“Let me put her outside for a minute so she can burn off some of that energy,” Veronica said, scooping up the puppy, who immediately started licking her face. As soon as Mitsi was outside, I could see her zip from one end of the yard to the other, barking the entire time.
“Coffee?” Veronica asked me when she returned. I was surprised she offered coffee when she appeared to have a variety of tea boxes sitting on her kitchen counter.
“Sure.” Truthfully, I wasn’t a coffee person, but Veronica was already working on making a pot and I didn’t want to be rude. Plus, if it helped Veronica open up, then I would gladly sip on a cup.
Veronica’s town house was decorated in shades of white. Framed dance portraits and paintings brought pops of color to her walls. My favorite was Degas’ Dancer, which hung above her living room sofa. A replica no doubt. Given the painting in Melanie’s office and the ones in Veronica’s home, it appeared both women had a love for Impressionism.
I took a seat with my back to the painting while Veronica placed the coffee tray on the table in front of us and sat on the opposite side of the couch.
“I’ve had a chance to talk with Gwen, and I stopped by Mr. Frederick’s salon to talk with his staff too, but I really wanted to talk to you about Zane. I heard what you said at the press conference. Could you tell me more about that?” I said as I doctored up my coffee. I mean I really doctored it up, with a heavy pour of cream and two heaping spoonfuls of sugar.
Veronica wasted no time answering my inquiry. “Zane kept her head in the clouds. Her feet used to be firmly on the ground, but whenever he came around she lost all common sense. I hated that.”
“Had she ever let a man do that to her before?”
“Never. One thing I admired about my daughter was her ability to stay focused, stay true to herself. I like to think she got that trait from me.”
I noticed a black and white photograph of a younger Veronica striking a ballet pose. “You were a dancer.”
“Still am. I don’t tour anymore, but there’s enough work out here to keep me happy. Maybe not lead roles, but enough.” Veronica got that distant look in her eyes once more.
“Back to Zane, why do you think he might be involved with Melanie’s murder?”
“An instinct? He was jealous. Possessive. At times, I wondered if he really loved my daughter or if he just liked controlling her.”
“Do you think he was physically abusive?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised, although Melanie would never admit to such a thing. She was in love with him.” Veronica was disgusted.
“Do you have a way for me to get a hold of him?” I asked.
“No.” My shoulders slumped. No one knew how to reach him. “I’ve generally made it my business to not know where he is. The playboy has probably already flown off somewhere, like New York or who knows where, maybe even Paris.” Veronica’s voice became edgier. There was more there, but I didn’t ask her about it. “I just can’t believe my baby’s gone. Why her? Why?”
There was nothing I could say except, “I’m so sorry.”
Veronica curled her legs up underneath her on the couch. I could tell my questions had already taken their toll as had the rest of the day.
“I’m going to leave you to get some rest.” I stood and retrieved my card from my purse. “I’ll leave this here for you in case you think of anything else or if you want someone to talk to.” I spotted a blanket folded on the arm chair in the corner of the room. I picked it up and covered Veronica’s legs with it, urging her to get some sleep.
“Can I get you anything? Would you like a pillow or even a cup of tea?” I noticed Veronica’s coffee sat untouched.
Veronica laid her head down on the couch’s armrest and zoned out. “Perhaps just a quick nap and then I’ll be able to talk more,” she said, half asleep.
“Don’t worry about me. You catch some Zs. I’m going to let myself out and I’ll be sure to lock up.” Veronica didn’t respond.
I opened the sliding glass door to let Mitsi back in before leaving Veronica to recharge. I wished at that moment I could call someone to stay with her. I should have asked if she had any other family in town. I hated leaving the woman in such a fragile state with just a puppy to keep her company. Without another option, I sighed and walked out of her town house, making sure the door locked behind me.
I thought back to how Veronica looked earlier in the day. The woman with fire in her eyes and threatening words was replaced by a depressed mother with a distant gaze. The death of her daughter was too much. Veronica’s mental state only made me want to solve the case even more.
I took a cab to the T-Mobile Arena to meet up with the guys for the fight. Finn was waiting for me when the cab dropped me off. “How’d it go?” he asked.
“Good. I found out some more information on Zane. I can fill you in later,” I said. The thumping of the music inside the arena picked up the moment we walked through the doors. Finn wouldn’t be able to hear a thing I said once we were on the floor.
“You missed the undercard, but the main fight’s about to start,” he said, picking up the pace. I had to almost run to keep up with his stride. These short legs could only walk so fast. Finn turned and looked at me power walking to keep up. He slowed ever so slightly. One could say that Finn was a bit excited to get back to the action.
We walked through the ground floor entrance tunnel. The music beat thumped louder. Bright white spot lights danced around the darkened arena. The exception was the lit-up boxing ring front and center. Our seats were in section B, although no one was sitting.
“Girl, you made it!” Aria said, giving me a hug with one arm with a cocktail in the other. I smiled back, but my greeting wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic.
Honestly, it was really hard to get into the atmosphere. I would’ve much preferred a quiet evening back at the hotel with a nice glass of red wine and a chance to process this case. That realization had me feeling totally lame and I did not want to be lame or a party pooper, as Mrs. J. would say. Mrs. Birdie Jackson was my surrogate Nana and the new Mayor of Port Haven. Whenever I was down in Tampa, I missed her home cooking something fierce. I also realized that she was hipper than I was. She would love it in Vegas. I decided in that second that I would try and have fun.
“Do you want a drink?” I asked Finn. If I was in fact going to make an effort then I was going to need a little liquid encouragement.
“Sure, but …” I knew Finn wasn’t about to leave our prime seats and I wasn’t about to wait for a waitress to sling drinks this way.
“No, it’s okay, I got it,” I said, eyeing the tunnel back out. I remembered seeing some drink vendors right outside the door.
While waiting for a couple of rum and cokes, I looked around and thought, Las Vegas is the only place in the world that consistently makes me feel underdressed. Along with the over- the-top outfits, I’ve also learned that it’s appropriate to be drunk at all times while in Vegas (Hello! They have daytime pool clubs!). I may not be one for professional fighting, but I could people watch all night long. The combination of the outfits and the alcohol gave me a plethora of eye candy. Neck-breaking high heels and cha-cha revealing skirts were just the start of it.
Then I spotted him.
Walking through the crowd, with lights flashing and girls chasing, was Zane Richards. A black blazer and dark jeans never looked so appealing. A leggy brunette was on his arm. I had no idea who she was, but having her there just added to the image. Seeing a rock star in all his celebrity glory was an experience in itself.
“Zane! Zane!” The paparazzi shouted, their flashes popping in rapid succession. Zane tossed the cameras a wave and one of his million-dollar smiles. Security cleared the way and led him right past me and through the tunnel I had just walked out of. I was about to cut out of line and follow, until my senses came back to me. No way would I be able to get close enough to touch him, let alone ask him a question.
Ten minutes later, I was walking back
to my seat with two drinks, keeping my eyes out for Zane all the way.
“Did you see him?” I asked Finn.
“See who?” Aria hollered.
“Zane. He and his entourage walked past me while I was waiting in line.”
Aria’s and Finn’s heads turned this way and that, but none of us saw him.
“Who are you looking for?” Vince asked.
“I thought I saw someone famous. I must’ve been mistaken,” I said, taking a sip of my drink. What I had I just learned? That Zane was in town. That was a start.
9
Seven AM came mighty early, which meant I’d be sporting some serious jet lag when we flew back home. Too bad I couldn’t stay on Mountain Standard Time. Finn had no problem getting up. He even ordered room service—chocolate chip pancakes for me and steak and eggs for him. One would think I’d never be able to eat again after indulging in more than a few desserts last night post fight. They would be wrong. I sampled it all. Some might say I’m a nervous eater. They would be right. I blew out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come down?” Finn kept insisting on watching my presentation, but I told him it wasn’t necessary. I appreciated all of his support, but having him there would make me more nervous than anything.
“Positive. Trust me, it’ll be super boring,” I said.
“Babe, it’s never boring when you’re in business mode. It’s actually kind of sexy.” Finn advanced toward me.
“Oh no you don’t. You’re not distracting me with your hotness. I’ve got to keep my mind sharp right now.”
“I can be quick. Ten minutes, tops.” His fingers traced the buttons on my blazer.
“Finn Hudson!” I swatted his hand away. “I’m headed downstairs right now before you make me irresponsible. Don’t forget you have homework to do.”
His homework this morning was to see if he could find a way to connect with the rock star. Even knowing if Zane was in town and where he was staying would be a start.
“We’ll see.” Finn fell backwards on the bed, remote in hand.
“Oh, you’re going to be like that again? How about you see what you can find out about Zane, and if you’re a good student I’ll let you be the teacher’s pet.”
“Can I pet the teacher?”
“Ugh! You’re impossible!” I attempted to storm out, but the effect was lost due to my laughter. “I’ll text you when I’m done. Hopefully it’ll be before ten.”
“Good luck, babes. Love you.” I blew him a kiss as I walked out the door and skedaddled before he could make another move.
I saw Shelly, the reporter from the morning before, sitting in the front row waiting for my presentation to begin. Something told me that she wasn’t there to take notes on branding. I gave her a smile to let her know that I recognized her and decided it was a good thing that she was there.
“Do you want to catch up after this?” I asked her in the minute before things were scheduled to kick off.
“Absolutely.”
“Great.” I was thinking the least we could do was compare notes.
At 8 AM sharp, I kicked off my spiel. This was just like running a beauty demo, which is why I brought free samples of my best-selling facial scrub and moisturizer to pass out.
During my presentation, I talked to the women about the importance of understanding market demands and how if you did your research and launched a product that fulfilled that demand, then the branding was the cherry on top.
“Just like with dessert, branding is what stops and makes you say, Oooh! I have to have that! Am I right?”
Of course I was. Anytime you could use dessert in an analogy, you had to be.
I expected a few people to ask questions afterwards. I did not expect the line-up nor the requests for autographs.
“Have you thought of writing a book?” one woman asked me by way of introduction.
Her question caught me off guard. “Um, no, can’t say that I have. I’m not quite sure what I could possibly have to say.”
The woman looked behind her at the line. “Oh, I’m sure you have plenty. Take my card; I have yours. I’ll be in touch.”
People wanted to know if I had any new products in the works, what advice I had for starting out, where I found my inspiration, and how I overcame self-doubt. I had to laugh at the last question.
“Self-doubt. Well here’s the thing. I didn’t set out to create a natural skincare empire. I set out to make products that I would love and that I could share with my friends. The rest snowballed. So you see, there wasn’t time for self-doubt.”
Finally, finally! The line was gone and thankfully Shelly had stuck around. I found her waiting for me outside the conference room.
“I’m so sorry about that. I had no idea the reaction would be that positive. Thank you for waiting.”
“Absolutely. You were fantastic.”
“Thanks so much.” I swiped my bangs out of my face. “So, I’m not making any official statement, but if you’re interested in grabbing a latte and swapping notes, I would be down for that.”
Shelly didn’t hesitate. “Okay, let’s go then.”
I know I said I was going to grab a latte, but we ended up back at Wicked Spoon. What can I say, their desserts were amazing. Plus, last night they had the most scrumptious looking macarons I had ever seen but I had run out of room to sample. The fluffy meringue cookie with buttercream filling would be the perfect reward for slaying my presentation. Plus, all the bright colors and flavors were absolutely mouthwatering—raspberry, lemon, chocolate, mocha, coconut, cherry—I wanted them all.
I ordered a sample flight for the two of us to split. No harm in mixing business with pleasure.
“I’m ashamed to admit, but I have the worst sweet tooth,” Shelly said while debating which cookie to start with. “Have you ever had their molten chocolate lava cake here?”
“What? No. I didn’t even see it!” I said, scanning the menu for it.
“Oh my goodness, it’s heaven. It’s a dark chocolate cake basically swimming in a pool of warm caramel.”
“Are you kidding me? That sounds amazing.” And like something I must sample before leaving town. I knew Finn would be down. He loved caramel.
“It’s the best. I have no shame,” Shelly laughed.
“I’m right there with you, sister. I live off sugar,” I said.
“It’s the best, isn’t it? Especially chocolate.” Shelly selected the chocolate macaron and I immediately regretted not getting two of that one.
“I love chocolate,” I said almost wistfully.
“And chocolate chip ice cream,” Shelly said.
“Mint chocolate chip ice cream,” I said.
“Yes! That’s the best. And chocolate-covered graham crackers.”
“Those are my favorite! Did we just become best friends?” I joked.
Our conversation continued to go way off track, but I managed to bring it back around to the case once our drinks were delivered.
“I assume you spent yesterday asking around about Melanie’s murder. Am I right?” I asked while sipping my chai latte.
“I did. You?”
“Same. Anything you’re willing to share?” I asked.
“Well, it’s nothing I’m sure the police don’t already know, but my editor sure was interested. That is if I can prove the claims, which I’m working on.”
I wasn’t following. “What claims are you talking about?”
“How about you tell me what you’ve heard first, and I’ll try to see where my story fits in.”
“Okay, fair enough.” I thought about where to start and how much to filter. I didn’t need my speculations ending up in the morning paper, plus I had told the intern last night that her thoughts were safe with me. I decided to fill Shelly in on what I had heard about Melanie’s feud with Paul Frederick, to which she nodded, as if she had heard about it as well. I also told her that I ran into Veronica, Melanie’s mom, and th
at really got her interest.
“She was really that depressed?”
“Absolutely. I don’t blame her, what with her daughter being murdered.” I wasn’t a mom but I could only imagine the pain she must be feeling.
“That doesn’t jibe with the picture I was painted of her.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“According to my source—”
“Who?” I interrupted.
Shelly held up her hands. “I can’t tell you. Trust me I would if I could, but the information was given to me confidentially. I’m going to keep it that way.”
“Fair enough.” I backed off.
“Anyway, my source told me that Melanie and her mom were estranged. In fact, they had spent most of their lives at odds with one another.”
“Really? I didn’t get that vibe at all.”
“From what I heard, Veronica was a ballerina and she blamed her daughter for ruining her career. I guess the pregnancy came at the wrong time and she never hit it big as a result.”
“So, Veronica resented her daughter.” Come to think of it, maybe that was the vibe I was picking up from her last night. It was hard to tell.
“That’s what I’m told. And the more successful Melanie became, the angrier Veronica was. I need to confirm it, but my source also said Veronica was suing Melanie over an alleged business loan. Veronica gave Melanie the money to produce her first collection, but was never paid back in full. Veronica was attempting to collect the funds with a vengeance.”
“She was suing her own daughter? That seems like a bit much. How confident is your source?”
“Very. I can’t give you the details, but I trust her.”
“How much money are we talking here?”
“Not sure. I’m headed to check the court records to see what I can find.” How much jealousy and resentment did Veronica harbor? Their relationship had to have been complex if at one time Veronica lent her a sizable amount of money. Plus, through it all, Veronica was still proud of Melanie. I picked that up yesterday as well.
“She was also angry at Zane for turning her sensible daughter into a lovesick fool.”
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