B is for Bad Girls (Malibu Mystery Book 2)

by Rebecca Cantrell

  “So, you think he was murdered?” she asked.

  “Can’t rule it out. If I could have, I wouldn’t have taken the case.”

  She wondered where Aidan had gone with the kids. She read the note again.

  “There’s a frozen-yogurt shop around the corner. I bet you’ll find them there,” Brendan said. “Thanks for coming in. You did a great job of building up a rapport with her.”

  “I did?”

  “You did.”

  Sofia thought back to Jenna’s tired face. “I think you were right to take the case. If we find nothing wrong, maybe it’ll help her to get some peace. And if someone killed her brother, then that person can go to jail where they won’t hurt anyone else.”

  “So, you’ve changed your mind?” Brendan’s blue eyes looked into hers, his expression earnest.

  She loved that he’d always taken her seriously, even when she was a kid. “I guess I have. I don’t want her to waste her money, but who am I to say that it’s a waste? If it was Emily, I’d move heaven and earth to make sure, and money wouldn’t matter. Nothing would be more important than knowing.”

  Brendan put a hand on her shoulder. “Agreed. Now go rescue my son before he decides he never wants to have children. You don’t want him to be thinking that.”

  Sofia didn’t say anything. Brendan was always trying to fix the two of them up, but she wasn’t interested in Aidan. And Aidan sure wasn’t interested in her. The man had a checklist for the women he dated. It was nine pages long, and the latest entry was ‘Doesn’t gesture using forks.’ It was a pretty exhaustive list, even by the standards of the typical Los Angeles male.

  Brendan riffled through the autopsy report. “I’ll look over this, and we can discuss it on Monday. Enjoy your weekend with the kids. Nieces and nephews are good practice for the real thing.”

  She didn’t need any practice because having kids wasn’t on her timeline. “Thanks, Brendan!”

  She bolted for the door, then sprinted through the parking lot and down the street.

  Violet and Van were sitting with Aidan in round bright orange chairs. She paused to watch them before she went in. Aidan had made rubber-band guns with paperclips, and they’d lined up a row of paper cups as targets.

  He had turned the table so that any stray rubber bands would hit the wall and not the other diners—that was pretty smart. Violet was on his left, Van on his right. They each had a gun, including Aidan, and he was a crack shot. He took out two cups in a row.

  Violet missed, and Aidan leaned over her blond curls, probably explaining the finer points of marksmanship. She gave a sharp nod and straightened her tiny fingers. The rubber band smashed into the middle cup, and the other two cheered.

  Sofia hadn’t believed Aidan had it in him. He claimed to hate kids.

  Maybe this was just revenge. Each kid had an empty yogurt cup at their elbow. Van’s had what looked like a Gummy Bear in the middle. Lots of sugar in that cup.

  She opened the door and stepped into the shop. The extreme air-conditioning made the room feel like a meat locker, and she got goosebumps.

  “Hey, guys!” She walked across the room and tousled Van’s hair. He grinned up at her.

  “Mr. Maloney Junior taught us how to build rubber band guns,” Van said. “He said you can make them out of all kinds of ordinary objects.”

  “I see that,” Sofia said. It would thrill Emily and Ray that the kids had learned amateur weapons manufacture. Just thrill them.

  “It’s all in the wrist.” Violet let a rubber-band fly. It hit the end cup dead center, knocking it off the table and onto the floor. Van picked it up and put it back in formation.

  “I thought I told you no sugar,” Sofia told Aidan.

  Violet and Van scooped up some rubber bands and disappeared behind her.

  “I figured that was some kind of bullshit hippie rule,” Aidan said. “And I was right. Look at them.”

  Sofia turned around. Van was using his paperclip to break open the soft-serve yogurt machine, and Violet stood next to a table full of girls her own age.

  “Punch me in the stomach for a dollar,” Violet said. “I dare you.”

  “Yeah, that’s not hyper,” Sofia muttered, as she hurried over to grab Van. If Violet wanted to charge for stomach punching, it’d take a second for the little girls to get out their cash, but Van could probably destroy the machine in that time.

  “Not cool, Van,” Sofia said. “Not cool.”

  He looked surprised but took the paperclip out of the machine.

  Aidan went for Violet. “You can’t take their money like that, Vi. It’s not fair to the weak.”

  He took her hand, and they walked outside together. He looked natural with a little ninja in tow, Sofia thought. Maybe his father was right, and Aidan really did want to be a dad someday. Not her problem, though.

  She grabbed Van’s hand, which was sticky, and followed.

  “The sugar isn’t doing them any favors,” she told Aidan, when they caught up.

  “They were like this before the yogurt, and you know it.”

  She hated it when he was right.

  They walked back up the block to the office parking lot.

  “Are you guys in the estrogen mobile?” He gestured at the minivan.

  “Don’t even start.” Sofia opened the door and Van climbed inside. “I don’t suppose you know how to get the smell of Hawaiian Punch out?”

  “Sure.” Aidan buckled Violet into her seat. “Buy another car.”

  CHAPTER 6

  By the time Sofia got the kids into bed, she was more tired than she’d ever been in her life, including the time she’d trained twelve hours a day for a movie about a female gladiator. It had had last-minute funding problems and was never made, but she had gotten seriously buffed and learned how to drive a chariot. And it had been less exhausting than watching the kids.

  After the office, she’d taken them to the zoo and let them run out their energy with the other wild animals. They’d come home with a stuffed shark (Violet), a stuffed crocodile (Van), and matching zoo T-shirts because of an unfortunate mishap with the mustard at the hot-dog stand.

  Van had fallen asleep in the car, and Sofia carried him in and put him straight to bed without waking him up. Her arms ached.

  Violet had brushed her teeth and gone to bed with no fuss. Sofia had started reading her a book about sharks, but Violet had conked out on the first page. Sofia had read a couple more pages because it was really interesting, then watched the kids for a while. They were little angels when they were asleep.

  She turned out the lights and went back to the living room to set her alarm. Wind whistled through the edges of her cardboard window, and she put in a call to the handyman, an elderly German named Jacob Schmidt, whom she’d inherited from the trailer’s previous owner. Jacob said he’d take care of it in the morning.

  She picked glass splinters out of the carpet and dumped them into the garbage can. She ought to run the vacuum, but she didn’t want to wake Violet and Van. She was too exhausted for any more babysitting, but she was also too wired to sleep.

  With a sigh, she opened her laptop and started looking into Jenna and Craig Williams. She dreaded finding pictures of them still alive and happy together. It was just too sad.

  It looked as if Jenna was doing pretty well and didn’t need her brother’s money. Her salon had been written up a lot, and it was the it place to bring your dog if you were a celebrity. Her website featured pages of the famous and their well-groomed dogs. With the animals, Jenna seemed the happiest person on earth. Nothing like the woman Sofia had talked to in Brendan’s office. She must really miss her brother.

  Sofia did a search to see if Jenna had a criminal record, using the database from the office. Not even a speeding ticket. She’d never been in trouble for anything. Sofia was pretty squeaky clean, but she had a couple of speeding tickets to her name. The Roadster just wanted to go fast. That was why she liked it. But apparently Jenna was a careful drive
r.

  Someone turned over in the back bedroom, and she held her breath. What if one of the kids woke up and missed their parents? Once on a sleepover Violet had cried so hard that Sofia’d had to drive her home at three in the morning. She hadn’t gotten a speeding ticket that night, but she probably should have.

  She counted to thirty before she let out her breath. Still asleep.

  She wanted a glass of wine, but didn’t want to stand up to get one, so instead she ate a package of pretzels the kids had brought home from the zoo. Then, she was thirsty. Thirsty, lazy, and worried about waking up the kids. She stayed on the couch.

  Trying not to get crumbs on the keyboard, she used Google-fu to look into Craig Williams. Lots of photos with other celebrities, including a few with dogs from the salon. He’d probably steered a lot of business his sister’s way. Like birds of a feather, celebrities tended to flock together. They also tended to divide the world into their own kind and everyone else, whom they referred to as ‘civilians.’ Sofia had done the unthinkable by voluntarily abandoning celebrity status to return to being a civilian.

  Craig was everywhere, turning up with five million more Google results on his name than Sofia had on hers. She skimmed the headlines. Most of the early articles were about his music, the later ones discussed his drug use. He’d skyrocketed to fame and started getting into trouble during the first year. It had probably happened before Jenna knew it, just as she’d said. Having addicts for parents probably hadn’t helped.

  Sofia touched a picture of Craig’s face on her screen. He had scruffy blond hair down to his shoulders, a three-day beard, and soulful blue eyes. He had been just a few years older than she was, and now he wouldn’t get any older.

  She watched a YouTube clip. It was easy to see why he’d become famous so quickly. Anyone could see he was a star. He was hypnotic. Charisma, stage presence, whatever you called it, his connection with the audience was real.

  Screaming women pressed up against the stage. Each one had clearly thought Craig was singing only to her, and more than a few moaned, “I love you.” Others screamed things that were way more explicit and not that romantic. Not many performers could evoke that.

  His music running quietly in the background, she flipped through his online images. He was handsome, and he had a beautiful woman on his arm in practically every photo. Sometimes that woman was his sister Jenna, sometimes not. The other women in his life didn’t stay long, and she wondered why. He must have sent them away. Women would put up with a lot of crap from a star of his magnitude. Had he been on a search for the right woman, or had he wanted to be alone? Either way, it didn’t look like he’d had a serious girlfriend who could tell Sofia more about his last days.

  As an addict, he’d obviously been willing to take risks with his life to get high. But did that mean he’d wanted to die? His music was definitely bleak.

  She stopped on a picture of Craig holding a white Bichon Frise. For once, he was smiling. The tiny dog had long white fur, floppy ears, and brown eyes so big it practically looked like a cartoon character. She clicked over and read the article.

  The dog’s name was Snow Cone and someone, probably Jenna, had dyed the fur on its ears cherry red. Strawberry Kool-Aid? Sofia did a new search: craig williams snow cone and saw that, depending on the occasion, the dog’s ears came in red, bright yellow, raspberry blue, orange, and purple—every possible snow-cone color. Jenna must have been busy with her brother’s star dog.

  Craig was often photographed carrying Snow Cone, even without Jenna. Not a lot of guys could pull off a purse dog, but Craig didn’t seem to care. He seemed happier with the dog than he did with the models and actresses.

  Sofia could see why. The dog clearly adored him, like dogs do. A dog was someone you could trust. Models and actresses? Not so much. She wondered if she ought to get a dog herself. She could use an uncomplicated companion who loved her no matter what and never threatened to peck her eyes out if she was a little late feeding it. But with her new career, she didn’t really have time.

  One blog mentioned that Jenna took care of Snow Cone when Craig was on the road, so that she always had plenty of other dogs to play with. Emily would probably dog sit for her, too, but Violet and Van were more than enough work. For now, she’d have to stick with Fred the psychotic seagull.

  She wondered where Snow Cone was now. The dog probably missed Craig as much as his sister did, and she hoped they were together. She made a mental note to ask Jenna the next time they talked.

  Craig and Jenna seemed relaxed around each other. Not counting the dog, Craig looked happiest in the pictures with his sister. Jenna wasn’t imagining things—she and her brother were close. It was easy to see in the big smiles and the relaxed body language. If she wasn’t imagining that, maybe she wasn’t imagining something had gone wrong, either.

  It was a good start, but the Internet wasn’t going to be enough. Sofia had to know someone who’d known Craig Williams personally. She didn’t run with musicians—too many drugs and their fans were crazy intense. But Hollywood was a small town, even if it didn’t always seem like it. She narrowed her search to craig williams film premiere and hit gold immediately.

  Craig had attended the premiere of The Masked Man with Jenna and Snow Cone. The Masked Man had been a giant hit the summer before, blowing away box-office records and adding a feather to the cap of its star—Gray Cole.

  Gray was one of the biggest movie stars around. Even better, he was Sofia’s neighbor. His trailer was two doors down, and they’d become friends the day she’d moved in. She’d even thought of asking him to help her finish painting her kitchen after Emily picked up the kids. And Craig appeared in several photos with Gray. They seemed comfortable with each other, maybe friends, at least acquaintances.

  She glanced at Mr. Smiley. It was almost one in the morning, too late to call Gray. He was filming this week and had early calls every day. She’d text him tomorrow, assuming she could take her eyes off the kids long enough to type a single coherent word. He’d know things about Craig she wouldn’t find on the Internet.

  She zoomed in on the picture on her screen. Snow Cone licked Craig’s face, and Craig grinned. Jenna stood next to him holding a dog biscuit in her teeth with her eyes scrunched shut. Gray stood behind the siblings with an arm looped over each one’s shoulders, smiling. Everybody looked happy. The siblings were goofing around, like Sofia and Emily did.

  A chill went through her at the thought of losing Emily. Emily had always been her best friend. They’d fought as kids, sure, but Emily looked out for her. In Hollywood, it was hard to trust people, but Sofia had always had Emily. Her mother was there, too, but Emily saw things that Janet didn’t, heard things that no one would ever say in front of their mother, and helped Sofia in ways that only another kid could. She knew that Emily was a big reason she had stayed sane and normal in that tumultuous world.

  If someone took Emily away from her... She could barely breathe at the thought.

  It must have been even harder for Jenna. Through a really bad childhood, she and Craig had stuck together. Jenna had lost so much when Craig died. She could never get that back, but at least she might know what had taken him. At least that.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sofia loved the beach. The short walk to the water was the main reason she’d bought the little blue trailer. Staring out at the waves or walking along the white sand calmed and restored her. Usually.

  Today she was a zombie. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep until late, and Van had woken her at five when he stepped into the paint tray in the kitchen. The paint hadn’t dried, and he’d tracked it back onto the living-room carpet before she’d grabbed him and dragged him into the bathroom to wash his feet.

  She’d cleaned the carpet while the kids ate cereal. She’d managed to keep them in their chairs by telling them the floor was lava and only she had the magical powers to walk on it. How the hell did Emily keep her house so clean?

  Leaving the carpet to dry, she
’d had the kids dress in beach clothes, and brought them out onto the sand to run. After they tired of chasing the waves up and down the beach, they’d built a giant sandcastle. Van turned into Godzilla, and Violet into a Muto and they stomped the sandcastle flat. More than flat, actually. The castle was a pit by the time they were finished. With a little more work, they could have buried Godzilla in that hole.

  But they didn’t want to bury Godzilla.

  “How about we bury you, Auntie Sofia?” Violet’s blue eyes were wide and innocent.

  “That’s too much work.” She knew better than to be helpless and at their mercy. “Let’s bury Van!”

  She used all her former child-star perkiness to sell the idea.

  “Why not bury me?” Violet asked. “I’m not much bigger than he is.”

  She would probably do less damage under the sand than on top of it. “Sure, Vi. Let’s start!”

  That kept them busy for a while, and Sofia liked how industrious they were. Plus Violet was a lot less work when she was half buried. Emily had told her about kids dying because they were too deep to dig out when the tide came in, so they covered Violet with just a couple inches of sand. That way, even if a tsunami came, Sofia could snatch her up and run. Emily would be proud.

  Violet directed, and Van shoveled. Both were talking over each other and laughing. She and Emily had been like that, too, talking at the same time but still hearing what the other said. Had Jenna and Craig been like that, too?

  Violet stood up, shedding sand in all directions. “What’s that?”

  Sofia led the way to where she pointed. “Kelp.”

  The seaweed lay in a snarled green-brown heap covered with flies.

  “Let’s see how many tentacles there are.” Van bent and began to untangle the first strip.

  Sofia’s phone rang, with ring tone from the theme song of The Masked Man, which meant it was Gray Cole.

  “Hey Sofes,” he said. “Got your message.”