She checked out his friends list. A couple were clearly doctors and she clicked on them. More nothing.
Then she got lucky. Dr. Solov had liked the Rhinoplasty Guild’s page. She clicked over. They had it together. They’d already put a photo album of last night’s event online. And there, in the Polo Room, which she recognized from the wooden paneling and the white and gold columns flanking the doorways, was Dr. Solov. He was eating oysters and chatting with a white-haired man, who looked like he’d never had a nose job.
“Bingo!” she said, then glanced around. Ashley wouldn’t be so happy, not on company time.
She saved the photo and emailed it to herself. She’d check out the metadata later, but it looked good for Dr. Solov. He’d been at his meeting where he was supposed to have been. Technically, she’d already done her job for the morning.
She was tempted to leave, but she didn’t want Nigel to be a conscientious hotel employee and call Dr. Solov’s office with news of his missing sunglasses. While she waited, she texted Jeffery.
He responded right away. Sorry about posting that meeting on the pier.
He wasn’t sorry and they both knew it. She’d had enough of his it’s-better-to-ask-for-forgiveness-than-permission management style. She texted him back: Make it up to me.
Jeffery answered: Anything for you! You know I adore you.
Laying it on thick, as usual. Tell me Yvette Fantome’s mother’s home address.
The party hadn’t been at their house, Mrs. Fantome had said so. And she was sure that they didn’t live at Rhett Fantome’s apartment either.
Jeffery would know. He’d called them after the near-drowning. She knew he’d have found out their address too. He was thorough. He texted it to her with an apology and a smiley emoji. She shot him back a thumbs-up and considered the conversation over.
“Miss?” Nigel was back.
“Yes?” She remembered her nasal whine just in time. She tried to look as hopeful as the face mask would let her.
“No sunglasses matching that description have been turned in.”
“Oh,” she said, in the very small voice of an assistant about to get in trouble for not finding them.
“We checked most thoroughly.” Nigel sounded genuinely sorry for her plight.
“Thank you.”
And she was out of the door.
Undetected. She felt proud.
26
Sofia was on the road to Yvette’s, trying to figure out what to do when she got there. She could make Jeffery call them up with some kind of lie, but she didn’t want the encounter to start like that. She just wanted to see the girl and make sure she was all right.
As soon as she’d left the Beverly Hills Hotel, she’d visited a Starbucks and changed out of her disguise in the bathroom, then slipped out of the back door before anyone saw her. Her face was pink and throbbing. It did feel softer than usual, but she hoped the extra time in the mask didn’t mean her skin was about to peel off entirely. Gray would have to find another date to the Oscars.
She leaned against the wall outside Starbucks, stealing Wi-Fi. She used her phone to confirm the metadata on the pictures posted of Dr. Solov. They’d been taken at the Beverly Hills Hotel last night. The last one at nine.
It took an hour to get to Simi Valley, where Yvette lived. By then Sofia’s face was back to normal. She and her GPS found Mrs. Fantome’s apartment. It was much nicer than Rhett’s. Spanish-style, white with terracotta tiles on the roof and four apartments per building. Sofia got out of her spotless car and hesitated.
Maybe this was a crazy idea.
She barely knew Yvette. They’d met exactly once.
But something wouldn’t let her leave.
She made a list of what she could do.
* * *
Get back in her car like a normal person.
Ask Jeffery to give her a cover story, so she could see if Yvette was OK.
Honk her horn and see who came out.
* * *
She was standing there like a dork when the door to 2B opened and Mrs. Fantome strode out. “Thank goodness you’re here!”
“Is Yvette OK?”
“She’s terrible, just terrible.” Mrs. Fantome grabbed Sofia by the elbow and practically dragged her across the yard to the door. At least that took care of all the items on her list. She was in.
Inside, the air was so cold Sofia got goosebumps. A gleaming golden oak floor. A table with a set of keys and bowl of ceramic fruit. No place to hang coats or kick off your shoes. But she was through the hall before she’d had much of a chance to look around.
Mrs. Fantome pulled her across a sterile gray living room and into the cleanest teenage girl’s room Sofia had ever seen. A single bed made with military precision. Schoolbooks stacked perfectly on an otherwise empty desk. A framed poster of Judy Garland as Dorothy hung on one wall.
Yvette sat cross-legged on the wooden floor next to the bed.
“The Half Pint Detective is here to help you run lines!” Mrs. Fantome announced.
Lines? Sofia hoped she didn’t look as confused as she felt. It must have been something Jeffery had said to smooth her way. One point for Jeffery.
“Thank you,” Yvette said woodenly.
“She has an audition tomorrow. For a toothpaste commercial!” Mrs. Fantome sounded manic.
Maybe they hadn’t heard the news yet.
“The timing is unfortunate,” Sofia said. “Could we talk alone?”
“You mean because of Rhett’s OD?” Mrs. Fantome asked. “We’re all better off without him.”
Sofia’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t believe that Mrs. Fantome had said that on the day her ex-husband had died and right in front of their daughter. It was so heartless and cruel that it took her breath away.
Mrs. Fantome didn’t seem to notice Sofia’s shock. She just swept out of the bedroom and closed the door.
Sofia sat next to Yvette. She touched her arm. Someone had to be there for the poor kid. She was glad she’d come.
“Nothing whitens like Snow-Cap!” Yvette said, in a perky voice. She smiled and showed all her teeth. Her cheek, the one that had turned her smile into a version of her father’s, hung frozen. They’d Botoxed her cheek to fix her smile.
Sofia felt ill.
“How’d I do?” Yvette asked.
“It sounds very good.”
“Really?”
Not really. “Yes.”
Yvette let out a deep breath. “I’m glad you like it and thanks for coming over.”
“How’re you doing?” Sofia asked.
“I guess you heard about my dad?”
“Mm-hmm.” Sofia wanted to be encouraging but noncommittal. She didn’t want to lead the conversation anywhere. She suspected Yvette rarely got listened to.
“I didn’t really know him,” Yvette said.
“I never met my dad.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
They sat for a long minute.
“I think I’ll miss him,” Yvette said.
“I can see why.”
“Mom says I shouldn’t. That he never cared for us anyway.”
Sofia leaned back against the bed. It felt like a rock. “With feelings, it doesn’t matter what you should or shouldn’t feel. It only matters what you do feel,” she said.
Yvette leaned next to her. One cold hand stole into Sofia’s. “He did care, you know. When he was at my birthday party, he was really nice when I got the injection in my cheek. It hurt a lot, and he held my hand.”
“That was nice of him.”
“And then, when that bird came, he shot at it because it had a camera and he didn’t want anyone to know that I was getting injections in my cheek. He was protecting me. He told me later on the phone. He wanted everyone to think I’ve always had a beautiful smile.”
“Your smile is beautiful no matter what,” Sofia said. Someone ought to.
Yvette nodded politely, but didn’t seem to believe her.
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They sat there for a few minutes. Sofia realized that she finally knew who had shot at Fred and why. She’d solved that mystery, at least.
Unless Rhett had lied to his daughter. But why would he? That was the problem with her new line of work. It had made her suspicious.
“Why are you really here? You didn’t come to run lines,” Yvette said.
“Nope.” Sofia put an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “I think maybe I feel responsible for you. After all, I saved your life.”
Yvette flashed her half-frozen smile again. “Thanks.”
More silence.
“What did you want to be when you grew up?” Yvette asked.
“I wanted to be someone who helps people. That’s what I do now. I’m a private detective and we help people.”
“Like in the show?”
“Not exactly.” Although it wasn’t entirely unlike that.
“So, you’re not really an actress anymore?”
“I’ll always be an actress. It’s one thing I can always do. But it’s not what I’m doing now. I’m working to help people now.”
“Will you go back to acting?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So, you just . . . quit?” Yvette’s voice was full of longing.
“Do you want to be an actress?”
Yvette shrugged. “Sometimes. I like being on stage and doing all my lines right.”
“That can be a lot of fun.” Sofia wasn’t going to deny it. “But if you could be anything at all, what would you be?”
“Eighteen.”
That was a weird answer. “Why?”
“When I’m eighteen I get to decide what I want. Until then Mother says I have to act because I’m pretty and I’m good at it and these years won’t last forever.”
Emily sometimes said, ‘These years won’t last forever,’ about her kids, but Sofia knew she didn’t mean it the same way that Yvette’s mom did. “So, when you’re eighteen, what do you want to do?”
“I want to go to college, like regular people do.”
“That’s a good goal.”
“Does it seem weird?” Yvette gazed into Sofia’s eyes.
“Nope.”
Yvette leaned back against the bed again. “Do you think there’ll be a funeral for my dad?”
“Do you want there to be one?” She could probably get Jeffery to organize it. He was good at setting up stuff like that. And he’d be able to get a few people to attend, too. Sofia wasn’t exactly rich, but she could spring for it.
Yvette sighed. “Dad’s friends weren’t very nice. They’d be there.”
Sofia supposed she ought to follow that up for the case, but she couldn’t exploit Yvette’s grief.
“Mom wouldn’t take me, but I bet Aunt Beth would.”
“Who’s Aunt Beth?”
“Mom’s little sister. She lives in Oklahoma. She’s an insurance adjuster.”
“Is that a fun job?”
“She likes it. She says I can go to college and become whatever I want. She says she did.”
Sofia liked Aunt Beth already.
“Is she in town?”
“She’s around for a week at a conference. She wanted to take me out to the beach today, but Mom said I should run lines instead.”
“Is that your only line?”
“Yup.”
“You know the line. My advice is to pull the words from your belly, not your throat. They sound richer that way. Watch.” Sofia said the line. “And when you smile, think of something really happy and feel how it changes your eyes.”
Yvette repeated the line. She said it much better than she had when Sofia arrived. The kid had talent. Not that her talent was doing her any favors.
“I pronounce you perfect and ready for the beach. Let’s go tell your mom.”
Yvette smiled and jumped to her feet.
On her way out of the door, Sofia turned the top book on the stack so it wasn’t perfectly lined up.
27
Sofia maneuvered Aunt Beth into the corner of the spotless white kitchen while Mrs. Fantome had Yvette running the toothpaste line. Yvette was delivering it very well, and Sofia gave her a thumbs-up.
Aunt Beth looked at her questioningly. She was a little plump, wore no makeup, and seemed to be as concerned about Yvette’s mental state as her sister was unconcerned. She kept glancing at Yvette worriedly.
“Sofia Salgado.” Sofia figured introducing herself was a good place to start.
“Beth Morello. And I know who you are. I was up half the night watching your show.”
“Why on Earth would you do that?” Sofia’s own mom wouldn’t even do that. And she was a good mom.
“My sister wanted to study your acting technique to give tips to Yvette.” Beth yawned. “We were up until three a.m.”
“I’m sorry,” Sofia said. “I didn’t really have any acting technique in that show. I mostly just acted like myself.”
“You were pretty good. Very unaffected.”
Whatever that meant.
“How’s Yvette taking the news of her father’s death?”
“She was upset when the police came by this morning with the news. Around eight. My sister, bless her heart, wasn’t very sympathetic about it. They had a . . . contentious divorce.”
She bet they had. “I’m sorry for everyone’s loss.”
“That’s kind of you to say.”
“If Yvette wants a funeral, I’ll pay for it,” Sofia said, in a low voice. “I can make the arrangements as well. If she doesn’t want a full funeral, maybe some kind of ceremony.”
“Rhett was a bastard, but it would be good for her to say goodbye to her father,” Beth said, equally quietly. “I’ll find a way. And I’ll pay for it.”
“Works for me.” Sofia didn’t want to be involved any more than she had to.
They both glanced at Yvette. Her smile was strained now, and the toothpaste line was falling flat again. Mrs. Fantome wasn’t anyone’s idea of a great acting coach. And expecting her daughter to work at all right now, well, it would have seemed even worse if Sofia hadn’t seen that kind of stuff in the industry all the time.
“Thanks for looking out for my niece,” Beth said.
“I’ve barely done anything.” Sofia glanced again at Yvette. She was clearly ready to cry. “Would you guys like to go to the beach today?”
“I’d at least like her to stop rehearsing.” Beth pursed her lips, annoyed.
“I can distract her mother, if you’d like to slip out the back door.”
“I can work with that.” Beth held out her hand and Sofia shook it.
“Mrs. Fantome,” Sofia called, “are you happy with Yvette’s representation?”
Mrs. Fantome turned to her and started a long rant about Yvette’s current agent, Annabelle Mack. Miss Mack’s failures were many and varied. Over Mrs. Fantome’s shoulder, Sofia watched Beth shepherd Yvette out of the front door to a less stressful day.
“That does sound trying.” Sofia tried to get a word in edgewise, but there was no stopping the Mrs. Fantome train once it had started. Sofia kept nodding, giving Beth and Yvette time to get a good head start.
Eventually she broke in: “I can put in a good word with my former agent, Jeffery Weiner. He needs a firm hand, but he did right by me.”
And he had. Jeffery was no saint, but her earnings had been properly paid into a trust for her. Not that Sofia’s mom would have taken anything, but Sofia didn’t trust Mrs. Fantome. If Yvette had a paying career as an actress ahead of her, at least Jeffery would make sure she kept the money she earned. And he had been good at keeping the worst sleaziness of Hollywood away from Sofia when she was a kid. Not a lot of agents could say that much. Yvette could do worse.
“We’d love to change!” Mrs. Fantome gushed. “You’ve had such a stellar career. And you transitioned so well to being an adult actress.”
“Mm-hmm.” Sofia inched her way around Mrs. Fantome and slowly backed toward the door. When sh
e reached it, she snatched at the handle and hurried over the threshold. “Bye!”
She closed the door behind herself and sprinted to her Tesla. Mrs. Fantome didn’t follow her into the street, so that was something.
She drove all the way back to the office without stopping, then texted Jeffery: Yvette Fantome’s mom is looking for new representation and I said I’d put in a good word with you.
Right back from Jeffery: You’re the best. I owe you.
And how.
Aidan knocked on her window. She jumped.
“Don’t do that,” she said. “You’ll leave knuckle prints on the glass.”
He jerked his hand back. “Sorry.”
Two weeks ago, he would have dragged his knuckles all over the window if she’d said something like that. She kinda missed the old ape.
“How’d your sleuthing go?” he asked, as she got out of the car.
“Solov was at the conference. I verified that it was held at the Beverly Hills Hotel and saw pics of him online.”
“Time stamped?”
“I looked at the metadata. Date and location stamped.” She was proud that she’d known how.
“We’ll make a profi out of you yet.”
“How about you? Anything?” she asked.
“I got lucky—or, rather, unlucky. Saw some security footage from the store across the street from Solov’s apartment. It confirmed that he left his apartment at six p.m. last night and hasn’t come back since.”
She opened the office door for him. “Interesting.”
“What do you suppose he was up to?” Aidan asked. “Was he out screwing around on his wife or murdering Rhett Fantome?”
“Maybe there are other options,” she said. “A third apartment? Or maybe he stayed at the hotel.”
“For his sake, I hope so.”
She sat down at her desk and looked at the walls. “That pink is starting to grow on me.”
“It’s great, right?”
Brendan arrived. He had coffee for everyone. Aidan took his without mentioning Swiss glacier water.
F is for Fred Page 14
