Sex, Murder and a Double Latte (20 page)

A new possibility rang in my mind. “How abusive was her ex?”

“I don’t really know. She didn’t talk about him a lot. I got the feeling he was a major prick, though, and my guess is he’s the reason why she went by ‘Barbie’ instead of her birth name—whatever that is. She was always making comments about how Mark wouldn’t let her do this or that, stupid shit like dye her hair or get her tongue pierced.”

Both Mary Ann and I automatically put our fingers over our tongues. “The police will probably consider him a suspect,” I said. “Does he still live in Vegas?”

“I assume so. I remember her commenting once that he was the main reason she left. He did call the store a few times. It rattled her a lot. I don’t think she’s the one who told him where she worked.”

“Well, it’s pretty unlikely that he’s responsible for any of this.” I made a sweeping gesture over the books and papers that now littered the table. “It doesn’t really fit. Still, it couldn’t hurt to check into it.”

“You know, Barbie and Kittie had a lot in common.” Dena tapped her ring finger against her chin. “Both of them had sketchy pasts, both were promiscuous, or at least perceived as such. Maybe she was the intended target after all.”

“Possible. Maybe you could do a little research into her life and history? Do you have a way to get in contact with her friends and family?”

“I know I have a few ‘in case of emergency’ phone numbers, plus her parents will probably contact me to collect the few things she kept at the store. I’m sure I could manage a few delicate questions.”

“Right,” Mary Ann said, “because you’re so good at being delicate.”

“I can be delicate.” A sly smile crept onto Dena’s lips. “You should see what I can do with a feather.”

I hesitated for a moment. “What can you do with a feather?”

“Sophie, please don’t encourage her,” Mary Ann said.

“Okay, okay, let’s get back to the murderer. If he’s being a copycat, why did he hit her so many times? And why did he hit her face?” All that blood…don’t think about it. “You know, I don’t think that Barbie’s resembling Kittie is all that relevant after all. No one knew she was going to be there. I really think somebody who was expecting me saw the hair and the skin coloring and the whole thing was a horrible case of mistaken identity.”

“All right, but if the assailant was Anatoly, he would have known instantly that it wasn’t you.”

“True. It might have taken Jason an extra second, though. He could have approached her from behind thinking it was me and only realized his mistake after she saw him. Then he would have had to kill her to keep her from talking. Plus, he would have been pissed off, so that would have made him extra violent.”

“It’s not Jason.”

“Dena, I’m not trying to be a bitch here but we have to look at all the possibilities, and Jason is a possible suspect. He knew I had done something to my hair because he was standing next to you when we were on the phone this morning, and he had opportunity to put a nail under your car.”

Dena opened her mouth to disagree but then reluctantly closed it. She had never been very good at ignoring facts.

“Do we know if either Anatoly or Jason has read your books?” Mary Ann asked.

Dena did a double take, and I brightened in surprise. “Good question, Mary Ann.”

“Thank you.”

“No, really, it was relevant, thought out…” Dena gave me a quick shake of her head. I was overdoing it. “Right, well, both Jason and Anatoly have made a point of telling me that they have.”

Mary Ann wrote that down in her notepad. “What about the connection between Tolsky and JJ Money? Do we have any more information about that? Did Jason or Anatoly have opportunity in those murders?”

Dena and I exchanged looks. “Um, those are things we need to look into too,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow you could go to the library and look up any articles that you can find on the two guys.”

“Articles on Anatoly and Jason?”

Dena smiled and put her arm around Mary Ann. “Thank God, for a minute I thought aliens had come and taken over your body.”

“Huh?”

“That’s my girl.”

“Ignore her,” I said. “The articles that I want you to look up will be on Tolsky and JJ Money.” Mary Ann scribbled their names. “Look up DC Smooth, too—that’s bound to turn up some stuff. Keep an eye open for anything that sounds strange that has happened in the last year. Did they make any complaints about stalkers? Did any weird stuff happen to them in the months before they died? Also see if you can find pictures of the funeral, and check for Jason or Anatoly in the background. It’s a long shot, but it can’t hurt to look.”

“I’ll call Jason and see if I can get him to admit to any trips to New York.”

Mary Ann’s pencil stopped. Dena was looking past me into space. I knew how difficult this was for her. I felt like going around the table and putting my arms around her, but I knew she wouldn’t accept that.

“Be sure to do it on the phone,” I said. “Try not to meet him in person until we’re able to prove his innocence, okay?”

Dena recognized my olive branch and smiled. “What about Anatoly? Are you going to try to pry information out of him?”

“I don’t think Anatoly’s talking to me.”

“Why not?”

“I kind of punched him in the jaw. I apologized and everything but then he started talking about my book and I pulled a knife on him. He got a little pissed off.”

Dena clucked her tongue. “Men are so sensitive.”

“What I
will
do is try to get an appointment with Tolsky’s daughter,” I said. “She doesn’t think his death was a suicide and I want to know why.”

“I guess we all have our assignments, then.” Dena stretched her arms over her head.

Mary Ann giggled. “This is so neat. I feel like one of Charlie’s Angels.”

“Funny, I was thinking more along the lines of Powerpuff Girls… How’s the mantra go?” Dena tilted her head to the side. “‘Part sugar, part spice and part kick-ass’? I want to be in charge of the kick-ass part.”

I balanced my chair back on two legs. “Dena, as far as I’m concerned, you always kick ass.”

“I know.”

“Okay, just remember that this is not a game. People have been killed and we have to make sure that we’re not added to the list. Study the crimes from my books, review them every day. I think I’m the target, but if Barbie was purposely assigned the role of Kittie, then we’re all in danger. So stay alert, stay far away from any public lynching sessions and, whatever you do, don’t play any golf.”

Mary Ann made another note to herself. “No public lynching…no golf, got it.”

The room got very quiet. Mary Ann looked up from her writings. “That was a joke, guys.”

We all busted up.

Mary Ann and I slept over at Dena’s. Well, maybe
slept
is the wrong word, at least in my case. My fear had been replaced by pure adrenaline. Who needed the SFPD anyway? Dena, Mary Ann and I were going to crack the case on our own. Just like the Powder Puff Angels, or whatever. We could do it. The alternative was…well, there was no alternative that I was willing to entertain, so there it was. We would be victorious.

Mary Ann woke up at nine and we both had time to shower and down some coffee. She went off to the library to do some research before her evening shift at Neiman’s, and I went home where I was greeted by a very angry Mr. Katz.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t like being alone. I was over at Dena’s trying to figure out a way to stop my would-be killer.”

That didn’t seem to pacify Mr. Katz at all, so I tried distraction instead. “So, anything exciting happen while I was gone? Any strange sociopaths come in and rearrange our bookcase or anything? No? How about phone calls, any phone calls?”

I looked at the flashing number on my answering machine. Eleven. I had been gone for less than twenty-four hours and I had eleven messages? Nobody’s that popular, or at least I’m not, which meant that there was something wrong. I looked to Mr. Katz for some kind of clue, but he seemed nonplussed about the whole thing, so I resorted to pressing the button.

The first message was from my mother. “What is this, you’re discovering bodies now? Leave it to you to be attacked on Sunday and find a dead person on Tuesday. Why can’t you live a nice normal life like your sister? All this violence is giving me ulcers already.”

So the media had served up yesterday’s incident for public consumption. Fantastic.

The next ten messages consisted of nine calls from reporters and one message from MCI, who could apparently save me a bundle on my local calling plan. It was in anticipation of days like these that God invented the delete button.

I reluctantly called my mother back and was relieved when there was no answer. I really was a horrible daughter. Leah hadn’t called, which meant either that she didn’t know or more likely that she did know but didn’t leave a message. I looked at Mr. Katz, who was swishing his tail over an empty food bowl. “I might still be able to save myself from the familial doghouse if I go over to Leah’s right now and tell her about yesterday in person. That way I could tell Mama that I stopped by her house first but she wasn’t home.” I shook a knowing finger at my cat. “It’s all about plausible deniability.”

Mr. Katz let out a loud meow, which I took to mean “I don’t really give a shit what you do as long as you give me my kibble.”

I obliged him and then, after taking a few minutes to contemplate the issue of Leah, grabbed my purse and car keys and went off to her home in Forest Hill to do the “right thing.”

Leah answered her door two minutes after I rang the bell. She was wearing a very expensive pair of diamond studs that Bob had recently bought her, a pristine knee-length beige skirt and a white silk blouse featuring an eye-catching blue stain that bore a suspicious resemblance to smashed fruit. Her eyes narrowed when she saw me.

“Well, will you look what the cat dragged in.”

“Huh, that’s funny. Last I checked the polite way to greet visitors was to simply say ‘hello.’”

“Don’t ‘hello’ me. I swear I just don’t get it. Are you trying to put yourself in dangerous situations? Are you
trying
to get yourself killed?”

“So, I take it you saw the news this morning.”

“Yes, I saw the news! And it’s on the front page of the paper, Sophie! Bob called to tell me that it’s all his associates will talk about, how his sister-in-law is the new Calamity Jane. You could at least have told me personally….”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Leah scoffed and ushered me in. “You know, Mama tried to call you, and when you weren’t home she called me.” She closed and locked the door behind me. “I listened to her go on for about an hour while Jack dumped yogurt on his head. I’d tell you to call her but I think she went to the senior center so she could complain about you to other people.”

“Oh gee, and I was so looking forward to talking to her right now.”

Leah leaned against the door and we stared at each other for a moment. Finally, she stepped forward and gave me a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered.

“Me too, I—”

We heard a crash and Leah immediately pulled away and ran to the living room, where a blue-faced Jack had poured all his toddler Lego blocks out of their container and was now dispersing them around the floor so they might better complement the sundry toy dinosaurs and crayons that were already spread about.

“Jack, honey, no…I told you, no more than three toys at a time.” She put her arms out to the side to balance herself after almost tripping over a pterodactyl. “I do not have time for this. The nitwit will be here in less than five minutes and now I have to brew the tea, fix the snacks
and
clean the living room.”

“You mean Cheryl? Why would you invite Cheryl to come into your home?”

“I never invite her. She just has a way of forcing herself on people. She called last night to say that she wanted to see Jack, which you know is a big lie. She probably slept with some Hollywood big shot and is looking for someone to listen to her gloat.”

“So tell her to go to hell.”

Leah rolled her eyes upward as if questioning why the Lord had failed to grant her sister the logic of a flea. “She’s Bob’s sister, it doesn’t matter if they can’t stand each other. It’s my obligation as his wife to receive her and show her how much better our life is than hers!” She reached down and restrained Jack before he was able to decorate the walls with a red crayon.

Her eyes fell down to her shirt. “Oh my God!” She stood up and pulled the fabric away from her to give me a better view. “Blueberry! I have a blueberry stain on my Ellen Tracy!”

I sighed and sat on the edge of an ottoman. “Oh, come on, we’re talking about Cheryl here. Just tell her that Cindy Crawford was seen sporting a blueberry stain at La Jolla’s Cheesecake Factory. By tomorrow her entire wardrobe will have a fruit salad theme.”

“It’s not funny!” Leah said sharply, but I could tell by the way she turned her head away from me that she was hiding a smile. She quickly buried any hint of amusement and went back to being stressed. “I can’t believe this. The minute Bob gets promoted, I’m hiring a nanny.” She checked her skirt to verify that the damage was isolated to one spot. “You’re going to have to watch Jack while I change.”

I immediately stood up. “Oh gosh, Leah, I would but I have got to get—”

“Sit down!”

I sat reluctantly. It’s funny how clichés always end up being true. I had made this visit because I had thought it was the right thing to do, and where had my good intentions led me? Straight to hell.

“Just keep him busy for three minutes, that’s it. And don’t let him do any further damage.”

“And how do you suggest I accomplish that great feat?”

“I don’t know…you’re a writer, tell him a story. He has a very good attention span for stories. The pediatrician says it’s a sign of giftedness.”

Leah turned and raced up the stairs before I could protest. I had a hard time believing that Cheryl was going to be very jealous of Leah’s life.

My eyes moved to Jack, who was holding a green crayon threateningly. I got down on my knees and wrestled the crayon from him. “A story, huh? Okay…once upon a time in a land far, far away there was a little village that lived in fear of an evil monster.” I held up a
Tyrannosaurus
for Jack’s inspection. He sat up a little straighter and his blue eyes widened with interest. Well, what do you know, he did like stories.