“If I recall,” Detective Martin continued, “you were at the dinner as well as on the beach that night. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Sadie confirmed. “And I’ve been watching a couple of members of Mr. Quinlan’s entourage the past two days.”
“His entourage?”
“You know, the people who hang around him,” Sadie said. “In particular, two who were at the dinner that night. Their behavior seemed odd to me.”
“Odd in what way?”
Sadie tapped one finger against her chin, searching for the right explanation. “At times they seem close, even intimate. On other occasions, they act as if they don’t even know each other. Obviously, they do, since I remember they were seated at that first table at the dinner.”
“Together?” Martin asked.
Sadie thought back, trying to remember. “Not next to each other. A few seats apart, I believe.”
Detective Martin nodded. “So they know each other through business then. That first table was reserved for those who worked closely with Mr. Quinlan. Manager, press liaison, agent, et cetera. It takes more than one person to handle that level of celebrity.”
“Obviously,” Sadie said. “But it stands to reason that some work more closely with a star than others, and the degree of association between each would be of varying levels. Look at that man with the newspaper, for example.” She nodded toward James Chalinder, and the detective followed her gaze.
“What about him?”
“First, I’m certain that’s Mr. Quinlan’s manager. He’s the one who announced that the star would not be showing up for the guest of honor appearance.”
The detective remained quiet, which Sadie took to be an affirmation, though she already was sure she was right. That also meant he was the one to identify the body, a side note that she didn’t see any reason to mention at the moment.
“His interactions with a blond woman who was seated at the same table have been inconsistent. Which makes me think they might be hiding something. And…” Something clicked that Sadie knew she should have recognized before. “The woman’s behavior seems to vary dramatically.”
Detective Martin shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t find that unusual. People go through a wide range of emotions when someone they know dies.”
“True,” Sadie agreed. “But this strikes me as something more. When they’re here in the hotel, the woman—I believe her name is Kira Fairchild—is very subdued, almost mournful.”
“As would be expected of someone after the death of a friend or even acquaintance.”
“Yes.” Sadie agreed with Detective Martin’s statement, but that only proved to strengthen her next point. “But away from here, she’s cheerful, practically effervescent.”
“And how exactly would you know that?” the detective asked, looking pointedly at Sadie. “You seem to be quite the amateur detective. Are you following people around? That could be considered harassment, you know.”
“I am absolutely not following people around,” Sadie said, indignant while at the same time thinking it wasn’t a bad suggestion. “I simply shop a lot.” She flipped an earring as if to prove her point—a point that made sense to her if not to the detective. This was clear by the puzzled look on Detective Martin’s face. Sadie sighed and then continued. “I’ve done a fair amount of shopping on this trip, including the past two days. So I’ve had a chance to observe her.”
“So, Ms. Fletcher, what conclusions have you drawn?”
The faint smile that accompanied Detective Martin’s quipped reference to Murder She Wrote gave Sadie hope. At least he had a sense of humor. Maybe it would be matched with a sense of taking her observations seriously.
“My conclusion? Ms. Fairchild is hiding something.”
“Really,” Martin said. “And just what would that be?”
Sadie smiled her most charming smile. “I’m just the amateur, remember? You’re the real detective. I suppose one of us needs to find out.” Game on.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
No sooner had Sadie returned to her hotel room and closed the door than she got her answer, courtesy of Amber. She barely caught the call by the time she set her bag down and fished out the phone.
“You won’t believe this!” Amber practically shouted into the phone when Sadie answered.
“Try me,” Sadie said. “Wait, one second.” She kicked off her shoes and opened the door to the patio, walking outside to stretch out on a lounge chair. Coco immediately followed and curled up in the shady area below the patio’s table. “Okay, go ahead.”
“He’s married!” Amber shouted. “Can you believe it?”
Sadie inhaled and exhaled slowly but realized immediately that the deep breathing had no real purpose. She was trying to calm Amber down, not herself.
“Married!” Amber exclaimed again.
“Oh, Amber, I’m so sorry,” Sadie said, assuming her shop manager was referring to the UPS driver she’d recently begun dating. He’d seemed like such a nice guy too.
“I mean… he was married,” she sputtered. “What does it matter now? This is crazy! A million women are going to feel like he cheated on them.”
Whoa! Now that didn’t make sense at all. San Francisco was a big city, but one driver couldn’t possibly have that many customers, not on one route. Wait… was? She said was married.
“Amber, who are you talking about?”
“GQ, of course,” Amber said, sniffling.
Aside from being shocked at the news herself, Sadie didn’t fail to notice that the idea of GQ being married seemed even more upsetting to Amber than the idea of him being dead. Had the actual news itself not been so intriguing, she would have found it amusing. As it was, she simply wanted to know how this tied in with everything else. As a side thought, she was relieved that the UPS driver Amber had been dating was still single.
“Amber,” Sadie said. “Back up. Tell me where you heard this. Is it one of those Facebook things that go around for days”—sometimes years, she thought to herself—“and is really just a hoax?”
“No,” Amber said. “This was just on the news. An anonymous source close to GQ’s lawyer leaked inside information about his will that includes a sizable amount of money going to his wife.”
Sadie sighed, feeling sympathy for the unknown lawyer, whoever he or she might be. It was so hard to find trustworthy employees these days.
“And that’s not all,” Amber continued. “Guess who this supposed wife is?”
A double buzz interrupted the call. Looking quickly at her cell phone, Sadie saw it was a text from Myrtle, which simply said Did you hear? Ignoring the text for the moment, she returned to the conversation with Amber. Obviously, in the short time she’d been in the hotel lobby, she’d missed something that everyone else now seemed to know.
“You just won’t believe it,” Amber said. “It’s Kira Fairchild!”
“What?” This time Sadie inhaled and exhaled for her own benefit. She tried to piece this information together with her most recent observations. “So she wasn’t his girlfriend, even though she supposedly wasn’t anyway? Instead, she was his wife? Again, even though she supposedly wasn’t?”
“That’s what they’re saying.” Amber sniffled into what Sadie suspected was a tissue based on the muffled sound through the phone. “And I must say you might be the only one who would phrase it that way, Sadie. It doesn’t really matter. The point is he was married!”
“I’m sorry,” Sadie said simply for Amber’s sake.
“Just imagine how much money Kira Fairchild is probably going to inherit!” Amber said.
“Yes,” Sadie said. “I can only imagine.” The plot thickens.
A second text sounded from Sadie’s phone. Glancing at the screen, Sadie could see it was Myrtle again. It was also closing time for Flair.
“Amber, is the shop still open?”
“Closed,” Amber said. “I was just cashing out and about to vacuum.”
“Good. Why don’t
you finish that up and then go home and rest? I have a text from Myrtle, and vacuuming will be calming for you.” As Sadie expected, Amber laughed. One odd thing they agreed on was the relaxing effect of vacuuming. Whether it was the sound of the machine or the repetitive motion, it served to calm them both. Strange, but true.
After ending the call with Amber, Sadie sent a text back to Myrtle. Yes, just heard.
The Beach Bum. Ten minutes? Myrtle sent back.
See you there, Sadie answered.
The hotel bar was busy, but not too busy for Sadie and Myrtle to get a table in a corner where they’d have some privacy. As soon as the server—a tall, slender, tanned blond with a name tag that said Barbie—took their drink orders and walked away, they launched into a hushed conversation.
“I knew it!” Myrtle exclaimed.
“Knew what?”
“That he couldn’t be the single bachelor everyone said he was,” Myrtle said. “He was way too handsome. And… debonair. And…”
Sadie laughed. “And… half your age.”
“Well, I have eyes, don’t I?” Myrtle chuckled. “I’m not blind.”
“I was on the phone with Amber when you sent the text,” Sadie said. “She’d just heard the news, and she sounded devastated.”
“She and half the world’s population, I dare say.”
“Yes…” Sadie waited while Barbie set two glasses with soda water and lime on the table, along with a bowl of salty snack mix. She signed a slip to charge the drinks to her hotel suite and popped a pretzel into her mouth. “Which tells me right there why this wasn’t public knowledge.”
“What do you mean?” Myrtle said. She squeezed the wedge of lime into her glass and stirred the ice and soda water around to mix in the citrus flavor.
“Would you be more inclined to choose a heartthrob who was single or married?” Sadie picked another pretzel up and tapped it against the rim of her glass for emphasis.
“Single, I suppose,” Myrtle said. “All things considered. If you’re going to dream about someone, it might as well be someone who’s available. That way at least you can imagine you have a chance.”
“Exactly!” Sadie dropped the pretzel into her tote, which caught Myrtle by surprise until Coco yipped back a thank-you. Delighted, Myrtle grabbed a second pretzel and dropped it in the bag herself. A second yip followed.
Myrtle twirled her soda water and lime around again and took a sip. “So this is about publicity.”
Sadie nodded. “Yes, as for keeping his marriage a secret, that would be my guess. A married heartthrob just doesn’t sell tickets as well as an eligible bachelor heartthrob does.”
“Makes sense,” Myrtle said.
“At least something does,” Sadie mused.
“What do you mean?” Myrtle tilted her head to the side, much in the way Coco did, which caused Sadie to stifle a laugh.
“I mean it makes sense from the business side,” Sadie said. “But it doesn’t match what I’ve been observing. Kira has been somber here at the hotel.”
“That doesn’t surprise to me,” Myrtle said. “She just lost her husband. Plus… Wait… doesn’t this mean she’s had to act like she didn’t just lose her husband? Only that she’s sad she lost someone she worked with? Since the marriage was secret?”
Sadie pondered that. “That’s a whole lot of acting just to maintain an image that isn’t going to matter anymore.” She fed Coco another pretzel, whispering into the tote bag that it was the last one. “But that’s not what’s bothering me.”
“Which is what?” Myrtle asked.
“Think about the way she’s acted outside the hotel—when I saw her in Bertie’s Beach Baubles, smiling and laughing,” Sadie said. “Is that how you’d expect a new widow to act?”
“Of course not,” Myrtle said. “Unless she was in shock.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Sadie said. “It’s like she has to play a role around people she knows, pretending to be heartbroken. But when she’s away, she can drop the role. And not only that, but there’s the contradictory behavior I’ve seen between her and the manager.”
“James Chalinder, you mean. The one who announced that GQ wouldn’t be making it to dinner.”
“Yes.” Sadie nodded.
“That’s who you think you saw her with on the boardwalk yesterday?” Myrtle asked. “On the bench? You told me about that, how close they seemed. He might have been comforting her.”
Sadie leaned back in her chair and stared at Myrtle. “Do you really believe that?”
“Not really,” Myrtle said. “I’m just trying to talk it all through.”
“And another thing,” Sadie added. “This afternoon I came down to the lobby and saw them both in the gift shop. Well, she was inside; he was outside in the hallway. They completely ignored each other, even when she made a purchase and walked away.”
“You think they’re trying to cover up something?” Myrtle asked.
Sadie nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sadie returned to her hotel suite with her tote bag and a bowl of salty snack mix from the Beach Bum. It wasn’t theft since she fully intended to return the dish itself after enjoying its contents. She even offered snacks to a few guests as she crossed the lobby and earned a chuckle or two when Coco popped out of the tote to swipe a pretzel before disappearing again.
Back in the suite, she pulled a bottle of chilled water from the room’s compact refrigerator and fired up her laptop. The new revelation that Kira Fairchild was actually Garrison Quinlan’s wife put a new twist on the mystery, especially considering her recent observations about GQ’s secret wife and James Chalinder. There was no question something was going on between those two.
Perhaps I should take Amber’s gossip reports more seriously, Sadie thought. She hadn’t paid much attention to Amber’s tale about Kira Fairchild being GQ’s girlfriend. Rumblings like that were common in the entertainment industry. But now that rumor made more sense. They must have been seen together enough to raise suspicion even if they were trying to hide their marriage from the public in order to protect his eligible bachelor image.
Still, Sadie was certain something was missing from the overall story. She could feel it in her gut, and her intuition was usually spot on. There was some sort of twist that everyone was overlooking. It was just a question of figuring out what it was.
She opened the cool bottle of water, took a sip, and then pulled up the photos she’d previously found, looking at them more carefully. Nothing seemed out of line with the story presented to the public. Kira and GQ stood amicably near each other in publicity shots that involved the group as a whole. There were no official pictures of the two of them together. Neither were there photos of her alone with James Chalinder.
Most images of Kira showed her by herself—on the beach in a revealing swimsuit, for example, or exiting a shop on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, arms laden with shopping bags. There simply wasn’t anything in print that specifically implied an involvement with either man—which meant nothing except that they were cautious and the paparazzi were obviously off their game.
Sadie moved on, searching still shots from GQ’s latest hit movie. She’d always found them to be fascinating, a way of freezing time that would normally be moving forward. It allowed a different perception of a scene, as opposed to watching the film itself, where everything is continual. This was especially true in a theater where rewinding wasn’t possible.
Still shots from filming locations held the most interest, and a new search turned up several additional examples. In one, GQ and a director—she assumed—stood near a bored-looking cameraman while they discussed a script the director held in his hands. In another, both cast and crew mingled around a buffet table. Sadie squinted, curious to see what the food spread contained as if she could reach into the picture and munch on something herself. A third shot showed a filming scene in which GQ and two minor cast members faced each other on block
ed tape areas, director and cameraman in the foreground. A few people sat or stood off to the side.
Sadie took another swig of water and stepped away from the laptop, tilting her head from side to side to relax her neck muscles after the intensive scrutiny of the photos.
“How about a walk on the beach?” she said aloud. Just as she expected, Coco made an instant transformation from an upside-down slumber pose to a wagging-tail stance by the patio door. The magic word walk always resulted in an enthusiastic response from the Yorkie.
Sadie clipped a leash to Coco’s collar and stepped out onto the patio. Delighted once again for the pet-friendly hotel and private section of beach, the two walked hand-in-leash out toward the sand. Sadie, a firm believer in responsible pet ownership, made sure the mutt-mitt container clipped to the leash had bags available before starting out. She’d always found it outrageous that people had the nerve to not clean up after their dogs.
The sun was warm on Sadie’s face, and the shimmering blue water offered a soothing view. The day’s crowd was on the quiet side, reading books or napping on beach towels while absorbing a few rays. She welcomed the calm atmosphere, which let her mind wander over recent developments while Coco sniffed her way across the sand.
Two college-aged young adults caught Coco’s attention as they tossed a beach ball back and forth. Coco pulled on her leash, expressing an interest to join in. Sadie gave in to the not-so-subtle request. She unclipped Coco’s leash and watched the Yorkie bound across the sand, ecstatic in her newfound freedom, sand flying up over and over as her tiny paws landed and kicked off again.
Sadie stood a distance away so as not to interfere but joined in when the others waved an invitation her way. She walked forward and caught the ball tossed by one person, then sent it on to the other. A wave of joy flowed through her. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed the simple pleasure of tossing a beach ball? It seemed like such a common activity, yet it felt as if she’d reentered her childhood. She made a mental note to add more play into her life. Whatever adult responsibilities she had—business, bills, personal commitments—there needed to be a little time to play even if only a sliver squeezed in between obligations.
A Flair for Flip-Flops Page 8
