“—so good to see you!” Maddie said. God, even her voice was perfect. Soft and feminine, but still strong and confident.
Felix replied with a, “It’s been too long since—”
I strained, trying to make out what it had been too long since for Felix’s taste, but a passing car on the street below blocked it out. When I caught up with the conversation again, it was Maddie who was speaking.
“—so glad to get your call. It was out of the blue, but I’ve been meaning to get in touch. I—”
Dammit, why did cars have to keep driving by!?
“—me too.” Felix agreed to something. “Glad you’re free this evening. I’ve been dying to try Mangia, and as luck would have it they happened to have a cancellation tonight.”
I bit my lip. He was taking Maddie Springer to Mangia. I had a vision of them laughing, talking, having easy, intimate conversation over a chilled bucket of champagne.
“I can’t wait to tell you my news, but let’s chat on the way. I don’t want them to give our table away,” Maddie said.
I heard footsteps behind me and feigned inordinate interest in my screen as I felt the two of them walk out of his office and toward the elevator. I snuck a peek out of the corner of my vision at the pair. Felix had one arm around her, steering her toward the elevators. Maddie had her right hand on his shoulder, leaning in to whisper something in his ear, her left dangling loosely at her side.
I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I looked at that left hand.
No wedding band.
What did you want to bet the “news” she was giving Felix was that she was newly single and out for a good time?
One I’m sure Felix would enjoy.
I clenched my teeth together, telling myself I didn’t care. It was none of my business what Felix did, or who he did it with. Last night had been a mistake. I’d found myself in a vulnerable moment, again, and I’d turned to him for comfort. Again.
But that was it. That was all it was. One night of comfort. I mean, that was clearly all it had been to Felix, or else he wouldn’t have gone home and immediately called up his old flame, right? Clearly I was nothing more than a stopover on the way to someone he really cared about. Which was fine. This relationship was purely professional from here on out. And God and the L.A. Times willing, not even that for much longer.
I was still pounding that mantra into my head, watching the two of them wait for the elevator, when my cell rang from my purse.
“What!”
“Uh, hi. Allie?” Alec Davies.
I closed my eyes, did a Zen breath. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“No problem. I’m acquainted with the type. Listen, my assistant said you stopped by earlier.”
My eyes shot open. Shit. “Uh, he did?”
“Yeah. He said you were here looking for me?”
“Uh, yeah. Right. I was.” I paused, trying to come up with a reason why I might have been looking for him. “I just, um, wanted to thank you again for that footage you gave me. It did confirm Don’s alibi,” I said.
“Good. I’m glad it was helpful. Listen, I was just about to knock off for the day. You interested in grabbing dinner with me?” he asked.
“Me? Oh, well, I…” I trailed off. As much as part of me wanted to say yes, the other part was kind of full up on uncomfortable emotions for the day. Alec was hot, funny, smart, charming. Pretty much every girl’s dream. Pretty easy to fall for. In all honestly, I’d been a hair’s breath from falling right into his arms last night. I blame the champagne, but that fact still remained I was kind of tired of my emotions (and libido) leading my brain around like a stupid puppy.
“Gee, I’m not really sure. I mean, I…”
“You know what? That’s okay,” Alec said. “I mean, it’s last minute, and I shouldn’t have assumed you didn’t have other plans already.”
I glanced up at the elevator. The doors were just opening, allowing Felix and Maddie entry. He gently guided her in with a hand at the small of her back. She turned, flashed him a brilliant smile then leaned in close just as the door slid shut.
“I’d love to!”
“You would?”
“Yes,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’d love to have dinner with you tonight,” I told Alec.
“Oh. Great! I mean, that’s perfect. Tell you what, let me just finish up here and I’ll meet you in about an hour?”
“Perfect,” I said, then wrote down the restaurant’s address before hanging up.
* * *
Two hours and one appetizer platter of calamari and cream sauce later, I was definitely not regretting my decision to dine out. Alec had showered, shaved, and smelled like something woodsy and expensive. He was in a black blazer over a white button-down today, the colorless contrast highlighting his brilliant smile and warm eyes. As soon as he’d picked me up, he’d commented on how nice my little black mini-dress was, had called my cat “darling” and then held the door of his Lexus open for me as I climbed in. All the things a guy should do when he’s into you. And after the day I’d had, with the guys I’d had it with, I was really in the mood to appreciate a man who adhered to all the niceties he should.
“So,” he asked, leaning across the table of a quaint French bistro on Melrose, “how’s your story on Barker coming along?”
“Ugh!” I scoffed, sipping (yes, only sipping this time) from my wine glass. “Don’t ask!”
“That good, huh?” He shot me a crooked smile with dimples and everything. “So, I take it you don’t have any suspects?”
“Oh, I have suspects in spades. The problem is, everyone seems to have an alibi. Tons of motive, tons of secrets…but unshakable alibis.”
Alec grabbed a breadstick and broke it open, buttering half. “Like what? Maybe I can help you shake one down.”
I grinned. “That sounded so Humphry Bogart.”
“But it made you smile.”
“True. Okay, one point for you.” I shifted in my chair, taking another sip of the wine, letting it warm my insides as I relaxed into the flirtatious banter. “All right, let’s start with Don Davenport. He was caught on tape by your camera crew—thank you again, by the way.”
He raised his glass to me. “You’re welcome.”
“He was caught watching pay-per-view porn, the recorded times giving him an iron-clad alibi.”
Alec chuckled. “Not often that getting caught watching porn is a good thing.”
“No. It’s not. Oh, but his wife has an even better alibi. She was busy doing her yoga instructor.”
Alec raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re kidding?”
“I wish I was.”
“That’s priceless.”
“Not as priceless as Lowel’s alibi.”
Alec leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “Oh, I can hardly wait.”
“He was taking dance lessons. Fandango, to be precise. Turns out, Lowel can’t even dance!”
Alec grinned at me. “Well, that one I already knew.”
I paused. “Wait, you did?”
He leaned back in his chair and took a bite of his buttered breadstick. “Of course. Who do you think pays for his dance lessons?”
I cocked my head to the side. “So you knew his whole act on TV was a sham?”
“There’s a big difference between a documentary show and reality TV,” he said, chewing. “In reality TV you take real people, put them in manipulated situations, edit the hell out of it and, if you’re lucky, you get a story at the end. If you’re really lucky, a story that contains enough drama to keep the voyeuristic viewing public tuning in. ‘Reality’ doesn’t often actually enter into the equation.”
I took another sip of wine, digesting this information. “So the other shows—they’re all manipulated too?’
He shrugged. “To a greater or lesser extent.”
“What about Don and Deb?” I asked, watching his expression closely.
“What about them?” he shot back, his features impassi
ve.
Too impassive.
I felt a sinking weight in my stomach as the truth hit me just how much Alec had been hiding from me. “You knew Don’s affair was a floater story, didn’t you?”
He paused, took a sip from his wineglass, swished the liquid around in his mouth and swallowed before finally answering. “Yes. I did.”
“You lied to me!”
“Look, I didn’t lie, Allie. You just didn’t ask the right questions.”
“You knew Barker was sleeping with Deb?” I pressed.
“Yes.”
“And you knew the whole reunion was a fake?”
Again he nodded.
“God, is anything real in your world?”
“Allie, this is the entertainment industry. In the end it’s all about the story, right?” He leaned back in his seat, popped another piece of buttered bread in his mouth and winked at me.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the sharp comment died on my tongue. How many times had I said the same thing? Only now, being on the other end of the philosophy, it sounded almost dirty.
I took a sip from my glass. And I’ll admit, it was a big one this time.
“Great vintage, huh?” Alec commented, mistaking my silence for agreement.
I nodded stiffly. “It’s great,” I said, though in truth I’d hardly tasted it at all.
“I brought it in myself from my own collection. I never trust the local shiraz. Not to be a snob or anything, but California is Cabernet country. The French are the only true masters of the shiraz.”
“Hmm.” I nodded, sipped more wine, tried to mentally get back to moment five minutes ago when my date was a charming and worldly and not making me suddenly question my own integrity.
“Of course,” he went on, oblivious to my internal struggle, “every vintage is unique. Every year a unique combination of flavors. Even from bottle to bottle, things vary.”
“You know a lot about wine,” I commented.
He grinned, showing off his dimples at me. “I’m a bit of a collector. Though I’ll admit, I tend to hold onto bottles longer than I should.”
“Don’t they just get better with age?”
He shrugged. “Up to a point. But every vintage has its peak time to drink. Past that, it starts to disintegrate into vinegar.”
“When’s the peak time?”
“Every wine is different. But generally about five to ten years. Barker actually got me started collecting with a great two-thousand four merlot that’s just at its perfect peak this month.”
I froze, wineglass halfway to my lips, feeling a mental light bulb go on.
“That’s it!” I said.
In hindsight, maybe a little too loudly. The couple at the next table glanced our way, the woman giving me a dirty look.
But I didn’t care. I had finally hit on it.
“What’s it?” Alec asked, confusion furrowing his brows.
“The merlot. The one that poisoned Barker. That’s how everyone has an alibi. The poisoner wasn’t actually there when Barker died. They didn’t poison his glass of wine, they poisoned the whole bottle. If Barker thought the vintage was peaking, he’d drink it right away, right?”
Alec nodded. “Definitely. Delayed gratification was not his thing.”
“So, someone poisons a bottle of merlot they know Barker can’t resist drinking now, then gives it to him as a gift. He takes it home, drinks it and the killer has a perfect alibi of being somewhere else at the time of his death.”
“So, who gave Barker the bottle?”
“That’s what I need to find out,” I said, popping up from my seat.
“Now?” Alec asked, eyebrows drawn together. “But the entrees are on their way.”
“Sorry,” I said. I looked down at his adorable dimples, his perfect smile, his chic clothes and polished style. “But I have to go. Because, in the end, it’s all about the story. You understand, right?” I said, giving him my sweetest smile.
And then I hightailed it out of there as fast as I could, pulling my cell from my purse at the same time.
While the details like the label and vintage of the merlot hadn’t been released to the public, I knew for a fact they’d be included in crime scene report. And I knew just one person who had access to the LAPD’s database and could retrieve such a report. As much as I really wished I didn’t ever have to face him again, I knew that was a pipe dream. And at least now I could face him with a hot lead.
I dialed Felix’s cell number from memory, listening to it ring on the other end once, twice. Five rings in it when to voicemail, and I started to worry he was hitting the ignore button. I dialed again as I pushed out onto Melrose, the cool night air hitting my bare arms in a frigid rush. Voicemail again. I immediately redialed as I jog-walked to my car.
Three more tries later, Felix finally picked up.
“What?!” he yelled.
“The merlot!” I shouted back.
“Allie, I don’t know what this is about, but I’m at dinner right now and—”
“The merlot that killed Barker was given to him earlier in the day,” I quickly cut him off. “That’s how he was poisoned, and that’s why all our suspects have an alibi. If we can track down where the bottle came from, we can find out who killed him.”
There was a pause. And I wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t hung up on me. I was just about to ask if he was still there when his voice came through the other end: “Meet me at my house in twenty minutes.”
Chapter Seventeen
While it doesn’t get much more urban than Los Angeles, the Hollywood Hills is a natural oasis in the center of smog city. Tucked into the southeastern side of the Santa Monica Mountains, they provide stunning views of the L.A. basin, sometimes reaching as far as the ocean on a clear day. Here trees replaced graffiti, the sounds of birds replaced honking horns and the real estate prices climbed higher the farther you drove toward the summit.
Felix lived at the top.
I’d only been to his place a couple of times in the past, but the architecture one could purchase for seven figures never ceased to amaze me. The front of his home was a modern mix of warm, natural woods and sleek, shiny metals. Straight modern lines were accented in slate and stone, butting up against a lush green lawn that spanned around the sides of the house. But it was the back of the house that was absolutely stunning. The entire length of the home was glass walls, all looking out over the valley in a view that took my breath away every time. It was almost as if you were living outdoors, but with the added bonus of year-round air conditioning.
I parked in the circular drive then made my way up the slate walkway to the front door and rang the bell. No one answered. The front windows were dark. I’d beaten Felix here.
I wrapped my arms around myself, shifting from foot to foot in the dark on his front step. It was cold. I thought I heard a coyote bay in the distance, an eerie sound that put me on edge.
I’d been trying my hardest to put thoughts of my trashed place, the welt on the side of my head, and the Escalade driver who tried to run me off the road out of my head. And most of the time I was doing a pretty bang up job of it. But here in the dark, isolated, alone…fear of the boogey man was getting the better of me.
I grabbed my cell and sent Felix a text.
u almost home?
I waited an agonizing two minutes before my cell buzzed to life with a response.
accident on Highland. stuck in traffic. 15 min.
Not soon enough.
I trekked back to my car, opened the glove box, and pulled out my emergency lock-picking kit. There had been a few lessons Felix insisted I learn when I’d joined the Informer staff, and Lock Picking 101 had been at the top of his list. I’d honestly been a bit reluctant at first (I had a hard time picturing Diane Sawyer picking locks), but I’ll admit it had proven a very useful tool to have in my arsenal on more than one occasion.
Such as when I was stranded outside alone in the dark with a killer on the loose.
/> I zipped open my little black bag and selected a pick with a long, slightly curved shaped that looked like a dentist’s instrument. Then I grabbed a tension wrench in an L-shape. I carefully finessed the pick into the keyhole and felt around. Keyholes are essentially a series of pins that need to have just the right amount of pressure put on each in order to turn the lock. I moved the pick slowly over each pin, testing it with my tension wrench. Most of them moved up and down easily, though one was a little stickier. I focused on that pin first, applying more pressure until I pushed the pin high enough into the cylinder that I heard a click. I slowly let up some of the tension on the wrench and moved on to the next pin, repeating the process.
The first time I’d done this it had taken me half an hour to get all of the pins set. Totally long enough for a curious neighbor to spot me, call the police, and have them cart the tabloid reporter away. I’d done a lot of practicing since then, and I heard the last pin click into place and checked my watch. Two minutes flat. Damn, I was good. I slowly turned the tension wrench and held my breath, hoping I had all the pins set correctly. The knob turned easily in my hand, and the door opened with a silent whoosh of air.
The student becomes the master.
I quickly slipped my wrench and pick back into their case and shoved the whole thing into my pink purse as I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me.
I paused inside the foyer, listening for any sort of alarm system. Nothing. Just the steady hum of computers in the office to my right. I turned on a light, heading toward the sound.
Just off the foyer sat what would have been the family room, though Felix had outfitted it with several computer monitors, scanners, printers and other electronic devices I could only guess the functions of. I took a spot behind the largest monitor, sinking into a well-worn leather chair and jiggling the mouse to life.
The screen asked for a password. I bit my lip, looking down at his keyboard. Unlike Tina’s, no telltale signs of wear stared back at me. I tried typing in “informer”. No luck. I gave “paper”, “story”, and “deadline” a try with the same results. I was moving on to adding numbers into the mix when a voice piped up behind me.
Hollywood Confessions Page 18
