Jeopardy in High Heels (High Heels Mysteries Book 12)

by Gemma Halliday

  There'd been a point in my life where I'd been a single, struggling shoe designer and Felix had been a novice reporter at the paper, and he and I had created a tentative partnership. However, the years in between then and now had taken our lives down very different routes. His had taken him to running the operations at the Informer, and mine had taken me, among other places, to Ramirez. And my husband wasn't a fan of me backtracking down any roads that wove near Felix. (Might have to do with that kiss in the castle thing.)

  As we stepped through his open office door, I noticed Felix had a sandwich in one hand and a phone in the other, as he spoke into the receiver in his lilting British accent.

  "Sorry¸ love, there is such a thing as freedom of the press," he said, pausing only briefly for a response before adding, "Well, if she's not keen on seeing her name in it, I suggest your client stop flashing people from her limo, then." He clicked off and looked up. He quickly hid the surprise that flitted through his eyes at seeing me.

  "Well, hello, Maddie." He glanced behind me. "And Marco."

  "Hi," I greeted him, stepping into the room. "Uh, I hope I'm not interrupting?" I glanced at his sandwich.

  "Not at all." He took a big bite, and the scent of tuna fish floated across the room to me. "What can I do for you today?" he said around the mouthful.

  "You can stop harassing Fernando is what!" Marco piped up beside me.

  I shot him a down, girl look.

  "Harassing?" Felix grinned, looking intrigued now.

  "Uh, what Marco means is that one of your reporters called my stepfather's salon today, asking him some uncomfortable questions."

  "Did they, now?" he asked, sitting in a leather chair behind his desk as he took another bite of tuna on rye.

  I nodded. "Tina Bender."

  Felix frowned. "As far as I know, Tina's looking into Doggy Z's untimely passing. Fernando was one of the last people to see him alive. On the Jeopardy! set, correct?"

  I bit my lip, hesitant to admit anything in his presence, lest it be quoted in their pages tomorrow. "He did compete against Dog yesterday."

  "But Fernando knows nothing about Dog's overdose," Marco piped up again. "So would you kindly tell your reporter to move on?"

  "I'm curious," Felix said, giving me an assessing stare. "What did Tina ask your stepfather that had him so uncomfortable?"

  I shot Marco a look, not sure how much we should say. As far as Felix knew, Fernando was exactly who he portrayed himself to be—a slightly eccentric European hairdresser who had married my mom.

  "Nothing," I finally said. "He just…would prefer to be left alone. He's distraught. You know, over Dog's passing."

  "Hmm." Felix chewed thoughtfully as his gaze went from me to Marco. "Death is distressing."

  "Very," Marco agreed.

  "It also sells copy like there's no tomorrow." He grinned at us.

  His compassion was heartwarming. "Look, tell Tina to print all the salacious stories she wants about Dog. Just…please keep Fernando's name out of it. It's bad for business."

  But Felix shook his head. "Sorry, love. I've got a professional obligation to let the Informer's journalists go where the story takes them."

  Marco rolled his heavily lined eyes. "I'd hardly call this rag journalism."

  But Felix ignored him. "Look," he went on, swallowing a bite of tuna fish, "Tina's talking to everyone who had contact with Dog in the last twenty-four hours of his life. In fact, she's on her way to meet with the other contestant, Angela Gold, now. If she has an angle she's working on that focuses on Dog's competitors…well, it's my obligation to let her run with it."

  "Even if it means ruining Fernando?" Marco asked.

  "Ruining?" Felix gave me that assessing look again, like he knew we were holding something back.

  "Rumors can be damaging," I said, hoping our vague concern was enough.

  "We fact check every story," Felix assured me. "Legal won't allow us not to." He paused. "Anymore."

  I snorted.

  "Look, I promise you we won't print anything about Fernando that isn't true," Felix said, actually looking genuine for the first time since I'd walked into his office. "You have my word."

  While I wasn't entirely sure how much Felix's word was worth, it was the first part of the statement that scared me. The truth was exactly what we didn't want him to print.

  * * *

  "Well, that was a bust." Marco sulked as we got back into my minivan.

  "Sorry. I tried," I told him, turning on the car and cranking up the AC. Even though we were well into fall, Los Angeles never seemed to get the change-of-season memo, the temperatures in the high eighties.

  "Oh, we're not giving up that easily." Marco pulled out his phone, typing and swiping.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Checking Angela Gold's social media."

  "Angela Gold." I frowned. "Why?"

  "You heard Felix. Tina is on her way to meet with Angela now." He turned an imploring set of brown eyes my way. "If we can't convince Felix to kill the story outing Fernando, maybe we can talk Tina out of it."

  "I don't know." I'd only had a couple of run-ins with Tina personally, and she hadn't struck me as the type to back down easily. In fact, she'd struck me as the type to bulldoze right over you if it meant her column could garner a few hundred likes in the morning.

  "Well, we have to at least try," Marco said, glancing back at his phone again.

  I let out a big breath, eyes going to my dash clock. I really should be getting to work. My heels weren't going to design themselves.

  "Look here!" Marco said. "Angela just checked into Villa Rosé for a daytime TV stars charity fashion show." He turned his phone so I could see the screen. Sure enough, she'd put a little pin icon in the event, adding the note: pumped to be here!

  I looked from the screen to Marco's wide, pleading eyes, lashes fluttering imploringly at me.

  "Please, Maddie. For Fernando?"

  "Fine," I finally relented. "For Fernando."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Villa Rosé was a trendy restaurant and event venue located just off Santa Monica Boulevard in a section of West Hollywood that saw more foot traffic than DSW. We circled the block twice before finding a spot in the alleyway behind a vintage clothing boutique. The sounds of the runway music could be heard as soon as we exited the car, filtering to us from the open doors of the Villa.

  We quickly pushed our way inside, where, despite the early hour, the room was packed with those looking to see and be seen. Vuitton, Armani, Versace—the gang was all represented in the teetering heels, flowy summer prints, and handbags that cost more than a car. And those were just the fashion spectators flanking the makeshift runway created down the center of the restaurant, where long-legged creatures and daytime TV stars strutted in designer couture for charity. As we threaded our way through the crowd, the brunch cocktails and whispered gossip flowed as freely as the air kisses.

  Marco grabbed my arm. "Be still my heart! It's Genie Frank from Heartthrob Hospital."

  I followed Marco's gaze to a blonde woman wearing a rose patterned silk dress, chatting gaily with a man holding a microphone. "Dana and I used to rush home from school to watch her while we were in high school." I suddenly felt old.

  Marco said, "Oh my stars!" He grabbed my arm in a vise grip. "There are Bunny Chavez and Gloria Chandler. Oh, they're gorgeous. I just love them on As the Heart Turns," Marco gushed.

  "Any sign of Angela?" I asked, trying to spot the leggy brunette. "Or, more accurately, Tina Bender?"

  "Unh-uh." He stood on tip-toe, which was no small feat in platforms. (No pun intended.) "There are a bunch of people gathered on the back patio, though. Maybe they're out there?"

  I nodded, following his lead as he pushed through the buzzing room. I tried not to feel out of place in my jeans and casual knit top. Had I known I'd end up at a fashion show that day, I would have dressed it up a bit more. Added a necklace or something.

  Luckily, as we stepped outside on
to the shaded patio framed in lush, green ivy, I spotted someone who appeared even more out of place than my casual jeans. She had short hair streaked with purple, a black T-shirt with a picture of Daisy Duck on it, black leggings, and chunky black motorcycle boots.

  Tina Bender.

  "There!" I said, simultaneously pointing and dragging Marco toward our prey.

  Unfortunately, she spotted us when we were halfway across the room (it was hard to miss Marco), recognition immediately lit her eyes, and she tried to bolt. Fortunately, in a packed room, bolting was hard to do.

  "Oh no you don't." Marco quickly stepped between her and the exit, narrowing his brown eyes at her. "We've got a bone to pick with you, Bender."

  Her eyes darted to the left then right, but seeing as it was wall-to-wall couture-clad bodies, she quickly gave up the idea of escape. Instead, she took a defensive stance, crossing her arms over Daisy Duck and narrowing her eyes right back at Marco. "Okay, fine. Pick away."

  "Actually," I said, trying at a calmer tone to defuse the stand-off, "we just wanted to talk to you about a story you're working on."

  "What story?" she asked, an appropriately wary note in her voice. She glanced past me, and I could see her eyeing the door to the ladies' room.

  "Doggy Z's death," I said.

  That got her attention. Her eyes darted back to meet mine. "What do you know about his death?"

  "Not a lot," I admitted. "And neither does Fernando."

  "So lay off him, reporter girl!" Marco added.

  "Look, I'm busy, okay?" Her eyes went to the restroom door again. "Can we talk about this later?"

  "Whatever Dog overdosed on, however he took it, it has nothing to do with my stepfather," I said. "Fernando barely knew the man."

  "But he was with Dog just before he died," Tina pointed out. "And they were rivals."

  "Rivals?" I repeated. I watched her eyes cut to the restroom door again. I got the impression that her interest in the room wasn't due to a full bladder. I craned my head around, trying to figure out who or what she was looking at, but all I saw was a door.

  "Yes, rivals. On Jeopardy!," Tina pointed out. "And from what I understand, Fernando was pretty competitive."

  I frowned. "It was for charity."

  "Look, can we discuss this later?" asked Tina, her attention waning again.

  "How about we don't discuss it at all?" Marco said, still scowling. "How about you just leave Fernando alone, huh? Before he sues you for harassment?"

  "Harassment?" Tina shot him a get real look and shook her head. "How did you two even know I was here, anyway?"

  "Felix told us," I said.

  "Figures." She rolled her eyes. "He would tell you." She gave me a pointed look.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking.

  Tina sighed. "Nothing. Look, I'm working here, okay. You're going to blow my cover." Again her eyes flitted to the restroom.

  "What cover?" Marco asked.

  But Tina didn't answer, her body tensing for a beat before it sprang into action as she sidestepped us and made a beeline for the restroom.

  I spun around and realized just what Tina had been waiting for as Angela Gold emerged from the ladies' room, her long, wavy hair flowing over her shoulders, tanned legs bare beneath a pale peach silk sheath dress and ending in a pair of spiky stilettos that looked every bit as sharp as her character's snide remarks on All My Husbands.

  Tina rushed forward to accost the star.

  "Excuse me, Ms. Gold?" Tina asked.

  Angela turned a bored look her way. "Yes?"

  "Hi, I'm Cindy Brady, with the Wishes for Kids foundation."

  I stifled a snort at the fake name Tina had chosen.

  "Wishes for Kids?" Angela asked, scrunching up her perfect little nose that I'd bet money she hadn't been born with.

  "Uh-huh," Tina said, nodding. "We grant wishes to sick children. And little Tabitha Stephens is one of our kids whose wish is to meet you in person."

  "Me?" Angela asked. Her eyes darted around the room, a note of panic in them. "Is she here?"

  "Uh, no," Tina told her.

  Angela's shoulders relaxed with the reassurance that grimy little hands were not in the vicinity of her silk dress. "Oh. Well, you'll have to go through my publicist. She sets up all those sorts of things." She turned to go.

  "Wait! I, uh, actually was hoping to ask you a few questions first."

  She frowned. "What for?"

  "It's a prescreening process. It'll just take a minute." Tina sent her a big smile. "And think of all the positive press you'll get from a photo of you with little sick Tabitha."

  "What does she have?" Angela asked. "It's not like contagious or anything, is it?"

  "Cancer."

  "Oh." She looked relieved. "And who are you two?" Angela looked past Tina to Marco and me.

  Tina spun, obviously surprised we were still there. At least, that's how I read the glare she sent us.

  "We're from the Wishes for Kids foundation too," Marco said, taking a step to stand beside Tina. "Greg and Jan Brady." He sent Tina a sugary sweet look. "They're my stepsisters."

  It was all I could do to contain my laughter.

  But apparently Angela wasn't up on her seventies TV, as she didn't even smirk. "Fine, but make it quick. I have a luncheon to get to after this."

  "Absolutely," Tina promised. "So, you've been on All My Husbands for…how many years?" she asked as she led the way to a small table off to the side of the courtyard and gestured for Angela to sit.

  She did, and Marco and I followed suit, joining the pair. Tina shot me an annoyed look, but since we were all one big happy family now, there was little she could say.

  "Five years," Angela answered. "Kaley Kingston has been a fan favorite."

  "I can see why. You're a joy to watch," Tina said, stroking the star's ego again. "And, I might add, you had an impressive run on Jeopardy! last night as well."

  "Thank you," Angela preened. "Turns out I'm not just a pretty face, huh?" She laughed at her own joke, tossing her hair over one shoulder.

  "Tragic what happened to your fellow contestant," Tina said.

  "What?" Angela gave her a blank look.

  "Doggy Z. His untimely passing last night."

  "Oh." Angela blinked, as if suddenly remembering she was supposed to look somber. "Yes. Tragic."

  "Did you know him well?" Tina asked.

  Angela shrugged. "I mean, I knew of him. Everyone's heard 'Dog's Gotta Bone.' Unfortunately," she added with an eye roll.

  "I take it you weren't a fan of his music," I noted.

  Angela scoffed. "Is any self-respecting woman? His lyrics were crude, demeaning, and downright insulting to the female population everywhere."

  "But his beats were fresh," Marco said, looking disappointed at being the only Dog fan at the table.

  Angela shrugged. "Mediocre, at best."

  "Did you spend much time with him yesterday?" Tina asked.

  "Not really." Angela frowned. "We were all backstage for a while. There was a common greenroom, but we all had our own dressing rooms."

  "Did you notice Dog acting strange backstage at all?" Tina pressed.

  Angela's voice held a sarcastic note as she answered. "You mean like injecting a lethal dose of some drugs?" She smirked. "Yeah, I read the tabloids too. I know he died of an overdose."

  "Sure." Something flitted across Tina's features, but she quickly covered it. "So, I'm guessing you didn't see anything that would indicate drug use?"

  "Other than the fact he could hardly even stand up on his own?" Angela said. "No."

  I had to agree that we'd all seen that.

  "What about the other contestant, Fernando?"

  I felt my spine straighten. Marco tensed beside me, shooting Tina a warning look.

  "What about him?" Angela asked.

  "How was he acting backstage?" Tina asked.

  Angela shrugged. "I don't k
now. Nervous, I guess." She paused. "What does all this have to do with sick kids?"

  "Great question," Marco said, glaring at Tina.

  But the reporter didn't miss a beat, aiming her lying arrow straight for Angela's ego. "I just wondered what you thought of the fellow contestants, as it seemed obvious to me that your knowledge and skills were head and shoulders above the other players."

  Angela's suspicions smoothed into a flattered smile. "Well, thank you. I did have the competition beat. You know, until that hairdresser cheated his way into the finals."

  "Cheated?!" I blurted out.

  "No." Marco shook his head vehemently. "I don't believe that for a second."

  "Come on." She laughed. "How else could he know what type of grain to feed a sick cow? Someone must have slipped him the answers."

  Tina glanced in my direction slyly, waiting for me to blow my cover. I took a deep breath before I spoke. "Maybe he's just well read."

  "Well, I told Rupert Blick that they should have a closer look at him," Angela said. "There's something off about the guy."

  "I know exactly what you mean," Tina agreed. "Maybe they should do a thorough background check on him." She gave me a long stare.

  I found a piece of lint on my skirt interesting.

  "Anyway," Angela went on, "my agent said I have a good chance of getting the Wild Card slot. Hey, maybe your sick kid wants to come to the taping?"

  "Uh, maybe," Tina said. "So, backstage. Did the other contestants get any visitors, or was it just you, Dog, and Fernando?"

  "Most of the time," Angela responded. "I mean, Fernando's wife came back for a minute. And I saw Aunty Mae stop by Dog's dressing room to wish him luck."

  "Aunty Mae was there?" Marco asked, leaning in.

  Angela nodded. "She does that cooking show with him."

  "I thought I heard that they didn't get along," Marco said. "Isn't that part of the shtick on their show?"

  Angela shrugged. "Well, I didn't hear what they talked about, but it seemed amicable enough. Maybe it's a nasty rumor."

  My eyes went to Tina. Sounded like her department. But I noticed she was frowning, looking deep in thought about something. "Did Dog have any other visitors?" she asked.