by Lee Hollis
Detective Jordan stopped in his tracks, took a moment, then turned around and looked back at Poppy. “Probably not. This is police business. And you’re not a police detective. You’re a private detective. There is a big difference. Have a nice day, Mrs. Harmon.”
He walked away. Poppy bristled at his rudeness. But he was right. And she honestly didn’t expect him to keep in constant contact about his progress. Still, it had been worth a shot. But if she really wanted to be kept in the loop about what she was convinced was the murder of Alden Kenny, she was going to have to investigate the facts herself.
Chapter 15
Poppy was impressed with Lara Harper’s vocal talent as she watched her perform in a YouTube video on Wyatt’s desktop computer at the Desert Flowers garage office. Poppy, along with Iris, Violet, and Matt, was huddled around Wyatt, who stared at the pretty singer with a wide-eyed crush.
“She’s very good,” Poppy remarked.
Iris crinkled her nose. “I could do better. I wish YouTube was around when I was singing torch songs in nightclubs all over Germany back in the day.”
“What I would give to see that,” Matt cracked.
“I had men falling at my feet,” Iris boasted. “I received so many roses I could have opened my own flower shop.”
On the computer screen, Lara finished her rousing rendition of Kelly Clarkson’s “Miss Independent,” with one off note at the end, to thunderous applause from the audience.
“This was from last year when she was a contestant on the new American Idol,” Wyatt gushed, as he stared at her on the screen with his puppy dog eyes while she was being interviewed by the host Ryan Seacrest and then paraded before the judges. Two of whom were kind, but one critiqued the “pitchy” parts of her performance, especially that unfortunate garbled note at the end.
“I agree with the last judge, the sexy one in the cowboy hat,” Iris said, nodding. “Her last high note sounded like a cat whose tail was stepped on.”
“It cost her too,” Wyatt said sadly. “She didn’t make it into the top ten. She was voted out after this episode.”
“She certainly has talent,” Violet said.
“And she’s so beautiful,” Wyatt cooed.
“Is there a reason we’re watching this besides indulging Wyatt, who is obviously Lara Harper’s number one fan?” Poppy asked.
Wyatt spun around in his chair and sighed, annoyed. “Um, yes! It’s not as if I just hang out here to waste time. I have my life. I thought you might be interested in what’s at the end of the video, if you would give me just a few more seconds of your precious time?”
Poppy knew she had to do a little cleanup. “Of course, Wyatt. I know we are very lucky to have you here working for us. I am sincerely sorry.”
Wyatt seemed to accept her apology. He whipped back around to face the computer just as a shot of Lara running backstage to greet her vocal coach appeared on screen. They hugged and the coach kissed her on top of her forehead. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”
Lara pouted. “Do you think my chances of making the top ten are shot since I missed that last note?”
The coach shook his head vigorously. “Of course not! The audience loves you! Trust me, you’ll make it. I’m always right!”
“Until he wasn’t,” Iris commented.
The video ended and Wyatt clicked out of YouTube and brought up a file on screen. “I did some research on this guy. His name is Stitch McKenzie. He was a singer on Broadway years ago, but now he’s a vocal coach in LA. Lara’s been with him for a couple of years and, according to his Web site, still is. He has a whole page on her because she’s the most famous of his students.”
Poppy leaned forward to read the file. “So he might have an idea where she is and how we can find her.”
“I tried calling the number on his Web site, but I got his voicemail. I left a message but he hasn’t returned my call, which I find very rude,” Violet said, grimacing.
“Perhaps this calls for a road trip to LA,” Poppy said.
“Oh, can we have lunch at the Ivy?” Violet asked, clasping her hands together. “I’ve always wanted to dine there among the movie stars.”
“If we have time,” Poppy promised. “I’ll drive.”
“Do we all have to go?” Matt asked.
His question surprised Poppy. “No, of course not, Matt. You don’t have to join us if you don’t want to.”
“It’s just that I drove there a few days ago for an audition and I’m not exactly looking forward to another four hours there and back in the car, and that’s if you don’t hit traffic,” Matt said. “I thought I’d take the tram up the mountain and do a little hiking today.”
Iris put her hands on her hips, aghast. “If you want everybody to think that the name Flowers on the door is you, and that you’re actually the one running things around here, you should be more committed—”
Poppy interrupted her. “Iris, the three of us can handle questioning the vocal coach. Let Matt take a break.”
“Thank you, Poppy,” he said quietly before heading out the door.
Poppy watched him go, concerned. There was something off about Matt. He seemed unusually preoccupied. She turned to Iris and Violet. “I’ll be right back.”
Poppy followed Matt outside, where she caught him just as he was climbing into his car, which was parked in front of Iris’s house. “Matt, wait. . . .”
He stopped and got back out of the car as Poppy approached. “Yes?”
“Is everything all right with you? You’re usually so upbeat and positive and, well, I don’t know, today you seem strangely distant.”
He placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “Nothing to worry about. I just have a lot on my mind lately.”
This worried Poppy. Matt never appeared to have much on his mind at all. Most of the time he was enthusiastic and carefree. “Do you mind if I ask what?”
He hesitated, but then he smiled and shrugged. “Knowing you, you’ll probably figure it out anyway eventually. I’ve been going up the mountain and hiking the trails a lot more lately because it clears my head and allows me to think about things.”
Poppy suddenly knew. “Heather?”
Matt nodded. “See, I knew you’d figure it out. To be honest, Poppy, I’m a little scared.”
“About what?”
“Whether she’s changed. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been to visit her, once a month at least, and I’m totally committed to continuing our relationship once she’s paroled, and it’s not like I’ve met someone else or even want to meet someone else, that’s not the issue—”
“Matt, as her mother, I can tell you, she has changed. Anyone who spends time in prison is never going to be the same.”
“We hadn’t been together all that long before she . . . left . . . and I worry about how it’s going to work once she gets out.”
“No one will blame you if you decide . . .”
“She’s been through so much, Poppy,” Matt whispered.
Poppy hugged him, patting him gently on the back. “You have to be true to your own feelings, Matt, and if you no longer love her, then you have to end it. The worst thing you could do would be to drag it out and give her false hope.”
Matt squeezed her tighter, almost as if he didn’t want to let go, but finally Poppy pulled away and looked into his eyes, which showed just how tortured he was by having to make this decision.
“I appreciate how kind you’ve been to me, Poppy. I really do.... I don’t have a particularly close relationship with my own mother and . . .” Matt’s voice trailed off.
“That’s enough of that,” Poppy scolded. “I don’t like being reminded I’m old enough to be your mother! Now go take a hike!”
Matt laughed at her double meaning, feeling better. He jumped back into his car and sped away.
Poppy’s lip quivered as she watched the car round the corner and disappear. She wasn’t sure she would be able to hold it together for the long drive to LA with Iris and Violet. Because inside, her hear
t was breaking for Heather. She knew she had to advise Matt to follow his feelings, but it had been tough. Heather was her daughter and she didn’t want to see her hurt, especially after what she was already going through. Poppy’s instinct was to protect her baby girl at all costs, but she knew that was an impossible mission. And there was nothing worse for a mother than to know there was only so much she could do.
Chapter 16
Stitch McKenzie opened the door to his multilevel Beachwood Canyon home, which was nestled into a ravine just southeast of the world-famous Hollywood sign in Los Angeles. He greeted Poppy, Iris, and Violet with a warm, friendly smile. He was tall with a dancer’s body and had to be upward of sixty years old although he looked at least ten years younger. He had kept himself in remarkable shape and showed off his sculpted physique by wearing a skintight purple T-shirt and skinny jeans. Poppy had worried that he might be difficult to meet after Violet’s failed attempts to contact him by phone, but once Poppy wrote him an e-mail and identified herself as Poppy Harmon, the same Poppy Harmon who had costarred with Rod Harper on Jack Colt, PI, the former Broadway hoofer and current vocal coach could not have been friendlier or more anxious to meet one of his favorite 1980s TV actresses.
“Poppy Harmon, as I live and breathe,” Stitch squealed as he enveloped her in a hug. “And still such a classic beauty! My God, girl, what’s your secret?”
“You’re too kind,” Poppy demurred.
Iris cracked, “A face full of Vaseline every night before bed certainly helps.”
As excited as Stitch was to meet Poppy, he nearly fainted when he turned to introduce himself to Iris. “No! It can’t be! Is that really you?”
“Do you know Iris?” Violet asked, probably feeling like she was an inconsequential third person in the foyer.
“Know her? I stalked Iris Becker all over Europe when she was playing the clubs back in the day!” Stitch cooed, on the verge of bowing in front of royalty.
“See, I told you I was popular as a singer! I did not need a network television show to be famous!” Iris boasted proudly.
“I was in a touring company of Cats and while we were doing the show in Munich, much of the cast ended up in a club late one night. It was there when I first heard this beautiful siren sing! I was totally hooked! After the tour ended, I spent another couple of months just bumming around Europe and I caught Iris’s act again in Vienna and then Paris. We even went out drinking together one night after one of her shows!”
Iris studied his face carefully. “I do not remember you.” “Why would you? I was just one of a whole entourage of people who worshipped you! I am so fanboying out right now.”
“If anyone cares, I’m Violet Hogan, another person in the room. Apparently forty years as a high school principal isn’t as glamorous as being a TV star or European torch singer.”
Stitch nodded, thoroughly uninterested, but managed a quick “Hello” in Violet’s direction before returning his attention to Iris. “I promise I won’t ask you to sing ‘99 Red Balloons.’ I remember you opened the show with that song.”
Iris thoroughly enjoyed basking in the glory of her yesteryears, and obviously wanted to hear more, but Poppy felt it was time to finally get to the point. “When I sent you that initial e-mail, Stitch, I mentioned I wanted to talk to you about Lara Harper.”
The mention of Lara’s name quickly soured Stitch’s mood and he grumbled, “Yes. If you had not been the star of Jack Colt with those perfect legs, I would have absolutely refused. I’d rather forget all about Lara Harper.”
“So your professional relationship ended badly?” Poppy asked.
“You could say that. Is it true the studio insured your legs for a million dollars back in nineteen eighty-six? I think I read that in People magazine.”
“That’s not true,” Poppy said. “I believe some Fox executive started that rumor as a publicity stunt. I just had a good old Screen Actors Guild health insurance policy.”
Stitch turned back to Iris. “Did you really date Wolfgang Petersen?”
“Who?” Violet asked.
“He was a German film director! He did that movie about the U-boat!” Stitch bellowed.
“Das Boot,” Iris added before shaking her head. “I did not date him. But I did barhop with Werner Fassbinder in the late nineteen seventies, but there was nothing romantic between us because he was gay and smelled.”
“Wow, so much history,” Stitch cooed. “Where are my manners? Can I get you ladies something to drink? If I remember correctly, Iris loves a Seven and Seven.”
“It is ten-thirty in the morning, too early for a cocktail. Maybe if we are still here at noon,” Iris said.
“I will take a cup of coffee, if you have some,” Violet said.
Stitch looked at Violet, having completely forgotten she was even there. “Oh, sure. What do you take in your coffee, Daisy?”
“It’s Violet,” she huffed. “But I suppose I should at least be grateful you remembered my name was a flower. Cream and sugar, please.”
“Nothing for me, thank you,” Poppy sighed, checking her watch, frustrated she was having trouble keeping Stitch on topic. But once he returned with Violet’s coffee and led the three women to his living room, which was accented with framed Playbills of all the shows he had appeared in back in New York, and after Iris had graciously sung the first refrain from “99 Red Balloons,” Stitch finally managed to focus on the subject at hand.
“Lara fired me right after she got booted off Idol, as if that was in any way my fault!” Stitch sniffed.
“So she blamed you for getting eliminated?” Violet asked.
Stitch looked at Violet strangely, like he had forgotten again about her presence. “I’m sorry, did you say something, Daisy?”
Poppy leaned forward and helpfully asked, “What reason did she give you for parting ways?”
Stitch turned back to Poppy, once more ignoring Violet.
“She didn’t give me any reason. She just sent me a very cold text that said, ‘We’re done.’ Not even “Have a nice life.” Just ‘We’re done.’ Can you believe that? What a bitchy little ingrate! After all the hard work I put into her lousy career!”
“She does not sound like a very nice person,” Iris remarked.
“The funny thing was, when we first met she was a lovely girl. I thought of her as my own daughter. We were very close. She was a hard worker and seemed very focused on making it as a performer. But after a couple of years, she slowly started to change.”
“How so?” Poppy asked.
Stitch shrugged and leaned back, clasping his hands around his raised right knee. “I started to see a more ruthless side of her. She started trashing singers who she considered rivals on social media. Once she even talked a few of her friends into attending a club gig of a fellow Idol contestant. A girl named Tiffany. The poor dear was just doing her thing and Lara and her gang started heckling her to throw her off her game. Lara was also constantly badmouthing her own father. She called him ‘a has-been’ and ‘out of touch’ whenever he tried to counsel her. I was so angry that she dumped me as her vocal coach before I had the chance to even meet him. I harbored such a huge crush on him back when he played Jack Colt. Has he aged as beautifully as you, Poppy?”
“He’s a very attractive man,” Poppy answered. “Do you have any idea where we could find Lara? Rod’s very worried about her.”
Stitch excitedly wrapped his legs around each other into the lotus position and whispered, “Did you two ever . . . you know . . . ?”
“No, never,” Poppy said emphatically.
Violet started coughing. Poppy assumed she had swallowed the wrong way after hearing such a big and unambiguous lie coming out of Poppy’s mouth.
“Are you all right, Daisy?” Stitch asked blankly.
“Yes,” Violet managed to get out as her coughing fit subsided and she was able to finally clear her throat. “Daisy’s just fine.”
“I have no idea where Lara is nor do I care,” Stitc
h said. “Last I heard she had a new guy in her life after she got rid of that loopy yoga instructor. He actually taught me how to sit like this. I liked him, but he wasn’t exciting enough for her, I guess.”
“So you don’t know the name of her new boyfriend?” Poppy asked.
“Nope,” Stitch said. “But I will tell you, I feel sorry for him. She’s a messy handful and needs attention twenty-four /seven. Believe me, I was her caretaker for two long, painful years and I still haven’t recovered from the whole ordeal yet.”
From all she had learned so far about Rod’s tempestuous daughter, Lara, Poppy was not exactly looking forward to ultimately finding her because the young woman sounded like she could be the star in a reboot of the black-and-white classic evil daughter movie The Bad Seed.
Chapter 17
“I suspect that your initial assessment may be correct, and that Lara simply does not want to be found,” Poppy said while sitting in the lush foliage of Rod Harper’s backyard in his palatial Benedict Canyon home. After meeting with Stitch McKenzie in the Hollywood Hills, Iris and Violet had dropped Poppy off at Rod’s house so she could give him a personal update before continuing on to the Ivy on Robertson Boulevard for Violet’s long-awaited lunch among the stars.
“Does this mean Matt is dropping the case?” Rod inquired, a worried look on his face.
“Not at all. As long as you want us to keep searching, the Desert Flowers Detective Agency will be happy to stay in your employ.”
“That’s good. I know Lara can be challenging and difficult, but I do worry about her and want to know that she is okay. I’m her father, after all.”
“Then we will stay on her trail until she turns up.”
“Excellent. Now that we have business taken care of, can I convince you to stay in LA and have dinner with me tonight?”
Poppy smiled, slightly uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I can’t. I came here with Iris and Violet, and once they’re done having lunch at the Ivy, we’re going to drive straight back to Palm Springs.”
“Traffic will be a mess at this time of day,” Rod said emphatically. “I have plenty of room for you all to stay here for the night.”
