"I think it was already unlocked," I said, looking up at Felix for confirmation.
He frowned. His face mirrored the same apprehension slowly building in my gut. Anyone who has ever lived in L.A. knows better than to leave the front door unlocked. Especially when planning to be gone all day.
I licked my lips, shoving the pick deep into my pocket as I gingerly pushed open the door.
"Hello? Allie?" I called.
The interior was dark, the blinds letting in little of the fading sunlight outside. I ran my hand along the wall beside the door, searching for a light switch. My fingers collided with one and I quickly flipped it. The room instantly flooded with cheap, buzzing florescent lights.
My eyes roved the room, the apprehension building. The flowers on the coffee table had been knocked over, water from the vase spilling into a dark puddle on the gray shag. The happy red and yellow throw pillows were strewn across the floor, and one of her kitchen chairs had been knocked over, lying in the middle of the floor on its side.
But that wasn't the worst of it.
I sucked in a breath, grabbing Felix's arm for support.
In the middle of the kitchen floor, on the ugly, nineteen-seventies olive green linoleum, was a thick puddle of dark red liquid.
And I'd bet my Manolos it wasn't Kool Aid.
Chapter Seventeen
I heard a scream, and it took me a few seconds to realize it was coming from me. I tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like a brick was sitting on my chest.
"Is that...? Is that...? Ohmigod." The room started to spin as I tried to form a coherent sentence.
I went to lean against Felix for support, but realized he wasn't there. He'd shaken me off his arm and stepped over me, immediately rushing through each room of the tiny apartment, calling Allie's name. Great, what was I, chopped liver?
Instead, I leaned against her kitchen wall, sliding down until my butt hit the linoleum. I wrapped my arms around my knees, hugging them to my chest, watching Felix duck into the bedroom, the bathroom, check in all the closets.
"She's not here," he said, his face a ghostly shade of white.
I looked back at the puddle. "Do you think she's... dead?" I squeaked out.
Felix didn't answer, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes for once unreadable behind stony features. "Call Ramirez," he said.
Right, Ramirez. Good idea.
I shoved my hand into my bag for my cell. Only my fingers were shaking so badly, I couldn't get a good grip on it. After rifling unproductively through my possessions, I turned my pursed upside down and dumped the entire contents onto the gray shag. Lipstick, compact, credit cards, pens, a little mini calendar from the bank. And my cell. I grabbed it, my clumsy fingers dialing as I watched Felix examine the door frame, suddenly shifting into CSI mode.
Three rings into it Ramirez answered.
"Hey," he said, obviously recognizing my number.
"Youhavetocomerightaway," I slurred, rushing my words together into one sentence.
"Whoa. What happened? You okay?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. But I'm not sure Allie is."
"Allie?"
"The wedding planner's assistant."
"Jesus, don't tell me this is another one of those place card emergencies. Maddie, just pick whichever one you like. I really don't care, okay?"
I tried to swallow down the immediate hurt at the way he said he didn't care about our wedding, telling myself that wherever Allie was, her situation was a whole lot worse.
"Look, I'm at Allie's place. She's bleeding. Or someone was. In her apartment. She's in trouble. You have to come right away."
I think "bleeding" was the magic word, as his tone changed immediately. "What do you mean, bleeding?"
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, willing my thoughts to settle into an organized pattern. "Her front door was unlocked, there's a puddle of blood on her kitchen floor and she's not here. It looks like there was a struggle."
"Are you somewhere safe?" he asked, and I could hear the sound of him grabbing his keys.
I nodded at the room. "I think so."
"Don't move, I'll be right there." And he hung up.
I flipped my phone shut, holding it close to my chest. Despite the adrenalin still doing a Daytona 500 thing through my veins, I felt a little better knowing he was on his way.
"It isn't forced."
I pulled myself out of my thoughts and looked up to find Felix still examining the doorjamb.
"There's no sign anyone muscled their way in here. Whoever was in here with her, she must have let them in voluntarily."
I stood up, testing out my shaky legs (which felt like I'd just done an entire Step and Sculpt class with Dana) and joined him. I looked at the bit of wood where the door met the wall. He was right, not even a scratch in the paint.
"So, she knew whoever did this," I said. "Just like with Gigi."
Felix nodded.
He stepped outside, eyes on the ground as he surveyed Allie's porch.
I followed him like a shadow. There was no way I was staying in that apartment alone for even a second. "What are you doing?"
"Looking for signs of a struggle as they left."
I looked to the right. Rows of sickly looking grasses, which might have once been considered decorative, now jutted up from the landscape in rows of untamed tufts. To the left of the pathway a few worse-for-the-wear succulents hovered close to the ground. One near Allie's door had been trampled flat, oozing a green goo. The grasses to the left of the door had a pronounced tilt to one side.
"If she struggled, it means she was alive when she left," I said, hanging on to that little bit of hope.
"Maybe." Felix looked down the drive as if the empty street would somehow tell him where she'd gone. "Or someone struggled hauling her body away."
I winced. As much as I had my doubts about Allie, I didn't want to see the perky blonde six feet under.
Besides, the fact that someone had attacked her made me rethink my whole theory. Generally it was the guilty people who attacked the innocent, not the other way around. If someone had gone after Allie, our killer was still out there somewhere.
I shivered, instant goose bumps forming in the cool evening air as I heard the distant sound of sirens racing up Verdugo.
Half an hour later Felix and I had been corralled out to the street, behind a ream of yellow crime scene tape that ran the length of the apartment complex. The Indian couple from unit D were talking animatedly to a uniformed cop who was struggling to write down their every word. The tired mom from E stood with baby on hip on the sparse lawn, shooting daggers at Felix and me as if it was our fault sirens and plainclothes officers were keeping her baby awake. And Ramirez and his crew of boys in blue were going over Allie's apartment inside and out for any clue to her disappearance.
When he'd first arrived on scene, Ramirez had made a beeline toward me, taking me into a full-bodied hug that threatened to crush my ribs and asked again if I was okay. One quick affirmative was all the invitation he needed to leave me outside and transform into cop mode, his attention immediately drawn to the possible crime scene inside. He'd dropped a rushed kiss on the top of my head, spared a moment to scowl at Felix, then was gone, swallowed up into Allie's apartment. Where he'd yet to appear from.
I sat down on the front bumper of a police cruiser, chewing at my bottom lip as I watched a guy with a metal evidence-collecting kit make his way inside.
"How much longer you think they'll be in there?" Felix asked. I could tell he was itching to get away from the place, partially because Ramirez was in the vicinity but mostly due to his quickly approaching deadline for making the morning edition of the Informer .
I shrugged. "I don't know. Depends what they find, I guess."
"Great." He folded his arms over his chest, stealing a glance at his watch.
Luckily, Ramirez emerged minutes later, a frown creasing his brow. He did one quick survey of the scant yard before his eyes landed on us.
First me, then Felix, then me again.
Oh boy.
He stalked toward us with purposeful strides and paused just inches from me.
"What happened?"
I shrugged. Felix did the same.
Ramirez's eyes narrowed.
"Okay. Why are you here?"
"We wanted to talk to Allie," I answered.
"And?"
"And she wasn't here."
"What did you see?"
"Much the same thing you can see now," Felix said. "We're not stupid enough to disrupt a crime scene."
Ramirez shot him a look that clearly said he wasn't convinced that was true.
"What did you want to talk to Allie about?" he asked.
I bit my lip. And looked to Felix. I wasn't sure spilling all to Ramirez now that he was in official cop mode was such a hot idea.
On the other hand, the way that vein in the side of Ramirez's neck was starting to bulge had the words "handcuffs" and "holding cell" ringing in my ears. In the end, the vein won. Hey, I've been in a holding cell before. Hanging out with gang members and hookers and peeing in public is not my idea of a good time.
So, I told him everything. I spilled all about our checking into suspects' alibis and how Allie's hadn't panned out and how, her being Gigi's daughter, we wanted to chat with her, only when we got there she was gone and a puddle of red gooey stuff was in her place instead.
Ramirez listened to it all with his stoic poker face in place, only pausing the narrative to ask the occasional question or clarify an exact time.
By the time I was done, he just looked at me.
"Um, so... we're good?" I asked.
"It's over," he said.
"Excuse me?"
"The bet. We're done."
"Wait," I held up a hand. "What do you mean, 'done'?"
Ramirez ran a hand through his hair. "Maddie, it's too early to say what really went on in there, but I can tell you that's human blood on her kitchen floor. If you had walked in a few minutes earlier... Jesus, I don't want to think what might have happened to you."
While the sentiment was touching, I was still stuck on his first statement. "We shook on it. You can't back out on the bet now."
"Goddamit, Maddie, this is not a game."
"I know it's not!" I shouted. Drawing looks from both the Indian couple and the sleepless mom. Not to mention Felix, who was fidgeting nervously and slowly inching away from us.
"Maddie," Ramirez warned, his voice low and deceptively calm.
But he had me worked up now.
"The fact that my fiance thinks I'm some helpless, brainless chick is not some game," I spat back.
"Please, you know I don't think that."
"No, Jack. I don't. I know that anytime things get difficult, you try to shut me out, send me home, handcuff me to your car-"
"I only did that once!"
"-and not even one measly time have you ever asked my opinion about a case. Why? Because you think I'm a bimbo." I gulped back the last word as tears started to back up behind my eyes.
"Oh hell." He ran his hand through his hair again until it stood up in little spikes.
"I don't want to marry someone who things I'm a bimbo," I cried.
"Maddie, I don't think you're a bimbo. I just don't want to see my girl hurt."
"Woman. I am not some little girl, Jack, I'm a grown woman."
He sighed. Deeply. "Okay. I don't want to see my woman get hurt."
He reached a hand out to wipe at my wet cheeks. "Come on," he said, his voice soft. "I hate seeing you cry."
"The bet's still on." I sniffed, crossing my arms over my chest, then narrowed my eyes, squinting through watery tears. "And you better believe I'm going to win."
Ramirez pursed his lips together, letting a long breath out through his nose. "Fine."
I lifted my chin a fraction of an inch in triumph.
"But promise me one thing?" he said.
"What?" I hedged.
"Just quit hanging out with that guy." He gestured toward Felix, now a few feet away, pretending to be really interested in a hangnail on his thumb.
"Felix is a friend."
"He's a sleaze."
"He's a friendly sleaze."
Ramirez narrowed his eyes. "How friendly?" he asked, his stance quickly shifting from loving boyfriend to Caveman.
I threw my hands up in surrender, so not going into that territory again. "Fine. I'll try to ditch Felix."
"Good."
"Emphasis on 'try'. The guy's like a bad fungus you can't get rid of."
He grinned, Caveman retreating.
"I'll take 'try.'"
He took a step closer, dropping a tender kiss on my forehead. "So, stick around and we'll go to my place tonight?" he whispered.
While part of me would have liked nothing more than to spend the evening curled up in Ramirez's arms, the fact that Allie was missing, my theories were all shot to hell, and Felix was hanging on our every word somehow caused me to shake my head in the negative.
"Can't. I've got a bachelorette party to attend tonight."
He raised one eyebrow. "Bachelorette party?"
I nodded. "Dana's throwing it for me."
"I don't like the sound of that."
That makes two of us, pal.
I looked down at my watch. "I'm late already. I should go."
He frowned. "Okay. But come by my place when you're done."
I nodded. Then planted a quick kiss on his cheek before hiking the block back up the hill to my Jeep. Once inside I quickly turned the key, letting the engine warm up before flipping on the air.
Honestly, the last thing I wanted to do was go to a bachelorette party. The scene I'd just witnessed brought back all too fresh memories of Gigi facedown in my cake sample. Only this was somehow worse. Because Allie was out there somewhere. Maybe alive, maybe not. But definitely in the hands of someone unscrupulous enough to kill.
I thunked my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes.
Think, Maddie, who could it be? I had the nagging feeling I'd missed a vital piece of information somewhere along the way. So far all I had was a handful of unlikely suspects. The only thing they all had in common was that they knew Gigi. And, unfortunately, all had alibis. So, who had stabbed Gigi and possibly kidnapped Allie? There had to be something I'd overlooked.
A knock sounded on my window and I freaked so badly I nearly peed my pants.
I turned to find Felix rapping on the glass. Trying to still the jackhammer in my chest I rolled down the window.
"What?"
"Any chance I can catch a lift with you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Where are you going?"
"Informer office. Hollywood. Near your bachelorette party by any chance?"
I opened my mouth to tell him that I honestly had no intention of going through with the party now. But, quite frankly, I figured the easiest way to "ditch Felix" was to drop him off somewhere myself. At least then, instead of looking over my shoulder for a Neon tag-along, I'd know for sure which rock he was under.
"Fine, get in," I said, putting the car in gear as Felix climbed into the passenger side.
I made a semi-legal U-turn and headed back toward the freeway.
* * *
The Informer offices were housed in a nondescript white(ish) building in Hollywood, smack in the center of tourist heaven. I counted no fewer than four souvenir shops on the same block, all four sporting life-sized cutouts of Marilyn Monroe. I dropped Felix off out front, each of us promising to call the other if we heard anything from Allie.
I looked down at my dash clock. Seven fifteen. I could go back to my apartment. But somehow the idea of being alone right now was less than appealing. Despite my bravado in front of Ramirez, I was more than a little creeped out by the site of all that blood in Allie's kitchen. Option number two was to go to Ramirez's place and wait for him to get home. But somehow, the idea of being alone in Ramirez's place was even more depressing than being alone in my
own.
And then there was option three.
With a resigned sigh, I pulled out onto Hollywood Boulevard and made for Vine. And did a double take as I pulled up to the address Dana had given me. The Garden of Eden. And I wasn't talking Bible study here. The place had those kind of blacked out windows and neon signs with lots of Xs in them. A neon eye above the door alternated between doe-eyed wide and winking seductively as I locked my car and steeled myself, hitting the front door.
Loud music emanated from speakers hidden in the ceiling, pounding out a rendition of "Cat Scratch Fever" that made me want to scratch out my own eardrums. A stage to one side held three stripper poles, all being made love to by women wearing teeny tiny G-strings and strategically placed tassels. On the floor of the Garden sat rows of tables, most occupied by Asian businessmen and groups of rowdy frat boys with Sierra Nevada bottles in hand.
I glanced back at the door. Did I have the right place?
A waitress in a pink bikini who obviously believed in the "more is more" credo of silicone cup sizes approached carrying a tray.
"Can I help you, honey?" she asked.
"Uh... I'm here for a bachelorette party?"
"Oh, right!" She nodded.
And any hope that I'd been mistaken in writing down the directions vanished. (As did stripper number one's tassels, I noticed. Yikes!)
"In the back," she said, indicating a pair of doors to the far right of the place. "Your friends are already here."
"Thanks," I mumbled, trying not to look at the wiggling boobies on stage as I made my way through the club.
"And, hey, congratulations!" Miss Double D called after me with a wink.
I waved feebly. Then pushed my way through the back doors.
The backroom wasn't as large as the main area, obviously reserved for private parties. A smaller stage was constructed here, though a trio of silver poles was still the highlight. Luckily, they were empty. (For now.)
Three tables were set up in front of the stage. At one sat my mom, Mrs. Rosenblatt, Marco, Dana, and Molly. All four sipped from some kind of fruity drink with pineapple slices floating on top.
Dana jumped up, grabbing me in a hug.
"Maddie, I'm so glad you made it." She pulled back. "You're late, you know."
Mayhem in High Heels Page 19
