The Case of the Stained Stilettos

by Smith, Melissa J. L

  Mark takes a breath for what seems like the first time all day and leans against a tree, surveying the damage first and the fleeing guests second.

  “The cleanup crew will be here as soon as the restaurant closes, and those of us who are here already will get started,” says Helen.

  Overcome with relief, Mark throws his arms around Helen to thank her, and something clicks.

  Mark Lathem looks into Helen’s eyes and realizes that, for the first time in his life, the woman in his arms is there neither for money nor to promote her acting career. Unfamiliar with selflessness, he is not sure what to do next. But as he gazes at her face, a feeling of gratitude overtakes him. And something else, besides. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to let her go. Helen begins to blush, and Mark finally breaks away, apologizing and smiling. He steps back up to the podium, looking back at Helen with doe eyes. Then, with relief, he takes the microphone and addresses the crowd, his voice less strained.

  Mark extends his hand to Helen and guides her to join him at the podium. With the comfort that he now associates with having her beside him, Mark makes a short, reassuring speech to the few guests who are not already in the valet line, saying, “I’m so sorry about all of this, folks. Please feel free to stay, and dance, and enjoy any food and drink that isn’t on the ground, heh heh. I know I’m going to have another drink.” The mood lightens, and there are a few chuckles from the sparse crowd.

  Mark puts his arm around Helen and continues speaking. “In the meantime, I’d like to introduce you to Helen Sands, the new manager at The Vinery. She will be happy to help you with anything you need here while I run up to the house.”

  Not forgetting her kindness, he adds, “And be sure to introduce yourself to Helen and call her to book your next event at The Vinery. I’m sure she has business cards for everyone here.”

  Helen smiles at Mark’s thoughtfulness … that despite the clamor going on around him, he was kind enough to remember to try to promote her success.

  Mark wavers for a moment, preferring to stay with Helen rather than face another battle in the house. As his gaze lingers on her face, which has begun to look like the face of the kindest person he has ever met, Susana suddenly appears by their side and grabs Mark by the hand to stake her claim.

  Mark’s decision is forced by loud voices and the sound of crashing glass erupting from the house. His head whips toward the sound, then back to Helen and Susana, then back to the fracas erupting fifty feet away inside the house.

  He exclaims, “What the ...? Excuse me, everyone...” He looks at Helen, gratefully, and says, “Take it away, Helen ... and thank you.”

  As Mark runs toward the house, Susana chases after him, stumbling up the hill in her stilettos. Susana falls and gets up, trips again, rips off her heels and disappears into the dark.

  Chapter 43

  Helen orchestrates the cleanup by Bella Palermo and Vinery staffers, while Carmella starts calling vendors to come and clear away the rented party supplies. Within two hours, workers are hauling away tables, chairs, and the heaters from around the pool, leaving Helen and her crew more space to work on a deep clean of the glass, thrown food and broken serving dishes scattered around the property.

  The remaining guests, including Joseph, Mercy, Francesca, Ethan, Lucienne and Frank, sit on Dana’s regular lawn furniture and watch their table being taken away. Mercy and Francesca eat their desserts, pretending that there are no screaming voices from inside the house, hoping to fool any video cameras along the fencerow.

  Reluctant to take on the long valet line of guests clamoring for their cars, the group makes small talk lest a cell phone is set to record their conversation.

  “I didn’t get a chance to say hello to Penelope, Frank. Please extend my apologies if you see her tomorrow and tell her that I’ll call her for lunch,” says Francesca with such believability that anyone who does not know better would think they are the best of friends.

  “I shall, thank you, Ches. The wind is so chilly tonight that I think it was just a bit much for her. She’s probably in the car getting warm. Brian offered her his jacket, but she said that it’s blasphemy to cover Valentino with a non-matching jacket,” Frank laughs, carrying on the unwritten script that they all have learned to follow over the years to give the impression that nothing untoward has happened all evening. As everyone in this group knows, saving face is not “a thing.” It is “everything.”

  Suddenly, the mansion goes quiet, and Mark’s Ferrari barrels out of the garage and down the driveway. Moments later, Blaine’s Aston Martin Valkyrie — still parked and running in the same spot where he left it when he arrived — makes a U-turn in the driveway and speeds out toward Sunset. Less than a minute later, Dana’s Mercedes Maybach Exelero zooms out of the garage and down the driveway.

  The Luce and Wilde group is suddenly alert and worried.

  “Did you see who was driving?” Francesca asks Ethan, sounding slightly panicked.

  “No, it’s too dark, and they were going too fast. I couldn’t see a thing,” he replies.

  Francesca grabs her daughter’s arm, distressed. “Mercy that was Dana’s Maybach. She’s had too much to drink to drive safely. Can you chase her down before she gets hurt or kills somebody, please? And be careful!”

  Mercy springs up from her chair and kisses her mother. “Sure, Mom. Don’t worry. Bye, Ethan.”

  Joseph tosses the McLaren keys to Mercy. “You drive, leadfoot. In that dress, you’ll be able to talk yourself out of a speeding ticket much better than I will.”

  Joseph and Mercy run to the back of the valet area, dodging and weaving around parked cars. They leap into the McLaren, which is conveniently parked on a patch of grass away from the other cars. Mercy throws it into reverse, cuts a donut through Dana’s hedgerow, flattening several established plants, and roars down the driveway.

  Frank looks at Lucienne, astonished. “Did that just happen?”

  Lucienne shrugs, “If you’re going to hang around with us, get used to it. Let me call it in.”

  As Lucienne reaches for her cell phone, Francesca begs her to wait. “Please, Luci. See if Mercy can catch up to Dana before you call. If she gets a DUI after what everyone has witnessed tonight, she’ll never work again. Frank? Can I count on you?”

  Frank replies, “No worries, Ches. Dana’s not even in my jurisdiction till she gets past Sierra, and I doubt if Mercy has caught up with her yet.”

  Lucienne shakes her head. “You’ve never ridden with my sister before. She could be halfway to Vegas by now.”

  Frank takes Lucienne by the hand. “Come on, Wilde. You wanted to see police work done in a Bugatti. Let’s go.” He turns to Ethan. “I assume that we have the district attorney’s approval to check for a possible stolen Aston Martin that was left running in the driveway and has departed the premises, driver unseen?”

  Ethan considers the legality of the “out,” and nods his agreement. “Agreed. Since none of us saw who drove it away, would you please pursue and identify that he is the driver so we may confirm that the Valkyrie was not stolen? Also, be sure to pull over any other cars that you may have seen leaving around the same time and see if they have information to offer,” Ethan says, giving them a legitimate reason to chase down Dana.

  Lucienne and Frank salute and run toward the valet. As she glides across the grass in stilettos, Lucienne comments, “Sis would be so proud of me, but I could use a pair of flats right about now.” They flash their badges and cut through the line to the Bugatti. The valets wave cars out of the way to make room for their exit.

  Ethan and Francesca make their way to the valet and wait for Ethan’s car to arrive. They huddle together against the chilly air, and he cautiously kisses Francesca on the cheek.

  Embarrassed, he looks away while she smiles. A nearby caterer who caught the kiss grins at them as he cleans up a drinks station near the cars. Ethan laughs and says, “Look at this line! Wish the valets were as fast as the cleanup crew.”

&n
bsp; The guests, all now in line for the valet, have vacated the tables. The cleanup crew is packing up trucks and driving away. Ethan and Francesca watch the caterers, who have changed out of their uniforms to clean, as they throw a bunch of paper plates and other garbage into bags, then load the bags into the vans. The vans roll out, destined for the incinerator in Long Beach.

  Francesca takes Ethan’s hand, and leans against his shoulder. “Everybody will be gone before us. I’m so worried about Dana. I wish we could get out of here and find her.”

  Ethan smiles at her, “I can take care of that.”

  Ethan leaves her for a minute to walk over to a valet, and has a short conversation with the man, during which he flashes his DA credentials. Within a couple of minutes, the valet returns with his car, and Francesca and Ethan climb into his Rolls and speed off toward Sunset.

  Far ahead of Ethan and her mom, Mercy weaves the McLaren in and out of traffic, roaring east on Sunset. She slows down a bit at Doheny Drive, mindful of the West Hollywood Sheriff’s increased presence on the Strip on Saturday nights.

  Joseph keeps an eye out for law enforcement while admiring his wife’s skill behind the wheel. “Where should we go? I assume the Ferrari was Mark’s, because Dana’s was the Maybach, and Blaine drove up in the Aston.”

  Mercy’s disdain for Mark is reflected in her words. “I wouldn’t worry about Mark. He probably took off for the gym to lift weights or is busy finding an all-night hairdresser.”

  As they travel eastbound down Sunset, approaching Fairfax Avenue, Joseph sees a billboard for the Hollywood Academy of Creative Arts. “If we don’t see anything on the next few big blocks, let’s check Blaine’s classroom at the college. Beth and Susana both disappeared. Maybe Blaine is meeting one of them in the classroom and Dana decided to track them down,” suggests Joseph.

  Mercy nods her agreement, and after a few more minutes of driving east on Sunset she squeezes in closely between two cars, runs a red light to make a “Bat-turn” onto Vine, hangs a “U” and speeds west on Sunset toward the shortcut at Poinsettia.

  Chapter 44

  After driving around for a short while and seeing nothing that would help them, Mercy wheels Joseph’s McLaren into the parking lot outside of the Hollywood Academy of Creative Arts. It is 11:30 p.m. when they arrive to find a catering van parked in the otherwise empty lot.

  Mercy crawls through the lot looking at parking signs until she finds one with Blaine’s name on it, and parks nearby. “This must be the place,” she says. Mercy gets out for a better look at the catering van parked nearby.

  Two burly guys emerge from the other side of the catering van. As Joseph exits the car, he is approached by the shorter guy, who bristles with thuggish menace. “Check it out, Rob. The pretty lady brought her Ken doll.” The shorter one snorts at Joseph, “Nice tux, buddy, but I don’t think it works for this neighborhood.”

  Rob ambles over and says, “Nice wheels, lady. And the ring ain’t so bad either.” He looks over at his buddy and says, “JK, weren’t you just looking for a ring for the missus?” and JK replies, smiling, “You know, I was.” Rob lunges for the ring, but Mercy sidesteps him, and catches his size 13 basketball shoes with her left stiletto toe. Between the lunge and the trip, Rob goes flying into the side of the van, and his nose explodes against the metal with a bloody pop.

  JK moves in to take a swing at Joseph, but Joseph ducks and punches JK in the midsection. The thug doubles over and Joseph slugs him under the chin, sending JK careening backward. The would-be robber hits his head on a dumpster, knocking him unconscious.

  Meanwhile, Rob is scrambling to his feet and lunges at Mercy, trying to grab the keys to the McLaren. She kicks him in the solar plexus, elbows his nose up toward his forehead, and turns and pops him in the groin with the toe of her studded stiletto — a small act of mercy, in keeping with her name, since she could easily have used her heel and stopped his family line in its tracks.

  As Rob falls toward her, Mercy spins and kicks him backwards, connecting her foot with his cheek. He goes out like a light.

  Mercy reaches into her purse for some zip ties. She and Joseph drag the muggers toward the dumpster and zip tie the men’s wrists and ankles to a couple of sturdy metal loops on the dumpster, ensuring they will not be able to run away before the police arrive. “Tied up with everything except a silver bow,” she laughs.

  Her husband laughs at her. “Nice tools of the private detective trade. As an attorney, the most useful thing I carry is my cell phone.” He takes out his phone, makes a call, and shoots video of the crime scene for evidence. “Uncle James is sending some black-and-whites to cart off this trash.”

  Mercy looks down at her shoes and lets out a whimper. “Yeah, but I think I got that jerk’s slobber on my favorite Alexander McQueens.” She turns toward JK, who is still lying on the ground unconscious, and uses his shirt to wipe his slobber off her shoe. “Ugh. And I really thought I was going to get through this night without having to retire another pair of heels.”

  She frowns at Rob, still unconscious. “I hope you realize that the price of these shoes makes this a felony, not a misdemeanor,” as she resists the urge to kick him one more time.

  Chapter 45

  A weak cry draws their attention away from the muggers. Mercy’s head whips around toward the part of the building near Blaine’s parking spot. “Honey, do you hear that moaning? Maybe these muggers got to one of the caterers before we got here.”

  Mercy reaches back into the car and retrieves her Sig from the console. She and Joseph find the door to the college ajar and cautiously walk down a hall toward one of the classrooms. The third door has Blaine’s name on it, and they push their way inside toward the sound. In the almost-dark room, they can see that a podium has fallen against the blackboard, cracking the board, and a clock has fallen to the floor.

  In the dim light, an outstretched hand is reaching for the blackboard. As they get closer, they see Sal Caggiano lying on the floor, covered with chalk dust and convulsing in pain.

  Joseph rushes toward him. “It’s Mark’s friend, Sal.”

  Mercy takes a quick look around the room to check for potential assailants. She glances down at Sal as she scans the room. “How bad is it?” She dials 911.

  Joseph stoops to check on Sal and gives Mercy a worried look. “Not good,” he mouths.

  Sal grabs Joseph’s arm, and Joseph checks Sal’s thready pulse. “Don’t move, Sal. Help is on the way. What happened?”

  Sal looks at Joseph with pleading eyes. Sal desperately wants to tell Joseph something, but blood is spilling from his mouth.

  Joseph grabs Sal’s jacket, which is lying nearby on the floor, and slips it under Sal’s head to make him more comfortable. He turns Sal’s head sideways to keep him from aspirating, then stays with him as Mercy paces around the room, speaking to the 911 operator. As soon as she hangs up, Mercy goes back to checking the classroom for intruders while Joseph tends to Sal.

  She leans over the broken blackboard to look more closely at the crack and the writing on the board. On it, she can see the four elements of a play from the previous day’s lesson. Sal’s outstretched fingers are just inches away from the chalk he seems to be trying to reach. Her second nature compels her to document the scene should questions arise later.

  Then Mercy turns her attention to the clock lying on the floor. An old-style school clock with big numbers, it has a crack on its face, and she can see that the clock stopped at 10:57 and 28 seconds.

  Chapter 46

  Mercy hustles to a renovated alcove off the classroom. The added-on door labeled “Dressing Room” squeaks loudly as she enters, gun drawn, to ensure that no culprits are hiding there to catch them by surprise.

  She enters the dressing room where she finds soiled catering uniforms overflowing in two laundry baskets.

  Sal hears the familiar squeak of the dressing room door and moans loudly, trying to speak. Joseph tries to comfort him. “Hang on, buddy. The ambulance shou
ld be here any minute.”

  Sal’s moaning prompts Mercy to run back to the classroom. Knowing he is going blind, Sal waves wildly trying to explain. Mercy bends down and puts her ear to Sal’s lips. “What are you trying to tell us?”

  Sal takes a breath, trying to speak, but convulses instead.

  Mercy’s eyes fill with tears, realizing that there is little they can do to help. “Joseph, we have to do something. Give me your jacket, please.”

  Joseph takes off his jacket and together they use it to cover Sal’s shaking body. Joseph sits on the floor next to Sal and lays a hand softly on Sal’s convulsing back.

  Sal’s eyes dart around the room as he strains to focus. He waves his arms, points to the podium and gasps as two paramedics enter.

  With the last strength he can muster, Sal mumbles, “Daaay ... nuh ... (gasp) ... duh ... ayuh ... nuh ... mahhn ... ahhn...”

  As the last syllable leaves his lips, Sal stops breathing.

  The paramedics assess the situation and start CPR to get Sal breathing again. Mercy and Joseph move away to give them room to work and to talk in private. Joseph wipes a single tear from his wife’s face. “I’m sure the paramedics are doing everything they can, honey. Did you see anyone else in the school?”

  Mercy regains her composure. “No, but it looks like the caterers from the party changed clothes here. Did he say anything while I was out?”

  “Not till you got back. Just that one phrase that sounded to me like he was trying to say ‘Dana Montgomery,’ But to be honest, it was very garbled. What do you think?”

  Mercy furrows her brow and looks out of a window toward where the muggers had approached them. “Well, we did think Dana might be headed here, but if the paramedics find fractures, I’d be willing to bet on our muggers.”

  “There’s another thing, Mercy. His breath smelled like almonds … like maybe he’d ingested cyanide.”