Chloe frowned, her pixie-like features darkening for the first time since I'd met her. "No. John wasn't named as a beneficiary at all." She shook her head. "Such a shame that they never had a chance to put their differences aside."
"John mentioned to me that you were the reason he was trying to reconcile with his father."
Chloe smiled. "Well, John knew what a big fan of his dad's I was." A blush crept into Chloe's cheeks. "I was so nervous the first time I met him."
"It's always a little nerve-wracking meeting the parents," I agreed. "I can imagine even more so if they're celebrities." The first time I'd met Ramirez's family, I'd been dressed in an outfit that had been more appropriate for turning tricks than meeting the in-laws. Not that I'd known I'd be meeting his family or had any idea at the time that they'd ever be my family someday. And, in my defense, I hadn't even known I'd end up at a family event—Dana and I had been doing a little undercover work trying to find my then-boyfriend that had included fitting in at a sleazy motel that charged by the hour. But try explaining that to people you'd never met before.
However, Chloe shook her head. "Well, yes, it is scary meeting the parents. But actually, the first time I ever met Dog was before I even knew John."
"Oh? Where did you meet him?"
"I went to one of his concerts with some friends. Just after I graduated high school. We actually hung around at the stage door like groupies, waiting for him after the show." She laughed. "Like I said, I've always been a huge fan."
"Well, I'm sure Dog must have appreciated that."
She nodded and got a far-off look in her eyes for a moment. "Dog was amazing. Larger than life. There will never be another like him."
I cleared my throat. "I'm curious…if John didn't inherit the fifth portion of his dad's estate, who did?"
Chloe shrugged again. "No idea. The lawyer said it went to something called the G-Money Trust Fund."
"What's that?"
"I don't know," Chloe said. "Maybe a charity or some music organization." She took a deep breath, pulling herself back to the present and out of her memories of Doggy Z concerts. "Anyway, I should get back to Laura. It was nice talking to you."
"You too," I said absently as I watched her walk away and join the woman who I now knew had four million excellent reasons to want her ex-husband dead.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I found Marco regaling both Angela Gold and Alex Trebek with a story about the time he once ran into James Holzhauer in an elevator. Angela's nose was scrunched in distaste, as if Marco was cramping her style, and poor Trebek just looked like he wished he'd stayed in bed that morning. I noticed Tina inconspicuously eyeing the three from a few feet away while munching on a cookie.
Dana appeared at my side, grabbing herself a passing glass of champagne on the way. "Hey. Marco keeping our girl in line?"
I nodded. "So far so good." I turned to her. "You get anything from Laura?"
"Not really. Just the same line about her and Dog being 'close' best friends."
"Which neither confirms nor denies her being Secret Lover," I mused.
Dana nodded. "I still think it's possible." She paused to sip her drink. "What about you? Were you able to talk to John?"
I shook my head. "But I did have an interesting conversation with Chloe." I quickly relayed the gist of it and the fact that Laura, Blakely, Caitlyn, and the mysterious G-Money fund had all benefited from Dog's death in a big way.
"Wow," Dana said when I was done. "That's a big payday for Dog's exes."
I nodded. "And big motive."
"Did Chloe know what G-Money was?"
"Not really. She said she thought it could be a charity. Have you ever heard of it?" I asked Dana.
She shook her head. "No, but it sounds like a great rapper name, doesn't it? G-Money and Doggy Z, together in concert. One night only."
I laughed. "It really does," I agreed as I watched Alex Trebek head off more stories from Marco with a nod and a handshake before quickly crossing the room to speak to Rupert Blick. Angela trailed after the game show host like an unshakable shadow. Poor Trebek.
Marco caught my eye and made his way across the room toward us.
And I noticed Tina put down her cookie and followed him, making no attempts to disguise her intent.
Marco spun as he caught up to us and pursed his lips at Tina. "Are you following me, Bender?"
"No. Have you been following me?" Tina asked. She gave him a pointed look. I'd say one thing for her—not much escaped her notice.
"The very idea!" Marco thumbed his nose in the air.
Tina smirked before nodding toward Dana. "So, what did the ex say?"
"Nothing." Dana shrugged.
"Come on. I saw you talking to her for at least fifteen minutes. You can't tell me it was just about the weather," Tina pressed.
"Even if Laura did tell me something—which I'm not saying she did—why would I share that with you?"
Tina put a hand to her heart in mock hurt. "I'm crushed. And here I thought we were making a pretty good team."
I rolled my eyes. "Look, if you want to know what Laura told Dana, then you tell me this—have you ever heard of someone named G-Money?"
Tina's eyebrows drew together in thought. "No, I don't think so. Why?"
I relayed the gist of my conversation with Chloe once again. While I might have hesitated to share info with Tina, the truth was the division of Dog's estate would be public knowledge soon enough anyway. "Chloe thought it might be a charity or some music fund," I finished.
Marco gave a low whistle. "That is a lot of money to leave to anyone."
"I can't say I've ever heard of it, but I can ask around," Tina said, still frowning as I watched her mentally going through her database of contacts.
I vaguely wondered if she'd share what she found when she did.
"Well, one thing is for sure," Dana noted. "Three of Dog's old flames here in LA benefited nicely from his death. Any one of his exes could have killed him solely for the money they'd inherit."
I nodded. "In that case, maybe this has nothing to do with an affair with an old love after all." Which was kind of a depressing thought, leaving us right back at square one.
"Let's face it. With the number of women Dog's been with, that love letter could have been written by almost anyone," Tina reasoned. "I like the inheritance angle."
"Is that what you'll be printing in your column?" I asked. "Because you cannot say Chloe told me."
Tina grinned. "Relax. Legal doesn't let me name names like that anyway. She'll be a nice anonymous 'source close to the deceased.'" She paused, looking down at her watch. A big chunky thing the same shade of purple as her hair. "Speaking of which, I gotta run, kids. Lots to type up. It's been a heck of a wake." She gave us all a wicked grin that suddenly made me wary about what else she'd be printing today.
"We should probably get going too," I said, watching Tina's retreating back. It was clear we'd gotten all we were going to from the grieving family. Plus, I didn't want to take any chances at Ramirez coming home early and finding me gone.
Marco held up a finger. "Let me just grab a cookie for the ride home. Those chocolate chip ones are divine. I betcha Aunty Mae made them herself."
I was about to tell him how much I doubted that when someone tapped me on the arm. I whirled around to find Angela standing there.
With a death look on her face.
"You! I know who you really are," she accused, narrowing her eyes at me.
I licked my lips. "Uh, you do?"
"You thought you were so clever, pretending to be from some charity. But Alex Trebek told me the truth."
"He did?" I glanced behind her to the unsuspecting Trebek, who looked immensely relieved to have shaken Angela off his arm.
"Yes, he did," she said. "You're Fernando's daughter."
I shot an uncertain glance at Dana. "Uh…actually, I'm his stepdaughter."
Angela gritted her teeth together. "So it's true. You lied to me
when you visited me in my dressing room."
"No, we just—"
She held up a hand in the air to silence me. "How dare you. And don't tell me you're here to pay your respects to Dog and his family. I know what you're really doing."
"Uh, you do?" I said, taking a small step backwards.
"You're following me in an attempt to sabotage me! You know Fernando has no chance of winning against me. So, what, you're trying to get in my head? Scare me? Use some psych-out technique?"
I blinked at her, trying to figure out if she was for real. "It's a charity match," I pointed out.
She scoffed. "That's just the type of thing the lying daughter of a loser would say."
"Hey now, Fernando is not a loser," I said. I glossed over the lying part, as she was kind of on point with that one. "If I recall, Fernando beat you."
"By cheating!"
"Fernando did not cheat," I shot back, feeling anger on his behalf rise in my chest.
"Maddie," Dana said quietly, putting a hand on my arm.
"Oh, please." Angela snickered. "No one knows that much trivial information. And he's hardly even a real celebrity! It's obvious he had the answers fed to him."
"That is an outrageous lie," I said, feeling adrenaline build. "My stepfather doesn't cheat. He's one of the most honest people I know."
"Says you," she scoffed. "Anyway, I've already alerted the network to my suspicions. I doubt if they'll even let him play in the finale tonight."
"You wouldn't dare," I said, taking a step forward.
"Already done." She shot me a triumphant smile. "Mr. Blick over there was very interested to hear the allegations."
"You low-down, conniving—" I felt my body lunging toward her all on its own, my right hand cocking back, ready to strike.
"Maddie," Dana said again, tugging at my elbow in an effort to steer me away. "Don't stoop to her level. You know that Fernando can take her on tonight."
"That's because he's a cheater!" Angela yelled. "Cheater, cheater, but revenge is sweeter!"
A silence fell over the room. Everyone was looking at us, and my cheeks heated with embarrassment. I caught sight of Alex Trebek near the door, his expression full of disapproval. Tina hovered near him, one eye on us while the other one was focused on her phone screen, her fingers merrily typing away. If I turned out to be the front page story in tomorrow's L.A. Informer, she'd be having her own memorial service next.
"Just walk away," Dana said softly beside me, still tugging at my arm.
While everything in me wanted to smack that smirk off Angela Gold's face, I knew Dana was right. Instead, I turned and let Dana lead me quickly from the building, brushing right past Tina on the way. Marco trailed a step behind us, and I saw him mouth a Sorry to Alex Trebek as we pushed out into the sunshine.
I sucked in big gulps of air, the anger slow to leave my system.
"Ohmigosh, I thought that was going to come to blows," Marco said, popping the last of his cookie into his mouth.
I blew out a long breath. "I almost wish it had. Someone should knock some sense into her."
"She just knows she can't beat Fernando," Dana said.
I glanced up at her. "You think she really tried to have him disqualified?"
Dana shook her head. "Even if she did talk to Blick, I'm sure he took it for what it is."
"Her pathetic attempt to get rid of the competition," Marco said hotly.
"Right," Dana agreed. "Trust me—if Blick thinks Fernando will get him ratings tonight, there's no way he'd pull him from the show."
I nodded, feeling less than totally reassured.
"Tell you what," Dana said, eyeing me. "There's a restroom just down and to the left. Why don't you go freshen up while we get the car and bring it around, huh?"
I gave her a weak smile. "Do I look that shaken?"
She grinned back. "You might have smudged your eyeliner a little when you went to slug her."
I instinctively swiped under my eyes in an effort to fix it. "Better?"
Marco cringed. "Maybe go find that mirror, honey. We'll pick you up in the cast lot."
Well, this day was turning out peachy. "Okay," I agreed with them, heading in the direction Dana had indicated.
I found the ladies' room easily, quickly pushing inside and fixing my eyeliner in the mirror. Honestly, it wasn't as bad as I'd feared, but as I breathed the adrenaline away, I was actually grateful for the moment to myself to calm down. I was just adding a swipe of Raspberry Perfection lip gloss, when something that sounded like soft crying from the stall behind me alerted me that I was not alone in the room.
I froze, my eyes immediately going to the space under the stall where, sure enough, a pair of feet were visible. Feet that were encased in the same pair of pink boots I'd seen Aunty Mae wearing earlier.
I capped my lip gloss. "Mae?" I said softly.
The crying sound immediately ceased.
"Are you okay?" I asked. Being that she was behind a locked bathroom stall door, I felt kind of intrusive. On the other hand, having witnessed the argument between her and her husband earlier, my heart went out to her.
There was another sob, then a sniff, and then the door to the stall opened and she came out, clutching her purse in her right hand and something else balled up in her left. "Sorry. I thought I was alone." The words were spoken in her usual perky tone, accompanied by a wide smile, but the mascara streaks down her cheeks told a different story.
"Are you okay?" I asked her again.
She sniffed loudly. "Yes. Fine. Great. Why wouldn't I be?"
I suddenly wondered just how many wine and antidepressant cocktails she'd been ingesting that day. Was she not aware that her face looked like it had tire marks running down her cheeks?
"Here, let me get you a tissue," I offered, pulling toilet paper from the roll in the next stall over.
Only, as I went to hand it to her, I caught a good look at what she had clutched in her left hand. It was a piece of paper. Which, on its own, could have been anything. But what had me frozen to the spot was the tiny little daisy printed in the upper corner, just visible through her manicured clutches.
It was exactly the same daisy that had been on the love letter we'd found in Dog's dressing room.
"No way," I heard myself breathe out.
"Wh-what?" Aunty Mae asked, the perk in her voice faltering a little at my clear reaction.
I tore my eyes from the daisy, raising them to meet hers. "It was you," I said.
She stared at me, confused. "Me? Me, what? What are you talking about?"
"You're the one who was having an affair with Dog."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The expression on Mae's face morphed from confusion with a pretense of perk to guilt with an undercurrent of downright panic. She took a quick step forward, shushing me and shaking a pair of pudgy hands in front of her. "Hush, now. Wh-what on earth are you talking about?" She laughed, a high pitched thing that sounded on the verge of a breakdown.
I pointed to the piece of paper in her hand. "That daisy stationery. I've seen it before. In Dog's dressing room."
Her face paled. "You must be mistaken."
I shook my head. "No. No, I'm not mistaken. I saw a love letter written to Dog on that same stationery." I paused. "Your stationery?" I guessed.
Mae closed her eyes, her eyebrows drawing together in a pained expression. For a moment I thought she was either going to burst into tears again or pass out. Finally she sucked in a deep breath and opened her eyes. "That's how she knew."
"She?" I asked.
"That reporter from the L.A. Informer. The one who printed that stupid story this morning about a mystery lover." She shook her head. "I couldn't figure out how she knew, but…but I guess Dog kept my letters."
"So it was from you?" I asked.
She nodded, tears streaming anew down her cheeks. "You can't tell anyone."
"You and Dog were seeing each other? Romantically?" I asked. Even as I said it out loud, I couldn't h
elp the note of disbelief in my voice. Even putting aside the fact that Mae was a good ten years older than Dog—and a good thirty older than his last wife—everything about the two seemed to be in opposition to each other. I couldn't think of a single thing they could have in common. Other than having been thrown together on the cooking show for ratings.
"Yes," Mae admitted. "I-I loved him. Passionately. Desperately. With all my entire soul." The sobs were coming in earnest now, shaking her shoulders up and down.
I handed her the balled-up TP, and she blew her nose loudly.
"When did it happen?" I asked.
"Almost as soon as he started working on In the Kitchen. What was that—two years ago now?"
"So resenting him being on your show—that was a lie?"
She shook her head. "No, I was honest with you before about not wanting him here in the first place. My husband thought my ratings were declining, but I didn't think this cheap gimmick was the answer."
"But your husband obviously won that battle."
Mae nodded. "He always does," she said, a note of sadness in her voice. "But as soon as Dog and I started working together, well…the chemistry was undeniable. I realized I'd been all wrong about him. He was so creative. So funny. So full of passion and life." She looked up at me, a smile shining through her tears at the memory. "I fell in love."
"Did your husband know?" I asked softly.
"Oh, goodness me, no." She shook her head vehemently, curls flapping against her wet cheeks. "No, we kept it very quiet. Very discreet. We both agreed Rupert must never know. He'd cancel the show in a heartbeat, and well, that wouldn't be good for either of us."
"That must have been difficult," I noted. "Being that you all worked together."
She nodded. "It's never easy keeping something like love secret. But we made sure that the crew thought we hated each other. We staged fights on the set of the show and everything."
Mental forehead smack. "That was all an act?"
She nodded. "It was Dog's idea." She smiled. "He said if Rupert wanted ratings, we'd give him ratings." She giggled, which turned into a wine scented hiccup. "We had such fun coming up with our little fake tiffs and insults."
Jeopardy in High Heels (High Heels Mysteries Book 12) Page 18
