by Judy Clemens
“Sitting right there. Not trying to hide.”
“Miranda.” Daniella stepped between us. “Thank you so much for spending a day here at Serenity. It means so much to have customers who appreciate what we do here.”
Miranda’s nostrils flared as she visibly changed her attitude from being pissed at me to being awed by Daniella. Her mouth worked, and she finally smiled. “It was our pleasure. Thank you for fitting us in so quickly. I’m sure we’ll be back before—” she choked “—Stella’s big day.”
“Wonderful. Now, before you go, I was wondering if you had a few more minutes for a surprise.”
“I am not going back in there,” I said.
“I wouldn’t ask you to. I’m taking you somewhere else.”
Miranda’s eyes lit up. “Bridal shop?”
Oh, Lord, help me. I’d gone to one with Lucy the summer before, for her wedding, and it about did me in.
“No.” Daniella smothered a laugh. “Someplace better.”
“What could be better than a bridal shop?”
The morgue? Hell? The Price is Right?
Daniella smiled. “You’re getting a tour of Sunburst Studios.”
Chapter Forty-one
“I can’t go there,” I said. “Gregg will sic the guards on me. I’ll be lucky to get out of there alive.”
“See?” Miranda said. “If you’d let them give you a makeover, he’d never recognize you. Now you just look like…you.”
“I’ll flash my nails. They’re all buffed out. They’ll never know it’s me.”
Daniella laughed. “No reason to worry. I know all about how David feels about you.”
“You do?”
“Sure. He told me. As did his wife. And one of the daughters. I think maybe Annie. Anyway, he won’t be there today. He’s busy getting photos taken at the fair.”
“Of his sick dairy cows?”
“No, of his prize calf. And his family. And him, doing down-home events. Now that the showing part is over, he’s concentrating on the marketing aspect.”
“At a county fair?” Miranda sounded disgusted. “Who cares about that?”
“Half of his customers,” Daniella said. “His country music line is growing day by day.” Her face darkened. “At least, it was. Losing Rikki will set him back.”
I guess that took him out of the running for who would be glad to see her dead. Except it seemed he had Valerie Springfield ready to step in where Rikki left off. At least, she was young and pretty. Even if she was more mainstream than country.
“Come on,” Daniella said. “It’ll be fun. Maybe you’ll see somebody famous.”
Miranda clapped. I was beginning to think that was her involuntary response to everything giddy.
Daniella walked us around the square to another shiny building, where we had to show our IDs and walk through a metal detector just to get past the front desk. Nice. We took the elevator up to the ninth floor, and the door opened into a plush lobby. A young, gorgeous woman in a revealing black “dress” sat behind a huge wrap-around desk. As soon as she saw Daniella, she gave a huge smile. “Ms. Troth!”
“Hello, Chrissy. Okay if I give my friends a little tour?”
“Sure! If they could just sign here…”
After Miranda and I signed our lives away saying we wouldn’t disclose anything we saw or heard there that day, I guess so no one could copy it, she gave us VISITOR badges. I pointed out a small shrine in the corner, dedicated to Rikki Raines. A poster-sized photo of Rikki in concert was perched on the top of a pyramid kind of thing. The stair-steps down from the top held more photos—Rikki with other singers, onstage, on the covers of magazines—and her first and only CD, surrounded by a garden’s-worth of flowers, taking up a good portion of the lobby. Cards stuck in the arrangements were signed by all sorts of people and companies. Other singers and record labels, actors, television and radio personalities, towns in other areas of Pennsylvania. According to all of them, Rikki had been loved, and would be missed.
A lump formed in my throat. “Can we go now?”
“Sure. This way.” Daniella led us down the hallway, where we passed several closed office doors, then entered a large area with couches, a small kitchenette, and bathrooms.
“The green room,” Daniella said, “where artists get ready to perform. All sorts of people come through here. There are several studios, some big enough for an orchestra, some smaller, for bands and soloists.”
We passed through the green room and came to a large space full of equipment so complex it might as well have been a spaceship. Buttons and tables and slides and microphones, all on the other side of glass, which looked into what I figured was where the artists would go to perform. No one was in there at the moment, so we weren’t interrupting anything.
“This one is used for larger groups, which you can tell,” Daniella said. “Let’s go upstairs and you can see a smaller one.”
We walked up stairs, decorated with framed photos of musicians who I assumed must have recorded there, but soon realized that wasn’t possible, since Sunburst hadn’t been around when some of them had been alive, or still recording. I soon figured out it was just a showcase of artists with a Philadelphia connection: Boyz II Men, Frankie Avalon, Will Smith, Hall & Oates, The Beastie Boys, Patti LaBelle, DJ Jazzy Jeff, Jim Croce, Marian Anderson. I wasn’t familiar with all of them, but their names had been conveniently signed on the photos.
“Here we are.” Daniella opened the door, and we filed into a smaller, loft-type space. Again, a comfortable room with a refrigerator, but this time the doors on the other end were closed, and a light above them indicated that they were recording.
“Ooh, can we see?” Miranda said, heading over.
I choked. “Miranda!”
“It’s okay,” Daniella said. “As long as she doesn’t start banging on the door, we’re okay. This place is soundproofed.”
Miranda didn’t do any pounding, but she shielded her eyes and peered in the window. She gestured me over, eyes wide. “You’ll never guess who’s in there.”
I joined her, putting my hands around my eyes. I had to look past people in the first room, the one with all the machines, and focus on the room beyond, where Valerie Springfield sang into a microphone.
I stepped back. “Doesn’t she record with another label? What’s she doing here?” Although I was getting a creepy feeling that I knew, after that weird performance at the pageant.
Daniella also took a look. “I haven’t seen her here before. Maybe that’s new. Or maybe she just never came to the salon. She is fresh on the scene.” She looked troubled. “But we usually get them first thing, for studio shots and appearances. Although I don’t think she came to us before the Lovely Miss pageant on Tuesday, not like Rikki did.” From what I could see on Daniella’s face, she wasn’t all too pleased to find Valerie in the building.
“I wish we could hear it,” Miranda said, still watching, her face pressed up against the glass.
Daniella strode over to what I thought were light switches, and pushed a button. Music came over some speakers, and we heard Valerie’s voice.
Miranda clapped. Again. “It’s happening right now!”
Daniella rejoined me in the non-fan section, looking thoughtful.
“Any way to find out when this recording session got scheduled?” I asked.
“Sure.” She picked up a house phone, tucked away in the corner, and pushed a couple buttons. “Chrissy, you know Valerie Springfield, who’s recording up here in the Penthouse Studio?” She held the phone away from her ear, while Chrissy’s voice came over loud and clear and…loud. When it went quiet, Daniella replaced the phone. “When did she get scheduled for this session? I see. How did that happen? Okay. Thank you.”
She hung up. “Took a cancellation today. She hadn’t been on the books before that.”
A gift for helping Taylor win? If so, I don’t think Daniella knew anything about it. But how could I be certain?
“Daniell
a…what were you arguing with Gregg about that day Nick and I saw you?”
“What?”
“Out by the campers. You guys were fighting, and he grabbed you. You, um, kneed him in the boys.”
Her face went red. “You saw that?”
“Sorry. Nick and I were just walking through. We didn’t even know who you were then. But we were impressed.”
Her mouth pinched, and she dropped onto one of the couches. I followed, sitting catty-cornered on an easy chair. She leaned forward, clasping her hands between her knees, and spoke without looking up. “He’s a cheater. In every way you can imagine. The cows, of course. With women. Money, I’m sure. Even…”
“The Lovely Miss pageant.”
She looked up. “You know?”
“I figured it out.”
“And you still talk to me?”
“Yes, because I also figured out that you wanted nothing to do with cheating. Isn’t that what you and Gregg were arguing about the other day? You telling him that he was insane if he thought you’d go along with it? If the two of you aren’t involved in any other kind of relationship—” I raised my eyebrows, and again she waved off the idea “—you wouldn’t have anything to fight about over that, and unless you’re bringing your salon business to the fair, it had to be something else. But I saw him at the pageant, after someone got Valerie in there to take Rikki’s place, and I read a text he sent Valerie, telling her to ‘do her job.’ So for some reason he wanted Taylor to win. What I can’t figure out is why. And what would make it so important to him that he would have Rikki taken out so he could replace her with someone else who would help your daughter get the crown. But that just seemed ridiculous to me. So then I started thinking about that marketing thing you’d mentioned that Rikki wouldn’t do, and how she’d rebuffed all his advances, so I thought maybe Gregg was tired of her saying no to stuff, so he got rid of her. But then I hear that Valerie’s not a true country singer like Rikki was, but more mainstream, so she can’t really replace Rikki in the recording industry. She’s a different brand.”
I leaned my head back on the chair’s high back. “If it wasn’t Gregg who killed Rikki, I’m at a loss. What if it really was about the Lovely Miss thing? And who would possibly kill someone over a beauty pageant?”
Daniella laughed, but it wasn’t a happy, that-was-funny laugh. “You’d be surprised.”
Unfortunately, I probably wouldn’t. “But you have to know why.”
She blinked. “Why Rikki was killed? You think I know? She had only just told me that day what he wanted her to do at the pageant, and I couldn’t believe he’d stoop so low. Well, actually, I could, but I couldn’t let it go when it involved my daughter. But I knew Rikki wanted no part of cheating, so I trusted her to do the right thing. I had no reason to make sure she wasn’t a judge. David called me after her concert to try to convince me again, saying if I would do it, he knew I could convince Rikki, too.”
I remembered her getting that call, and the look of annoyance on her face. Nick and I had guessed right about who was calling.
“No, I didn’t mean you knew about Rikki and the pageant,” I said, “although I’m starting to think it had something to do with her death.” A door clicked behind us, but I wanted to know the answer to this question, so I kept on. “What I meant was, you have to know why Gregg wanted Taylor to win the pageant.”
“He didn’t.” Valerie Springfield stood at my shoulder. “He paid me to make sure Summer Moss took home the crown.”
Chapter Forty-two
“Summer?” My jaw about hit the floor, for two reasons—one, because who would want that chemical repository to win? and two, because Valerie Springfield was entering our conversation like she’d been a part of it from the start. And like she knew us. When I recovered, I asked, “But why would he want her to win?”
“Don’t know.” Valerie shrugged, and dropped into one of the other seats. She took a slug from a water bottle and slung her leg over the arm of her chair. “All he told me is to make sure that monstrosity won, and I could do a record with Sunburst. I tried telling him there wasn’t a chance in hell that she could come out on top, but he seemed to think I could work magic. I told him, no matter how well she did at the interview and talent, which she was crappy at both, there was no overlooking her distorted body. Now listen, I like to look good, and I’m not afraid to have a little work done to get there, but everything she did, huh-uh. Can you imagine her representing an organization that’s supposed to be about health and beauty and ‘youthful freshness?’ Ugh.” She took another drink.
Miranda sat down next to Daniella, and Valerie frowned, looking back and forth between us. “Don’t I know you two from somewhere?”
Miranda’s eyes widened, but I didn’t think the singer would be mad, not after how she’d just spoken to us so frankly. “At the pageant,” I said. “My fiancé had you go talk to Miranda, saying she was a big fan, but too shy to talk to you.”
Valerie was still frowning. “You’re not?”
“Well, sure I am,” Miranda gushed. “Not shy, I mean. A fan. But only after hearing you sing right now. You’re amazing. But I’d never heard of you before the pageant. Sorry.”
“But you’d heard of Rikki.”
“Well, yeah. It’s kind of hard not to, since she’s from around here.”
“I guess. But why did you say you wanted to meet me?”
I jumped right in. “My fault. I needed to see your phone, to check out what Gregg had texted to you, so I needed to get you away from the judges’ table.”
“You looked at my phone?”
“I suspected he was blackmailing you or something, and I thought the text would be about the pageant, since he’d gotten you placed there.”
There was a war on her face of whether to be mad at me or not. Finally, good won out, and she took another sip. “Whatever. There’s nothing on there I’m ashamed of. Not like I would’ve been ashamed—no, more like totally embarrassed—if that hideous girl had won.”
Hideous. My word for Summer. I was liking this Valerie, after all.
Valerie smiled at Daniella. “Taylor did so well. With her being the top fave and Summer being, well, herself, I knew there was no chance, even if I put all perfect scores, that the Disgusting Girl would win. So I tried not to sweat it.”
“That’s why you were happy when Taylor did well,” I said.
“How do you know?”
“You were smiling.”
“Oh.” And then she smiled again. “Guess I couldn’t hide it.”
“So you’re not in trouble with Gregg?” Miranda asked. “I mean, you didn’t get his candidate to win.”
“I did my best. Sent him a screen shot of my scorecard, which wasn’t perfect, because that would’ve completely raised flags, but was better than she deserved. And I tried to talk her up to the other judges. They thought I was a crazy person. So even though Gregg’s a creep, he had to stick with our agreement, which my agent knew all about.”
“Your agent went along with all that?”
Valerie was young, but it was obvious in her eyes that she was already jaded. “You keep within the lines all the time, you never get anywhere in this business. Ask Rikki.”
“But she was going somewhere, even with her principles. At least it seemed like it.”
“Yeah, but look where she is now.”
Awkward, sad pause.
“I didn’t mean that like, snarky,” Valerie said. “Rikki was my friend. She was helping me, introducing me to people.”
“But what about that war over the zombie guy? It was in all the magazines.”
“Nicholas?” Valerie snorted. “What a joke.”
“You weren’t both after him?”
“Hardly. I mean the guy’s eye candy, for sure, but oh, my God. No brain at all. It was no wonder he was in a zombie show. Completely typecast.”
“Then why the publicity about you and Rikki fighting over him?”
“We were all at th
e same party. He got his picture taken with me and then with Rikki. Turns out, Gregg thought it would be good publicity to get it in the papers. So he leaked the photo of Rikki and Nic first, then mine a while later. Made it look like it was a love triangle. No way. The guy’s an epic dork.”
Interesting. No wonder Rikki wanted to keep her relationship with Austin out of the public eye. Who knew what Gregg would do with that. Probably crucify Austin for being a down-home country boy. Or else use him to foster country fans. Either way, I couldn’t imagine Rikki wanting the poor guy thrust into the spotlight.
