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Chapter Twenty-six

Elizabeth made a noise somewhere between a snort and a cough.

Nikki tripped over to the chairs, scooped up Pookie from her purse, and sat down with her on her lap. “I'm sorry, Lizzie, but it's true. I know you love your Holden-baby”—I concentrated on my breathing so I didn't gag—“but his father is a complete jerk.”

Elizabeth whispered. “Don't worry, I kind of agree.” She and Nikki giggled together.

Elizabeth is turning into Nikki. I've got to get out of here soon.
“Why do you say that?” I asked Nikki.

“This stays between us girls, right?” She looked from me to Elizabeth and back, and offered up both pinkies. “Swear?”

We dutifully hooked pinkie fingers with her. “You have to understand, I'm not averse to male attention, but I don't engage with married men. At all. I won't go there. I'm also not fond of men who can't take no for an answer. Coleman was both of those.”

“He hit on you?”

“Hard. Twice. Trotted out lines about his lavish apartment in town with its multimillion-dollar views. As if that would get me to break my rules.” She harrumphed. “No view is that good. No man is that hot.”

“Sounds like he has a routine,” I suggested.

“It wasn't his first infidelity rodeo. Honestly, I think Elizabeth might have the only decent one in that family. Not that I've met them all. In fact, Katie, I've heard your father is quite a different breed.”

“I guess so.”
Should I thank her?
“What about Billy?”

“Let's get something to eat and a bottle of wine, and I'll tell you how that idiot thought he could bully and manipulate me. Be right back!” She tripped away to change.

My shock—and it seemed like Elizabeth's also—lasted until we were seated in a restaurant's outdoor courtyard a block away. Nikki ordered wine on the way in and wasted no time pouring us all large glasses when it arrived. She drank half of hers down and cooed.

“You'd been dating Billy for a few months,” I began. “You were happy at first. At least you said he was attractive. What happened?”

Nikki sipped the rest of her wine more slowly. “He was hot. He gave me my Pookie-bear.” She reached over and scratched the dog's head. “And he gave me useful information about racing. It seemed like fun having him also work on the race weekend, even if Donnie wasn't all that happy with him.” She wrinkled her nose. “After a few months, I realized I'd let it become all about him—not only racing, but everything. Even then, it was easier to let things drift along for a while.”

“We've all been there,” I assured her.

“He was the first person I'd had a relationship with since my husband's death. For a while, it was nice to have someone else make the decisions, take care of me.”

She paused so long that Elizabeth spoke up. “It wasn't nice anymore?”

“When I questioned his actions, he got angry.”

I covered one of her hands with mine. “Was he violent?”

Nikki looked blank, then understood. “
Hell
, no. No one touches me if I don't want him touching me. Billy threw tantrums or got sly. Tried to tell me I should be grateful for his attention and connections. That the race and I would be lost without him. He made vague threats about disrupting the weekend.”

Elizabeth got angry, fast. “That's outrageous! You should have—”

“No recourse unless he did something.” Nikki shrugged. “It was easier to keep him around until the race was over. He couldn't have done anything at that point.”

“That must have been awful, staying with him.” I felt almost sorry for her.

“Cute little Katie. He was still smoking in bed. It wasn't hard…well, that would be a lie.” She let loose a big, throaty laugh as she reached for the bottle.

Elizabeth choked on her wine, and I felt my cheeks flush.

“It wasn't difficult keeping him around,” Nikki continued. “I simply stopped listening to his big plans for my money.”

“Big plans?” I echoed.

“I remember.” Elizabeth flushed, but that had to do with her empty wineglass. “He wanted to start a new team with you.”

Nikki pursed her lips. “I'd pay and he'd run it. I didn't bother telling him it'd be a cold day in hell before that happened. He'd have been out on his ass soon enough.”

I wondered if Billy might have talked her into it in the end.

Nikki caught my eye. “You see, Kate, I learned important lessons from my cheating husband and Dolly.”

“Dolly?”

“Parton,” Nikki replied. “Dolly says it takes a lot of money to look that cheap. I, on the other hand, look expensive, which takes even more money. My husband taught me it takes money to make money. Therefore, I'm not going to waste the money I have on something that won't make me enough money for me to live and look the way I want to.”

She made sense. I needed more wine.

Nikki raised her glass. “Here's to poor Billy. He wasn't the big prize he thought he was. He saved me the trouble of dumping him by getting himself killed. But he was
outstanding
in bed. Rest in peace.”

A strange epitaph.

We got away from the topic of Billy while we ate. Nikki wanted to know what it was like for both of us as women in racing, and she wondered why we didn't have any support groups.

“Actually, I had an idea.” Elizabeth turned to me. “I want to start an informal networking organization for women in motorsports, in any role, from hospitality to drivers. Would you be interested? Help me get it going?”

I was surprised by the request—by the person making the request. Before that day, I'd never given Elizabeth credit for anything. Personality, emotion, commitment to a cause, nothing. Now I'd seen hints of all of them, and I was impressed. “I like that idea a lot.”

“Great! Let's talk more next week. Think about invitations.”

I'd already started a mental list.

A waiter approached and handed Nikki the check and a small, plain brown shopping bag. I made a move for my wallet, and she stopped me.

“No, sweetums, don't be silly. This is my treat for girls' day out.” She didn't even look at the bill, but gave the hovering waiter a credit card. She reached into the brown shopping bag, removed two small, white boxes with enormous black bows, and handed one to me, one to Elizabeth.

Nikki put her hands together as if praying and bowed her head over them. “These are my gifts to you both. To remember our afternoon. Thank you for being with me. Namaste.”

I stuttered out thanks, confused by the greeting I associated with yoga. Elizabeth was smoother about it, and I wondered if she was used to Nikki's displays of enthusiasm and affection. We opened our boxes to find matching pink balls of fluff, with clasps.

“A key ring?” I wondered, holding it aloft.

Nikki beamed, her fingertips pressed to her mouth. “It's a mink bag charm. You know, to hang on a bag and give it a little style.”

“From Louis Vuitton. Nikki, you shouldn't have.” But Elizabeth smiled as she said it.

Nikki pouted. “Don't be upset with me.”

It was adorable, but mink? Louis Vuitton? Hang it on my bag and wait for it to fall off?!
“Thank you, Nikki. It's completely unnecessary, and I love it.”

“You're welcome. I thought it might remind you of Pookie and me.” At her name, the dog poked her head out of Nikki's bag. “You know, we're silly on the surface, but sweet and tough underneath. You go ahead and put that on your bag, it won't get lost.”

I laughed, impressed by her self-perception. That made two of my preconceived ideas about people turned upside down in the past couple hours. I'd need to rethink my approach.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Back at my hotel, I called Tara to ask about her sister, who was healing physically and was now at a different facility undergoing psychiatric evaluation. I thought Tara sounded tired but relieved, and I told her so.

“It feels terrible to say it,” she replied, “but you're right. I wish it wasn't happening, but I'm glad she'll get professional treatment. Thank you for helping me by listening.”

“I'm glad you had the courage to share the truth. I needed to hear it.” I paused. “On another topic, do you know who Coleman's second wife is?”

“Only that she worked for Frame Savings. I'll ask around and find out for you.”

“Just be careful.”

After that call, I spent thirty minutes updating the list of people who might want Billy dead, reminding myself that putting a name on the list didn't equate to an accusation. I had three columns: Racing, Bank, and Personal/Family. I added Nikki Gray to the four names already listed in the “Racing” column: Don, Elizabeth, Erica, and Penny. I knew enough now to add some names to the “Bank” column, and I steeled myself to play fair and write everyone down. Tara Raffield and Jenny Shelton went on the list, along with “Other?” I didn't trust Billy to only have been a jerk to one person in his branch office, so there had to be more names.

I stared at the blank column for “Personal/Family.” My instincts told me to write Coleman's name, and my rational mind kept asking why.
Because he has a mistress? Because he thought Billy acted too entitled and was headed for another demotion?
They were family. I wrote Coleman and Nikki down—even though Nikki was already in the Racing column—as well as Holden.

Then I called Detective Barnes at the Long Beach Police. I told him what I'd learned about Billy's unethical practices at the bank, his association with the “Big Dogs,” and how angry he'd made everyone at the race organization.

“I don't expect it's useful to you,” I admitted. “But I wanted to tell you what I'd learned.”

“I like information. You never know what will be the key.”

“How's your investigation going? Anything you can tell me?”

To my surprise, there was. “This is in confidence, but the stick we found at the scene was tested, and it's not the murder weapon. If you know of anything in your racecars or trucks that's about an inch in diameter, smooth except for a ridge on it, please let me know.”

“It could be almost anything.”

He sighed. “That's the problem.”

We hung up and I wrote “murder weapon??” in my notebook and spent a minute feeling stumped. It was five o'clock, and Ryan would pick me up in an hour and a half for the gala. I put the notebook away and turned off my brain until it was time to get ready.

The start of the evening was a near repeat of the night before, as I waited on the hotel's red-carpeted entryway for Ryan. The difference was we'd both upgraded from casual wear to black tie. Even the valets noticed, one of them complimenting me as I waited.

I fidgeted in my full-length gown—navy, with a curlicue pink pattern at the sides, and mermaid style, fitted to the knees—and wondered how I'd get into the low-slung Corvette. But I needn't have worried. Ryan pulled up in a sleek, black BMW 5-series.

I did a double take. “How many cars do you own?”

“Borrowed it from a co-worker so you could get in and out more easily.” He waved off the valet and walked around the car to open the door for me. “You look spectacular, Kate.”

I looked him up and down, an athletic, handsome man wearing a tuxedo and a confident smile. “We both look pretty great.”

He helped me into the car and kissed the back of my hand before closing my door. He glanced at me as we drove down the hotel driveway. “Any more family bombshells today?”

“No, thank goodness. But it wasn't without its surprises. And entertainment.” I explained I'd had positive news about future sponsorship possibilities, but didn't go into details. I also described my shopping experience with Nikki and Elizabeth. And Pookie.

“You gotta love Beverly Hills.” He grinned as he swung from La Cienega onto the freeway and floored the throttle.

“I feel like I'm in a movie. I'm sitting there, watching it all happening, talking to Nikki, and thinking no one will ever believe it's real. That she's real.” I paused. “Except the obvious parts of her that are fake.”

He laughed. “I know how you feel. It seems like most of it should be fake here. You know, they make movies, which are fake reality, so why should they feel reality is sufficient? Are they trying to avoid reality, improve on it, or be better than the reality next door? Hard to tell.”

“I'm confused because I can't figure out Nikki. She's nice, and I think she's smart. But she sometimes talks like she's out of breath, hauls pocket dogs around everywhere, and only dresses in tight, cleavage-baring clothing. Is she playing me? Or is all of her for real?”

“I can't speak to her motives, but I can tell you she is what she seems: a very, very rich widow. And despite the look and behavior you've described, she's not stupid. I'd suggest not judging the book cover.”

Point taken.
“Do you know her?”

“I checked her out to be sure she wasn't dangerous.”

“That's…sweet.”

“I'm not telling you anything officially.” He sighed. “If I'm being honest, which I understand may seriously jeopardize the outcome of this date, I wanted to be sure you wouldn't stumble into trouble.”

“For that, I'm not sleeping with you tonight.” I couldn't believe I'd said it. Kate Reilly, flirting. I wasn't usually good at that.

“Not tonight?” Ryan slid a glance sideways.

I studied his profile. He got more and more attractive the better I got to know him. The tuxedo helped.
What had he said?
“Did you look up anyone else?”

He smiled and waited a beat before responding to the change in subject. “Tara and Jenny are also who they say they are. Your friend Don Kessberg has a history of violence.”

Remembering his outburst by the pool, I wasn't surprised. “He admitted to a temper.”

“He was convicted once for assault, for severely beating a man who taunted him about losing a race. A long time ago, but you never know.”

“Can you tell me that?”

“Those records are public, plus there are a couple newspaper articles. You can find the information yourself online.”

“Good to know. And thanks for looking out for me.”

He reached over and laced his fingers with mine. “Your turn. What am I in for tonight?”

“Your basic expensive-ticket fundraising dinner. We'll be seated at the table of a big BCRF donor. Some of my family will be there, as Frame Savings bought a table. Some speeches, introduction of the Beauté campaign spokeswomen—that's me and five other women—and a live auction.”

“Anything good up for grabs?”

“That's why the bank is there. They helped me put together a package for a VIP trip for four to Petit Le Mans this year, including accommodations at Chateau Élan, tasting at the winery, transportation to and from the track, pit access during the race, meetings with all of the Sandham Swift drivers. And, if they can stay another day after the race, an afternoon of go-kart racing and coaching with me.”

He released my hand as he prepared to exit the freeway. “You should know something about me, Kate.”

“What's that?”

“I do love a good live auction.” He winked at me as the light at the bottom of the ramp turned green. “And I miss going racing.”