“Miss Childs. I found Mr. Paley for you, like Carmen asked. He’s in the barn, but he suggested you could call him later. He’s looking at a horse.”
Chapter 10
Tyler called while Sheri and I were in the car driving home from the polo match. Kari Rhodes had phoned him in a hissy fit. She’d come down with the chicken pox. The outbreak was blamed on a small but growing group of Californians Against Vaccinations that was causing an increase in the number of childhood diseases, like measles and chicken pox, that were once considered nearly obliterated. Unfortunately, as a child Kari never had the pox, and now she had been exposed. Her temperature had spiked to one hundred and two, and her doctor had forbidden her to go out in public. According to Tyler she was a mass of itchy hives, which she was treating with a yellow cream she said made her look like a melted wax figure. Knowing Kari, I was certain she had tried everything to cover the spots, but unable to do anything about the itching, had finally relented, calling Tyler at the last minute.
“I need you, Carol, to cover the American Music Awards tomorrow night.”
“The Music Awards? But I—”
What I wanted to say was that reporting on Justin Bieber’s various bad boy antics was the extent of my music knowledge. Beyond that, I had a tin ear.
“I don’t have a choice, Carol. I need you to take it.” Tyler said he would email me Kari’s notes along with Mimi’s number. “She says you need to call her. The two of them were planning to go together and…” He paused. I knew I wasn’t going to like what followed. “She’s arranged for an escort for you.”
“An escort? Why would I need—”
Sheri looked over at me. She had been catching one side of the conversation, and when she heard the word “escort” raised a brow in my direction and mouthed, “Eric?”
I tried to protest, but it was no use. Tyler insisted; if I had a problem, I should call Mimi. I hung up and looked over at Sheri.
“It appears I’m going to the American Music Awards tomorrow night.”
“That’s great news.” I could see from the needle rising on the speedometer Sheri was excited. “So what are we going to wear?”
“We? Sorry, girlfriend, we aren’t wearing anything. I’d love to have you go with me, but this is work. I’m going alone, or rather, with an assigned escort.” I explained Mimi had hired one for the evening, and that I’d be wearing my little black dress.
I had splurged three hundred dollars on a classic Donna Karan, and I’d barely taken the tags off yet, wearing it only once. My cost per wear, my personal barometer for figuring the cost of the dress divided by the number of times I’d worn it, was still into the triple digits.
Sheri looked disappointed. My thoughts, however, were more panicked. While I had spent my career in radio, most of it was on the AM side, focused on news and talk. Music wasn’t my strong suit. I would have to spend the night studying Billboard magazines and other top industry rags just to be ready for tomorrow’s show. My second thought was even scarier. How was I going to avoid looking like I wasn’t stalking Eric, particularly after today? I was certain he would be there with Carmen. I really wasn’t looking forward to another awkward run-in.
Once home, I reviewed Kari’s notes for the show. Thankfully, she’d forwarded a detailed list of the nominees. Most of the names on the list were barely recognizable, and I realized I had my work cut out for me. I skimmed through the rest of the notes, then picked up the phone and called Mimi. I began by apologizing, saying that since I’d be working the event we couldn’t possibly go together. I’d be way too busy, and, by the way, I really didn’t need an escort. They’d only be in the way.
“Nonsense,” she said. “I can understand you’ll be preoccupied, filling in for Kari with all those stars. But there’s no reason you can’t attend my after-party, and for that you’ll need an escort. Don’t argue, it’s already arranged. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Yes, but—”
“Listen to me, Carol. My sister and I go to these things all the time. We’re not actors or musicians, but everybody expects us to be there. And nobody hits the red carpet at one of these affairs without a walker.”
“A walker?”
“Good-looking young model types, each more delicious than the last. It’s their job to escort the nominees up in front of the cameras, that’s all it is.”
“But I’m not going to be in front of the cameras.”
“But you’re with me, and the cameras will be following me. They always do, and when I show up with a good-looking man on my arm it keeps everybody talking. Besides, these walkers aren’t just to make me look good, they’re also along to make certain my Liz Taylor necklace and I get home safe and sound. Never hurts to have a little hot muscle with you.”
I continued to protest, but I was overruled.
“It’s too late, Carol. Kari knew I’d have an escort and insisted she have one too. She thought it’d be fun. You know Kari. What could I do, refuse? So I ordered one up and now he’s all yours.”
She said it as though she had called for a pizza delivery. But my curiosity was piqued. If Eric was there with Carmen and working undercover, how many other FBI agents would also be there? Knowing Mimi was wearing Liz Taylor’s necklace made me think her escort had to be FBI. I couldn’t help but wonder if my assigned walker might also be one of Eric’s team. I cringed at the thought.
Chapter 11
The red carpet was out in full force by the time I arrived for the American Music Awards. The event was scheduled at L.A. Live, Hollywood’s answer to New York’s Times Square with its big-screen TVs and LED billboards. Located directly across the street from the Staples Center, the forty-thousand-square-foot plaza was crowded with fans, movers and shakers, and paparazzi who would sell their mother for a position close enough to the action. Together they were all standing like sheep, huddled shoulder to shoulder behind the red velvet ropes, hoping to get a photo or at least a glimpse of the arriving stars. All day long crews had been setting up lights and cameras and rolling out the red carpet, and now, with the arrival of the nominees, it was all about the action.
Kari’s notes warned me to expect the unexpected. I had heard horror stories about stars falling on the red carpet, wardrobe malfunctions, and worse, things like catfights between rivals and ex-lovers being hustled ahead in line to avoid an embarrassing encounter. But I was ready. Armed with my mic and dressed conservatively in my little black dress, I was poised for the unexpected and ready for the predictable, if ever there was such a thing in Hollywood.
My job was simply to mix with as many celebs as possible before the event and to report back to the station with mini updates. What Tyler wanted was my take on the crowd, the excitement and, of course, a detailed description of what everybody was wearing. The type of thing Bunny Morganstern would love. Snippets of interviews with nominees that KCHC’s evening host, Cupid, could use with his entertainment report. It was a three-part assignment. Interview as many nominees and celebs as possible before the event. Stick around for the show and take notes and names of the winners. And finally, prepare a glowing report in time for the eleven o’clock news.
Aside from the names of the winners and the designer gowns they were wearing, I could have written my report blind, without even attending the event. Due to the size of the crowd and the rush, there was no time to ask any in-depth questions. It just wasn’t possible. The nominees were ushered like cattle. After walking the red carpet and having their pictures taken, they were waved into the arms of waiting reporters, who all asked the same questions, congratulated them, and then pushed them onto the next. By the time I got to them, most were anxious to enter the theater where they could relax their plastic smiles and disappear from cameras and the frenzy of welcoming fans.
I was happy by the time the evening ended. I had filed the last of my live updates and I was looking for a way to cut the evening
short. I was hoping I might be able to skip out on Mimi’s after-party at the Ritz Carlton when I received a text: “Looking forward to seeing you. We’re at Wolfy’s on the twenty-fourth floor. Don’t disappoint.”
Wolfy’s was short for Wolfgang Puck’s restaurant, Nest, where views of the city were only outdone by the food. Mimi had reserved several tables. With a demand for my presence and the fact Mimi was so close to Kari, I had to show. I told myself I’d stop by for a single glass of wine, nothing more. But when I walked into the restaurant, I realized this wasn’t going to be a quick and easy meet.
The lounge area was crowded and the dim blue mood lighting made it difficult to see over the shoulders of those waiting for a table in front of me. I stood up on my tiptoes. Where was Mimi? There was a buzz of excitement in the room. The clinking of crystal champagne glasses interspersed with whispered conversations and bursts of laughter, like sudden little whirlpools of energy coming from within the crowd, drowning out any opportunity of actually being heard.
Servers with silver trays above their heads wandered through the crowd, offering champagne and hors d’oeuvres. It was impossible to see through the groups of people huddled so close together. Even in heels, Mimi was maybe five foot four. She was easily dwarfed by those taller. I couldn’t see her anywhere, and I was about to give up when I heard my name from within the din.
“Carol, over here.”
I looked in the direction of the voice and spotted a tall, buff-looking gentleman in a black tux. One of Mimi’s escorts? He pointed to the corner of the room where Mimi was seated on a sofa in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the LA skyline. With her was a small group of people, all with drinks in hand. She waved to get my attention. “Carol, come join us.”
A roomful of eyes flipped in my direction, then back to Mimi. A murmur echoed through the room. Word that Mimi was wearing Liz Taylor’s famed million-dollar necklace spread through the crowd like a wild game of gossip. “Isn’t that Mimi?” “Is that the necklace? I thought it had been stolen.”
Then, as though Moses had parted the waters, the crowd stepped aside, and Mimi stood up. She was dressed exactly as she had told Kari she planned to be, in a vintage green silk gown that fit her like a glove. And around her neck, hanging delicately above her full breasts, was the most spectacular pearl and diamond necklace I had ever seen. The pear-shaped pearl dangled beneath a diamond and ruby-encrusted festoon. It was almost too big to be believed. Even in the dim lighting the pearl had a luminescence that radiated an almost iridescent glow. Like a model about to take her first steps on the runway, Mimi shyly handed her drink to her escort, lowered her sable lashes so as to avoid the gaze of those around her, and cat-walked directly across the room toward me.
With a sly smile, Mimi grabbed my hand. I followed her back to where she had reserved a secluded section of the restaurant for her private party. Seated on one of the long low leather wrap-around couches, facing a dramatic view of the city with thousands of twinkling lights below, was a group of about twenty people. All of them were absorbed in tight little conversations, their heads together while discreetly scanning the crowd LA-style, their eyes darting over the shoulders of those closest to them, hoping to spot the next big name walk in the room. One of the men, who I assumed to be Mimi’s escort, stood up as we approached. He offered me a seat, and I declined.
“But you can’t leave. Not yet. I have someone here for you.” Mimi turned and gestured to a handsome young man.
I shook my head, more anxious than ever to be on my way. “I’m sorry, I really have to be going—”
“Nonsense. Stay.” From within the group on the couch, I heard Bunny’s voice. She stood up, barefoot, having kicked her shoes off, and, with a glass of champagne in her hand, approached me. She was wobbly on her feet, her eyes glassy. “Perhaps if you do, dear, your Wigged Bandit will show up. Now wouldn’t that be an exciting story? I’ll bet you’d love that.”
If Bunny hadn’t been so drunk I never would have replied, but I was growing tired of her Pollyanna approach to news and the leash I felt she had tied around my neck, restricting my reports. “If the Wigged Bandit is here, Bunny, I’m sure you’d beat me to the punch.” I smiled sweetly.
“Ladies.” From behind me, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Churchill, drink in hand and as far gone as Bunny, if not more. He reeked of whiskey. “I don’t think we need to worry about the Wigged Bandit. At least not tonight. Westin’s has enough security here that nobody would dare bother us.”
He gestured wildly with a wave of his hand. I feared he was about to topple over and put my hand on his arm to steady him. I wondered if Churchill was talking about Westin’s own private security. Something he had hired to assure the safety of the La Peregrina necklace, or was he aware of the FBI’s undercover operation? I couldn’t be sure.
Mimi laughed and fingered the large pearl necklace around her neck. “He’s so right, Carol. I may not be safe, but with my friends here, if nothing else, they’ll make certain these jewels get back to Henry Westin’s, with or without me.” She patted the chest of her escort, her fingers running suggestively down the lapel of his black tux.
I turned my attention back to Churchill. The old jeweler looked a little too sauced to have anything to do with security. I wondered how wise it was for a man with a heart condition to be drinking.
“It’s nice to see you’re feeling well enough to be out and about,” I said.
“Wouldn’t miss it. Big night for the jewels, you know.”
“It certainly is,” I said.
I was about to make another attempt to leave when I notice Carmen approaching from across the room. She’d changed from the black lace gown she had worn earlier in the evening for the awards show to a very revealing red cocktail dress. It showed off her flawless figure and an even more spectacular diamond ruby necklace. But what caught my eye was Eric walking behind her, looking like he’d just stepped off the cover of GQ.
I knew it wasn’t unusual for celebrities attending events like tonight’s awards show to book a suite of rooms in the hotel. Many did so, planning on numerous changes so they might appear fresh and comfortable for the after-parties. However, I wasn’t expecting to see Carmen at her sister’s party. Not after yesterday’s mudslinging affair, and certainly not with Eric.
“Mims.” Carmen reached her hands out, diamond bracelets up and down her wrists, and beckoned her sister to come to her. Mimi responded in like fashion. The two embraced with light Hollywood air-kisses on each side of their faces. If I hadn’t seen yesterday’s angry exchange on the polo field, I wouldn’t have believed it. It was like they’d never argued a day in their lives.
Carmen placed one hand on Mimi’s shoulder and, pulling her closer, gently lifted the diamond necklace about her sister’s neck, examining it carefully.
“So this is it then? The famous La Peregrina.”
Mimi nodded, the look on her face as though she’d one-upped her sister.
Carmen glanced over at Churchill. “Next time, Edmond, I hope you’ll remember me with something so quaint.”
Churchill nodded. I could see he wasn’t about to get into a bidding war between the two.
Turning away and looking as though this was the first time she’d ever seen me, Carmen’s eyes scanned my person head to toe. “And…just what is this?” Her eyes came to rest on the brooch I was wearing.
“Oh, this?” My hand went to the pin on my shoulder. As I left the house, I’d taken one final look in the mirror by the front door and at the last minute decided my little black dress needed a little sparkle. I remembered the Phoenix brooch the old woman in Beverly Hills had given me the morning of the explosion. I returned to my bedroom, found it in the bottom of my jewelry box where I’d nearly forgotten about it, and hastily pinned it on.
“Yes.” Carmen stepped forward, eyes and fingers to my brooch. Directing Churchill to
take a look, she said, “It’s very unusual, isn’t it, Edmond? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so vibrant or original. Where on earth did you find such a gem?”
Eric looked at me. I could see he had the same thought.
“Do you have any idea what it might be worth?” Carmen looked curiously at Churchill.
The old jeweler took his glasses from his breast pocket and placing them on his face, asked if he might examine the pin. I nodded. He leaned closer to my shoulder, his arthritic fingers shaking as he carefully traced the shape of the bird’s fiery wings.
“Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a copy from the private collection of the late Huguette Clark. The Phoenix Rising. It would have been one of her favorites. Are you familiar with her?” He looked at me, his eyes questioning mine.
“No,” I said.
“She was an heiress. Her father made a fortune in mining, banking, and railroads. She had an estate in Santa Barbara until a couple years ago. Beautiful place. Right on the water. Died a total recluse.”
I put my hand back on top of the brooch to cover it. My heart was pounding. In my mind, I retraced my steps the day of the robbery. I could see the old woman struggling with her bags and remembered how I had stopped to help. Had she stolen the brooch? She had seemed so helpless. And I’d carried her bags for her all the way back to my Jeep. Please, God, tell me I didn’t help the Wigged Bandit escape.
I managed to muster a reply. “I’m flattered, but the lighting’s poor in here, and, like you said, Mr. Churchill, it’s probably just a copy. One of many, I’m sure.”
Churchill put his hand on my shoulder then whispered in my ear, the smell of whiskey overpowering, “Like I said, Ms. Childs, if I didn’t know better. But in your case, I’d get an appraisal.” He patted me lightly on the back and then turned his attention back to Carmen. “Did you bring the ring?”
Without a Doubt Page 7
