After getting into wardrobe, Dana sent Ollie to the lobby to wait for her sister, who would be coming to the studio that day as Dana’s guest. She knew Chelsea wouldn’t be arriving for at least another half hour, but she wanted Ollie out of her hair so she could get a few minutes alone with Lorenzo.
Dana rushed off to the set and poked her head into the sound booth, where Lorenzo was seated next to a coworker. He looked up and nodded.
“Be right back,” he mumbled, taking off his headphones.
“I have some news,” she said when he joined her in the hallway. “It’s Charles Honeycutt.”
She had hoped her enthusiasm would be contagious, but Lorenzo was anxious and distracted. “What about him?” he asked. His eyes were tense.
“He’s the one Kitty was having an affair with,” she whispered. “According to Ollie, Kitty believed he was getting ready to leave his wife for her.”
“Honeycutt,” he repeated, his voice even.
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“Just...disappointed,” he said.
“Why disappointed?”
“I guess I hoped she was carrying on with someone less...impeccable.”
“No one’s impeccable,” she said.
“Maybe not impeccable, but the kind of guy more capable of white-collar crime than homicide.”
“That kind of guy has a lot to lose,” she said. “I mean, what if Kitty was threatening to go to his wife or something?”
Lorenzo rubbed the stubble on his cheek. He needed a shave. A haircut, too. But there was something appealing about the scruffiness. In the theater world, it was hard to find a man so lacking in vanity.
“Well, I’m going to call Marks and tell him,” she said.
“Won’t fight you on that,” he said. “Not when the guy is so itchy to slap me in cuffs.”
“Did he question you again?”
“He spoke to my parole officer. Now I’m being watched like a lab rat.”
Dana wanted to comfort him in some way. But she knew that a hug would feel more risky than soothing. They couldn’t afford to look like a couple right now. Dana reached out and grazed his wrist with her fingertips. He grabbed hold of her hand and closed his eyes, as if making a wish. When he opened them, his look was smoldering. His eyes went from her lips to her throat and his desire tugged at her.
Dana looked up and down the hallway. No one was around. She stood on her toes and kissed him on the lips, holding on to his shoulders. He hesitated for a moment, and then kissed back. His stubble scratched her face and she wanted more, wanted to press her body against his, to feel the warmth of him. But he quickly pushed her away.
“We can’t,” he said.
She was about to respond when two prop guys pushing a display table rounded the corner. Lorenzo took a step back and put his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. Then he gave her a small nod, and slipped back into the engineering booth.
Dana stood there for several minutes, waiting for her pulse to slow. She was just about to go inside when the studio door opened and Jessalyn stepped out.
“There you are,” she said. “Ready?”
Dana exhaled and took a moment to focus. “Ready,” she said, and followed Jessalyn inside, determined to make today even better than yesterday. She would impress Sherry Zidel if it killed her.
14
“Not bad for a loser,” Chelsea said, giving her sister a hug.
The show had gone well. At least, that’s how it seemed to Dana. She had transported into that zone again, and the four hours whizzed by as she gushed about the products and kept an eye on the monitor to see the sales numbers clicking ever upward.
“Was I okay?” she asked.
“Are you kidding? You’re a rock star.”
“If you mean like Nickelback, I’ll—”
“Dana, seriously. I was so blown away I texted Dad and told him to turn on his television.”
Her father. She knew she would have to see him again soon, as her nephew’s birthday was coming up, but she managed to block him from her mind on most days.
“Dad was watching? I’m surprised he didn’t call in to ask when I’d be fired.”
“To hell with him,” Chelsea said. “I’m proud of you. You were amazing. So focused, so...natural. You looked like you’ve been doing this your whole life!”
Sherry Zidel and her assistant, Emily, were a few feet away from them, chatting with Adam Weintraub as they scrolled through some data on a tablet. But if Sherry heard the praise, she gave no indication.
Adam looked up. “We were just going over the numbers,” he said, waving Dana over. “You did great on the skirts, even better on the dresses.”
“I’m so glad,” Dana said, and introduced Sherry, Emily and Adam to her sister.
“Did you see the whole segment?” Adam asked Chelsea.
“Most of it,” she said. “I wanted to buy everything she was selling...in every color!”
Adam grinned. “Our kind of customer.”
“No kidding,” Dana said. “If Chelsea stopped shopping the economy would collapse.” She turned to Sherry and tried to make her laugh. “Hey, maybe you should hire Chelsea as a buyer here. She’s got experience purchasing in bulk.”
Adam and Chelsea laughed, but Emily looked down and Sherry’s expression got even tighter. “That would be nepotism.”
“I was kidding,” Dana said.
“It’s kind of an issue around here,” Adam explained. “There was a scandal a few years back with a VP installing his nephew into a no-show job. So now we don’t hire relatives of employees except in the rarest circumstances.”
Sherry coughed and brought the conversation back to Dana’s performance. “You didn’t sell out the bracelets,” she said.
Adam’s forehead tightened and he swiped through some pages on the tablet. “Two percent over projections.”
“Two percent isn’t much,” Sherry said. She turned to Dana. “Why didn’t you put it on?”
“I draped it over my wrist for the camera,” Dana said. “I thought that would do it.”
“Viewers couldn’t see the toggle. If you had just slipped the T-bar through the loop we might have sold a few hundred more units.”
Adam gave Dana a reassuring look to let her know Sherry was being unreasonable.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” Dana said to Sherry. “I’ll do better next time.”
“Toggles are easy to manage with one hand,” Sherry said, as if Dana were fighting with her. “That’s the whole point.”
So’s a karate chop to the throat, Dana thought. “Yes, of course.”
And that was it. Sherry told Adam that she’d see him tomorrow, and walked away.
“She doesn’t seem pleased,” Dana said to Adam.
“Don’t take it too hard,” he said. “If there were any problems with your sales, I’d be the first to let you know.”
“If it’s not my sales, I guess she just hates me in general.”
“No, no,” Adam said. “It’s nothing like that. I think Kitty’s death really threw her.”
“Were they close?” Chelsea asked.
“Hell, no,” Adam said. “Half the time I expected one of them to spontaneously combust.”
Dana folded her arms. It made no sense. If they didn’t get along, why would Sherry be so broken up over her death? As an actor, Dana was accustomed to digging deep into characters to understand their motivations. But Sherry’s eluded her.
Adam patted Dana’s shoulder. “Keep up the good work. Your sales are averaging eight percent above projections, which is astounding, especially for a new host. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Let me handle Sherry.”
* * *
“I think I know what the problem is,” Chelsea said as she walked down the hall with Dana. “I’ve seen it on th
e tennis courts more times than I can count.”
“A weak serve?” Dana asked.
Chelsea ignored the joke. “Sherry needs an adversary. With Kitty gone, you’re it.”
Dana considered that, and realized her sister might be right. Some people were just so tribalistic at their core that they needed an enemy. “You know, you’re not as blond as you look,” she said.
“And you clean up okay,” Chelsea responded, indicating Dana’s head-to-toe appearance with a sweep.
“Don’t get too excited,” Dana said. “I have to give all this stuff back.”
She held open the door of her dressing room and Chelsea stepped inside.
“This all yours?” she asked, looking around.
“All mine.”
Chelsea walked to the clothing rack where Dana’s jeans and T-shirt hung. “And you still wear this shit to work?”
“But look at my jacket!” Dana said, not bothering to explain that it had been Megan’s.
Chelsea felt the suede. “Calfskin,” she cooed, as if falling in love.
Dana pulled the dress off over her head and put it on a hanger. “So what did you think of Lorenzo?” She grabbed her jeans and started wriggling into them.
“Who’s Lorenzo?”
Dana reached for her shirt. “The sound guy.”
“Are you kidding?” Chelsea said. “With the tattoos and the stubble?”
“Cute, right?”
“No!” Chelsea sounded horrified. “He looks like a felon.”
Dana grimaced. “He kind of...is.”
“Dana!”
“I know... I know. But he’s reformed.”
“You’re not involved with him, are you?”
“I’ve only been working here two days.” It was a hedge. She stole a furtive glance at her sister’s expression. She wasn’t buying it.
“Answer the question,” Chelsea said.
Dana sighed, relenting. “Come here,” she said, leading her sister to the couch. “I have to tell you something.”
Chelsea clucked and settled in next to her. “Do I want to hear this?”
“Maybe not,” Dana said, “but you’re going to.” And then she unloaded, as it had been simply too much to hold in. She told her sister everything—the kiss on the roof, what it was like to see all that blood in Kitty’s office, the terrible realization that she had left the joint behind, getting caught by the detective and even her suspicions about Charles Honeycutt.
“And since Lorenzo has a record...” Dana trailed off.
“He’s a suspect?” Chelsea offered.
“Prime suspect.”
“And this Honeycutt guy?” Chelsea asked.
“I don’t know. That’s the tough part. He doesn’t strike me as a killer.”
“They never do. That’s why we have police departments. You can’t keep this to yourself, Dana. You have to tell the detective.”
“I know.” Her tone was petulant, but Chelsea’s directive was exactly what she needed to hear. It was the right thing to do.
“So what are you waiting for?” Chelsea picked up Dana’s phone from the coffee table and handed it to her.
Dana stared at the screen for a moment, hesitant. If Honeycutt was innocent, she could be ruining his life for nothing. Even if he was exonerated, an investigation would reveal his affair to everyone, including his wife. That would be a hell of a thing. But of course, he might be guilty. And Kitty—as difficult as she was—deserved justice.
And then there was Lorenzo.
She dialed the number on the detective’s card, and he picked up on the first ring.
“It’s Dana Barry,” she said, and then added, “from the Shopping Channel.”
“I know who you are,” he said, his tone even. “What can I do for you?”
“I have some information—something I think you should know. About Kitty.”
“Where are you?”
“Now? I’m...in my dressing room.” She paused, worried that it sounded suggestive. “At work.”
“I’m in the area,” he said. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
She thought about Ollie, who was still in the building, running interference for her on a paperwork issue with the payroll department.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m kind of betraying a confidence to tell you this and I don’t want to—”
“Got it,” he said. “You know Forks, on Fifty-Third?”
“The diner?” she asked.
“Five thirty,” he said, and hung up.
Dana put down her phone and looked at her sister. “You up for a walk in those things?” she asked, pointing to Chelsea’s spike-heeled boots.
“Pretty sure I can keep up,” Chelsea said.
But she couldn’t. Dana had to slow her stride in order to match the pace of the tight click-click-click of Chelsea’s heels. Still, they beat Detective Marks to the diner and slid into a booth, sitting across one another as they watched the door, waiting for him.
“There he is,” Dana said, pointing out the window, where the detective was getting out of a dark SUV. He wore a slate-gray suit and white shirt, open at the collar. The last time Dana had seen him he’d been wearing a tie. She thought sunglasses would have made him look more like a cop, which she presumed was the reason he didn’t wear them. He hesitated and glanced around. In that quick moment, he might have been pegged as the kind of guy that got featured in slick magazine articles with titles like “New York’s Hottest Real Estate Brokers” or “Entrepreneurs to Watch.” But those guys strutted with self-conscious bravado. Once Marks started moving, it was clear his focus was outward—not on himself and his place in the world, but on just about everything else.
“Are you kidding me?” Chelsea said. “What a tall drink of gorgeous! Is he single?”
“Divorced.”
Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “You’d make a cute couple.”
“Not a chance.”
“Really? You’re not attracted to that guy?”
Dana studied him, wishing he weren’t so damned handsome. “I don’t date divorced men.”
“But ex-cons are fair game?”
Dana shrugged.
“You’re a mental case,” Chelsea said.
“Twice burned,” Dana whispered as Marks entered the diner.
Chelsea stood. “Scoot over,” she said, “I’ll sit with you.”
“No, let me sit on your side.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a cop,” Dana said. “He won’t want to sit with his back to the door.”
“Hello, ladies,” Marks said when he approached.
The women stood, and Dana introduced him to her sister.
“Which side do you want to sit on?” Chelsea asked.
Marks pointed to the seat facing the door.
Dana tried to shoot her sister a subtle told-you-so look, but Chelsea pounced on it. Out loud.
“You were right!” she squealed. “He’s like a movie detective.”
Marks let out a small breath that could have been a snicker, and signaled the waitress for coffee. He slid into the booth, and she came right over to pour coffee for all three of them.
“Hey, Ari,” the waitress said.
“How’s the diner biz?” he asked.
“A three-Advil headache,” she said. “How’s the murder biz?”
“Ran out of Advil a long time ago.”
When the waitress was out of earshot, Marks leaned forward. “Tell me what you learned,” he said.
“It was from Ollie,” Dana said.
Marks squinted, remembering. “Oliver Sikanen—you said he’s your assistant now.”
She paused to wait for a roll of the eyes—something to indicate that he knew Ollie wa
s a piece of work—but Ari Marks didn’t offer opinions so generously. “Here’s the thing,” she continued, “he told me that Kitty was having an affair with our company president, Charles Honeycutt.”
“Anything else?”
“Apparently, it was serious. Kitty thought he would leave his wife for her.”
“And you got all this from Oliver Sikanen?”
Dana hesitated, wondering if he doubted Ollie’s veracity. Or maybe hers.
“He didn’t want to tell me,” she said, “but he couldn’t help himself. He was utterly devoted to Kitty and has been a wreck. In any case, I don’t know if Honeycutt really planned to leave, but apparently Kitty believed it and so does Ollie.”
“But you don’t?”
Dana shrugged. “It’s possible, I guess. But it seems unlikely.”
Marks took a sip of his coffee. “Do you have any proof of this affair?”
“Kind of,” Dana said. “The day of Kitty’s murder I got close enough to Honeycutt to smell him.”
“Smell him?” Chelsea asked.
“And guess what he smelled like?” Dana asked, looking from Chelsea to Marks.
“I can’t imagine,” the detective said, his voice flat.
“Apricots!” Dana said. “He smelled like apricots. You know what else smells like apricots? Dr. Lydia’s California Dreams Skin Repair Lotion.”
Chelsea gasped. “It does!” she said. “I bought it once.”
Dana laughed. “Once?”
“A few times,” Chelsea admitted.
“By the case?”
“Can we get back on topic here?” Marks asked.
“The point is,” Dana said to him, “Kitty was addicted to California Dreams. She rubbed it on her hands all day long. It was even on her desk when she died.”
Marks took his notepad from his pocket and quickly flipped through several pages. “Right.”
Dana looked closely at his face, and thought she saw a flicker of admiration. But maybe not. This guy was hard to read.
“Dana notices everything,” Chelsea gushed.
“Clearly,” Marks said, and turned to Dana. “Have you spoken with anyone else about this?”
“Not yet,” Dana said. “But I can ask the girls in makeup if they know about the affair. And Robért, the hairstylist. They know everything about everyone.”
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