Regan Reilly Boxed Set 1

by Carol Higgins Clark

  When Regan hung up with Jack, she called the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach and was put through to her parents’ suite.

  “Hello,” Nora answered drowsily.

  Oh good, Regan thought. My mother obviously hasn’t lost any sleep worrying about me. Jack’s the only one I have to feel guilty about. “Mom, hi, it’s me.”

  “Regan, hi. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. There was an earthquake out here but it wasn’t too bad. I just didn’t want you to find out about it on the news. The phone lines have been tied up until now.”

  There was silence at the other end of the phone.

  “Mom?” Regan said. She could hear Nora’s even breathing and thought she detected a slight snore emanating from her father. “Mom?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Go back to sleep.”

  “Okay, dear. Good to talk to you. Love you.”

  The phone clicked in Regan’s ear. Well, what do you know, she thought. Wait until Jack hears about this. She smiled. Life is full of surprises.

  Abigail came out the front door, locked it, and walked to the car where Regan was standing. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine,” Regan answered. “We’re all set?”

  “Yes. I just called my grandmother. She’s raring to go. The earthquake didn’t bother her one bit.”

  “It didn’t seem to bother my mother either.”

  “Oh God, Regan, it’s almost three o’clock in the morning. My grandmother is going to be here in fourteen hours. I’m starting to panic. I’ve got to get that money back from Cody!”

  21

  Cody, I’m telling you I’m too scared to stay here. We’re on the fourteenth floor! If another earthquake strikes, we’re dead,” Stella said.

  The two of them were sitting under a doorway in the loft. Stella had been too petrified to move from the floor even though the earthquake occurred over two hours ago. At first it had been romantic the way they’d huddled together. Cody had gotten up only once to turn on the television. But now the initial thrill had worn off, and the reality that another earthquake could happen at any time was settling into Stella’s brain.

  “Baby,” Cody said, doing his best to sound soothing, “this building is strong. I’m telling you.”

  “No it’s not. This is an old building and we’re high up. We could never run outside in time.”

  Cody rubbed her hands. “I’ll protect you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I want to get out of here. What about going to Dean’s apartment? Didn’t you used to live with him?”

  Cody almost choked. Living with Dean consisted of crashing on a futon next to Dean’s bed in a flea-bitten hovel by the beach. He’d never let Abigail come near the place even though she kept asking to. “I did live with him for a while a couple years ago. But we can’t go there now because he’s having it painted. The fumes are really bad. You wouldn’t be comfortable, and that’s all I care about.” He gave her a little kiss.

  “I can’t wait to see it,” Stella said quietly. “How great to have a view of the ocean. It’s too bad you don’t have your apartment anymore. Didn’t you say that that was on the ground floor? We’d be safer there now.”

  “It was,” Cody lied, caressing Stella’s cheek. “But when a building gets sold it gets sold. I had to get out. Now I’m glad I didn’t jump into buying a house because I know that whatever place I buy, it has to be a place you love.” He rubbed the side of her face. “You okay now?” he asked softly.

  “No, Cody, I’m not. Let’s get our stuff together and leave.”

  Cody’s heart started pounding. “Where do you want to go?”

  “How about the Beverly Hills Hotel? I always dreamed about staying in one of their cottages.”

  Oh my God, Cody thought. That was one of the most expensive hotels in town. Never mind a room, but a cottage? He and Dean were watching every penny. He’d used the last of Abigail’s money splurging on presents for Stella and her family at Christmastime. The hotel might reject his credit card! “Stella,” he said in his most tender voice. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. “Why don’t you just try going to sleep? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  Stella pushed him away and stood up. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t care how I feel at all! I’m a nervous wreck. How can you be my boyfriend, never mind direct me in a film? Call me a cab. I’m leaving.”

  Cody jumped to his feet. “I’m sorry, Stella, I didn’t realize. I’m going with you. We’re going to the Beverly Hills Hotel together this minute. Right this minute. Let me call Dean.”

  Stella was already packing her bag. “Why do you have to call Dean? He’s all the way in Malibu.”

  “He’ll want to drive us.”

  “That’s crazy. I don’t want to wait that long. There has to be a cab or a car service.”

  “Okay. Let me call the hotel and make a reservation.”

  “You can do that from the cab.”

  “What if they’re booked?”

  “Then we’ll call someplace else. I’m not staying here another second! I’m having an anxiety attack. I will never forget the way the room shook…” She stifled a sob. “My career is just beginning. I have so much to look forward to…” She hurried past him to the bathroom and slammed the door.

  Cody grabbed his phone and ran to the other side of the loft to call Dean. Surprisingly he answered on the first ring.

  “Cody?”

  “Dean! You’re not going to believe it.”

  “What?”

  “Stella insists on getting out of here. The earthquake really scared her. She wants to go to the Beverly Hills Hotel and stay in a cottage.”

  “The Beverly Hills Hotel? We can’t afford that!”

  “I know. But we have to. She threatened to leave without me.”

  Dean pulled his car to the side of the road. Otherwise he would have lost control. “Well, go ahead then. What are you calling me for?”

  “I’m a little worried about my credit card. If I request a cottage for three or four nights, they might check my limit. I over-extended myself at Christmas and I’m just afraid—”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Could you go there now and book a cottage? Pick up some flowers along the way and wait in the lobby to greet us. It will make Stella realize how much her two directors are only concerned about her safety and well-being.”

  “Where am I supposed to get flowers at three in the morning?”

  “I don’t know!” Cody whispered. “Find a rose in someone’s yard. I’m telling you, it will be a nice gesture.”

  “Not for the person who owns the yard.”

  “Come on, Dean! This is what directors do for their leading ladies.”

  “She’s more your leading lady than mine,” Dean snapped. “All right, Cody. Now it’s my turn to give you bad news.”

  “What?”

  “My bag got stolen out of my car tonight.”

  “That bag with everything in it?”

  “Yes. I reported it to the police.”

  “You did?”

  “I had to. Otherwise I might never get it back.”

  Cody gasped. “She’s coming out of the bathroom! We’ll see you there.” He hung up.

  Well that’s out of the way, Dean thought. He put his car in drive, pulled out, and did a U-turn.

  My mother always told me I was crazy to go into showbiz.

  22

  The third home that Abigail was house-sitting was in the town of Burbank, located on the other side of Laurel Canyon in an area known as “The Valley.” Numerous media and entertainment companies had their headquarters in Burbank, and many of the people who worked in those companies made it their home as well.

  “I hesitate to ask whose house we’re going to now,” Regan joked, trying to lighten the mood. It was clear that Abigail was getting more and more nervous about the impending arrival of Grandma Feeney.

  Abigail smiled. “I swear, Regan, this older lad
y is normal. Her name is Olive Keecher, and she’s very interesting.”

  “You make it sound like I’m going to meet her.”

  “I’d love for you to meet her. And if you need any clothes tailored, Olive’s the one to do it. She has a little business she operates out of her house. Nothing official. For more than fifty years, Olive worked in the costume departments of different studios.”

  “How do you know her?” Regan asked.

  “The same way I knew old Nicky, may he rest in peace. I was down at the assisted living center doing haircuts, and Olive was visiting a friend. We exchanged cards. Now I cut her hair and she sews my buttons. I’m hopeless with a needle and thread. When she visits her daughter in Atlanta every other month, I water her plants and collect her mail. I was already there today, so all I have to do is make sure the earthquake didn’t do any major damage.”

  Abigail turned down a quiet tree-lined residential block. “It’s the third house on the right.” She pulled the car into the driveway.

  Regan looked at the small, attractive white house. “Was anyone murdered here?”

  “Regan!”

  “Just asking,” Regan said as she got out of the car.

  Inside the cozy living room, there were a few knickknacks scattered on the carpeted floor. “That’s not too bad,” Abigail noted, as she placed them back on the shelves. “As you’ll see, Olive goes a little crazy tying ribbons around her cabinets and drawers when she leaves town. She lost all her dishes in a big earthquake years ago.”

  They checked Olive’s bedroom and found everything in place. A second bedroom had been transformed into Olive’s work-room. A sewing machine faced the window. Countless spools of thread were lined up on a shelf above. Bolts of fabric were propped against a wall. A mannequin was standing upright in the corner.

  “I’m in awe,” Regan said. “I can’t sew to save my life.”

  Abigail pointed. “Those framed posters are of movies she worked on. Some of them were made so long ago. Olive has great stories about the stars from way back.”

  Regan walked over to a shelf and picked up a form resembling a woman’s hand. “Look at this.”

  “Once in a while Olive makes gloves. I tried to get Lois over here but she’s so busy all the time.”

  Regan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Abigail. How much do you like this woman Olive?”

  Abigail laughed. “Lois is not that bad. I wonder how she reacted to the earthquake. I have to call her.”

  They checked the rest of the house, locked up, and headed back to Laurel Canyon. When Regan got in bed, she was so tired she didn’t even worry about whether the headboard might give her splinters. I can’t believe I started this day by renting a storage unit, she thought. And I’m ending it in a tree house.

  She was about to drift off to sleep when her cell phone rang. It was her mother.

  “Regan! Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the earthquake?”

  “Mom, I called you. Don’t you remember?”

  “Vaguely. But now I’m awake! We’re watching the reports on the news. I’m sorry if I didn’t seem concerned when you called.”

  “I know you’re concerned,” Regan said. “Let me call you back in a few hours. I’m just falling asleep now.”

  “You haven’t found the boyfriend yet?”

  “No. We’ve been busy.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Believe me, Mom, we’ll need it.”

  23

  Regan awoke to the enticing scent of freshly brewed coffee. When she opened her eyes, the sight of the logs above the bed brought her to full consciousness. Oh yes, she thought. Here I am. At one with nature in all its glory. All was still and peaceful and eerily quiet in the dusky room. Overhanging trees outside the window prevented much light from filtering through. If I hear cock-a-doodle-doo the scene will be complete, Regan thought as she pulled the blanket around her chin and turned on her side. The air was chilly, as it often is in the early morning in Los Angeles.

  Regan glanced at the clock radio next to the bed. 7:17 A.M. I slept like a rock but not for very long, she thought. This room is like a cave. If it weren’t for that coffee, I don’t know when I might have woken up. She dragged herself out of bed, put on a pair of sweats, and a few minutes later walked out to the kitchen.

  There was no sign of Abigail. Regan glanced out the window and saw her sitting on the deck, a cup of coffee on the table in front of her. She was wearing a bathrobe, and staring off into the vertical backyard. Regan opened the back door. “Good morning, Abigail,” she called.

  Abigail turned. “Regan, I was hoping you’d sleep in a little bit.”

  “I don’t want to.” Regan held up her notebook. “We’ve got work to do.”

  “Let me get you some coffee,” Abigail offered as she got up. “We can sit inside. It’s a little brisk out here.”

  “I don’t mind. Besides, I’ll be going back to cold weather in New York and won’t be able to dine alfresco for quite a while.”

  “Great. Would you like toast? Yesterday I bought country bread from the Laurel Canyon general store. It’s delicious.”

  “Sure.”

  A few minutes later they were sitting down to breakfast at a round patio table, which, naturally, Brennan had carved himself.

  “This is such a peaceful spot,” Regan remarked as she looked around, “and it feels so isolated. You’d never know that we’re a two-minute drive from a traffic jam.”

  “It would be a good place for your mother to write,” Abigail said as she spread raspberry jam on her toast.

  “It would,” Regan said agreeably, amused at the thought of her mother contending with Brennan’s primitive bathroom. She reached for a piece of melon. “Oh, Abigail, once again I’d like to wish you a happy birthday.”

  Abigail shook her head. “No matter how it turns out, this will be one birthday I’ll never forget.”

  “Hopefully for good reasons.” Regan opened her notebook and picked up her pen. “Okay, Abigail, let’s get started by going over the facts. Before Cody suddenly disappeared, they were trying to get the movie going. But your money wasn’t an investment in the movie, right?”

  “Right. Cody didn’t want that. He didn’t want me to risk any money and neither did I. He said it was strictly an IOU.”

  “Makes sense,” Regan said. “But what did he need it for then?”

  “He said he needed to have money in his account in case they had to apply for loans, or if any of the investors wanted to check on his financial status or Dean’s. He promised he wasn’t going to spend one cent of my money, he just needed to have it in his bank account. I was so stupid. What was I thinking?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up now, Abigail. What’s done is done.”

  “Okay.”

  “Did Cody have any jobs in the time you were with him?”

  “No. It’s so embarrassing. He was working on the script and then lining up investors. That’s what he and Dean had devoted the year to.”

  “How could he afford that?”

  “Obviously he couldn’t. That’s why he borrowed money from me.” Abigail threw down her napkin. “What if it’s all gone?”

  “Abigail, don’t think about that now. Next question. Cody’s writing partner, Dean. You don’t know his last name?”

  Abigail shook her head. “No. We never did anything together, and Cody always came to my place. I think Dean never got over the night we met and he was stuck with Lois.”

  “You never went to their place?”

  “No. Cody said it was a bachelor pad in the worst sense. He insisted my apartment was a much nicer place to hang out, and said it was so soothing for him.” Abigail clenched her knuckles and bit down on them. “Aaaagh.” She looked over at Regan. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You’re sure the ‘bachelor pad’ was in Malibu?”

  “That’s what he said. For all I know they could have been living in a storage unit. Pe
ople have tried that out here.”

  “I rented a storage unit in New York yesterday.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not. We’ll talk about that later. Cody didn’t tell you the title of their movie?”

  “It didn’t have a title yet. Dean is such a nerd. He said Woody Allen’s movies were often untitled while they were in production, and what was good enough for Woody Allen was good enough for them. Dean was trying to create a mystique. As I look back, I can’t believe I didn’t find that pathetic.”

  “Do you have any idea what the movie was about?”

  “No. When I lent Cody the money, he promised he’d let me read the script that weekend. They’d just finished the umpteenth draft and he was finally ready to hear my opinion. Then he disappeared.”

  “But he said he’d pay you back on your birthday.”

  “Yes. He said they wanted to start filming the movie in January and by then all the funding had to be in place, so he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping a big balance in his account.”

  “Do you know where they wanted to film?”

  “No. The movie could be set in Alaska, for all I know.”

  “If Cody was in Los Angeles the other night, then there’s a chance they’re filming it here now. And if they are, there has to be some paper trail we could follow. They would have had to get permits, things like that. We can check and see if Cody’s name is listed on any of the movies in production.”

  “Okay,” Abigail said hesitantly, afraid to get too hopeful. “But I’ve been asking around and nobody I know has heard anything about a project involving Cody.”

  “Abigail, you know there are numerous movies in production out here. That’s what this town is about. No one could possibly be aware of them all.”

  “I hope you’re right, Regan.”

  “What about Cody’s family? Did you ever meet them?”

  “No. His parents are divorced and he’s like you, an only child.”

  “Not too much like me, I hope.”

  “He’s not like you at all, Regan.”

  “Thanks. Where did he grow up?”