Homicide in High Heels (6 page)

"Meaning?" Dana asked.

"She wasn't on the show," Beth said. She
paused. "At least not yet."

Kendra shot Beth a look that clearly said to
keep her commentary to nods.

"Yet? Was she joining the show?" I
asked.

"With Bucky's batting average so high, the
producers were talking about including her next season," Kendra
conceded. "But I doubt it would have actually happened."

"Why is that?" Dana asked, pouring a mimosa
for each of us.

"Well, for one thing, she wasn't a baseball
wife
now was she?" Kendra said, smirking at the exclusivity
of her club.

"Plus, she didn't fit in," Liz offered.

"How so?" I asked.

Liz cleared her throat, then shot a glance
Kendra's way as if asking for permission to continue. "Well, Lacey
worked for me. At my clothing boutique, Bellissima?" she said, her
voice going up in a question at the end.

I nodded my encouragement. "I've heard of
it." And I had. While it wasn't rivaling Kitson, thanks to the TV
show, it had gained some popularity among the celebrity shopping
set.

"Anyway, that's how Bucky met her. He and my
husband came in the boutique to take me to lunch one day, Lacey was
there, and, well…trust me, I never thought Bucky'd get involved
with an
employee
."

I tried not to roll my eyes. I was pretty
sure these three women weren't born with silver baseball mitts on
their hands, but they were clearly drawing social lines in the sand
now.

"I tried to discourage him from getting
serious with Lacey," Liz continued.

"We all did," Beth jumped in, nodding.

"I take it you weren't friends?" Dana
asked.

"God, no. She was such a gold digger and a
total poser," Beth blurted out. Then she yipped, and I could have
sworn Kendra kicked her under the table.

"Posing how?" I prodded, turning my
attention to the brunette at the table.

"Well," Liz answered, shooting a glance at
Kendra again. "We called her the 'knock-off' queen. Once she
stopped working for me, she'd come to the ballpark in a Juicy cap,
with Dolce jeans, a Michael Kors top, and a Coach bag. Everything
was label with her."

"But it was all fake," Beth added.

"Cheap knock-offs," Kendra clarified. "I
mean, I don't know who she thought she was fooling. We all knew she
didn't have the kind of money for that stuff."

"She couldn't have gotten it from Bucky?" I
asked.

Liz snorted again. "Honey, Bucky doesn't
have any money."

"Wait, isn't he looking at MVP this year?" I
asked, sure that celebrity ball players made
some
money.

"
Possible
MVP. My husband is doing
very well this year, too," Kendra clarified.

"Bucky was a rookie last year," Liz
explained. "He signed a five year contract at league minimum. If he
keeps playing the way he is, he might be able to renegotiate next
year, but as it stands, he's making about as much as my son's
kindergarten teacher."

"Ouch. He must not be too thrilled about
that," I said.

But Kendra shrugged. "It's the way things
work. All of us went through it with our husbands when they were
rookies, too. Of course, not all of us resorted to garish
knock-offs like Lacey did…" she said, trailing off as if that sin
was reason enough for her demise.

"I felt so sorry for Bucky," Beth said. "He
deserved someone with some class, you know."

"We heard they were having problems?" Dana
jumped in. "Lacey and Bucky?"

"Bucky is all Midwestern charm, but the
kid's naïve," Kendra told us. "He fell for her façade."

"But he's no idiot," Beth piped up. "I mean,
she was only dating him for the status, you know? And he caught
onto Lacey's celebrity seeking."

Liz shot her a look.

"What? He did," she said. Clearly Beth
didn't catch the subtle undercurrent of guilt she was casting on
Bucky.

"How do you know he caught on?" I pressed
before Kendra could kick her into silence again.

"I heard them arguing. It was after a game
last week."

"What were they arguing about?"

Beth's eyes cut to Kendra and Liz, both
giving her hard stares. She licked her lips. "Well, I don't know
for sure. I mean, they were arguing, but I couldn't hear what they
were saying. Bucky just looked…upset. Sorta…" she trailed off,
grabbing her mimosa to cover the heat creeping into her cheeks.

While these women had no problem airing the
dirtiest of their laundry on TV, it seemed they were reluctant to
let it out in person. I wondered if it was because they were saving
the drama for the camera or if they had something to hide.

Either way, it was looking more and more
like Ling and Marco's CNN-fueled theory might be right. The
boyfriend really was the most likely suspect.

* * *

I swung by Mom's place to pick up the twins
before heading home, and when I pulled into my driveway, I was
surprised to see Ramirez's black SUV already there. A foreboding
hit the pit of my stomach. Ramirez home in the middle of the day
was a rare occurrence even when he
didn't
have a celebrity
murder on his hands. And the foreboding only grew as soon as I
opened the front door and heard banging in the kitchen.

"Jack?" I asked tentatively, setting the
twins down in their play yard in the living room.

No answer. Just more banging.

I poked my head around the doorframe into
the kitchen. Ramirez had a jar of pickles, a can of olives, and a
sliced ham on the counter. He grabbed mustard from the fridge and
squirted it on a hunk of ham, which he then stuffed into his
mouth.

"Hey?" I asked. "Home for lunch?"

He grunted, shoved more ham into his mouth,
then chewed violently.

"How did the damage control go?" I
asked.

Ramirez pinned me with a look that said he
was not in the mood to talk about it.

"You okay?" I asked, taking a careful step
into the room.

"No. I am far from okay," he said,
swallowing. "I'm not home for lunch. I'm just home."

I bit my lip. "Just home as in…"

"I'm suspended."

I froze, letting that information sink in.
"You're joking?"

He shot me a hard look. "Do I look like I'm
joking?" he asked. Though he didn't wait for an answer. Instead he
turned to the refrigerator, reached in, grabbed a beer, and popped
the top before downing half of it in one gulp.

"Wait, what do you mean suspended? They
can't just do that, can they?"

He nodded. "Oh, yeah. They can. Apparently
Ratski complained about my 'excessive force' to the manager of the
team, who complained to the mayor, who complained to the captain.
The entire chain of command is gunning for my head now. I'm off the
case."

"That's ridiculous," I said, shaking my
head. "The whole thing was Ratski's fault anyway."

Ramirez just grunted. "It doesn't matter.
I'm out of it." He paused to swig more beer.

"That's so not fair," I said, feeling a
little niggle of guilt that maybe I was as much at fault as
Ratski.

"So where have you been?" Ramirez asked.

"Huh?"

He shot me a suspicious look, his brows
forming a "V" over his dark eyes. "Maddie, please tell me you were
shopping?"

I bit my lip. "Sorta."

"Sort meaning…?"

"Meaning not at all. I was out with Dana
having lunch," I confessed

He shrugged, his expression relaxing.
"Oh."

"With the Baseball Wives."

The eyebrows fell back down. "The Baseball
Wives?"

"The wives of the Stars players. You know
they have that reality show?"

He gave me a blank look. Not that I expected
him to have seen it. If it wasn't on the Discovery Channel or ESPN,
it wasn't on his radar.

"Anyway, we…Dana and I…we thought maybe it
would be helpful if we heard what kind of gossip they had on Bucky
and Lacey. You know. If they had any."

He paused. "And did they?"

"Some. Beth said she'd seen Bucky and Lacey
arguing, but she didn't know why. Mostly they just hated
Lacey."

"Any particular reason?"

"The usual. She was younger, prettier, her
boyfriend was hitting more balls."

Ramirez sighed, running a hand through his
hair. "Sadly, you've still gotten further today than I have."

I crossed the room and rubbed his back. "I'm
sorry. I feel so bad about this"

He shook his head. "No. It's not your fault.
I
hit the guy."

"Well, don't take too much blame," I told
him. "After a couple of mimosas, Beth let out that Ratski has a
really short temper. Liz, the right fielder's wife, said he even
got into a fist-fight with another player last year when they
wanted to bench him before the playoffs."

"Wow, you really got those ladies to talk,"
Ramirez said.

I shrugged. "Dana had a lot do with it. But
you know, we're good at girl talk. It's kind of our thing." I sent
him a grin.

"Huh." He took a deep breath, running his
hand through his hair again. "Look, I know this might be asking a
lot, but there's something I need you to do for me," he said, a
look I couldn't read suddenly running through his eyes.

"Of course," I agreed.

Then my husband turned to me and uttered the
words I never thought I would hear him say.

"Maddie, I need you to investigate a murder
for me."

I blinked, not quite sure I'd heard him
right. "I'm sorry, you want what?"

Ramirez took a long swig of beer, his
features pinched as if it pained him to say it. "I want your
help."

I couldn't suppress the goofy grin spreading
across my face. Since we'd met, I'd had the misfortune to get
involved in several of Ramirez's cases. While it had always been
through no fault of my own, Ramirez had fought me every step of the
way—asking me to back off, demanding I back off, even pleading once
or twice that I leave his cases alone. So to hear him actually
asking for my help was like I'd entered a parallel universe.

One I was going to enjoy as long as it
lasted.

"Wipe that goofy grin off your face,
Springer," he told me.

"Sorry." I tried, suppressing it to a mild
smirk.

"Look, while I'm on suspension, I've been
warned away from any contact with anyone who even remotely has ties
to the Stars ball club."

"But I'm sure the captain has other
detectives on the case, right?" I asked.

Ramirez sighed again, doing more hair
mussing. "Right. Laurel and Hardy."

"Oh, they can't be that bad."

"No, those are their names. Laurel McMartin
and John Hardy."

"Oh," I said suppressing that grin
again.

"And the trouble is they
are
that
bad. They're lazy, and they're total yes-men." He paused. "Or a
yes-man and yes-woman. But the point is the Stars want this to be a
random killing of some sort, quickly swept under the rug and stuck
in a cold case file somewhere and forgotten. The city depends on
Stars income, and the police depend on the city. Everyone is
looking to make this swift, sweet, and tidy."

"But you don't think it's that simple."

He shot me a hard look. "No. I don't."

I nodded. "I don't either. People don't
randomly poison other people by spray tan." I paused. "Especially
at Fernando's." While a random killing might be good for the Stars,
it would be the worst for Faux Dad's salon. No one would ever feel
safe going into his tanning booths again, for fear the Tanning
Salon Killer would strike again. It would ruin him.

"Exactly," Ramirez agreed. "Which is why I
can't just sit here looking like a jackass while Laurel and Hardy
let the perp slip through their fingers."

"So…what exactly are you proposing?" I
hedged.

"I need you to be my eyes and ears. I need
you to do the legwork I can't."

I bit my lip. While I'd helped Ramirez on
cases before, I was the first to admit I wasn't exactly LAPD
detective material. Truth be told, I accidentally stumbled on the
truth as often as I happened to stumble on dead bodies. "Like, what
kind of legwork?" I asked.

"Like the lunch you just had with the
players' wives. Look, you and Dana have an in that Laurel and Hardy
don't. I trust that they'll process any evidence that presents
itself, but I also trust they'll avoid asking any hard questions
that may lead to ruffled feathers. Or paperwork," he added.

"What about the babies?" I asked, gesturing
to the twins, currently playing with colorful foam blocks.

"I'll watch them."

I froze. "Really?
You're
going to
play stay-at-home-dad while
I
go investigate a murder?" The
universe really had turned on its head.

Ramirez shrugged. "It'll be fun. I haven't
gotten to spend enough time with them lately, anyway. We need some
bonding."

"You sure? I mean, they can be a
handful…"

Ramirez shot me a look. "I think I can
manage watching my own kids, Maddie."

I was sure he could, too. For about an hour.
Which was the absolute longest he'd been alone with both babies at
once since they were born. It wasn't that Ramirez was a bad father
by any stretch. But I was 100% sure he had no idea what he was in
for.

On the other hand, it might not be a bad
thing if he found out.

"Okay," I said, shrugging my shoulders.
"When do I start, boss?"

The tension in Ramirez's jaw relaxed for the
first time since I'd walked into the kitchen. "Tonight. The team
management is throwing a memorial event for Lacey at the Marchmont
Hotel. All the players should be attending. I need you to get
Gabriel Blanco alone."

"The pitcher?" I asked. "Kendra's
husband?"

Ramirez nodded. "Bucky says he was with
Ratski and Blanco the morning Lacey was killed. But Bucky and these
guys are tight."