“Maybe the drone footage will shed some light on events,” Stark said. “We should hear soon.”
Aidan fidgeted with the top of his water bottle.
“Does Rick Pankhurst have a solid alibi?” Sofia asked.
“You’re thinking maybe a crime of passion. Killing Marcel to get the woman he wanted?” Stark nodded approvingly. “It’d be a good spin, but unfortunately, the same surveillance that exists for Annabelle also exonerates Pankhurst. Too bad, because I like the love triangle option to distract attention away from the Narek/Milena/Marcel love triangle.”
“Technically,” Sofia had to point it out even though she knew Brendan would disapprove. “Marcel was sleeping with Bambi, Milena, and his own wife. If you count up everyone, that’s a love pentagon.”
“Bambi’s the top unknown right now,” Brendan said. “What do you know about her?”
Sofia was glad that they’d moved on from the drone. “She was young. Met Rick at a dating site. She didn’t seem particularly attached to him, or to Marcel. Lost her clothes. Her hair color and boobs are fake. She’s a little smaller than me, but still fit into my sweatshirt.”
Sofia knew it wasn’t much.
“Her boobs are fake?” Aidan asked.
Trust Aidan to go there first.
“Scars,” Sofia said. “I saw her naked before I loaned her my sweatshirt, and she had some scars. But she had a good surgeon because they were minimal.”
“Did you find out anything, Aidan?” Brendan asked.
“Nothing.” Aidan’s eyes tightened at the corners. It probably pained him to admit that he’d come up empty, particularly when Sofia’d had such a good day. “I’ve trolled through dating sites to see where she and Pankhurst might have intersected, but I’ve come up empty.”
“No luck in the virtual world,” Sofia said. “What if we try the real world? We could go to Emoji. That’s where she met up with Rick. Maybe she’s a regular.”
“Perfect.” Brendan smiled so hard his dimples popped up. “Sounds like you two have a date tonight.”
“I was going to see Jaxon.” It wasn’t entirely firm, but they’d exchanged a few texts while she was in the helicopter, and she was hopeful.
“And I have a date, too,” Aidan said.
“Only one?” Sofia asked. “Who?”
He spun the water bottle around. “Taylor.”
“I told you so!” she crowed.
“Doesn’t matter what you had planned,” Brendan said. “I hope that you appreciate Narek Grigoryan’s situation enough to put aside your personal plans.”
Sofia thought that sounded like ‘go out and do this or you’re fired.’
“Of course,” said Aidan. “How could I turn down a date with a former starlet?”
Sofia didn’t like the way he stressed the word ‘former.’ “No more than I can turn one down with a former cop.”
“Great!” said Brendan. “It’s all settled.”
CHAPTER 32
Sofia changed into a pair of jeans that cost more than she made in a month these days, but had seemed cheap when she bought them a few years ago, a black leather blazer with two buttons, and a yellow silk camisole that wouldn’t be visible under the plunging blazer unless she dropped something. Then she applied ‘going out to a club’ makeup, fluffed her hair, slipped into some danger zone heels, took a piece of old pizza from the fridge, and headed out.
Fred dive bombed her, stopping in mid-flight to whirl away cawing.
“Didn’t recognize me, did you?” she called up to him.
Fred circled as if deciding whether to poop on her head.
“Truce!” She put the pizza on the railing, and Fred swooped down and tore off a piece of pepperoni. He’d eat the whole thing eventually, but he always started with the meat. Not a vegetarian bird.
“How do I look?” she asked.
Fred cocked his head and clacked his beak a couple of times.
“Last time I was at a club my butt was hanging out of my ducky pajamas,” she said. “I’m trying to make a good impression.”
Fred snatched another pepperoni and gulped it down.
“Everybody’s a critic.” She hefted her purse on her shoulder, locked up, set the alarm code, and left the peaceful seaside to Fred.
Aidan had agreed that she could drive, which must come with some kind of a catch, but she didn’t care as she got into her Tesla and headed south on PCH. The ocean beckoned on one side, the mountains on the other. When it applied itself, and it usually did, Malibu was gorgeous. She rolled down the windows and breathed in salty sea air, trying to ignore the tinge of exhaust fumes.
She turned north on Malibu Canyon Road right after Pepperdine University, and left the ocean behind. But it was still scenic—steep hills above, sheer drop offs below, and the smell of oak and eucalyptus. The road wound gently back and forth. It was the perfect chance to let the Tesla run, and she ate up every curve. Right up until she got stuck behind the pokiest motor home in the world.
They lumbered forward as if they were afraid their car house would tip over and fall off the cliff if they went faster than a quick jog. Maybe it would. As they passed the Hughes Heliport, she could hardly believe she’d been there this morning with Brandi. If she had a helicopter, she could fly right over this rolling roadblock. Deciding that distraction was better than homicide, she called Brandi.
“Hello, Miss Bianca.” Brandi sounded mellow, a little too mellow. Hopefully she was just happy, not chemically happy.
“Who’s Miss Bianca?” Sofia asked.
“The white mouse from that movie, The Rescuers. Since you’re my rescuer. It wasn’t much of a leap.”
Brandi had slipped a movie reference by her? The RV’s exhaust fumes must be dulling her brain. She raised both windows with a touch of a button. “Did you send Buddha back home?”
Brandi sighed into the phone, a gusty exhalation of despair. “He’s wrapped in black velvet in a safe in Madeline’s office.”
“And?” Good for Madeline for rescuing the antique sculpture.
“She’s waiting for one of the Zen masters to come over via ferry and return the happy fat guy to his boring little niche.”
Sofia wasn’t going to take a stand on this one. Buddha was already safe. “Did you listen to the rest of those recordings I sent you?”
“I just got out of Zen prison. Do you think my life is so boring that I have nothing better to do than eavesdrop on some French couple with marital problems?”
“So, you did!” Sofia could tell from the faux-annoyed tone of her voice. “What else did you get?”
Brandi laughed. “It wasn’t much. Just the fight, which I told you about. Then a man explaining, in English, that he couldn’t perform because a pig had pulled out his penis. Was that a metaphor?”
“It was a guy, not a pig, but it was a pretty stiff yank.”
“I bet he had it coming.”
Sofia thought about it. Marcel had slept with Narek’s wife, then scorned her. “Pretty much.”
Aidan would disagree.
“After they gave up on bringing his ‘big snake to life,’ and that’s a quote, the woman took an Uber out of there, probably in search of a working penis.”
“Where’d she go?” Sofia’s heart beat a little faster. A lead, a real lead.
“The Emoji, can you imagine?”
“What’s wrong with the Emoji?” Maybe she shouldn’t have worn her expensive jeans.
“It’s a Viper Room-wannabe a little further up Sunset. They have bad music and everything inside is yellow and black. It’s like being attacked by wasps.”
That didn’t sound promising. “I’m looking for that woman. Did she use her own Uber account?”
Aidan could probably check. If she did, she’d probably been ubered from her house at some point.
“Nope.” Brand dashed that hope. “The limp-dicked Frenchman used his account.”
Aidan could still check, but she didn’t see how it would help. For a second
, it looked like the RV would pull over and let her pass. She goosed the accelerator to get close.
“Her name was Bambi.” Brandi took a long drink of something. Sofia hoped that it wasn’t alcohol, since Brandi was supposed to be drying out. That’s what the Zen center had been for. “She sounded about twelve.”
“Anything else? A last name? Address?”
“Nope,” said Brandi.
The RV pulled out to the left, blocking her way entirely, and she dropped back. It wasn’t her night.
“One thing,” Brandi said. “I don’t know if it’s important. After Bambi left and before the call of the fight that I so kindly translated on the helicopter, the French guy stomped around muttering, but I couldn’t understand him. I think I heard the door open and distant voices I also couldn’t understand. I think he might have gone outside, talked to someone else or ranted on his own, and then come back inside a couple of minutes later.”
“Thanks.” Sofia didn’t know if that would help, but she’d add it into her timeline with some question marks next to it since Brandi wasn’t sure. Aidan would have time stamps for all the sounds he’d recorded, so she could get the details from there.
“You free tonight?” Brandi asked. “I’ve got tickets to—”
Sofia cut her off before she heard what the tickets were for. She didn’t want to spend the whole evening thinking of what she should have done. “I have to go to the Emoji to look for Bambi.”
“I told you it sucked, and she’s probably not even there.”
“It’s for work,” Sofia said.
“Are you going on your own?”
“With Aidan.”
Brandi wolf whistled. “He’s a hottie. Maybe you can start an office romance.”
“With Aidan?” Sofia was dumbfounded.
“Why not? He’s sexy and funny. He doesn’t need to be more than that.”
“He isn’t the kind of guy to hook up with.” Plus there was Jaxon.
“Every guy is,” Brandi said. “You have to motivate him.”
“I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. Even if Aidan wanted to hook up with me, I don’t want to hook up with him.” Brandi was starting to sound like her mother.
CHAPTER 33
Sofia parked a block away from Aidan’s house and walked. She didn’t even try to find a better space.
He lived down what a realtor would call a cul-de-sac and a realist would call a dead-end street. It looked as if it had originally been intended to go straight through, but then someone had built an apartment building right where the street should go.
Aidan didn’t live in the apartment building though. He lived in one of the tiny houses that lined the street. He called it a shotgun shack—a house so small that you could fire a shotgun from the front door and it would go out the back.
But Sofia didn’t think it was that bad. A tall ficus tree shaded a front porch that could have held a table and chair but didn’t. It was painted gray to match the house’s trim. A heavy wooden door, painted copper green, was next to a large window that looked out onto the tree and the street. The house went back pretty far to a small fenced yard that she knew was his secret pride and joy. He was constantly trying new plants back there.
She rang the bell.
Aidan opened the door. He looked like the cover of a romance novel—a towel around his waist, no shirt, muscular chest, curly hair wet from the shower.
“Holy crap,” he said when he saw her.
“What now?” She looked behind her to see if someone was coming up with a gun or something.
“You look like a movie star,” he said. “I sometimes forget.”
“A former movie star,” she said. “Remember?”
He stepped aside so she could enter his tiny living room. For reasons she would never understand, he’d painted the whole thing white—white walls, white ceiling, and a white floor. Maybe it was to make the room look bigger or maybe he just like living inside of a giant snowball.
She took off her shoes and left them by the door. His floor showed every speck of dirt. He’d already worn out one Roomba robot floor vacuum.
“Give me a minute.” He walked through his tiny kitchen (also white, and the countertops were white and gray marble). Honed marble, he’d once told her, although she had no idea what that meant.
She settled down on his modern gray sofa. It was more comfortable than she’d expected, and she’d thought of buying one for her house, but it didn’t fit in with her informal decor. He always had an art book on the glass table and she picked up the latest. It was about Japanese swords.
Aidan returned. He’d changed out of his towel into slacks, a dress shirt, and his standard Zegna jacket. He’d looked better in the towel.
“Do you have a sword?” she asked.
“Every guy does,” he said. “Is this a trick question?”
She blushed, and she didn’t know why. “Like in this book. A katana.”
“I wish,” he said. “But the good ones are expensive.”
She put the book back on the table, admired his spotless floor one more time, and then they left.
On the drive to Emoji she filled him in on her call with Brandi.
“If someone came to visit after Bambi left, maybe that was the killer,” Aidan said.
“But he came back inside alone.” Maybe.
“Maybe Bambi came back,” Aidan said. “Maybe she forgot something.”
“Like her clothes.” Sofia missed her sweatshirt. “But I don’t think she would have killed him, then ubered to a club from his front yard. Even Bambi’s not that stupid.”
“It’s working for her so far,” he pointed out.
They argued about that until they got to Emoji where Sofia gave her beloved Tesla’s keys to a valet who didn’t look old enough to drive. He promised to take good care of it.
Brandi was right—the club’s interior was like being attack by bees. The club used emoji colors and giant yellow balls with different-shaped emojis on the bottom hung from the ceiling. She didn’t even know what half of the emojis were supposed to mean, but she bed Aidan did.
The music was Japanese pop, and Sofia found herself moving in time to it. Aidan rolled his eyes and went up to the bar. Sofia kept on dancing on her own, working her way around the dance floor before she got tired and met up with Aidan at the bar again.
“I didn’t see her,” she told him. “And I checked the dance floor and the bathroom.”
“Bartender didn’t know her, but all I could give him was a description. I wish we had a photo.” Aidan handed her a bright yellow drink in a round glass. A pair of mint leaves hung off the edge.
“What do we do now?” Sofia took a sip. It tasted pretty good, tangy with a kick. “What is this?”
“We wait.” He lifted an identical glass. “Golden glow.”
Aidan cut through the dancers with practiced ease, weaving back to snag a table a microsecond after a girl in a red leather miniskirt left it behind.
“Can we dance while we wait?” Sofia asked.
“This isn’t a date,” said Aidan.
A good-looking guy headed toward them. Maybe he wanted to dance. Sofia took a sip of her glow and made flirty eyes. The guy stopped and took a picture of her with his phone. At least she was fully dressed and not doing anything embarrassing.
“You’re Sofia Salgado!” he said. “Can I take a picture with you?”
Aidan rolled his eyes. At some point they’d roll right out of his head and onto the floor. She wouldn’t pick them up for him either.
“Of course.” Sofia hated turning down fans. So she took a picture, and he sent a drink her way.
Within a half hour she had ten drinks stacked up from various fans, and Aidan looked ready to explode. Not a single person had asked her to dance. Probably because Aidan looked like he would rip out their livers.
“Isn’t this supposed to be a fun night out?” She pushed one of her drinks over to him.
He downed the
last of his first glow and crunched on the ice. “It’s supposed to be work. A nice, quiet stakeout.”
“I’m not sure the Emoji people know the protocol.” She sipped her drink. “But I have been keeping an eye out for Bambi, and I haven’t seen her.”
That was pretty much how the entire evening went. She switched over to club soda after the first golden glow, and the bartender insisted on putting a different kind of fruit in each one—pineapple, cherries, strawberries, mango. By the time they were ready to go, she felt as if she’d eaten an entire fruit salad.
But she had managed to talk to the bartender about Bambi, and when she mentioned the fawn-brown dress with fringe, he remembered her after all. She came in on Fridays, he’d said.
The valet took her keys and her tip and skedaddled off to get the car.
“This could have been fun, you know,” she told Aidan’s glowering face.
“Watching you sign autographs and pose for pictures all night could never be fun.” He hopped into the Tesla and slammed the door.
It wasn’t the car’s fault he was in a bad mood. She got in and closed her door like a normal person, in case Aidan needed a lesson in door closing.
“We could have danced. People don’t come up as much when I’m dancing,” she said.
Aidan snorted.
She weighed up the evening. On the plus side:
She knew where to find Bambi on Friday.
She’d had a tasty and healthy fruit salad.
She was really well hydrated.
The bathrooms were very clean.
No horribly embarrassing photos had been taken of her.
On the minus side:
No Bambi.
No dancing.
She had to take Scowly Face home.
She’d missed going out with Jaxon.
But at least it was over. Nothing worse could happen.
She started up the car, and got ready to go. Then her phone buzzed. It was a text from her mother, who shouldn’t even be up this late. Sofia read it right away, worried it was an emergency.
Her mother wrote: Saw a photo of you on Hollywood Life with your new boyfriend. And it’s...Aidan?!? I told you so!!! Then she stuck in an emoji of a winky face, the same one Sofia had seen behind the bar.
D is for Drunk Page 15
