“Heads up,” Park said, indicating the man who had just walked into the study.
Tallula looked at Detective Roan as he approached the couch.
“I’m sorry to have to do this again,” he said, “but I need to speak to Ina.” He shot Madison, Park, and Lex disapproving stares.
“Of course,” Tallula replied quietly. “But we’re both in shock, Detective. Please remember that. So would you be a pancake and try to keep it short?” She gave Ina an encouraging hand-squeeze.
Ina wiped the tears from beneath her eyes and coughed. She pulled the quilt around her lower body. “All right,” she said. “I can speak to you.”
Detective Roan flipped open his small notepad. “Now, Ms. Debrovitch, you said that when you came back from the luncheon, you went right to your room and took a shower, correct?”
Ina nodded. “Yes. I was sweating a lot. I didn’t feel so good.”
“Why not?” he asked.
She shrugged. She didn’t say anything.
“Were you nervous about something?” Detective Roan pressed.
“No,” she answered right away. “I just had…stomach problems.”
He scribbled onto the pad. “When did that start?”
“Why does any of this matter?” Ina shot back, her voice rising. “I wasn’t feeling well—that’s my answer!”
Before Detective Roan could open his mouth to speak, Park took a small step forward. This was her chance to put her plan in motion. She needed to exit the room inconspicuously, even if it meant doing so at Ina’s expense. “Excuse me for interrupting,” she said politely. “But maybe Ina’s just talking about gas.”
Madison started as though she’d been pricked with a pin.
Lex mouthed the word gas? as she stared uncertainly at Park.
“Gas?” Detective Roan repeated.
“Oh,” Tallula said quietly. “Oh, dear.” She looked at Ina. “Honey, is it that problem again? Is that why you were feeling sick all day? It’s okay—you don’t have to be embarrassed.”
Ina turned beet red.
“They served watercress this afternoon,” Lex said, deciding to follow Park’s lead. “Very gassy.”
“Y-yes,” Madison stammered, catching on. “I…I had to drink some peppermint tea earlier because I had so much…well…uh…”
“Gas,” Park said matter-of-factly. “It happens. Ina, is that why you were feeling sick?”
She nodded, clearly mortified.
“Next time, just be a butterfly and tell me,” Tallula said. “That way I can give you something for it.”
“I hear chewing celery works,” Madison added.
Park looked skeptical. “But that’s a vegetable. It’s gassy on its own.”
“Is it?” Tallula asked.
“Excuse me!” Detective Roan shouted. He banged the notepad against the small coffee table. “I’m the one conducting this interrogation here, and I don’t need any help!”
“Detective,” Tallula said sternly. “I asked you to be a lollipop and speak calmly. You don’t have to be so uptight!”
He took a deep breath and wiped a line of sweat from his brow.
Lex knew a stressed-out person when she saw one. She raised her arm and quickly sprayed the custom-mix perfume at him.
“Hey!” he screamed, waving his arms in protest. “Stop that!”
“It’ll help you,” Lex said. “Just inhale. And besides, it’ll cover up any gaseous odors.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Ina protested.
Detective Roan caught a stream of the sweet perfume and immediately inhaled deeply. A look of pleasure washed over his face. “Oh, wow…”
It was the moment Park needed. “We’ve been talking about gas,” she said quickly. “And I think there might be something to the power of suggestion.” She clutched a hand over her stomach and feigned pain. “Tallula, can you point me to the little girls’ room?”
Tallula gestured at the door. “Make a left at the end of the hall.” She coughed, the lace veil sticking to her mouth again.
As Park exited the room, she shot Madison and Lex a look that said: Stay here and cover me. I’m goin’ in!
7
In the Bedroom
She dashed down the hall.
Park held her breath and hoped to God that she’d done the right thing. The chances of interrogating Ina with Detective Roan present were virtually nil, and she knew Madison and Lex would fill her in later on Ina’s story. Right now, she needed to search the premises.
She heard voices coming from the left and knew the forensic techs and cops were still swarming over the scene. The huge living room was just around the bend, and that was where Coco’s cell had been found. Where she had allegedly torn the chain from Elijah’s neck in a struggle. And, of course, where Elijah had taken his fatal plunge. But there was no way to make it inside. She couldn’t just waltz into the living room and start snooping around. She couldn’t psych out the cops either.
Damn.
She froze, wondering where to go. She didn’t have gas, so there was no need to visit the bathroom. But she couldn’t go back into the study yet either. She turned right and scanned yet another corridor. No one around. She tiptoed down it, her shoulders pressed to the wall. She reached a door that was partially ajar, long fingers of light spilling from inside. She held her breath again and pushed it open gently. Then she walked over the threshold.
It was a bedroom. But not just any bedroom. She could tell from the open suitcase and the elegant, expensive clothes peeking out of it that this was the bedroom Tallula and Elijah had shared. A master suite, it was huge and airy, the windows affording a spectacular view of the skyline. The walk-in closet was open; Park saw several dresses on hangers and a few pairs of shoes. Everything was Tallula’s. Where the hell was Elijah’s stuff? She walked around to the other side of the king-sized bed, and there, in one corner, she found a second suitcase overflowing with black T-shirts, socks, boxer shorts. There was also a small travel case, which Park scooped up and quickly unzipped. Inside were several razors, a tube of Kiehl’s shaving cream, and a black eyeliner pencil. Nothing all that interesting.
She dropped the case and turned around. On the bureau was a laptop, its screen dark. Tallula had said that Elijah had been surfing the Internet when she last saw him. What had he been looking at? Park wondered. Had he sent Tallula downstairs because he hadn’t wanted her to see something? She walked over to the bureau, then paused. It would take too long to boot up the laptop and try to wade through all the cookies. She didn’t have much time. Another minute or so and Tallula would come looking for her. Or, worse, one of the crime-scene techs might walk in and find her snooping around.
She stepped back, hands on her waist, and scanned the room thoroughly. The most important person in a homicide investigation was the victim, and at this point she knew very little about Elijah—other than the fact that he’d been kind of sleazy. Why had Coco met him up here? Was there more to it than the quick hookup Detective Roan had insinuated? Park scowled inwardly and forced herself to stay focused. This wasn’t the time to ask so many questions. This was the time to narrow in on Elijah. She would deal with Coco a little later.
And then she saw it.
Right there on the nightstand, not more than five feet away.
Elijah’s wallet.
Her heart racing, Park clasped her fingers around the thick leather wallet and flipped it open. Four hundred and thirty-two dollars in cash, an AmEx card, his own personal business card…and a condom. She rolled her eyes. Typical. She stuck her forefinger into the lowermost compartment and scraped it along the edge.
A small folded piece of paper popped out, its edges dog-eared, as if it had been torn hastily from a notebook. Park unfolded it. Today’s date was scrawled at the top, and beneath it was written: Dakota, tonight, 6:45.
Park scratched her head as she studied the little note. Dakota? Probably some girl Elijah had been planning to hook up with. Was that it? She turned the
piece of paper over and scanned yet another cryptic note: To the Penthouse RCS00491.
The penthouse? She glanced around. Well…duh. Hadn’t Elijah just plunged from a penthouse? Was this some sort of crazy joke?
She knew she should have deposited the piece of paper back into the wallet, but impulse got the best of her again, and she dropped it into her purse beside the skeleton key she’d discovered earlier. She walked over to the bureau; ignoring the laptop, she opened the first drawer and found more clothing. She recognized the black jeans and shirt Elijah had been wearing when she, Madison, and Lex had met him only hours before. She yanked out the jeans and dipped her hands into the pockets. Nothing in the front two ones. But in a back one, she found a small business card inscribed with a single Web site address: www.otherworldpeeps.com.
Huh?
It was the strangest URL she had ever come across. She dropped the card into her purse as well, then set her eyes on the master bathroom.
“Uh…excuse me?”
Park jumped at the sound of the voice. She spun around and locked eyes with a tall middle-aged man dressed in an NYPD Crime Scene jacket. His hands were gloved. She knew better than to let her shock show, so instead of stammering out something stupid, she relaxed her shoulders and smiled brightly. “Hello there,” she said, her tone cheerful.
The man gave her a perfunctory nod. “Yeah, hi. Can I ask what you’re…” His voice trailed away as he recognized her, then his eyes lit up. “Hey, you’re Park Hamilton, right?”
“I sure am!” She strode across the room as calmly and confidently as if she were walking down a red carpet. She extended her arm.
He took her hand in his and nodded. “I just read about you and that movie you’re doing. I can’t wait to see it.” He cleared his throat. “But…um…I have to ask you what you’re doing in here—we’re collecting evidence.”
“Such a tragedy,” Park whispered gravely. She shook her head, then casually opened her purse and pulled out her own makeup bag. “I came in here to get this for Tallula. My sisters are keeping her company in the study. Oh—I hope I didn’t do anything wrong by coming in here.” She bit down on her lip, trying to look like an apologetic little girl.
The trick seemed to work. The man shrugged and waved her toward the door. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
“Thank you.” She stepped into the corridor. She hesitated, turning to face him again. “Is that the way to the living room area? Where Elijah fell off the balcony?” She pointed straight ahead.
The man nodded. “Yeah, it is. But don’t go in there. Lots of cops are still working the scene. It’s best if you just head back to the study.”
Park nodded politely. Shit, she thought, totally annoyed. How was she going to inspect the scene? She got to the next corridor and swung the left that would bring her back to the study, all the while trying to figure out a way into the living room. But she knew it was a pointless plan. She wouldn’t be able to do anything useful unless she had free rein of the area.
Voices suddenly burst through her reverie—loud, panicked, angry. They were coming from the study.
Park ran up the corridor and walked into the room. What she saw astonished her: Tallula was standing up, her veil pulled up and face pinched with rage as she glared at Detective Roan, shouting obscenities. Lex was chasing Ina around the couch, spraying her with the bottle of custom-mix perfume. “Just inhale deeply!” Lex kept saying. “It’ll relax you!” Ina looked exhausted and irritated. Standing off to the left was Madison; she was riffling frantically through Lex’s magic purse, shaking her head, whispering to herself. She finally found what she’d been looking for and pulled it out. She brought the whistle to her lips and blew.
The shrill sound cut through the noise and everyone froze.
“Everyone be quiet!” Madison shouted. A few seconds later, silence having descended over the room, she looked at Park.
“Can someone please tell me what’s going on here?” Park asked gently.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on!” Tallula shouted. She pointed down at Detective Roan, who was sniffing his wrists. “This man is making ridiculous accusations, and I won’t stand here and listen to him hurl a bunch of crap at me!”
“What is he saying?” Park took a small step toward them.
“He’s trying to insinuate that Elijah invited your little slut of a friend up here for a roll in the hay!” Tallula ranted. “He’s trying to make me believe that Elijah was some sort of sleazeball who cheated on me left and right.”
And sideways, Park thought. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she shot a glance at Madison, who was obviously weighing the fact that Coco had been called a slut and once again been implicated in the crime.
Detective Roan sighed loudly as he continued to sample the lovely scent on his wrist. “That’s not what I’m saying—not exactly,” he said. “I’m just explaining to Ms. Kayson what the evidence suggests.”
“And what exactly does the evidence suggest?” Park asked him sharply. “We know there was a struggle, and that Coco McKaid’s cell phone was found at the scene and that she had Elijah’s necklace in her purse. But what else might the evidence suggest?”
“Whaddya mean?” Detective Roan stared at her, confused.
It was an excellent question, the very question Park needed. But she knew she had to be careful here—she didn’t want to make an enemy of Tallula. So she walked over to him and said gently, “I mean, has Ina told you anything useful? She was the only other person here in the suite when the crime occurred.”
The underlying accusation in the statement didn’t slip past Ina. “I didn’t do anything!” she wailed. She batted her arms at her sides impatiently.
Beside her, Lex spritzed the bottle of perfume again.
“Stop that!” Ina screamed, whirling around and giving her a nasty look.
Detective Roan stood up and flipped his notepad closed. “Look,” he said flatly, “Ms. Debrovitch has given us sufficient information. She didn’t hear anything because her hearing aid was deliberately broken. And personally, I think Elijah Traymore broke it because he knew he wanted to have a little fling with Coco McKaid, and he didn’t want Ms. Debrovitch hearing anything. But something went wrong, there was a struggle, and Miss McKaid lost control. She shoved him, and that’s that. End of story.”
Tallula gasped. She held in her breath, her cheeks puffing out and turning bright red. “You…you…little pig!” she screeched, pointing at Detective Roan. “Get out! Get out of here right now!”
“Please calm down,” Madison whispered. She went to Tallula’s side and patted her arm.
Tallula began sobbing. She lowered herself onto the couch and wiped the tears from her eyes. “It just isn’t fair! Elijah’s dead and now I’m supposed to believe that I never meant anything to him!”
“It’s not true,” Madison whispered, trying to sound encouraging. She looked at Lex.
Lex merely shrugged.
“It’s a sick and heartless thing to say!” Tallula continued. “I won’t answer any more questions, and neither will Ina. We’re done! Do you hear me, Detective? Done! It’s not enough that my boyfriend’s been murdered! You have your killer, so stop bothering me!” She illustrated this last point by giving her head a firm toss; as she did so, the black hat tumbled forward over her face, dragging the lace mesh down with it. She yanked it away impatiently, then sniffled. “Madison, would you be a candy apple and find me a tissue?”
A news chopper was circling overhead. On the street, reporters and spectators created a nearly impenetrable wall across the front of the hotel. Madison, Park, and Lex had managed to leave via a narrow side exit, but it hadn’t been an easy escape.
“No matter what, she’s still my best friend,” Madison said as she sat staring out the window in the back of the limo. “Coco may be a lot of things, but she isn’t a heartless killer.” She dragged a crumpled tissue across her nose. The full weight of the situation had fin
ally hit her.
It was late afternoon, and the overcast sky had cleared. She didn’t want to go home. She certainly didn’t want to go back to the Waldorf. What she wanted was to slip into the ground and disappear and forget that any of this had happened.
Coco. Her oldest and dearest friend. The girl who had ridden ponies with her for years, who had spent holidays in Europe with her, who had shopped for diamonds with her at Tiffany’s the year they’d turned fourteen. And then there were the hopes and dreams and little secrets they had shared. The intimate wishes that, at this point, might not ever come true—for Coco, at least.
There would be an avalanche of media reports about her. There would be front-page headlines and dozens of stupid pseudo-news broadcasts on those entertainment channels. Coco would be depicted as some sort of spoiled boozer who liked throwing men off terraces. A trial would likely follow. Maybe one of those garish paperback true-crime books with her mascara-stained face on the cover. And even in six or seven months—after making appearances on The View and Larry King Live—Coco would be reduced to a single heartbreaking image: a spoiled little rich girl who deserved to spend her days behind bars.
What was it with celebutantes ending up in jail these days?
What saddened Madison most was that few people would ever know the real Coco McKaid. Beneath the bubbly and giddy persona was a sweet, smart, warmhearted girl who loved animals and kids and old people. She volunteered at Roosevelt Hospital on a fairly frequent basis. She’d spent a whole four weeks working for Meals on Wheels. Her unspoken dreams—the ones she’d shared with Madison—had nothing to do with fame or fortune. Instead, Coco fantasized about moving to Montana or Wyoming and living on a farm, where she could watch the horses being exercised and supervise the team of beautiful stablemen. More than once, she had expressed a desire to leave their elite social scene for something more meaningful.
Coco wasn’t a killer. She wasn’t a heartless Lolita. And if, by some very rare stroke of fate, she had killed Elijah Traymore, her guilt was a complex matter. Nothing about it was open-and-shut. Madison knew the reasons for Coco’s possible guilt, and those reasons had everything to do with insecurity, self-deprecation…and vodka. Coco had never felt good about herself. She had always looked to other people for acceptance, had always measured her self-worth according to which boys liked her. And Madison was sure that she had fallen prey to Elijah Traymore’s seductive powers.
The Celebutantes Page 9