“Surprise baby shower,” I explained. “So not my idea.”
He walked over to the pile of baby gifts leaning precariously against the sofa. “We get anything good?”
“A Boppy, a Bumpo, and a Tommee Tippee gift basket.” I paused. “I don’t know what any of those things are.”
Ramirez grinned. “I like your new look,” he said gesturing to my torso.
I glanced down and realized Baby-So-Lifelike was still attached to me. Oddly enough, I had kind of forgotten about her. Maybe the carrier wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
“Mom said I need practice.”
He nodded. “Good idea. I remember the ficus.”
I rolled my eyes. “Geeze, it was one little plant.”
“Three, if I recall.”
“I’m practicing, okay,” I said, gesturing to the doll strapped to my mid-section. I paused. “So, you gonna start with the yelling now?” I asked.
Ramirez let out a long sigh, then sank into the sofa. “I probably should. It’s getting late, and we have a lot of ground to cover.”
“Very funny,” I countered, sinking into the sofa beside him. Though, the fact he was teasing me was a good sign. “You know it’s not my fault, right? I mean, we just found her like that.”
Ramirez shot me a look. “Uh huh. And what were you doing there in the first place?”
“Nothing,” I said, though I noticed my voice rose about an octave. “We just wanted to talk to Becca, that’s all.”
“Instead you found her dead body.”
“Sorta?”
“And,” he added, “your prints were found all over her apartment. You want to explain that?”
I bit my lip. “Not really.”
“Maddie…”
“Okay, I was at her place the other day. The door was unlocked, so we kind of stepped inside. And maybe looked around a little. But Becca wasn’t there, I swear it.”
He ran a hand over his face. “You know, between the death threat you gave Alexa and the fingerprints at Becca’s, it’s becoming a full time job convincing my captain that my wife isn’t involved in these murders.”
I bit my lip again. “Sorry?”
He shot me the look again.
“Really, really sorry?” I amended.
He let out another deep sigh. “Just stay away from my crime scene from now on, capiche, Springer?”
I nodded. “Capiche. So, we’re cool?” I asked.
He gave me a tired smile. “We’re fine, Maddie.”
Fine. Not exactly the most passionate term to describe a relationship. But I figured at the moment fine was the best I could hope for.
“I’ve got some reports to go over tonight,” he told me, getting up from the sofa. “Any party leftovers?” he asked hopefully.
“There’s the stork beak still left on the cake.”
He grinned. “Perfect,” he said, then ducked into the kitchen with his briefcase full of papers.
Though, for once, I didn’t mind being neglected in favor of paperwork. Because if those reports were what I thought they were, I fully intended to do a little paperwork of my own the second he left them unattended.
* * *
“Flunitrazepam,” I told Dana and Marco the next day in the reception area of Fernando’s salon.
“Fluniwhatnow?” Marco asked.
“Ruffies,” Dana supplied. “Date rape drug.”
I nodded. “That’s what was in Becca’s system. A whole lot of it, according to the M.E.’s report that I read last night. Enough to put down an elephant, let alone a hundred pound woman.”
“So, whoever killed Becca drugged her to death?” Marco asked.
“And also drugged Alexa,” I added, triumphantly. “After Ramirez fell asleep I snuck a peek at her report, too. We were right. She was drugged first, then drained of blood.”
“Which explains why she didn’t struggle,” Dana added.
“And, also why there was no blood at the scene. Flunitrazepam inhibits blood pressure, so it would have been easy to puncture her neck, lean her over the toilet, then let her blood drain and flush it away.”
“Assuming he didn’t drink it,” Marco put in.
Dana and I did the simultaneous eye roll thing again. We were getting pretty good at it. Almost completely synchronized this time.
“Okay, so the killer drugs Alexa, kills her, then the night of the party he follows Becca and drugs her, too?” Dana asked.
I shook my head. “No. That’s the genius part. I did a little googling and found out that the drug doesn’t kick in until a full thirty minutes after the victim ingests it, and it doesn’t take full effect until two hours afterward.”
“So whoever killed her must have spiked her drink at the party,” Marco said.
I pointed at him. “Bingo. All he had to do was make sure she drank the stuff, then he’d likely be nowhere near the body at the time she actually died.”
“So it was Sebastian!” Marco said. “I knew it.”
“Goldstein was at the party, too,” Dana pointed out.
“Yeah, but what are the chances he’d drug her, providing himself with a great alibi, then actually drive her somewhere and wait to watch her die? It defeats the purpose of using the time-released drug.”
I nodded. “Good point. Okay, so let’s assume that it was Sebastian. Let’s say the girls were blackmailing him over something that happened at the parties, and he kills Alexa at the club, making it look like one of her vampire-wanna-be lovers did her in.”
“Then when Becca comes nosing around for pay-off money to keep quiet about the murder, he spikes her drink,” Marco continued, “knowing that by the end of the night, she’ll be dead, too.”
“Perfect!” Dana agreed. “Now all we have to do is prove it.”
“What we need is to find the murder weapon,” I decided.
“Uh, Mads? The guy’s fangs are in his mouth,” Marco pointed out.
I shot him a look. “I meant the drug. He clearly kept it around after he killed Alexa. Maybe he’s still got some squirreled away somewhere now.”
“And, if so,” Dana said, “it’s probably at his place right now.”
“Which means we need to find it, quickly, before he gets rid of the evidence.”
“So we break into his place?” Dana asked.
I shook my head. “We don’t need to. I called the girls’ agent, Bowman, and he said that Sebastian is having another party tonight.”
“Perfect!” Dana said.
Marco did a deep sigh. “Fine. But we need to swing by my place after work so I can change into my turtleneck.”
Chapter Nineteen
We left Marco to finish his shift at Fernando’s, promising we’d pick him and his turtleneck up later that evening. Then Dana went back to the Sunset Studios lot to score us more vampire attire and three pairs of fangs, and I went home to a) pee and b) eat. Only the second I walked in the door I was ambushed by my mother and Mrs. Rosenblatt.
“Why is my grandchild home alone again?” Mom asked, pouncing on me as she cradled Baby-So-Lifelike in her arms.
I looked down at my Santana bag. Crap. I’d forgotten to take the doll out of the carrier last night.
“Sorry. I forgot,” I mumbled, pushing past her toward the hall bathroom.
“Forgot?” her voice followed me. “You can’t just forget a baby, Maddie!”
I shut the door, giving my eyes a good three-sixty the second I was out of her sight. “I forgot the doll. I won’t forget a real baby.”
“You are failing at practice, young lady!” she shouted.
I ignored her, instead moving to do my business. But as I looked down at the toilet seat, I realized that wasn’t going to be possible. There was a bulky plastic arm wedged between the tank and the lid, holding it firmly shut. I tried lifting it, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Mom?” I called, reopening the bathroom door. “Did you do something to my toilet?”
She appeared in the doorway a moment later
. “Yes. I locked it.”
“Is this some sort of punishment?” I asked, crossing my legs.
“Oh for goodness sakes, Maddie,” Mom chided. “It’s for the baby. You can’t have him playing in the toilet water. And you and Ramirez didn’t have anything baby proofed yet. Mrs. Rosenblatt and I thought we’d come over and help.”
“You know what would help?” I asked. “If you’d unlock my toilet.”
She gave me a look, but thankfully did, pushing some button, pulling some lever, and twisting some piece of plastic until the lid popped open.
I quickly shooed her out of the room and did my thing, emerging a new woman a few minutes later.
Where I saw Mom and Mrs. R fiddling with another suspicious looking piece of plastic on the refrigerator door.
Oh no.
“Uh, what else have you two baby proofed around here?” I asked, my eyes whipping around the living area.
“Just the basics,” Mom assured me. Then proceeded to tick off items on her fingers. “Locks on the bathroom cabinets, safety rubber on the bathtub faucet, door stoppers and handle locks on all the doors, an oven shield, bumpers on the fireplace and all of the table corners, outlet covers, power strip covers, a baby gate for the kitchen doorway, and a refrigerator lock.”
I blinked at her. Then blinked at my living room. It was covered in soft foam and white plastic contraptions. “Do we really need all of this?”
“That depends,” My mom said, putting both hands on her hips. “Do you want your child to be safe?”
“Fine, okay,” I conceded. “I’ll find a way to rock the padded cell look. Though I do have one teeny tiny favor to ask?”
“Yes?”
“Any chance I could get a sandwich from the refrigerator before you lock it up?”
* * *
I spent the rest of the afternoon nibbling, napping, and putting the finishing touches on the white woven wedge for my spring collection – generally trying to take my mind off our evening of snooping around a killer’s house. Which didn’t work all that well, as by the time Dana arrived on my doorstep that evening I was a bundle of nerves anyway. (But I was proud to say the wedges were looking hot!)
Dana had managed to commandeer another pair of gothic style outfits from the set, and she quickly helped me into mine. It was a deep burgundy jacket in crushed velvet with black lace peeking out from the collar and sleeves, paired with a long black skirt. It came with a “loose” blouse, but after popping one of the buttons, it was clear I wasn’t going to be able to fit in it. Instead, I grabbed a black, long sleeve work-out T from my closet, dressing it up with an oversized crucifix my Irish Catholic grandmother had given me when I’d started dating Ramirez.
Dana had gone the slinky route again, wearing a short, black, satin dress that dipped low in the front, showing off an Elvira-worthy amount of cleavage. It was the perfect disguise; I could guarantee no man would be able to remember her face. She’d paired it with a long, black cape, high platform shoes, and a long, dark wig that perfectly matched mine.
We both capped off the outfits with a pair of fake fangs, attached with some Fixodent she’d picked up at the drug store.
We were just putting the finishing touches on our smoky eyes and ruby-red lips when my doorbell rang. I opened it to find Marco standing on the other side.
He’d done his own version of gothic chic with a pair of black leather pants, a fitted turtleneck shirt and black boots. He’d gone double thick with the eyeliner tonight, and over his shoulder he’d slung a big leather bag.
“Let’s do this,” he said by way of greeting, stepping into the room.
I sniffed the air as he walked past me. “Did you have garlic for dinner?” I asked.
“No. I rubbed raw cloves all over my body,” he informed me. “Just in case.”
I rolled my eyes. “They’re not real,” I told him for the millionth time.
“Says you.”
“Dana?” I called for backup.
“Hey, it never hurts to be prepared,” Marco argued. “In fact, I’ve got a whole satchel of vampire hunting items here,” he said, digging into his bag.
I had to admit, morbid curiosity won me over. “Like what?” I asked, leaning forward.
“Rosary beads, of course. And a bible,” he said, pulling out a pocket sized version. “And then just the essentials for killing vampires,” he said, more items coming out of his bag.
I looked down at a dozen wooden kabob skewers, a bottle of Evian, and a can of tanning spray. I looked up at Marco and gave him the raised eyebrow. “And these are deadly how?”
Marco rolled his eyes at me. (Yeah, seriously. The guy in leather pants that smelled like an Italian restaurant thought I was crazy.) “Uh, hello? Wooden stake to the heart, holy water, and sunlight. The trinity of vampire hunting.”
I picked up the bottled water. “Evian?”
Marco shrugged. “Gunnar said a Nordic prayer over it. It was the best I could do on short notice.”
“And tanning spray?”
“What? It says ‘sunshine in a can’ on the label.”
“Okay, are we ready?” Dana asked, emerging from the bathroom, eyes super smoky.
“Almost,” Marco said. “I was nervous, so I drank the other bottle of Evian on the way over. Can I use the little boys’ room?”
I pointed down the hallway. “Be my guest.”
“Gracias,” he called after himself as he skipped toward it.
“What is all this stuff?” Dana asked looking down at Marco’s slayer kit.
“You don’t want to know,” I told her, fairly confident it was true.
“Maddie?” I heard from the bathroom. “Help!”
Dana and I made our way to the door to find Marco bent over the toilet, his legs crossed. “I can’t get this lock thingie off,” he whimpered.
Oh, brother. I leaned down and looked at the plastic contraption that my mom had installed, trying to remember how she’d worked it earlier. There was a button, a lever, a little red indicator window, and a latch. I pushed the button. Nothing. I flipped the latch, and the indicator turned green, but the lid was still securely stuck. I pushed the button and flipped the latch. Nada.
“Ohmigod, I’m gonna pee my pants,” Marco whined dancing from foot to foot.
“Go use the other bathroom,” I said, gesturing to the master.
Marco bolted, running down the hallway as quickly as a man crossing his legs could.
“Maybe you need to move the lever?” Dana suggested.
I tried that, and the indicator turned red again.
“Maybe move the lever and flip the latch?” she said, doing just that. But the lid didn’t move.
“Did this thing come with instructions?” she asked.
“This one’s locked, too!” Marco screamed from the master bathroom. “I’m gonna burst!”
“Wow, your mom is really taking this baby safety things seriously. I’m impressed,” Dana said, nodding.
“Hurry, oh God, please hurry!” Marco yelled, pee-pee dancing back down the hallway. “These pants are Versace, and I’m two seconds away from tinkling on them!”
“Okay, we can do this,” I said, staring the gadget down. We were three smart, educated, intelligent people. More importantly, we were all over the age of two. We would conquer the baby proof lock.
I moved the lever, flipped the latch and pushed the button. Nothing. I pushed the button, moved the lever, then flipped the latch. Nada.
“Ohmigod. My bladder. She’s gonna burst.”
“You have a female bladder?” Dana asked, giggling.
“Shut up. Don’t make me laugh!” Marco commanded.
“Wait, I think I got it,” I said, feeling the tip of my tongue protrude from my mouth in extreme concentration. I flipped the latch, moved the lever, pushed the button and watched in awe as the little indicator window turned green and the lock fell away in my hand.
“My hero,” Marco yelled, pushing me out of the way and unzipping his
pants all in one motion.
Dana and I jumped out of the bathroom, barely getting the door closed before the sound of Niagara Falls hit our ears.
“Oh, sweet mother of all that is liquid, that is heaven,” Marco moaned from the other side of the door.
Well, as long as my baby wasn’t any smarter than Marco, I guess she’d be safe.
* * *
We managed to arrive at Sebastian’s without further incident and parked in the circular drive beside the other party-goers’ cars. Marco shoved his hand in his satchel, clutching his rosary beads as we entered through the large, wooden, front doors, the sounds of music and laughter washing over us.
The scene was much like the one Dana and I had witnessed the last time we’d crashed Sebastian's party. Men and women dressed in all manner of black attire sipped drinks, chatting in groups, while a few couples made out in the shadows. Minus the bloodsucking undertones, it was just like any other party in the Hollywood Hills that night.
Only a killer was hosting this one.
“I say we start in Sebastian’s bedroom,” I suggested, gesturing up the winding staircase. “It’s the most likely place he’d hide something personal.”
Dana nodded. “Agreed.”
Marco followed a step behind as we ascended the stairs, brushing past a couple of women in short skirts, long wigs, and gleaming oversized canines. We hit the top landing, then quickly made our way to the master suite Dana and I had found on our earlier trip. I did an over the shoulder, making sure we were alone, then gently turned the knob. Luckily, it moved easily in my hand and a second later we were inside the vampire’s private lair.
“This is so creepy,” Marco said, eyes darting around the room as if searching for signs of bats and coffins.
“It’s just some guy’s bedroom,” I told him. Though I wasn’t entirely comfortable with being there either. Even if Sebastian was just some guy, he was a guy who’d killed two women. The sooner we were out of here with the evidence, the better.
“I’m going to take the bathroom,” I informed my friends, moving to the far end of the room.
I passed through a doorway into a bathroom that was as big as my entire house. Sleek black marble covered the floors while contrasting, white, subway tiles lined the walls. The counters were a dark stone, supporting two clear, vessel sinks. It was more modern than I would have envisioned for a gothic vampire, but I supposed it suited a fake one.
Fearless in High Heels Page 13
