Dirty Rotten Tendrils (34 page)

I gasped. “Oh, no! Dinner! I forgot to call Mom back to tell her we couldn’t make it. Now her feelings will be hurt.”

“Say hi from me,” Marco said, kissing me on the top of the head.

I waved at him, then sat down at my desk and picked up the handset. “Hey, Mom! How about that! I was just getting ready to call you.”

“Abigail, I’m saying this with all the love in my heart. You’re a terrible liar.”

“Okay. You got me. I forgot to call . . . because I was busy selling your tea cart!”

“You sold it? Oh, sweetie, that’s wonderful! Tell me—who’s the proud new owner?”

Could I really say that her one-of-a-kind artwork was going to the home of a loud, coarse, middle-aged male who ran a striptease joint and his wife, a former stripper who named everything after spices, including her daughter? “Well, Mom, what I know about the new owner is that he’s an entrepreneur with an eye for beauty.”

“Really?” She was eating it up.

“Oh, yeah. This man knows what form and function are all about.”

“I’m speechless, Abigail. I can’t wait to tell your dad. Thank you, honey. You’ve made my day.”

“And you made fifty bucks, Mom.”

I thought I heard her sob. Not such a terrible liar after all, was I?

 

 

At seven o’clock that evening, six rapperettes in the five-member Code Bluebird group stood in a line that wound all the way around the inside of the ginormous banquet hall of the New Chapel Inn and Suites. One of the rapperettes tugged on the sleeves of her shiny pink baseball jacket in a vain attempt to cover her wrists, which stuck out several inches beyond the cuffs.

“Aunt Abby, stop that,” Tara hissed in my ear. “You’ll rip the seams.”

“You didn’t tell me the spare costume belonged to the smallest bluebird in the group!” I hissed back.

A cheer went up, so I stepped out of line to see what was happening just as Cody sauntered onto a stage at the opposite end of the hall. Two of his burly bodyguards accompanied him—I recognized them from my run-in with them on the courthouse lawn—but Lila was nowhere to be seen. I glanced at the double doors and saw another of his guards posted there. That left one unaccounted for.

“Okay, listen up,” Cody said, using the mic in his hand. “Here are the rules. You’ll have five minutes to perform. A buzzer will sound at the end of five minutes, and then you’ll have to get offstage so the next performers can start. No clapping between acts. No whistling, cheering—”

I didn’t wait for the rest. Speaking quietly, but so that the people around me could hear, I said, “Tara, would you hold my coat? I’m going to find the bathroom.”

“Okay, Aunt Abby. Don’t get lost,” Tara said on cue. She poked my arm conspiratorially.

I cut through the line and headed for the double doors, tugging my pink baseball cap down to shield my eyes, making sure not to dislodge the cap and release my hair, which I’d cleverly wound into a bun on top of my head. That was a red flag I didn’t want to raise.

The bodyguard gave me a questioning glance, so I said, “Gotta pee.”

“Bathroom’s that way.” He stared at me as I passed. “I know you from somewhere.”

My heart gave a lurch, but I kept moving. “Maybe at Cody’s concert. I really gotta pee.”

I located the restroom at the end of the hallway, where it teed at another corridor. Fearing that the guard was still watching, I headed into the women’s. Two minutes later, three girls came in, giggling and talking as they applied more makeup to their already heavily made-up faces.

I washed my hands slowly, and when they started toward the door, I grabbed a paper towel and followed them out, slipping around the corner and dashing up the corridor to the lobby, where I stopped to peer around the corner. Whew. No bodyguard in sight. All I had to do was make it across the lobby to the elevators on the far wall. From there it would be a simple matter of pressing a button.

I’d phoned the hotel earlier under the pretense of having a floral delivery for Cody and was told I’d have to leave the flowers at the desk, as no one was allowed on the top floor. I didn’t know Lila’s room number, but how hard could it be to find her? I glanced at the reception desk, saw that the two clerks were chatting, then strolled casually toward the elevators. A minute later, the elevator opened onto the top floor. It was that simple.

I peered out, scanning the hallway for any sign of the missing guard, then stepped out and started listening at each door. There were four suites, two on either side of the hall, and at only one of them did I hear a TV playing.

I lifted my hand to knock, then paused. What if it wasn’t Lila’s room? What was my reason for being there? I didn’t have any flowers with me.

I took a deep breath, working up my courage, then rapped softly. The door swung open and there stood the fourth guard.

“Sorry, wrong room.” I turned to flee just as a heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder.

“Hey!” I cried. “Let go!”

I managed to slip out from beneath his fingers, but then he clamped one huge paw over my head and jerked me back. In the struggle my hat came off and my hair tumbled free. His eyes widened.

“Okay, you’re coming with me.” He grabbed my wrist, dragged me to the elevator, and shoved me inside. He stepped in behind me and hit the LOBBY button. “I’m taking you to Security.”

“What for?”

“Suspicious behavior.”

I knew I wouldn’t be charged with anything, but I didn’t relish sitting in an office somewhere in the bowels of the hotel answering a bunch of stupid questions. When the elevator opened, I grabbed the pink cap out of his hand and fled through the lobby and out the revolving doors. I didn’t check to see if he was chasing me. I just kept going until I reached my Vette, then jumped inside, locked the doors, started the engine, and tried to catch my breath as I waited for the heat to kick in. I was shivering all over, not from fear but because Tara had my coat.

My cell phone vibrated, but I had to scramble to find it in the pockets of the voluminous pink cargo pants. My niece’s name was on the screen. “Tara?”

“Aunt Abby,” she whispered, “are you okay? Someone said a guard was chasing you.”

“Something like that. I’m in the parking lot in my car. My plan didn’t work.”

“It wouldn’t have worked, anyway. Lila isn’t here. I just got a tweet from one of the Lila-watchers that she’s shopping at Windows on the Square.”

And there was plan B!

“Tara, I love you. Don’t lose my coat. Oh, and good luck with the audition.”

Lila Redmond was in town! I couldn’t believe my luck. Wait till Marco heard the news. Of course, that would be after I’d had a private conversation with her and got the lowdown on Cody.

I drove back to the town square and found a parking spot around the corner from Windows, then jumped out of the Vette, locked it, and ran. I dashed into the women’s clothing shop, looked all around, even circled the clothing racks, but I didn’t see Lila. Was she in a dressing room perhaps?

“Can I help you?” one of the clerks asked. I turned to reply and she gaped at me in shock. “Abby? I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you at first in your—” She made do with pointing at my outfit.

“It’s a costume,” I said hurriedly. “Is Lila Redmond here by any chance?”

“You just missed her.”

Damn!
I sighed in frustration. “Okay, Nora. Thanks, anyway.”

“You might try the Daily Grind—or whatever they’re calling it now. I’m pretty sure I heard her tell your cousin that she wanted to stop for coffee and dessert.”

I didn’t hear the last part of her sentence. My ears were buzzing too loud. “My cousin was with her?”

Nora nodded. “Jillian.”

No freaking way. Either Jillian was a genius or I was hallucinating.

Three minutes later, I paused outside the door of the coffee shop to catch my breath, then stepped inside and was instantly assailed by the sweetly pungent aroma of coffee and donuts. The dimly lit café was nearly empty, but way in the back, at a small table, I spotted a head of shiny copper-colored hair that could only be Jillian’s. With her was a slender figure in a black wool stocking cap, black-framed sunglasses, a long, black wool coat, and black boots. Was it really Lila?

I headed straight for their table. The barista shot me a curious look as I passed, but I merely gave a little wave and kept going. Jillian glanced up, laughing at something her companion said, and saw me. At once, she got a horrified look on her face.

“Jillian,” I said, trying to catch my breath, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’m sorry,” my cousin said, narrowing her eyes at me, “have we met?”

Her companion took off her sunglasses to get a better look at my outfit.

I smiled in relief. It
was
Lila. Jillian had been telling the truth after all.

“A
nd that’s how I got an interview with Lila Redmond,” I reported to Marco an hour later. I was talking to him on my cell phone just outside the coffee shop. “Of course, I had to keep buying her donuts and coffee, and now I’m queasy from all the sugar and a little jittery from the caffeine, but at least I found out that Cody doesn’t take Limbitrol. He uses a prescription sleeping pill at night, but he doesn’t take anything for nerves because he says it blunts his reaction time.”

“That’s great work, Sunshine.”

“That’s not all. I also learned that Lila doesn’t buy the whole antidepressant hype. She says when she feels down, a good workout perks her up. Their security guards get tested once a month for drugs, and so far have all been clean. Lila couldn’t speak for Cody’s agent, but she said his room is on another floor, and Cody doesn’t care for the guy, so he sees little of him.

“Also, I asked her about the gift basket Lipinski took back with him. She said Cody had his agent purchase it here in town and sign Lila’s name to it, supposedly as an apology for her snubbing the Lip. She was furious, naturally. The detectives questioned her, Cody’s agent, and Cody about it, and apparently were satisfied that the contents of the basket had nothing to do with the murder.

“And guess what? Lila said the reason Cody cut Andrew out was pure egotism. He was afraid that if he acknowledged Andrew as the lyricist, people would discover that Andrew had greater talent than Cody did. And now that the new songs Cody wrote on his own have bombed, he’s regretting his actions, but pride is keeping him from reconciling. Lila said when they get back to LA, she’s going to dump Cody. She can’t take his ego and temper tantrums anymore. Even so, she did vouch for his whereabouts on the day of the murder.”

“How did you get her to open up? Donuts?”

“That was just to keep her there. No, I used a little method called girlfriend psychology, which is all about bonding. So I led her to believe you and Cody had a lot in common. Then it was just a matter of complaining about how ridiculously immature you guys behave when you’re jealous, and just like that she started talking. And eating. That skinny woman burned through seven donuts and probably won’t gain an ounce.”

“You told her I was the jealous type?”

“I wish you could have seen Jillian’s face when I showed up in a pink rapperette costume two sizes too small. She was absolutely horrified when I told Lila how we were related. She tried to pretend she didn’t know me. It was a scream.”

“
Am
I the jealous type?”

Men were so single-minded. “No, Marco. I only led Lila to believe that in order to bond with her. So do we move Cody to the bottom of the list?”

“I’d say that’s a good call.”

“Great. Now for the bad news. Jillian knows about our engagement.”

“What?”

“Apparently during my struggle with the bodyguard, the chain worked its way out from under my shirt, and I didn’t notice. Naturally Miss Hawk Eye spotted it.”

“Whoa! Back up a minute. You didn’t tell me about a struggle.”

Hadn’t meant to, either. Stupid sugar high. “That’s because I was . . . saving that story so I could tell you in person. So are you still at the bar?”

“As a matter of fact, I just got back from the funeral home. You won’t be surprised to hear that only a handful of people showed up—Joan and a few others from their office. Hess made a brief appearance, but left when he saw me. But getting back to that struggle . . .”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’ll give you the details later. But you’ll be happy to hear that Jillian has promised not to say anything about our engagement for a week. If we haven’t told our families by next Friday, she gets to announce it at the family dinner.”

My cell phone beeped, so I held it away from my ear to look at the screen. “Marco, I need to take this call. It’s from Whispering Willows. I’ll be down there shortly, okay?”

I switched to the other line. “Hello?”