The Bad Always Die Twice

by Cheryl Crane

  Again, the pretty shrug. But then she met Nikki’s gaze and there was an honesty in her eyes that held Nikki’s attention.

  “Somethin’ ’bout him a body jest couldn’ trust,” she explained. “Somethin’ in his beady eyes.”

  The words that came out of Tiffany’s mouth sounded like a line from a bad western, but Nikki knew exactly what the girl meant. She knew Alex Ramirez and she had never cared for him. She’d always thought he and Rex were perfect for each other.

  “Ah gotta go,” Tiffany said, slipping her key into the door.

  “Sure.” Nikki backed up a step so Tiffany could swing open the door. “Just one more question, Tiffany, and then I’ll let you go.” Nikki made eye contact with her, her hand on the car door. “Did you know that Rex didn’t die in that plane crash? Did you know, at any point after the crash, that he wasn’t dead?”

  She didn’t try to look away this time. “Ah swayre to God, Ah deidn’t know.”

  Chapter 16

  When Nikki walked into Victoria’s bedroom suite, her mother was seated on the couch, looking stylish as always, today in a black jogging suit, with her pearls. She wore no makeup (apparently, no public appearances today) but she had such a flawless complexion that, even at her age, she was beautiful without a hint of foundation or a stroke of mascara.

  She was on the phone, so Nikki sat down on the other end of the couch and shuffled through the stack of magazines on an end table. Her mother always had an eclectic choice of reading materials: Variety, Ladies’ Home Journal, The New Yorker, People, The Economist, Soap Opera Digest, and the Boston Review. She flipped through the latest New Yorker, half-listening to her mother on the phone.

  “No, no, I can’t say that I make potato salad often. You should e-mail me the recipe, though, so I can give it to my housekeeper.” Victoria paused, then chuckled. “I agree, even girls our age need to watch our figures, but it doesn’t hurt to treat ourselves occasionally, does it?” Another chuckle.

  Nikki felt herself frowning. Who the heck was her mother talking to? Never in her entire life had she heard Victoria exchange recipes with someone.

  “Well, do send me that recipe. And I’ll have Ina jot down that shrimp salad recipe.” Pause. “No, she speaks English. When she wants to,” Victoria added with a bit of tone.

  Nikki met her mother’s gaze and mouthed, Who are you talking to?

  Ellie, Victoria mouthed back. Then, “It is quite a privilege, and I thank God every day for my good fortune.”

  Ellie? Who’s Ellie? Nikki mouthed.

  Victoria motioned as if placing a crown on her head.

  The queen? Victoria was speaking to Queen Elizabeth? Nothing would surprise her . . .

  Frowning, Nikki got up and went to a small refrigerator, choosing a bottle of sparkling water. Her mother was still going on about Ina and the shrimp salad.

  Nikki unscrewed the cap and took a drink. The bubbles tickled her nose. She was thinking about the houses her company currently had for sale in the price range and area Mrs. Hearst was interested in. There were plenty of houses on the market, but they always tried to show Windsor properties first, for obvious reasons.

  Victoria was laughing again, and Nikki was intrigued. Who could her mother be talking to? Nikki didn’t know anyone named Ellie. Though Victoria had a large circle of acquaintances, she had a small group of friends, and her mother had never been one for chatting on the phone.

  “Yes, yes, but we’ll talk again,” Victoria said. “Send me that recipe and you have a wonderful birthday. Enjoy that cake and have a slice for me.” She was still chuckling as she hit the off button on the cordless phone and dropped it on the couch beside her.

  “Who was that?” Nikki asked.

  “You never were good at lipreading, Nicolette. I told you. It was Ellie.”

  “Ellie who? Queen Ellie?”

  “Queen Ellie of what country? Who said she was a queen?” Victoria tucked her feet up beneath her. She was wearing the sheepskin boots Nikki had given her two Christmases before. They looked cute on her, and very hip with the jogging suit.

  “I don’t know what country, Mother. You were the one saying she was a queen.” Nikki imitated her mother’s hand gestures, pulling an imaginary crown over her own head.

  Victoria scowled. “She was the birthday girl, not the queen! That was my birthday girl mime. Remind me not to play charades with you.”

  “What birthday girl?” Then Nikki realized who she was talking about. Julius the bellhop’s grandmother in Idaho. Her name was Eleanor. “Oh my gosh! You called her? You actually called Eleanor in Idaho to wish her a happy birthday?”

  Victoria reached for a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table, but seeing Nikki’s frown, left them where they were. “Of course I called her. I told you I would, didn’t I? You called and asked me and I said I would, so I did. Her birthday isn’t until Sunday. I may call her again on Sunday,” she thought aloud. “Make her day.”

  “I can’t believe you called her.” Nikki was smiling as she sat on the edge of the couch beside her mother and gave her a big hug. “That was so nice of you.”

  “My fans are important to me. Are you saying I’m not nice?”

  “Not at all. I’m saying you are.” Nikki took a sip of water. “I wouldn’t have blamed you a bit if you didn’t want to call. It’s got to be awkward.”

  “It wasn’t awkward. Ellie was very pleasant. Spunky for eighty years old. She still drives; she has an F150, whatever that is. I told you I would help you with your investigation. I was helping.”

  Nikki’s recollection was that her mother had been against any involvement in Jessica’s case, but she knew better than to bring up that little tidbit. “I appreciate your help,” she said, meaning it. “I’ll give her grandson a call in a day or two, if I haven’t heard from him. See if he found out what name Rex was using at the Sunset.”

  “What are you going to do with the information?”

  “I don’t know.” She took another sip of water. “But I’m learning that it’s smart to just keep asking questions. And listen. I just have to keep in mind that everything I hear isn’t necessarily the truth. Guess what I found out today?”

  Her mother eyed the cigarettes. “I can’t imagine.”

  “Rex was cheating on Edith with a girl who worked at a diner on Santa Monica.”

  “I imagine he was cheating on Edith with many waitresses from many diners.”

  The way Victoria said it, the way she fluttered her lashes, made Nikki want to laugh.

  “Did she kill him?” Victoria asked.

  “Who? Edith? I don’t think so.”

  Victoria motioned impatiently. “The waitress. Try to keep up, Nicolette.”

  “I don’t see how she could have. She was a little bitty thing. Seemed like a nice girl. Too nice to be wrapped up with Rex March.”

  “Anything short of a snake would be too good to get wrapped up with Rex,” Victoria said with a sniff. “I don’t think you can discount her, though. Edith or the waitress.”

  “Mother, how can you say such a thing about Edith? You like her.”

  “The fact that I like her has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not Edith could have killed her husband. In fact, the fact that I am fond of her makes it more likely she put an end to her own misery. I like a woman who can take charge of her own life.”

  “The police are saying the body was moved.” She put her knee on the couch so she was facing her mother. “After Rex was dead, someone picked him up, transported him somehow, and put him in Jessica’s bed. Edith could never have carried Rex.”

  “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. If you’re going to seriously look into this matter, you have to keep an open mind. Do you remember Curiously Dead?” she said, naming a who-done-it she’d done in the seventies. “No one suspected the mild-mannered neighbor. She was a small woman and Alex was a tall man. Not as heavy as Rex, though, and his breath wasn’t as bad.”

  “Wasn’t that Gregory
Peck who played Alex?”

  Victoria smiled. “He was such a gentleman. Handsome. God rest his soul.” She reached out to pat Nikki’s hand. “Now tell me what else you’ve found out.”

  “Well, I was actually following a lead I was given in the bathroom at the Beverly Hills Country Club. Don’t ask. But I found out the lead was just gossip. Sort of. I’d been told Thompson Christopher was having an affair with the waitress, which I was half hoping was true because he missed several appointments the day Rex was found in Jessica’s bed. And he is big enough to have moved Rex.”

  “Well, what did Thompson say? Where was he Monday?”

  “I didn’t ask yet. He wasn’t all that receptive when I tried to talk with him the other day.” She took another sip of the water. “When I was talking to Tiffany the waitress, who did not have an affair with Thompson, but did with Rex,” Nikki clarified, “she said something very interesting. She said that when Rex’s plane crashed—”

  “Which he wasn’t on,” Victoria interrupted.

  “Right.” Nikki nodded. “Anyway, she said that at the time, she suspected Alex Ramirez had sabotaged the plane, causing the crash and his death.”

  “Which wasn’t true either.”

  “No,” Nikki conceded. “But the point is that she seemed to think Ramirez had something to do with Rex’s death. Don’t you think it’s odd that this waitress would even know Ramirez’s name?” She shrugged. “I’m not saying Ramirez did anything so convoluted as causing a plane crash, but what if, like the rumor I heard in the bathroom, there’s some truth buried in there somewhere? Ramirez was Rex’s lawyer and his agent. What if—”

  “Nicolette, I have to put my foot down here. I don’t want you anywhere near Alex Ramirez. He has connections.”

  “Connections?” Nikki waited for her mother to elaborate but all Victoria did was nod solemnly. “What kind of connections, Mother?”

  “Mafia. Las Vegas.”

  Nikki stared at her. “Is there even such a thing as Las Vegas Mafia?” She paused. “By the way, speaking of Vegas, I saw my brother today. He was wearing the suit from King Creole. The gold one.”

  Victoria rose and went to her dressing table, picking up a little glass jar of moisturizer.

  “He seemed good,” Nikki added.

  “On his meds?” Victoria asked, her tone painfully neutral.

  “I think so. Maybe.” Nikki exhaled, leaning back on the couch and stretching out. “Who knows? But he looked healthy. At least he’s eating.”

  “Did he say anything about coming home?”

  “He didn’t.” She decided not to bring up Jimmy’s suggestion that perhaps Victoria had been the one who killed Rex. “He came into the diner while I was looking for Tiffany. Who, actually, no longer works in the diner. She’s at Barney’s Beanery on Santa Monica now. I tracked her down there.”

  Victoria rubbed moisturizer into her cheeks in a circular motion. “I’m sure her mother’s proud. So what are we going to do about speaking with Ramirez?”

  Apparently there would be no more discussion of Jimmy. At least not today.

  “We?” Nikki glanced at her mother. “I don’t know what I would even say to him. I don’t have any information that would suggest he had anything to do with Rex’s disappearance or death, except that Tiffany said she didn’t trust him or his beady eyes.”

  “Those, he has.” Victoria screwed the lid on the moisturizer and placed it on her dressing table. She then walked back to the couch where she picked up the phone and dialed 411. She cleared her throat as she waited for the automated message. “Offices of Alex Ramirez, West Hollywood, California, spelled R-A-M-I-R-E-Z, please.”

  Nikki sat up on the couch. “Mother, what are you doing?”

  “What’s it sound like I’m doing? I’m making an appointment with Alex Ramirez. We’re going to see if he had anything to do with this mess with Rex March.”

  “Under what pretense are we making this appointment?” Nikki asked in disbelief.

  “Thank you,” Victoria said into the phone, then to Nikki, “I’m considering looking for a new agent.” She was doing the arched eyebrow thing.

  “You’re retired.”

  “Maybe I’m coming out of retirement.” She smiled and turned her back to Nikki as she ramped up the charm. “Good afternoon, this is Victoria Bordeaux and I’d like to make an appointment as soon as possible with Mr. Ramirez. Yes, I’ll hold. Thank you.”

  “Mother,” Nikki said in a stage whisper. “You shouldn’t be doing this. You just told me he might be dangerous.”

  Victoria glanced at Nikki as she put her hand on the phone. “Not to a woman like me. Now Victoria Bordeaux, she’s dangerous.”

  The following afternoon, Nikki drove her mother to Ramirez’s office on Sunset Plaza Drive. She parked in the large parking lot behind the building and they walked together across the parking lot.

  “Now, let me do the talking,” Victoria instructed. She wore a blue-and-green watercolor-print Roberto Cavalli dress and cute Italian flats. The subtle Vuitton bag on her elbow made the outfit and just for a second, Nikki was envious of her mother’s fashion sense. “You’re here to listen. I’m here to draw him out.”

  Nikki tried not to grin as she opened the door to the lobby for her mother. The building was small, with only a few offices. Ramirez’s was on the second floor. “I’m starting to feel a little silly. We’re here on the say-so of a waitress who doesn’t like the man’s beady eyes.”

  Victoria took the steps with the same sense of presence with which she tackled a movie première. (She never took the elevator when she had a choice.) “I don’t like his beady eyes, either.”

  Nikki hurried to catch up with her mother. She’d made no attempt to compete with Victoria’s sense of style and was wearing a three-quarter-sleeve vintage dress, tights, and knee-high black boots. With a sensible heel, of course.

  On the second floor, they halted in front of a glass door with Ramirez’s name written on it in gold lettering. “Are you ready?” Victoria asked.

  Nikki wasn’t nervous anymore. Mostly she was curious, curious as to how her mother would play this appointment and even more curious as to what Ramirez would have to say. “Ready.”

  Victoria then surprised her by reaching out and touching Nikki’s face in a rare show of affection. “You look pretty today. I like your hair longer, like this.” She gave a nod. “It suits you, Nicolette.” She was still looking up at her. “I was always a little jealous, you know. Of your red hair.”

  Nikki was still smiling when Ramirez’s secretary escorted her and her mother into his inner office. It was nicer than the outside of the building suggested: paneled walls, cherry bookcases and conference table, a leather couch and chairs, and a massive antique desk.

  There was the usual hand-shaking and offers of refreshment, but Victoria took command of the situation at once, not giving anyone the opportunity to exchange too many pleasantries.

  “I missed you at the party at Edith March’s,” Victoria said, sitting in the massive leather armchair that Nikki was pretty certain was the chair Ramirez normally sat in. That left Nikki with one end of the oxblood leather couch and him with the other.

  He was an attractive enough man, despite the beady eyes: fifty years old maybe, Hispanic, fit, with a well-defined jaw. His short-cropped hair was nicely styled, as was his goatee. A diamond band glittered on his left ring finger. Married.

  “Um, yes, I was sorry I couldn’t make it. Scheduling conflict.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket before he sat.

  Nikki didn’t know a lot about men’s fashion, but she could tell by the fabric that he’d laid out several thousand dollars for the boring blue suit.

  “My niece’s engagement party,” he went on when Victoria made no comment. “I’d hoped to make Edith’s party afterward, but . . .” He opened his arms and chuckled.

  Victoria smiled. “But?” she asked sweetly.

  “But . . . I wasn’t able to make it in time.”


  Victoria nodded. “Where did your niece have her engagement party?”

  “Um . . . at Osteria Mozza. On Melrose.”

  “I know it well. What a lovely choice. It’s one of my favorite places to dine. Not that I go out all that often anymore, but when we do go there to eat, I like the veal breast stracotto.”

  He spun his diamond ring, looking a little uncomfortable. Victoria had a way of doing that to people. “So . . . I understand you’re considering a new agent?”

  “This meeting is just to see how we get along,” Victoria explained. “We’ve met, but never really talked. You don’t mind just talking today,”—the eyebrows—“do you, Mr. Ramirez?”

  “Please, call me Alex.”

  “I certainly will, Alex.”

  Taking note that Victoria did not offer to have Ramirez call her by her first name, Nikki had to stifle a chuckle. She looked away, her gaze drifting over to his desk. There was a family photo of Ramirez with a boy and a girl and a woman, who was obviously his wife. She noted with interest that the woman looked to be only in her thirties, and was in a wheelchair.

  “I have to tell you how sad I was to learn of Rex March’s death,” Victoria was saying. “How tragic to lose the same client twice.”

  “Yes, tragic. I was very fond of Rex.”

  “Well, that club was small.”

  Nikki glanced at her mother reprovingly, fighting the urge to shake her head. “I . . . I’m sure you were as shocked as we were, to hear that he had been murdered,” Nikki said awkwardly, thinking she needed to take control of this interview before it went too far awry. “Who could have imagined Rex would fake his death, putting Edith through that pain?”

  Ramirez was spinning the diamond ring a little faster, his beady eyes darting now.

  “Well, obviously he didn’t know he was going to be murdered, did he?” Victoria pointed out.

  “I can’t imagine the legal ramifications. I suppose it will take you months to sort out the details.” Nikki tried to meet his gaze, but he wouldn’t look her way.

  “I can’t really discuss Rex March, ladies. There’s an ongoing investigation into his death right now. Which I’m sure you’re aware of.” He finally glanced at Nikki with something akin to intimidation.