A is for Actress (Malibu Mystery Book 1)

by Rebecca Cantrell

  “You can wait in the outer office,” said Brendan. “We won’t take long, and you’ll have an answer before you leave. That way we can get started immediately, or you can begin looking for someone else. Depending upon what we decide.”

  12

  Brendan looked at Sofia and Aidan in turn. “So? Should we take it or not?”

  Sofia was impressed that he was asking them, and that he seemed ready to take their answer seriously. She could get used to that.

  Aidan took a big breath of air, filling his cheeks and letting it out again slowly. “It’s a big case. Could really kick the business up a notch. Put Maloney Investigations on the map.” He must have caught his dad’s death stare because he quickly added, “Not that we’re not already on the map. Just we’d be even bigger.”

  Brendan nodded. “Sofia?”

  Sofia had been glad he hadn’t asked her first. She hadn’t been sure. Still wasn’t. It was true that it was a big case. If Melissa was telling the truth and they could actually find the real killer or killers, it would be huge. Plus, they would potentially be saving an innocent woman from a life behind bars. The only snag was that Sofia was far from convinced of Melissa’s innocence.

  What if the agency found another potential suspect, and Melissa Fairbroad used her money and connections to have the cops railroad that person instead of her? Then another innocent person might end up behind bars. Sofia’s head was spinning from the potential ethical dilemmas. She had left her acting career behind so she could actually make a positive difference. This didn’t feel like that. Not even close.

  “Sofia?” Brendan prompted.

  “I don’t know. What if she did it? Doesn’t that put us in an impossible position? We can’t exactly go to the cops if we’re on her payroll. They’ll be all kinds of nondisclosure agreements. Won’t there?”

  “We can cross that bridge when we get there,” said Brendan. “But typically, yes. There will be a certain amount of client privilege. You know attorneys represent guilty people all the time. It’s part of what makes this country great. The right to a proper defense. Even if you’re guilty as sin. It’s up to the prosecution to do its job.”

  “You think we should take it?” Aidan asked.

  “I think we’d regret it if we don’t, and some other outfit comes in and snaps it up. Plus, and I have to factor this in, John Stark has put a lot of business my way since I set up this agency. I get more referrals from him than just about anyone else in this town. If I don’t help him when he really needs me, then I’m not sure those referrals will keep coming, and I wouldn’t blame him for using someone else next time he knows someone who has a problem,” said Brendan.

  It was one of the longest speeches Sofia had heard Brendan give. She realized that he was staring at her.

  “So?” he asked. “Should we take it?”

  13

  Sofia walked out of Brendan’s office. They’d taken the case. But at least Brendan had let her voice her concerns first.

  Despite her objections, which mainly centered around the fact that Melissa seemed to hate her, she had been designated by Brendan as the person to talk to Melissa Fairbroad to get an idea of her movements over the past few days. Then they’d corroborate her story. Reading between the lines, Sofia knew that Brendan really wanted to know if it was likely Melissa actually did it.

  “Women are more open with other women,” Brendan had told Sofia. She didn’t want to be the one to burst his bubble and tell him that more often than not women were the least likely people to trust another woman, so she agreed.

  While she talked to Melissa, Brendan was going to thrash out some details with John Stark. Meanwhile, Aidan was going to mine as much information as he could about Nigel and Melissa Fairbroad so they’d have a vague idea as to where to start their investigation. There could be a lot of reasons someone might want another person dead. Divorce was only one of those reasons, and in fairness to Melissa, there were less risky ways to achieve her goal than having her husband killed and dumped in the Pacific.

  Sofia sat down with Melissa at a long table tucked in a corner of the larger outer office she shared with Aidan. Melissa had already made herself at home and had a good snoop around.

  Before she had even sat down with her yellow legal pad, Melissa had said, “Why do you have like a month’s supply of adult diapers under your desk?”

  “Those would be my colleague’s idea of a joke.” If one of them was going to lie, Sofia didn’t want it to be her. Trust would be important if she was going to get what she needed from Melissa. Trust started with honesty. “You know, we can deal with dark stuff, so sometimes we play tricks on each other to lighten the mood.”

  “Uh-huh.” Melissa looked thoroughly unconvinced by this explanation. She probably thought Sofia had an incontinence problem.

  Sofia uncapped her pen. “How about we start with where you were on the day of your husband’s disappearance.”

  “The whole day?” Melissa said.

  “From when you woke up,” said Sofia.

  Melissa rolled her eyes. Up close, they seemed the only part of her face actually capable of movement. “I guess I got up around nine. Nigel had already left for work. I lay in bed reading for a little while.”

  “Paperbook or e-book?” Sofia asked.

  “Excuse me?” said Melissa.

  “If you were reading on an e-reader or a tablet, then Aidan over there should be able to confirm what time it was. When he’s not hiding diapers under my desk, he’s a bit of a computer whizz.”

  Melissa still looked skeptical.

  “Basically, anything we can use that backs up what you tell us is a good thing,” Sofia went on.

  Melissa let out a little sigh. “I have a Kindle. I have mild arthritis in my hands so I can’t really hold a large hardback book for any length of time.”

  Sofia made a note of the Melissa’s Kindle account and also of the arthritis. She would confirm with Melissa’s doctor, see if he could give them a statement about her condition and how it affected her. That was a good nugget of information to have. If it came down to it, maybe they could argue that someone with severe arthritis in her hands would have difficulty pulling the trigger of a gun. Not that she thought it would come to it, but tiny details that often seemed insignificant at the time could often prove crucial later on.

  Where doubt could be shed there was always the chance of an acquittal. It had only been a few minutes but already she was starting to think like one of the defense team. Maybe this case would give her that neat ending that Brendan said was so unattainable.

  “Okay,” said Sofia. “Then what? By the way, I know this might seem really boring.”

  “Oh, it is. Believe me,” said Melissa.

  For the next sixty minutes, Sofia took note of Melissa’s mind-numbing schedule on the day her husband died. It didn’t seem to differ from what she did on any other day, which was not much. Or at least not much that was productive or contributed to anything apart from looking good, staying in shape, and spending her husband’s money, something Melissa seemed to have a particular aptitude for.

  Brendan was still holed up in his office with Stark, so Sofia moved on to asking Melissa, as diplomatically as she could, about her husband.

  “Why do you think he was interested in other women?”

  Melissa pursed her lips. “Maybe he wasn’t, but he sure as hell didn’t fuck me anymore. If you call what he did before fucking. He was so British. It’s that private school repressed thing they have. It does not make for a happy marriage if, like me, you still have a physical appetite.”

  Sofia wasn’t sure what to write down from that answer, so she moved on to another question. “Did he seem worried about anything?”

  “Of course. He was a TV producer. Nigel’s ulcers had ulcers. I’m amazed his doctor didn’t have names for them.”

  It was like prying information out of a rock. “Was there anything he was particularly concerned about?”

  “I just
told you, sweetheart, he worried about everything,” Melissa said.

  Sofia would have to try to circle back to that later. “What about alcohol? Drugs?”

  “No, Nigel was never a drinker. He was so strait-laced about that kind of thing. He’d almost faint if someone so much as pulled out a joint when he was around. He really was uptight. You can’t believe.” Melissa rolled her eyes again.

  Sofia wondered why Nigel had married Melissa. They didn’t seem to have much in common, but she would have looked good on his arm at events. Had he been that shallow, too?

  She forged on with the questioning. “Did he have any new friends?”

  “I’m not sure he had any old friends, really. Just work people.” Melissa crossed her arms. “Next question.”

  That might have hit a nerve. Interesting. Sofia tried again “Were there any late-night phone calls? Unexpected visitors? Did he disappear without telling you where he was? Anything that might have seemed out of the ordinary for him?”

  “Not really, but then again we led quite separate lives. Had done for years, sweetheart,” Melissa said. “Oh, and by the way, I’m sorry for saying earlier that you had no tits. You clearly do, but that outfit really does you no favors.”

  Eventually, Sofia ran out of questions. Melissa had already run out of whatever meager supply of patience she had started with. Sofia was relieved to see Brendan walk out of his office with John Stark. Both men were laughing. They seemed to be in a good mood. At least the case was fun for someone.

  Melissa looked at her. “Are we done here? Because I am exhausted.”

  “It’s been really helpful,” Sofia lied.

  Sofia stood with Brendan and Aidan and watched the two leave. Stark opened the door to his Mercedes S class, and Melissa got in.

  She really did have amazing legs. Sofia remembered the words of a long ago director “You can do a lot with a good pair of legs.” Well, Melissa had.

  Stark walked round, got into the driver’s seat, backed the Mercedes out of his space, and drove away.

  “Well?” Brendan said to Sofia. “She do it?”

  “I don’t know,” said Sofia. “She doesn’t have an alibi—home alone all evening. And she looks guilty.”

  “Not a good look for someone in her situation,” said Aidan.

  “What do we think Nigel got caught up in?” Brendan asked.

  Sofia shrugged. “Something bad.”

  “In other words, we have no idea,” Aidan said. “By the way, Sofia, that recording app that I put on your phone is still running. I heard every word of your interview. For someone who hits the headlines, you really should be more careful about safeguarding your privacy.”

  Sofia dug out her phone. She clicked on the screen and deleted the app. She also went into the settings and reset her password. The new one read: “AidanIsAnAsshat”

  “Long password.” Aidan tried to sneak a look at the screen as Sofia angled it away from his gaze.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s easy to remember.”

  14

  Brendan stood in front of Sofia and Aidan with his arms folded, and a wooden toothpick protruding from the corner of his mouth. The toothpick was a sign that Brendan was in full-on work mode. She could already see that whatever reasons he had given them for taking on the case, this was the kind of investigation that he lived for. Life-and-death stakes, just like when he’d been on the force.

  She saw where he was coming from. It didn’t matter what side you were on, there wasn’t much point being in the private investigator business if you weren’t prepared to take on the big cases. It would be like a fighter who worked for years and then turned down a shot at the title.

  “Okay,” said Brendan. “Who knows whether Melissa’s telling the truth or not? And, frankly, who cares? What we need is an alternative suspect with a motive. Let’s start digging. Start with Nigel’s production company.”

  “Already on it,” Aidan said, reading from his cell phone screen. “They have an office down in Santa Monica. Nigel’s partner is a guy named Jerry Gonzales.” Aidan glanced across at Sofia. “One of your tribe.”

  “Because he’s called Gonzales?” Sofia asked, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. Sofia’s father had been Hispanic, her mom’s family a mix of German, Italian, and Scottish, and though she was proud of her heritage, she pretty much thought of herself as plain old American. Her Spanish skills didn’t extend much beyond, hello, please, thank you, ordering a beer, and telling someone to get lost in language Brendan almost certainly wouldn’t approve of.

  “I meant movie folk.” Aidan plowed on. “He and Jerry set up the company seven years ago, and they have a first-look deal with Warner Brothers, though they’ve worked with a number of different networks including Fox and NBC. Some of their big shows have been World’s Fattest Pets, America’s Hottest Firemen, and a dating show called So You Think You’re All That, Girlfriend? They are currently making a show for one of the cable networks called Swamptrash Survival.”

  Sofia tried to look thoughtful. She wasn’t going to admit that she had spent many a happy hour vegetating in front of her laptop watching most of those shows, and could, if called upon, have given Brendan and Aidan a rundown of the season highlights of each one and a lot more shows besides. For a while she’d been completely addicted to America’s Top Model. It was so bad that in between seasons she would go back and watch all the old episodes. Looking back, it may have gone some way to explaining why she didn’t have a regular boyfriend. But now she’d finally be able to put her addiction to really bad reality TV shows to positive use. It had all been research for a case.

  “Swamptrash Survival is about a hillbilly survivalist called Tucker Trimble who teaches a bunch of rich kids how to survive in the backwoods of Kentucky. Tucker goes by the nickname ‘TT’ and his catchphrase is “I’m gonna make y’all squeal like a pig.’” ” said Sofia.

  Both Aidan and Brendan looked at her.

  “I knew that,” said Aidan, adding, “they shoot it up in Topanga Canyon.”

  Topanga Canyon was within spitting distance of where they were in Malibu. It was home to an eclectic mix of showbiz people, horse owners, old surfers, and folks who still wore tie-dye T-shirts, grew and smoked their own dope, and were generally bohemian. If Sofia had been unhappy living at Nirvana Cove, Topanga would have been on her list of places to relocate. It was as close to being out in the country as possible while still being in touching distance of Los Angeles.

  “Okay, so go talk to Gonzales first and whoever else will speak to you at the production company. If he and Nigel were business partners, then maybe there was a falling out,” Brendan ordered. “That’d give us something.”

  “On it.” Aidan headed for the door.

  Sofia followed him. If Aidan got his way, she’d be stuck in the office answering the phone like some kind of glorified secretary rather than a trainee investigator. The only way she was going to learn was by going out there and actually doing the job.

  “Wait up there, junior, this is my turf.” She grabbed her bag and raced to catch him as he pushed through the door on his way to the parking lot.

  15

  Sofia pulled the red Tesla Roadster into a parking spot across the street from the building where Nigel’s production company was based. Aidan had spent the drive down PCH from Malibu to Santa Monica in a sulk, furiously left-swiping potential matches on a new dating app he’d discovered. Sofia had flipped on the radio to make it easier to ignore him. The top story was California’s ongoing water shortage, which was threatening to turn into a full-blown crisis. Needless to say, one of the shock jocks was proposing that they use “a Sofia Salgado sprinkler system” as a possible solution. This drew a laugh from Aidan, who reached over to turn up the volume just as one DJ said, “Now that girl knows how to process water.”

  Sofia touched the screen, turning the radio off. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

  Sofia and Aidan walked into the reception ar
ea and asked if they could speak to Mr. Gonzales. The attractive young receptionist (in Sofia’s experience production company receptionists were always young, female, and attractive) gave Sofia and Aidan a broad smile, and said, “Sure thing.”

  There was a hurried phone call, presumably to Jerry Gonzales. When the receptionist put the phone back down, she seemed on edge. She kept stealing glances across the lobby at them.

  The receptionist’s phone rang. She answered, keeping her voice low, her eyes never leaving Sofia. Sofia and Aidan had identified themselves as being from Maloney Investigations. Jerry Gonzales wasn’t obligated to talk to them. Sofia fully expected that any moment the building’s security would arrive and ask them to leave.

  Finally, the receptionist got up and leaned over the reception desk. “Ms. Salgado, would you and your colleague like a beverage? Fiji water? Juice? Coffee? Or if you want something else, I can always have someone run down the street and fetch it.”

  Aidan shot her a ‘what the hell?’ look. PIs usually didn’t get such a warm reception. Especially not when they were here to ask someone if they’d been involved in the murder of their business partner.

  “Do you have any iced tea? Peach flavor. A big jug if you can manage it.” Aidan smirked.

  “We’re fine,” said Sofia.

  “I can totally get you peach-flavored iced tea!” The receptionist was busy pushing the boundaries of just how perky one person could be. She looked at Aidan. “A jug. That’s what you said, right?”

  “He was joking,” said Sofia. “It’s hard to tell because he’s really not funny.”

  “Okay.” The receptionist’s brow crinkled into an uncertain expression. “Just let me know if you change your mind. It’s really no trouble. No trouble at all!”

  Aidan leaned over to Sofia. “Why are they being so nice? It’s freaking me out.”