4 Yip/Tuck (11 page)

Before I could answer, Betty showed up, banging on the door. She wore a red silk outfit and pearls. She held up a bag containing our lunch.

“I have to let her in.” I unlocked the door. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was locked,” I fibbed.

“You can’t make any money if you lock the door, Melanie.”

“Melinda.” Why couldn’t she remember my name?

“I’ll just call you Cookie. Here.” She pushed the bag into my hands. She brushed past Tova. “You look terrible. I thought you were some famous model. You should take better care of yourself.”

“Let me know what you find out.” Tova scurried out the door and down the street before I could say a word.

AFTER LUNCH, I phoned Mama. Between her earlier inconvenient call and Tova’s sob story, the guilt I normally ignored had developed into a demanding blister of regret. Turned out, I was wallowing in a bowl of sorry for nothing. At least where my mama was concerned.

Come to find out, mama was playing Mitch and me to get her way. My brother, an architect based in Las Vegas, specialized in luxury hotels. Two weeks ago his firm had dropped a new project in his lap, which meant he and Nikki were headed to Dubai for Christmas. Mama erroneously thought if I promised to spend the holiday in Texas, Mitch would beg his bosses to postpone the trip.

What Mama didn’t realize was that Mitch probably asked to spend the holidays in Dubai. Thanks to my brother, I was off the hook. I’d make sure to send him and his lovely bride a box of their favorite candy as a thank you.

I’d also phoned TV producer Danny Stone. It was easy enough to find him with a simple Google search. Not so easy to see him. I left my name with the receptionist at his production company, but I had little hope she would actually relay the message. I even mentioned it was about Jackie O, hoping to prompt a return call.

A couple of teen girls drifted into the shop. Betty greeted them with a loud hello and immediately directed them toward the nail paw-lish. They giggled over the names, keeping Betty occupied.

I’d been thinking about Tova’s situation. There was so much to remember. I had a difficult time sorting everything I’d learned over the last couple of days. I pulled out a note pad and started a list. It looked something like this:

Jack lived on Balboa Island/worked in Newport

Didn’t like dogs (ask Tova about that one)

Plastic surgeon/drag queen

Hired new junior partner

Was recently hired for the cast of a reality show about drag queens

Was murdered in the a.m. before dawn

Suspect left no fingerprints or DNA evidence

It didn’t seem like much to work with. I thought about the suspects and grouped them together on a new page.

Suspects

Public life: Gwen, Bailey, Heidi, Dr. Stolzman, Tova

Secret life: Bea Haven, Ladasha, Goldie Fawn, Danny Stone

It was time to find out who else knew about his secret life.

BETTY REFUSED to let me close the shop. She swore she’d be fine while I ran my errand. I think she was worried I was losing money and couldn’t pay her. I didn’t bother correcting her about my finances. I wasn’t the type of person to announce to the world I had money. Honestly, it wasn’t anyone’s business.

Shortly after three, I arrived at Dr. O’Doggle’s office. Or was it now officially Dr. Stolzman’s office? Something to think about.

Once again there were patients hanging out, flipping through magazines, waiting for a nip here and a tuck there. Or for some, a completely new face. I zipped past the wannabe Barbies and headed for the reception area. As luck would have it, Gwen, Heidi, and Bailey were all there, chatting away like gossipy teenagers.

“You’re back.” That was Gwen. I knew she wouldn’t be happy to see me. She’d pulled her long auburn hair into a sleek ponytail, making her face look more severe than usual.

“I learned something I thought you should hear in person,” I said.

“Well, let’s hear it,” Gwen challenged.

Heidi bounced in her chair. “Tova’s been arrested?”

I shook my head. “No. This is about Dr. O.”

“Tell us,” Bailey begged.

“He wasn’t cheating on Tova, but he did have a secret.”

All three exchanged looks. Gwen seemed uneasy. The other two, mostly curious. Watching them reminded me of a Grandma Tillie saying, “It’s easier to let the cat out of the bag than to put her back in it.”

I positioned myself so I could see all three faces at once, praying someone would give herself away as the killer. “Have you heard of Jackie O?”

“No,” Bailey and Heidi said.

Gwen shook her head, remaining silent.

“She’s Dr. O’Doggle’s other persona.” I paused for dramatic effect. “He was a drag queen.”

The two girls gasped.

“And he was about to star in a reality show about drag queens.”

Gwen flinched then hissed. “Keep your voice down.”

“Who’s a drag queen?” a deep male voice asked. It belonged to a handsome man dressed in blue tailored scrubs. He appeared straight off the pages of People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive issue.

He had to be Dr. Stolzman.

“O’Doggle,” Bailey sighed, practically licking her lips. “Melinda was filling us in.”

Once again, I held everyone’s attention. I continued, keeping my voice lowered. “The wigs, lip gloss, clothing. They weren’t for Tova at all. Everything was for him.”

“Why did he want to be a drag queen? He wasn’t gay,” Heidi said.

Dr. Stolzman leaned against the desk next to Bailey. “It makes perfect sense. With plastic surgery, you have one foot in science and one foot in art. He’d mastered this art form. He was looking for a new medium.”

Stolzman was a little too quick to find this all agreeable. “Sounds like you know a lot of drag queens?”

“Actually, I do. Plastic surgery is a tight community. Before I came here, I practiced in L.A. I’ve worked on a number drag queens. Many of them very famous. They’re serious about their craft. If they can correct even the slightest imperfection, they will. Especially those who impersonate celebrities.”

“So you did what type of surgery exactly?” I asked.

“I specialize in facial procedures, the same as Jack did.”

I pointed to the crowded waiting room. “His death doesn’t seem to have slowed you down.”

He shrugged. “I don’t have time to indulge sentimentality. This is a competitive business. If you want to be successful, you must work hard and sacrifice. I’ve got a duty to keep the practice going. I’m not going to hang a wreath on the front door and shut down for a period of mourning. Jack brought me in as a junior partner, but our contract allows me to buy out his share in an unfortunate circumstance like this, so now I’m running the show.”

Wow. Dr. Stolzman just took top billing as suspect number one.

Gwen turned a scathing look on me. “If you’re here to imply that one of us had something to do with O’ Doggle’s death, forget it. It was Tova. She must have learned about his hobby and killed him in a fit of disgust and humiliation. Maybe she wanted to stop him from doing the reality show.”

Tova wasn’t exaggerating about Gwen hating her. “I’m positive Tova didn’t know about his secret life.”

“Well, then, the killer must have been one of those drag queens,” she said with a flip of her hand.

“It had to be a man,” Dr. Stolzman said grimly. He kept his voice low, glancing at the waiting room to make sure no patients seemed to be listening.

“Why?” I said. All four of us turned toward him.

“Jack worked out every morning at Jim Chow’s Fitness for Life Gym. It takes a lot of physical strength to perform certain surgical procedures plus plenty of stamina to get through long operations. Jack worked out with weights. He had incredibly strong arms and hands. There’s no way a woman could have strangled him.”

A good point. Doctor Hottie on the other hand, well, his muscles had muscles.

“You mean the murderer must be someone like you?” I asked.

He smiled, flipping a chart shut. “Sure. But it wasn’t me. I have an alibi.”

I narrowed my eyes, pinning him down. “You don’t even know exactly when he was killed.”

“I don’t have too. I’m never alone. Wednesday night I was in surgery with Jack. When he left, I had patient rounds at our recovery resort. From there I went home to my girlfriend. I was up at five and at the gym. With Jack, by the way. I left at six-thirty and was here by seven. Now excuse me, I have patients waiting.” He flashed a cocky smile and then looked at Bailey. “Georgia Baker’s ready for her forty-thousand-mile checkup. Can you set-up an appointment with her for photographing?” He oozed charm and sex appeal.

She nodded, wide-eyed, eating up the attention. “Sure.”

Darn. I checked him off my suspect list. But I added that Jack was last seen at the gym at six-thirty.

“What about patient stealing?” I asked Dr. Hottie. “Were you and O’Doggle poaching patients from other surgeons? Maybe one of them was fed up with Jack’s tactics.”

Gwen positioned herself between me and Stolzman. “No one is stealing patients. I don’t know where you heard that, but it’s not true. You’ll have to go now. We have work to do.”

I knew I’d get nowhere as long as Gwen was within earshot. I had one last question.

“What about a disgruntled patient? I heard there was a lawsuit.”

Gwen actually snorted. “That absurd lawsuit was dropped. A former patient’s husband wanted to sue O’Doggle for conspiracy to commit fraud.”

“That sounds serious.”

“It wasn’t. A couple of years ago, this patient came in for a complete overhaul. Lipo, lips, chemical peel, rhinoplasty, and a chin implant. A short time later, she meets this hot shot Hollywood producer. She never tells him how much plastic surgery she’s had. They get married and start a family. He thinks she’s cheated on him because their son doesn’t look like either of them. Finally, she spills about her new face. He sues her for divorce and for fraud, claiming she misrepresented herself in order to get him to marry her. He dragged Dr. O’Doggle into it, accusing him of conspiring with her. The doctor had nothing to do with her plotting to snag a husband.”

Wow. Just when you thought you’ve heard it all. I guess you can buy a new face, but you can’t buy new DNA. Ouch.

I took my leave before Gwen kicked me out. Who knew, I might need to come back again. I walked back to my Jeep feeling I’d wasted an hour. I didn’t have a lot of new information, and I had the same suspects I’d started with. Except for Dr. Stolzman. Obviously, he had been one of the last people to see Jack alive.

Speaking of Dr. Hottie . . . if what he said was true, about a woman not being strong enough to strangle Jack, my suspect list suddenly shrank in half.

GREY WAS AT Bow Wow with Missy when I returned. I’m sure his visit was twofold—to check on me and to meet Betty.

When I waltzed inside, I spotted Betty preening around the shop like a peacock. She’d even found some time to freshen up while I’d been out. Including her eyebrows, which were now Pretty in Pink.

Grey stopped talking and turned in my direction. “I thought I’d come in and introduce myself to Betty.”

“I had no idea you had a fiancé, Mindy,” Betty cooed.

That was it, I gave up on correcting her. “He’s been out of town.”

At the sound of my voice, Missy ran to me, leaving a trail of slobber in her wake.

Spin, spin, spin.

I bent down and greeted her. “Hey, there.”

Grunt, snort. Grunt, snort.

“You’re awfully happy today.” I laughed as she licked the air around my face, nailing my chin a couple of times. I rubbed in her doggie kisses, then dried my hand on my jeans.

She begged for a good scratching. I started behind her ears, working my way to her wagging hiney.

“She’s missed you,” Grey commented. He leaned against the counter, appearing relaxed in his jeans and sweater.

Finished greeting my dog, I stood and made my way to Grey’s side. I greeted him with a kiss too. The scratch-down would have to wait. I smiled at him. “I see you two have been getting acquainted. Betty, would you toss me the paper towels under the counter?”

She batted her eyelashes at Grey as she handed me the roll of towels. “Handsome. And he owns an art gallery.”

I quickly cleaned up Missy’s mess before someone slipped on dog slobber. I tossed the garbage in the trash.

“What do you think?” I eyed Grey with a grin.

“I like your Betty.”

“Oh, Mindy, you have a message,” she interrupted. “Some guy named Danny Stone called. He said he’d be happy to talk to you, but he doesn’t have a lot of time. He could meet you at House of Joe in Santa Monica at six.”

That was just over an hour away. “Thanks. Did he leave a number?” I didn’t take my eyes off Grey.

“Nope. He said you had it.”

If I was going to make that appointment, I needed to leave soon.

“Dinner tonight?” Grey asked. He may have looked relaxed, but he was on alert and gauging everything I said. But mostly what I wasn’t saying.

“Yes. I really need to talk to Danny.”

His square jaw line tightened. “This is about Jack?”

I nodded. I wouldn’t lie to him.

“You know I don’t want you to do this.” His voice was tight; clearly he was frustrated with me.

“I know. I’ll explain everything at dinner.”

What I couldn’t promise was that he’d like what I had to say.

I ARRIVED EARLY. I had no idea what Danny Stone looked like. When I’d called his receptionist to confirm, I briefly described myself (tall, brown hair, and brown eyes) and what I was wearing (jeans, sweater, and flats.) She didn’t reciprocate.

I inhaled a savory java aroma. Why didn’t coffee taste as good as it smelled? I strolled through the shop, which had zero personality compared to the Koffee Klatch, waiting for Danny to call out my name. No such luck.

I ordered a drink, sat down, and waited. And waited.

I checked my cell for the third time. It had been twenty minutes. Had I misunderstood? Did I get the time wrong?

“Melinda?”

I looked up at a short, prepubescent, bald guy with mischievous green eyes. And an extra-large coffee. “Danny?”

He held out his hand. “You didn’t tell Leslie you were beautiful. Are you an actress?”

I laughed. “No. I own a pet boutique in Laguna Beach.” I motioned to the chair across from me.

“Have you ever considered television?” he asked.

Right. I longed for public mocking and overly harsh ridicule of my private life just to satisfy a bunch of strangers’ warped sense of entertainment. Yeah, not interested. “No. I have plenty of crazy in my life. Thanks for meeting me.”

“Sure. We were all surprised to hear about Jackie O. Did you know her well?” He pried off the coffee lid and dumped in four packets of sweetener.

“No. I knew her as Dr. Jack O’Doggle, the plastic surgeon. I didn’t know about his other life until just a couple of days ago. I heard he . . . she,” I quickly corrected, “was going to participate in your reality show.”

He stirred his coffee. “Dr. 90210 meets RuPaul. Instant drama and conflict. It’s too bad she wasn’t murdered while we were shooting, that would have been a ratings gold mine.”

Was my mouth open?

“Now we’re stuck looking for a replacement. Have you talked to Jackie O’s drag family? Maybe they know someone.” He sipped his coffee, watching me over the paper cup.

The body was barely cold, and they were already replacing Jackie O. I ignored his question to ask one of my own. “Did Jackie O have any enemies?”

He shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

“Where is the show set?”

“Right here in L.A.” He gave an ironic laugh. “Funny how things work out. Originally we’d cast someone else, but then we met Jackie O and everything changed.”

“So you fired the other performer?”

He nodded. “We had planned on replacing her. She didn’t pass a psych test. Had a few personal problems that, even by our standards, might be too disruptive. We like ‘crazy,’ but only in a certain way.”

“What kind of problems?”

He gulped his coffee. “I can’t discuss that. Are you sure you don’t want to be on TV? I’ve got this new concept I’m pitching—”

“Do you remember her name?”

“Sure. It’s hardly forgettable. Ladasha. She spelled it—”

“L, a, dash, a.”

He looked surprised. “You know her?”

“I met her recently. How did she take being fired?”

“Not well. She threw a chair against the wall, pulled off her wig, and collapsed on the floor.” He shrugged. “Her histrionic fit was for nothing, since we weren’t filming. She made a few more wild threats then left. She tends to be over-dramatic. I never did tell her she didn’t pass her psych test.”

In my limited experience, over-dramatic was a prerequisite for reality stars.

He slid his business card across the table. “I have to get back. If you change your mind and want to give Hollywood a shot, give me a call. I’m sure I can find something for you. I mean, come on, you pamper the pets of the stars. That’s a good idea for a show, right there.”

I tucked his card in my purse. I was sure Malone would want to talk to him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

After Danny left without taking the last of his coffee, I knew what I had to do. It was time to go back to the drag queens.