“Just a minute!” Sofia made her voice sound light and cheery. It wasn’t easy doing any of this stuff, since she had to look natural for the camera. Luckily, she’d spent a lot of her life positioning herself in front of a camera and acting natural.
She got the pee in her cup, then stuck Brandi’s back to the underside of the toilet. If this worked, she’d need a sample again tomorrow.
She flushed and went to wash her hands. When she put the cup down next to the gleaming sink, she realized Brandi’s sample wasn’t warm enough. Hunching over the sink so the camera couldn’t see what she was doing, she held the cup between her palms and ran hot water over it, the hottest she could stand. This wasn’t the glamorous part of the private-detective lifestyle.
“There’s a drought,” Monaco called again. “Please conserve water.”
She recalled the episode of Fun with Dick and Jane where Monaco had thrown up in the pool and the whole thing had had to be drained and refilled. She hadn’t cared about water conservation then.
“Just a minute!” Sofia called again in her cheery voice. It was going to take a lot of acting to make friends with Monaco.
Sofia dried everything off and went out. Monaco had apparently just hung around long enough to nag at her because she was gone now. But Polly stood by the door with her hand out.
“Overcoming that bladder shyness?” she asked.
“It’d be easier without all the cameras.” Sofia handed over her sample.
Polly thanked her and headed toward the back of the house, a woman on a mission. She looked as if she wanted to test Sofia’s sample and kick her out of the house as soon as possible. Which could still happen, if Brandi wasn’t trustworthy.
For now, Drug Addict Sofia had to hope for the best. She followed Polly into the kitchen. The room was huge, with Saltillo tile floors, blue and white accents, and a giant black Darth Vader refrigerator and range. No expense had been spared on this remodel.
Monaco and Amber were rinsing off breakfast dishes and putting them in the dishwasher.
“Hi, M&M,” Monaco called to Polly.
“Help with the washing-up, Sofia.” Polly went through a door in the back of the kitchen.
Monaco pouted as if she’d been expecting something else from Polly. Like a hug and a kiss, or maybe even an acknowledgment that she’d spoken.
Sofia cleared dishes from the counter and brought them to the sink where Monaco had stopped working.
“What’s behind that door?” Sofia asked.
“Polly’s office,” Amber said. “She tests all the samples there.”
“And the drug safe,” Monaco said. “Nothing good in there, though.”
Sofia rinsed off a plate and handed it to Amber, who put it in the dishwasher. Monaco had apparently decided this was a two-person job, and she wasn’t needed any more. Whistling, she headed out of the kitchen toward the living room where Sofia had checked in the night before. She was a bad whistler.
“How long have you guys been here?” Sofia asked Amber.
“Five weeks.” Amber groaned. “Thirty-five days.”
“Does it help?” Sofia asked.
Amber shrugged and dropped a plate into the dishwasher.
“Were you here when Craig Williams was here?” She handed her a rinsed plate.
“We were.”
“What was he like?” Sofia asked. “Was he nice?”
“Very nice,” Amber said. “And he brought in this cute little dog named Snow Cone.”
“We’re allowed to bring in pets?”
“Not usually. But Craig said that Snow Cone was an anxiety dog, and he had to have her around to stay calm.”
“An anxiety dog?” Sofia had heard of them, but didn’t know much.
“The dog kept him calm. She was really sweet, with red ears and the softest fur. She used to sit in my lap sometimes.” Amber smiled wistfully. “She was a great little dog. Fun and energetic. Everybody loved her, even Muffin, and Muffin doesn’t like anybody but Gus.”
“But—”
“Oh, except for Polly,” Amber interrupted. “She loved Craig, but she hated his dog.”
“She loved Craig?” That wasn’t professional.
“She took him under her wing and really worked with him. I thought for sure that he was going to stay clean.”
“But he used again.”
Amber dropped a clean spoon into the dishwasher. “Maybe it was just that one time. He wasn’t using in here.”
Sofia was so shocked that she dropped a plate. “Is anybody using in here?”
“Of course not!” Amber said it so quickly and so strongly that Sofia knew it was a lie.
She decided to change tack. “I heard that Polly was really close to Craig.”
“She was. Like she is with Monaco. Monaco adores her.”
Was Amber jealous? “I thought you and Monaco were close.”
“For the cameras, maybe.” Amber dropped the next plate in so hard it chipped. That was exactly the action of someone who was angry and jealous.
She decided to stoke that fire. “I heard her call Polly M&M. What’s that mean?”
“It’s not like the candy.” Amber ran a finger over the chip on the plate. “It stands for the letters M, N, and M again. MNM.”
Sofia ran hot water into the giant cast-iron skillet in which Polly or maybe Gus had fried the bacon. “What’s that stand for?”
“My New Mom.” Amber slammed the dishwasher closed and walked out of the kitchen.
Sofia finished loading it, then wiped the countertops and stove. She didn’t know why she’d been so surprised to hear that people did drugs in rehab. Everyone knew that. Sometimes she felt like a toddler.
Brandi came in. “If you avoid the kitchen after group, you don’t have to do KP.”
“I like it.” Sofia did. “Doing dishes is restful.”
“You probably haven’t had to do too many of them.”
Sofia’s mom had always insisted the girls help around the house, and Sofia usually had done dishes while Emily took vacuuming. She scrubbed the skillet that she had put into the sink to soak.
“Did you accept my offer?” Brandi asked.
Before Sofia could answer, Polly came out of the lab. She gave Sofia a nod. So, the urine sample had failed the test. Sofia wondered what she was addicted to.
“Brandi, don’t just sit there.” Polly smiled at her. “You need to help. You’re part of a community now.”
Brandi picked up the dish towel. “Let me help you, Sofia. Again.”
Monaco came back into the room. “Hi, MNM!”
This time Polly smiled at her. She took Monaco’s hand. “Let’s go sit in the garden! I’ll have Gus get some Starbucks, and we can have a little chat.”
The two headed toward the front door. On the way, Polly must have said something funny, because Monaco laughed. Monaco’s laugh sounded just like it did on the show—like a donkey braying. Entire Internet discussion groups were dedicated to why Monaco didn’t go to a vocal coach to do something about her terrible laugh. Sofia kind of liked it.
She rinsed the skillet and handed it to Brandi. “What’s the deal with those two?”
“Polly adores Monaco.” Brandi sounded like Amber. “Says she has the voice of an angel.”
“Does she?”
“Angels don’t sing to me.” Brandi snapped her towel an inch from Sofia’s butt. “Not ever.”
Sofia picked up the other towel and snapped back.
“No horseplay.” Gus stood in the doorway, arms folded across his giant chest. “You have a one-on-one with the doctor, Sofia.”
Brandi snapped her towel in Gus’s general direction.
“You don’t want to tussle with me, Brandi,” Gus said.
“You aren’t my tussle type.” Brandi looked him up and down. “Not even in the same platoon.”
“I don’t date junkies.”
“Aren’t we officially ex-junkies?” Brandi asked.
“No such thing,” h
e said. “Junkies can’t keep their bodies pure.”
“But you, you’re like the driven snow?” Brandi raised an eyebrow.
“No drugs will pollute the temple that is my body,” Gus said.
“You know that steroids are drugs, right?” Brandi asked.
Gus definitely looked like he’d pumped some steroids into that temple of his. His shoulders and upper body were blown up like balloons. His skin got a little redder when he glared down at Brandi. He looked like a throbbing veiny erection.
“Where is my session?” Sofia figured someone should break the tension before Gus erupted all over Brandi.
“Follow me.” Gus did a crisp right turn, like he was on parade, and Brandi saluted his back. Either he didn’t notice, or he pretended not to.
Sofia followed him through the living room and over to a small outbuilding. It, too, was Spanish style—white walls, arches, tiled roof. A dollhouse next to the big house.
“Knock and then go in,” Gus said.
She followed his directions, noting that he didn’t leave until she was inside.
CHAPTER 14
Sofia closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She was in a hall with a tall arched ceiling and terracotta tile floors. In front of her were three closed oak doors, the one on the left marked with a universal bathroom symbol. The one on the right and the one straight ahead were blank. The room was cold, and she shivered.
The next step was lying to the doctor. She hated the idea, but if he was in on Polly’s scam, it was necessary. She centered herself and tried to sink into her Drug Addict Sofia character.
The door straight ahead swung open.
“Hi, Sofia,” said a familiar voice.
Sofia gulped. “Dr. Khan?”
He stepped through the door and smiled at her. She was too floored to say anything. Dr. Khan had dated her mother when she was twelve. He had been a consultant for Half Pint Detective, and her mother had met him on the set. He still looked pretty much the same—black hair with a little gray at the temples, light brown skin, sympathetic wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Today he wore an ochre suit. She and Emily had always wondered where he bought his suits, because they came in colors you never saw anyone wearing, even in Los Angeles.
“I’m filling in for Dr. Cavanaugh today,” he said. “I hope you can feel comfortable with me.”
“OK,” she sputtered. This man had given her and her sister their first Tamagotchi pets. Predictably, Emily’s had done quite well and Sofia’s had died because she quickly lost interest in the electronic toy and forgot to feed it. She couldn’t imagine how she’d be able to lie to him.
“We don’t have to talk about your rehab experience.” He smoothed his amethyst-purple tie. “But rest assured that, if we do, it’s completely confidential.”
She glanced at the plain white ceiling. No surveillance cameras were stuck up there, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any bugs. Apparently, Drug Addict Sofia was paranoid.
“Let’s go into my office—or, rather, Dr. Cavanaugh’s.” He gestured that she precede him into the room and, obediently, she did so.
It was a friendly room, done up in oranges, yellows, and greens. A green and brown Mission-style couch ran along the wall under the window. A light gauzy curtain kept anyone from seeing in, but still didn’t block her view of a lacy California pepper tree casting shade over a wrought-iron bench. The perfect place to curl up with a book. Across from the couch and window were a leather Mission-style chair and a coffee table, with a box of tissues, magazines, and an orange glass bowl full of candy.
Dr. Khan eased himself into the chair and crossed his long ochre legs.
She knew she was supposed to sit on the couch, but she couldn’t settle. “Do you have any music? They took my iPod.”
He looked a little surprised, but he took out his cell phone—she wanted to grab it and run back to her room with it, she missed her phone so much—and fiddled with it. Duke Ellington’s big band filled the room. Her mother loved Duke Ellington, as he probably knew, and there was no way she’d lie with that as the soundtrack.
She perched on the edge of the couch, picked up his phone, and turned up the volume, just in case. It felt good in her hand, and she longed to check her email and call Aidan and tell him everything she’d found out, make sure that he really was listening through her earring, or even just play a game of Bejeweled. If she was addicted, it was to her phone. Reluctantly, she placed Dr. Khan’s phone back on the coffee table next to the orange bowl and paused, studying the room one more time. Nothing looked like a surveillance camera, or hidden microphone, but spy gadgets were so small, these days, that she’d never know. She touched her earrings, reminded again that Aidan was listening. He wasn’t going to like what she had to say, and she thought about taking them off and hiding them under a yellow couch cushion. Instead, she took a deep breath and let it out. “I have a confession to make, Dr. Khan.”
His brown eyes widened sympathetically. He was trying to be professional and stoic, but she could tell he was sad that she had ended up a drug addict. She would have been sad, too. “Yes, Sofia?”
“As you might know,” she said, “I recently stopped acting.”
“I had heard that.” He folded his hands across one knee.
“What you probably don’t know is that I’m doing a different job now.” She imagined Aidan’s face. He was probably waving his hands and shouting, “No, don’t you dare!” That made it easier.
Dr. Khan tilted his head to the side, like someone who was really listening. She remembered that look from when she was a kid.
She lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “I work for a private investigator, like in the show.”
“I see.” He raised an eyebrow.
“You can call them if you want. The firm is Maloney Investigations.”
“Why would I want to call them?” His deep voice was familiar. And loud.
“In case you want to verify what I’m about to tell you.”
“I don’t need a third party to verify your words, Sofia. I trust you.”
What could she tell him without lying and without breaching client confidentiality? “I trust you, too.”
Mostly.
“I understand that it might be awkward for you to talk to me, but I think it might help you to try. When did you decide you needed rehab?”
“I work for a detective agency,” she whispered. He leaned forward to hear. “We’re investigating this facility, but I can’t tell you anything more than that.”
“Denial is a common reaction to addiction,” he said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not an addict,” she hissed. “But please don’t tell anyone.”
He studied her. “Would you please repeat that last part?”
“Don’t tell anyone I’m not an addict?”
He lowered his voice, finally. “Usually people don’t want to be known as addicts. I have to wonder about your approach.”
“It’s not an approach.”
He had a really warm smile. Her mother said it was the first thing she’d noticed about him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I can’t because of client confidentiality.”
“To a studio?”
“To the agency.” She’d thought he was smarter than this. “The detective agency. I’m stuck here because of them.”
“You make it sound like you’re a prisoner, here against your will.”
“I feel like a prisoner, but I’m here because of my work.”
“Acting is a very stressful profession.”
Not as much as this. “Have you worked here long?”
He shook his head. “This is my first day, actually.”
Just her luck. “How did you end up here?”
“I’ve met Dr. Cavanaugh socially, and when he came down with measles, his wife asked me to fill in. His usual substitutes are on vacation.”
“Measles?” Grown-ups could still catch measles?
>
“Apparently he couldn’t be vaccinated because of allergies. He caught it at Disneyland. He’s quite ill.”
“Will you be here tomorrow?” she asked.
“I believe so.”
She felt better. There was someone here she could trust, at least a little. “Could you make sure they don’t give me any medication?”
“To treat withdrawal symptoms?”
“I won’t have those symptoms, or at least not really, and I don’t want to take any drugs.”
He looked into her eyes and took her pulse. “You seem very healthy to me. Maybe a little tired.”
“I’m tired because I was up all weekend with Emily’s kids.”
“Emily has children?”
“Two, Violet and Van. They’re adorable.”
“How do you feel that she has children, and you don’t?”
“Grateful,” Sofia said. “I’m glad I get to spoil them and send them home again at the end of the weekend. Right now I’m happy to have a pet seagull.”
“Do you think it’s a sign of trust that Emily let you take her children for the weekend?”
“Of course she trusts me. Why wouldn’t she?”
He looked around the room. “Because you’re in drug rehab.”
She wanted to wing that orange bowl at his face. “That’s not real!”
“I can’t help you if you won’t admit you have a problem.” Dr. Khan tapped his pen against the pad of paper he held. “That’s the very first step, but it’s often the most difficult.”
Her biggest problem right now was that he didn’t believe her. “How well do you know Polly Coggins?”
“I’ve met her once, when we talked about me taking over for the day. She seems concerned about patient health and welfare. And her rehab center is doing quite well. She’s about to open a second in San Juan Capistrano.”
Maybe that’s where Craig’s money was going. “Do you know anything about her background?”
“We’re not here to talk about Mrs. Coggins’s background. We’re here to talk about yours.”
She wasn’t going to get anything out of him. “Did you know Craig Williams?”
“I can’t talk about my patients,” he said. “Surely you must know that.”
“He was a patient?” she asked.
B is for Bad Girls (Malibu Mystery Book 2) Page 9
