glass of wine.
“No,” I said, “not after the age of six anyway. However, I’m guessing you did.”
He nodded and handed me my glass of wine. “I have to admit. It’s not as fun as I expected.”
I tipped my head in acknowledgement. “Few things are.”
Nigel wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Mrs. Martini.”
By the time the food arrived, Nigel and I had moved to the floor, and my mood had vastly improved. The feathers had settled; with the majority of them lodged in Skippy’s fur. Lying on his back with his paws in the air, he now resembled a molting yeti. Nigel spread a blanket on the floor in front of the couch, and we ate our dinner picnic-style from the white take-out boxes.
“What do you think could be on those tapes that somebody was willing to almost kill DeDee?” Nigel asked as he speared a shrimp with lobster sauce and popped it into his mouth.
“No idea,” I said as I chewed on a steamed dumpling. “From what I’ve seen of the footage so far, things seem pretty standard: petty fights, jealousies, ruthless ambition, and inflated egos.”
“None of which are exactly unheard of in this town,” he said.
“None of which are exactly unheard of in any town,” I corrected, as I stuck my chopstick in another dumpling and shoved it in my mouth.
“Janice seemed to hint that there were some untoward behavior on the set,” Nigel said.
“Janice strikes me as someone who seeks out untoward behavior,” I said, while chewing.
“Careful, darling. You know the affect a cynical woman with a mouth full of food has on me.”
“I do indeed,” I answered. “It’s one of the main reasons you married me.”
“Well, that and you owned a gun at the time.”
“I still own the gun,” I pointed out.
“Which is why we’re still married,” Nigel answered.