by Lauren Berg
She straggled after Amy into the lobby, and stopped short. The lobby was immense with a three story atrium complete with glass paned windows to let the light stream in. She’d been in some pretty swanky places in her career, but this place took the cake.
Amy had gone up to the front desk, and the clerks were falling all over themselves to help her. Laura trailed behind, clutching her phone, and reminding herself that she belonged here. It wasn’t like her to have such a blatant display of self-consciousness. Ballsy was usually a word her friends used to describe her, not insecure.
“Here we go.” Amy held up a key card, and Laura grabbed it. “The best of the best, not like that slum your editor wanted you to stay in.”
The desk clerk cleared his throat. Laura glanced at his nametag. Vincent Ferrimo, manager. “Miss Madison?”
Amy whipped her head around, and fixed the man in her scowl. “What do you want, Mr. Ferrigamo?”
“It’s Ferrimo, ma’am, and I just … I just wanted to say that the room that was reserved for your friend is hardly a slum. The Bonanza room is—“
“Please, Mr. Ferret, don’t be ridiculous. That room is named after an obscure western from the nineteen-seventies. What twenty-first century woman wants to stay in a dump like that? Also, you know it doesn’t fit the hotel’s theme, right? I’ve always thought it was a tacky touch.”
Laura knew how much Amy’s words could sting, and after she had inherited her money, she’d become even more overbearing. She wanted to apologize to the manager, but Amy was already pulling her toward the bank of elevators on the opposite side of the lobby.
“You are going to love this suite,” Amy said. “It’s the penthouse. Well, nearly the penthouse. The actual one is for Edith von Farron and her guests.”
“That’s where I’m doing the interview tomorrow,” Laura said.
“Perfect,” Amy said. “That gives us plenty of time to go to the spa, and get you ready for tomorrow. You’re looking pretty rough, girl.”
“Allie! Friends don’t make other friends feel bad. It’s not my fault I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.” Laura gave her friend a playful shove.
Amy raised an eyebrow. “A good night’s sleep isn’t all you need.”
“Will you quit that? I’ll find a guy when I’m good and ready.”
The gilded doors of the elevator slid open. “At the glacial speed you’re moving, you won’t find a guy until the next ice age.”
Laura rolled her eyes. They stepped onto the elevator, and Laura was once again impressed with the bygone era feel of the hotel. She knew that most of the other von Farron properties were all steel, glass and modern. She’d been to one in New York City that had touted itself as a minimalist establishment, and they hadn’t been kidding. Her room had been a slim twin bed with white bedding and a hard black, plastic chair that she couldn’t get comfortable in. The bathroom hadn’t been much better. She loved seeing this flagship hotel in all its original glory.
On the fifth floor the elevator doors slid open, and the most attractive man Laura had ever seen stepped on. “Going my way?” he asked, and then he glanced at the arrow at the top of the button panel, and chuckled. “I guess not, but I can think of worse things to do than ride a ways with two such pretty ladies.”
As he turned to give Amy a smile, Laura made a gagging motion. Amy giggled and the man turned in time to catch part of her act. She flushed and looked away.
“I’m Cain McGrath. Nice to meet you.” His smile deepened as he stuck out his hand for Laura to shake. She accepted it, still blushing madly. “Not the best opening line, huh?”
“Not particularly,” Laura said. “It made me want to vomit.”
“You catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” Cain replied.
“Why would I want to catch a fly? I’m not a toad,” Laura said, arching an eyebrow at the man.
Laura caught Amy’s smirk out of the corner of her eye, and she scowled.
"And you're implying that I am?" Cain's smile widened.
"Maybe," Laura said.
"I've been called a lot of things in my line of work, but toad is not one of them. Creative."
The corners of Laura's mouth twitched. She wasn't sure what it was about him, but she didn't mind the banter, which usually bored her after about seven seconds. He certainly was easy on the eyes with his height (well over six feet, she estimated), his blue eyes (which she thought looked like the summer sky--a cheesy thought if she'd ever hand one), and his sandy blond hair. He reminded her of a boy from one of those early sixties surf movies, which made him fit into these surroundings even more. She actually thought that what she liked most about him was the fact that he didn't seem to take himself too seriously.
"What is your line of work, Mr. McGrath?" Amy asked.
Cain smiled. "I'm a reporter."
Amy raised her eyebrows and looked meaningfully at Laura. "Isn't that interesting," she said. "So is Laura."
"Nice to meet you, Laura," Cain said.
Laura wanted to smack herself in the forehead when she realized that neither of them had introduced themselves. "Right, I'm Laura Seymour, and this is my best friend, Amy Madison."
Recognition registered on Cain's face. "Nice to meet both of you. And what might you be doing in Bayview this fine weekend?"
"Same as you. Don't be ridiculous. Probably everyone in this hotel is here because Edith von Farron is in residence." Laura took a step away from Cain, closer to the elevator door. She needed to make a quick escape when those doors opened. She'd seen guys fawn all over Amy when they found out who she was. And that was a major downside to having a famous best friend. To add a flaming pile of manure to the situation, he was here for the exact same reason she was, which made him a rival. If, or when, he found out that she had already obtained an interview with Edith, he'd be attached to her like a barnacle to the side of a ship. It was annoying even just to think about it.
"You're right. I've got an interview with her on Sunday."
Cain's words sunk in slowly, and Laura glanced over her shoulder at him. "I have one with her tomorrow."
"Nice," he said. "We could meet on Sunday evening at the bar to compare notes if you'd like. Somehow I think she won't divulge everything to just one reporter."
Laura considered his offer. She was slightly disappointed that she didn't have an exclusive, but she figured that a woman of Edith's age needed to group her media appearances and interactions within one short time frame. If she did share information with Cain, even what little she did get from Edith von Farron wouldn't be enough of an exclusive to get her that promotion. She chewed her lip.
"She'll meet you at eight," Amy said as the elevator jerked to a stop.
Laura stumbled backward from the jarring effect, and Cain reached out to steady her. The contact was like sticking a finger in an electric socket. Her eyes widened, and as soon as the doors opened, she bolted into the hallway. Amy followed slowly. Cain was chuckling as the doors slid shut again.
"A lady never hurries," Amy said in a scolding tone as she led the way down the hall.
"Who said anything about me being a lady?" Laura snapped, and then she groaned as she realized what she'd said.
Amy laughed. "Got you. Just like I always do."
They stepped into the Oceania suite, and Laura let out a low whistle. "Swanky."
"You've stayed at places like this before," Amy said.
Laura was going to protest, but her friend had a point. But even thought she had been to nice hotels, spas and resorts before, there was something intrinsically different about the Seaside Inn. Laura swore she could feel the history oozing out of the walls. So many notable people had practically lived here in Hollywood's heyday. Laura's face lit up in a smile as she realized that she could talk to Edith about that. She felt fantastic about finding the topic for her story.
CHAPTER THREE
The next morning dawned bright and sunny. A warm, salty breeze drifted through the open window. Laura squ
eezed her eyes shut against the glare, and groaned, “It can’t be morning already.”
“Wakey, wakey,” Amy trilled as she barreled through Laura’s bedroom door. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, and the scarf tied jauntily around her neck was a nice touch. Laura wished she had time to put together those kind of outfits each day, but the fact of the matter was that she had an actual job that required her to do actual work. Amy’s leisure time was sort of a barb in their relationship. She never seemed to understand Laura’s need to focus on her career. “I’m dressing you for this interview so come on. Get up. We need to head into my room.”
“Why?” Laura asked with a frown as she pushed herself up in bed, shoving her tangled blond hair off her face.
Amy looked at her like she had grown a third eye or something. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m dressing you for the interview. I want you to look chic. One doesn’t go into Edith von Farron’s presence looking like a commoner.”
“Okay,” Laura said as she shook her head. “There is so much wrong with that statement. Edith von Farron isn’t royalty, and last time I checked I come from a perfectly good family. Commoner is a little harsh, don’t you think? And why can’t we stay here for me to get dressed? I mean, this is where my clothes are.”
The look continued to make Laura squirm. She actually wanted to get out of bed to check if she had something on her face. “Your clothes are not on a par with what you need to look exquisite. Edith von Farron deserves at least that much effort.”
Laura knew she should be insulted, but she did like playing dress up out of Amy’s closet. They padded across the living room of the suite to Amy’s master bedroom. She somehow had all of her luggage already put away on hangers in the closet, and folded neatly in drawers.
“Sit,” Amy commanded.
Laura sat, and accepted a mug filled with her favorite coffee as Amy began to rifle through her clothes. In under two minutes she had a pile on the bed that more closely resembled a small mountain, than items to wear. Then she began to sift through the items, compiling her choices. Laura watched in amused amazement. This was her best friend’s biggest talent.
“Here,” Amy said as she thrust the first outfit at Laura. “Try this on. We only have three hours, and you need to eat breakfast so you don’t faint or something.”
Laura smirked, but didn’t say anything. Over the next hour she shimmied in and out of the clothes that Amy handed to her. Finally Amy whistled, loud and long, calling a halt to the onslaught of trying things on.
“This is it,” Amy squealed.
“Really?” Laura looked down at the black pants and fuchsia sweater in confusion.
“Definitely. You look very socialite right now.”
Laura narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to make me look stupid in front of Edith von Farron?”
“What are you talking about? I saw this exact outfit on Mika Knight just the other day at the launch of the new Dmitri store.”
Laura tugged at the hem of her sweater. “Fine, but you’d better not be lying.”
“Why do you always want to turn me into the bad guy? When have I ever led you astray?” Amy wrinkled her brow, and looked at Laura. The more her best friend stared, the more Laura squirmed. “Now take that outfit off while you eat breakfast.”
Wrapped in a soft, fluffy robe Laura ate her bagel as she watched Amy flit around the room talking on her phone, texting, and checking her tablet. Never once did she sit down to join Laura for breakfast. These things were as per usual since Amy had attained her own socialite status, and even though Laura was used to it, she couldn’t help but miss the old days of college when the two of them had stayed up all night, eating bad food, and talking about everything and anything.
Laura yawned again, and checked her phone. "You do know that I need to be up in Edith's suite in an hour."
With a frown, Amy appraised her. "Well, it'll be a lot of work, but we'll manage somehow."
"Thanks, Al. Love you, too." Laura took a sip of her coffee to hide her smile.
"Whatever. You know what I meant. Now sit still so I can do your hair."
An hour later Laura looked like the best possible version of herself, as if she had cast another person in the role of her life. Amy had pulled her hair into an up do that was held in place tightly with bobby pins and hair spray. Despite the unnatural effect of being able to hold her head under a nuclear bomb only to have it stay perfectly in place, Laura had to admit that the effect was chic. The dress made her look poised. Maybe Amy was right, and Laura should spend some money on high end clothes. The effect certainly elevated her to a different level. Surely a woman like Edith von Farron would notice.
"Just remember what we talked about," Amy said as she squeezed Laura's hand just before the elevator doors slid shut.
Laura had no idea what Amy was talking about, but she trembled slightly as the elevator rose two stories above to the penthouse where Edith von Farron lived when she was in residence at the hotel. She stepped off into a lush lobby with several chairs and loungers set along the walls. A pair of heavy white doors ornately decorated with gold trim stood at the end of a short hallway. Gathering up all her courage, Laura walked over, and knocked.
She fidgeted while she was waiting, shifting from foot to foot. Finally the door swung open, and an older man in a dark suit opened the door. He raised his eyebrows at her.
"Oh. Um, hi. I'm Laura Seymour. I'm here to interview Edith, I mean, Ms. Farron. I'm from the LA Chronicle. I have an appointment." She trailed off as a flush took over her face. Rambling wasn't terrible, but she was presenting such a bad first impression that she was pretty sure she should just get back on the elevator.
The man frowned at her. "This seems like a very cruel form of a joke," he said. "Why would you do this?"
Laura blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry. Have I done something wrong? I'm sure my interview was for this morning." She scrambled to get her calendar up on her phone.
The man's expression changed from one of anger to one of pity. "You really haven't heard?"
She stilled as she looked up at him. "Heard what?"
"Ms. von Farron ... well, the yacht she was riding on last night was found this morning without her on board."
"I'm not sure I follow." Though the thoughts forming in Laura's head were not of the happy, cheery kind, she hoped that this was part of some initiation ritual before a reporter got to see Ms. von Farron.
"The captain of the boat is still unconscious, but he was found tied up, and the police reported finding large quantities of blood. No one is sure what happened to Ms. von Farron, but as you can understand, no one here will be doing any interviews today."
He shut the door in her face, and Laura blinked. Her heart stuttered in her chest, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Blood rushed to her head. This could not be happening. The biggest interview of her career, the thing that was supposed to get her a promotion, wasn’t happening because the subject of the interview was missing. Not only was she missing, but from what the man in the suit had said, it sounded like the police suspected foul play. Sure, Laura was reading between the lines, but she was good at that. No one ever mentioned large amounts of blood in connection with anything but something bad.
****
She rode the elevator back down to their room, and pushed the key card into the lock with shaking hands. When she stepped into the living room she was confronted with a sight she’d rather have missed. Amy sat on the sofa with a police officer seated next to her. Another cop sat on a chair across from the pair. Everyone turned to look at her as she came in.
“Are you Laura Seymour?” one of the cops asked. He was a burly looking man, with a shaggy beard and impressive girth. He seemed like the type who would be more comfortable in a flannel shirt than in his uniform.
“I am,” she replied in a shaky voice.
“And you had an interview scheduled with Ms. von Farron for this morning?”
Laura gave Amy a glance, and her best friend shru
gged imperceptibly. “I just went up to her penthouse, and that’s when I found out…”
“Yes, well, we’re talking to everyone who had any connection with her. Especially those who might benefit from this unfortunate turn of events,” the cop looked toward the other one.
The other police officer stood up, and gave Laura a stern look. “Don’t leave town,” he said. “We’ll be back to talk to you again.”
Laura flinched as she realized that she was on the suspect list. That very firm "don't leave town" rang of a bad cop show, but underneath was the very real intent to interrogate her. She pulled out her phone and switched into note mode. She tapped her thumb against the side of the screen while she thought. Then she began to type:
Suspect name: Laura Seymour
Interviewed by police: Not yet
Association with Edith von Farron: Had an exclusive interview scheduled. Although it wasn’t such an exclusive since Cain McGrath had one, too.
Possible motive: None.
She stared at the screen. That didn't tell her much, and if she was going to clear her own name, she needed more information. Not on herself, of course, but on the rest of the suspects. Nearly everyone in the hotel had a reason to want Edith von Farron to kick the bucket. By examining what each person stood to gain, she knew she'd be able to ferret out the person who had committed the horrible atrocity.
So, what was her motive? She chewed her lower lip as she tried to see herself from the perspective of the police. If she was honest, this story was even more exciting than her exclusive interview with the heiress. She was front and center of the murder mystery of the century. Heck, she was part of it. That made her cringe. If she was looking at herself from the outside she could see how she'd be a suspect, but certainly everything else in her life would indicate to the police that she wasn't capable of such a crime.
