Imitation of Death

by Cheryl Crane

  Nikki punched the address Gwen had given her for Astro into her GPS and pulled away from the curb.

  Nikki expected Astro to live in a condo, or maybe an apartment, a bachelor pad for a good-looking, muscly guy. She did not expect the little bungalow she pulled up in front of, south of Pico Boulevard, or the white picket fence. Or the fluffy, white toy poodle that barked at her from a window as she walked up the sidewalk to the front door.

  Nikki rang the doorbell. The little dog barked wildly from the other side of the door. She heard it growling as the door swung open and a tiny woman with long, thin, blue-rinsed hair, pulled back in a ponytail, looked at her from behind big Edith Head glasses. She was wearing a calf-length gauze skirt and wooden beads. Nikki couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a costume or not.

  “Yes?” the woman inquired. Her voice was squeaky.

  Nikki wondered if she had the wrong house . . . or if maybe her buddy Gwen and the monkeys had sent her on a wild goose chase.

  “Hi,” she said, looking at the older woman through the screen door. “I’m Nikki Harper. I’m looking for Astro.”

  The woman looked up at Nikki; her crazy glasses seemed to magnify her eyes and the wrinkles around them. The poodle continued to bark, bouncing up and down.

  “Astro Wharton?” Nikki said. “He works at B. H. Fitness on North Bedford.”

  “I know where he works,” the woman said, still taking Nikki in.

  “Oh, so you do know him?” Nikki smiled warmly.

  “I should. He’s my son.” Her reply was not warm.

  The poodle jumped up against the door and growled. It appeared to be foaming at the mouth now.

  “Does . . . does Astro live here with you?” Nikki asked.

  “He does. Do I know you?” She squinted from behind the glasses.

  “Um, I’m Nikki Harper—”

  “You said that.”

  “Maybe you know me because of my mother?” She had to speak louder to be heard above the mad dog. “Victoria Bordeaux?”

  The older woman thought for a moment. “Nope. Don’t know her.”

  “She’s an actress. Was an actress. She’s mostly retired now. Sister, Sister; Fifteen Green Street?”

  “Nope.”

  Nikki smiled again. “Is Astro here?”

  “You his girlfriend?”

  Nikki noticed for the first time that a station wagon in the driveway had suitcases in the back. “I’m not Astro’s girlfriend.”

  “Because you’re better looking than the last one.” She squinted. The dog continued to bark. “Is that really the color of your hair?”

  Nikki ran her hand over her head. “Really the color of my hair.”

  “I used to be a redhead.”

  “Did you?” Nikki glanced at the car again. There was a cooler on the back seat. Road trip. “Are . . . are you taking a trip?”

  “Why do you want to know, Miss Nosy Nikki Harper Parker?”

  “Um . . .”

  “To see my sister,” the woman said. “She lives in Scottsdale. That’s in Arizona. She has a pool.”

  Nikki glanced at the poodle, still jumping up against the screen door, still barking, still growling. She wondered how long the dog could keep it up before collapsing in exhaustion.

  “Is . . . Astro going with you? To see your sister?”

  “Is this it, Ma?” The male voice came from inside.

  Astro appeared in the doorway behind his mother, carrying two more suitcases. He halted, obviously startled to see Nikki. And maybe a little bit afraid . . .

  The dog was still barking. “Ms. Harper.”

  “I stopped by the gym. I heard you were out sick.”

  He stared at her for a second, then looked at the dog. “Peaches! Enough!”

  Peaches fell silent at once and trotted out of sight.

  “Sorry about that,” Astro said. He seemed nervous. He was wearing a plaid short-sleeved shirt, shorts, and a ball cap. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. She might not have recognized him on the street.

  “Is this your girlfriend?” his mother asked.

  Nikki made eye contact with him. “I told her I wasn’t your girlfriend, but I’m not sure she believed me,” she said with amusement.

  He seemed to relax a little. “Go finish packing, Ma. I’ll load these in the car.” Astro opened the front door and Nikki backed down the steps.

  She followed him to the car. “Are you okay?”

  “You were looking for me at the gym?” He opened the hatch of the station wagon and slid the suitcases in with the others.

  “You going somewhere?” she asked. It seemed like a lot of luggage.

  “To see my aunt.”

  “In Scottsdale. Your mother told me.” She hesitated. “Is everything okay, Astro?”

  He cut his eyes at her and again she saw the nervousness in them. “What would make you ask?”

  Nikki glanced at the door. His mother was standing there, watching them. She returned her attention to Astro, now genuinely concerned. “Are you leaving town?”

  “I told you, I was—”

  “I mean, are you leaving town,” she said, lowering her voice. “Like in a hurry . . . like getting away from someone? Something?” She was concerned, but also suspicious.

  “Did someone at the gym say that?”

  “No. I’m just . . . curious.”

  “Don’t be. Why were you looking for me?”

  “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into her bag and pulled out the glossy photo of Victoria.

  “Wow,” he said, accepting it. “Autographed and everything.”

  “Autographed and everything,” she repeated. “I got worried when I found out you’d called out sick, two days in a row. And Monday, I looked for you when I came out of the locker room. To give you my card, but you were gone.”

  He glanced at the door. “Ma!”

  Nikki looked up to see Astro’s mother still standing at the door watching them, trying, no doubt, to listen in on the conversation.

  “All right, already,” she grumbled.

  He waited until she disappeared from sight. “I can’t talk to you.”

  “According to who? That Kaiser guy?”

  He exhaled, letting the hand holding the photo fall to his side. “Look, I don’t want any trouble.”

  He was the second person to say that to her today. “Neither do I.”

  He held on to the photo of Victoria, as if it were a true treasure. It had been taken years ago, back in her golden days of cinema. It was one of Nikki’s favorites.

  “You should stay away from Kaiser,” he said.

  “I went to the gym looking for you, not Kaiser.”

  “He’s dangerous.”

  Nikki hesitated. “Do you think he had something to do with Eddie Bernard’s murder?”

  “I don’t know.” He was holding so tightly to the photo that Nikki was afraid he was going to crease it. Not that she cared, but she thought he would.

  Nikki laid her hand on Astro’s arm. “Do you know if Eddie owed Kaiser money? For drugs?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Eddie and I, we didn’t talk about that kind of stuff. We just worked out.”

  “So if you don’t know anything, why do you think Kaiser doesn’t want you to speak to me?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Nikki tried to think . . . fast, because she had a feeling she might not get another chance to speak to Astro. There were a lot of suitcases in that car. “You said Kaiser was at the party that night. Did you see any trouble between Eddie and Kaiser . . . or even see them talking?”

  “They talked, for sure. I was coming out of the bathroom in the pool house. They were talking. Kaiser seemed pretty angry, but Eddie just walked away.”

  Nikki knew that drug dealers killed clients who didn’t pay, to serve as a reminder to other clients to pay their tabs. But Eddie had only been out of rehab a week when he was killed. How big a tab could you run up in a week?

 
“You know where he lives?” Nikki asked. “Works?”

  “I’m almost ready!” Astro’s mother shouted from the front door. “I just have to water the cactus.”

  Astro looked at the door, then back at Nikki again. “I don’t know where he lives. He works at The Python.”

  “The Python Club?” That set off all kinds of alarms in her head. She knew Eddie had once frequented The Python Club, and the alleged fight between Rocko and Eddie took place there.

  But Kaiser couldn’t have left that note in her car . . . could he? There was no way he could have gotten onto Victoria’s property.

  What if he had some way of getting into cars? Picking locks or something? Had he seen her go into the gym? She hadn’t seen him. The idea sounded a little crazy. There was no way he could have known she was going to the gym. That note was premeditated.

  She looked at Astro again. “Do you know a Wezley Butterfield?”

  “Wesley?”

  “It’s actually Wezley . . . with a z.”

  “Eddie was talking about him last week when we worked out. How they got to be good friends in rehab. I never really met him. But he was at the party.”

  “Did you speak to him at the party?”

  Astro shook his head. “No, but I saw him. Weird guy.”

  “Weird how?”

  “I don’t know. Just weird—”

  “Astro!” Mrs. Astro opened the front door and Peaches flew down the steps, barking.

  Nikki froze.

  “Peaches! Back in the house!” Astro ordered. “Ma. Keep control of the dog. We don’t want her biting someone again.”

  “I’m ready to go,” Ma announced. She had an orange backpack, that could easily have been made in the 70s, slung over one shoulder. She held open the door and Peaches retreated back into the house.

  “I’m sorry. I gotta go,” Astro said to Nikki. “It was really nice of you to bring me this. It means a lot to me. Please thank Ms. Bordeaux. I’m gonna frame it right away.”

  “Thanks for talking to me. For taking heat from Kaiser over it.”

  He shrugged. “He’s a jerk.”

  “Do you think he would . . . hurt someone?”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Astro tugged on the brim of his cap.

  Nikki met his gaze. “If someone has threatened you, if Kaiser threatened you in any way, you should call the police.”

  “No one threatened me,” he said, pretty unconvincingly. “Let me walk you to your car.”

  Nikki headed for the gate, then stopped and turned back. “Just one more question, and then I’ll go. I promise. Do you know what time the party ended at the Bernards’ house that night?”

  “Early. Like midnight. Some woman came out to the pool deck and said if we didn’t all clear out, she was calling the cops.”

  “A woman? His mother?”

  “I think so.” He held open the little gate in the picket fence for her.

  “And did everyone leave?”

  “As far as I know,” he said.

  Nikki walked to her car. “But you don’t know for sure?”

  He shook his head. “As soon as she said cops, I took off. It wasn’t that good a party, anyway.”

  Nikki unlocked her car door and he opened it for her.

  “How long are you going to be gone, Astro?”

  He looked out over the car’s hood rather than at her. “I don’t know. A week, maybe two. Maybe longer.”

  “You’re sure Kaiser . . . or anyone else, didn’t threaten you in some way?”

  “I’m taking my mother to see her sister,” he said.

  “I don’t suppose I could have your cell phone number?”

  “I don’t have a cell phone.” He smiled. “You have a good day, Ms. Harper. Be safe.”

  She watched him as he walked away. Didn’t have a cell phone? Who didn’t have a cell phone these days? She guessed she couldn’t blame Astro for being hesitant, especially if Kaiser had threatened him.

  But why would Kaiser threaten Astro? And, more importantly, what did it have to do with Eddie’s murder?

  Chapter 18

  “Thanks so much for lunch,” Ellen said to Nikki as they walked out of the restaurant to wait for their cars on the corner of Brighton and North Camden. “I could have sat here all day and talked to you.”

  “I feel the same way.” Nikki slipped her bag over her shoulder. “So, you’re coming tomorrow night for Mother’s movie night?”

  “Are you sure it’s okay?”

  “Absolutely. You can meet Jeremy.” She laid her hand on Ellen’s shoulder. “And, who knows, maybe Will and Jada can set you up with a friend.”

  “Oh, no, not after the last loser.” Ellen laughed. “I think I’m ready for a man-break.”

  “Fine. No setups. But I’d really like you to join us.”

  “Only if you promise to come by my shoot Monday.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way.”

  “You won’t be.” Ellen looked up as the valet pulled a white BMW M3 convertible up to the curb. “This is me.” She stepped off the curb in front of the car. “I have to warn you, shooting cooking shows for the Food Network is a lot different than shooting scenes for a Victoria Bordeaux movie. Things will be crazy. We shoot like . . . four or five half-hour shows in a day in this little bungalow in the valley they rented.”

  “It sounds like fun.” Nikki waved to her as the valet held her door open. “See you tomorrow night! Cocktails are at seven.”

  “See you then!” Ellen waved and climbed into her car, but instead of pulling away, she put the passenger side window down. “And call me if you need me.” She looked at her meaningfully. “I’m serious. I agree with Jeremy.”

  Nikki chuckled and leaned down to talk to her through the window. “You don’t even know him!”

  “I agree with him anyway.” She lowered her voice. “You should leave this murder investigation to the police.” She gave Nikki a stern look. “That being said, you call me if you need someone. Or if you just need to talk.”

  “If I shouldn’t be involved, I certainly shouldn’t be dragging you into it.”

  “Promise me,” Ellen said.

  “Okay. I promise. Have a good day.” Nikki stepped back and waved and this time Ellen pulled away from the curb and into the traffic on Brighton Way.

  As much as it pained Nikki to admit it, her mother had been dead on. Ellen was terrific. They had a lot in common and they’d just . . . clicked. Nikki had the feeling that lunch today was the beginning of a great friendship, which made her feel good.

  The valet pulled her car up to the curb and she fished in her bag for a tip. She was still contemplating whether or not she was going to The Python Club later on, but she knew her next stop: The Church of Earth and Beyond.

  Nikki checked the addresses on Sunset; according to her Google search, she was two blocks west of the church. Fortunately, traffic was moving slowly, giving her time to think. She didn’t have a plan as to what she was going to do once she found the church. Should she go in and just ask to speak to Wezley? Or should she just inquire about him?

  According to the Internet, he was an employee of the church and some sort of financial administrator. He might very well be there. And if he wasn’t, that might be even better. There might be other people at the church more willing to talk about Wezley than Wezley himself.

  Nikki slowed for a yellow light ahead and spotted a sign for the church on the next corner. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone on the sidewalk in front of a used-car lot jumping up and down, waving a sign. As she got closer, she realized it was Elvis Presley waving the NO MONEY DOWN placard. L.A. was full of Elvis impersonators.

  Then, when she stopped for the red light, she realized this wasn’t just any Elvis. It was her Elvis. And he was trying to wave her down.

  For a moment, Nikki considered just pulling away. Unfortunately, there were cars both in front of and behind her, so there was no escape route. She groa
ned aloud, signaled, and pulled over. Taking a breath, she put down the passenger side window.

  Elvis propped his sign against her Prius and leaned in the window. “Hello there, little lady,” he crooned.

  “Oh, E. Not the black rhinestone jumpsuit,” she said.

  He shook his head in shame; his inky black pompadour stayed perfectly in place.

  “Frankly, I’m disappointed in you,” she teased. “You’re generally more creative.”

  He sighed, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “At least it’s not the white jumpsuit. A personal request from Billy himself.” He pointed toward the enormous sign that said BILLY’S BARGAINS.

  “Personally, I always liked the white pants, white shirt, and red sash from Blue Hawaii.”

  “Very understated,” he agreed, turning the corner of his mouth up just the way Elvis had. “Very classy.”

  She nodded. “So, you’re working?” She continued to nod. Most of the time, he just panhandled on the street. Tourists loved a good Elvis. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

  “Been working a lot. Got myself a little place,” he said.

  His impersonation was good. It always had been, as long as her little brother didn’t try to sing. Carry a tune, he could not. Which had proved to be a bit of a problem when his life’s work had become impersonating The King.

  “Read about Eddie turning up in her trash,” he said. “She must be horrified.”

  He always referred to their mother as she. Elvis, a.k.a. James Mattroni, had had a falling out with Victoria years ago and they didn’t speak. Their mother maintained it was because her son refused to seek help for his schizophrenia, help she was willing to pay for. Jimmy, who refused to answer to any name but Elvis, insisted it was because she was jealous of his talent. And other semi-crazy reasons. Nikki tried to remain neutral; it was hard for her to see him ill. Beyond the Elvis thing. She was glad he was looking so good. He looked good when he took his meds. It just never lasted long.

  His father, James Mattroni Sr., had been schizophrenic as well, and had committed suicide when Jimmy was a freshman in college. Jimmy had never forgiven Victoria for not fighting harder to get custody of him when his parents had split, when he was a toddler. If it was any consolation, even though Victoria rarely spoke of the matter, she’d never forgiven herself, either.