Red Flags (21 page)

Chapter Forty

I woke up Wednesday morning feeling lighter than I'd felt in a week. Since I'd seen Billy's body. Holly and I had agreed to take a lazy morning, and I lounged around in my yoga clothes after finishing an hour's practice. The only hitch in my mellow mood came when I realized I also needed to inform Nikki and Don of my decision.

I picked up my phone and dialed Don. Voicemail. I left him a message and dialed Nikki, hoping for the same. No such luck.

“Noooooo!” Nikki wailed. “You can't, Kate!”

“I'm sorry, but I'm no longer willing to look into things for you. His father made it clear he doesn't want me asking questions.”

“You have to ignore Edward, like Billy did.” She tried pouting. “Please, for me?”

I held firm, and she deflated. “Tell me what you've learned up to now.”

“To be honest, I haven't gotten very far.”

“You must have learned something.” She paused. “What are you doing today? Are you going to the premiere tonight?”

As the race organizer, she knew every activity on the schedule, including the animated movie premiering that night featuring the sounds of IndyCars and the voices of a handful of drivers. “Holly and I are going. Before that I promised her shopping.”

“Perfect! Here's what we'll do. Meet me at Dino's on Rodeo. The salon? Both of you should be there at, let's see, red carpet starts at six-thirty for the seven-thirty show, but you don't want to be there at the start…” She kept talking.

I remained silent. She didn't need my input. Or agreement.

“Be at Dino's at four this afternoon. Both of you.”

“For what?”

“The works, silly! We'll do makeup and hair for you both, my treat, and while that's happening, you and I can talk about what you've learned. Okay, great! Ciao!”

The call went dead in my ear before I could ask about the availability of appointments. Before I could protest Nikki paying for our services. Before I could tell her I didn't want any of it. The last would have been a lie. I wanted every bit of help to look good for the red carpet and the paparazzi. But I'd have refused on principle.

Holly was predictably excited and pragmatic as we made slow progress along Rodeo Drive that afternoon. “Why argue with the woman? Think of it as payment for the work you've done for her, and enjoy it. Besides, it will be my chance to meet her. Ooooh—shiny!” She dragged me into another store.

Whatever reservations I had about dealing with Nikki face-to-face or being pampered in a salon for a couple hours—not usually my favorite activity—were swept away by the VIP treatment we received the moment we gave our names to the receptionist at Dino's. Within moments, a gorgeous man with skin the color of café au lait swept around a corner. He wore bright purple, skintight trousers, a bright blue gingham button-down shirt rolled up to display muscled arms, and a hot pink sweater vest. Plus a purple paisley bow tie. He also wore more makeup than I'd ever seen on most women, let alone a man.

He ushered us through a pair of elegant, frosted-glass doors to the salon itself, a marvel of clean, sleek glass and chrome broken up by at least a dozen styling stations. We followed his mincing lead to a private area at the back where he installed us in side-by-side chairs.

“I am Dino, my lovelies. I hope you are prepared to become even more beautiful than you already are.” He noticed my amazement over his outfit and struck a pose. “I know, honey, it's so much to take. Drink in the fabulous.”

His response delighted Holly to no end. “Sugar,” she drawled, “that would take a month of Sundays.”

He preened. “We do what we can.” He turned a sharp eye on her. “And may I compliment you, Miss Holly, on your efforts, though I think I can bump you up a couple points on the gorgeous scale.” He walked around behind me to lift my hair and look at us both in the mirror. “Miss Kate, you are a diamond in the rough, and I do surely love a challenge.”

Holly snorted. “I keep telling her to do more with what the good Lord gave her.”

They'd turned into the Southern twins, though I suspected Dino was more a chameleon than a native.

“Not everyone is equipped to field our level of spectacular on an everyday basis, honey. But we'll show Miss Kate what she's capable of.” He winked at me, then grew serious, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “Do I have a free hand?”

I felt a pang of fear, and I forced myself to trust the expert. Within limits. “No bleach, no super-short cut, no shaving.” I swallowed. “Otherwise, do your thing.”

He put his hands on my shoulders. “I'll do what's good for you. Trust me.”

I nodded, still nervous. He turned to Holly, his eyebrows raised.

“Anything you want. You're the man.”

Dino giggled and clapped his hands together. “One moment while I gather my assistants and my tools.” He swished out of the private room.

An hour later, Holly's hair was being dried by an assistant, and Dino was wrist-deep in mine. Brandishing scissors. I tried not to look. That's when Nikki pranced in, with her Yorkie, Teenie, under her arm.

She squealed and waved Dino away so she could give me air kisses, and I introduced her to Holly. Dino snapped his fingers at one of the assistants who ran off, reappearing in an instant with a small, padded bench. Once he set that between our two stations, Nikki sat down facing us.

“Dino, sweetie, I can tell you're creating your typical masterpieces,” she said. Teenie barked in agreement, making Nikki reprimand the dog. Nikki looked back to me. “Now, Kate, tell me what you think happened to Billy.”

I glanced from Nikki to Dino's reflection in the mirror, and Nikki waved a hand. “Dino won't say anything.”

Dino winked. “She's the boss.”

“It's great you know each other well, but—”

I stopped when Dino started to giggle. He tilted his head one direction and cocked a hip the other. “This is like that ‘Who's on First?' routine. When I say she's the boss, it's not an expression. Nikki owns the salon. What she says goes.”

I'd forgotten who I was dealing with. Of course she owned the salon.
No wonder her hair and makeup were always perfect.
“You can't share this with anyone else. Even Don Kessberg.” I told Nikki the little I knew, starting with the long list of people who hadn't liked Billy and ending with the short list of suspects: Don, Tara, and Coleman. “But none of them make any sense,” I concluded. “I can't see any of them going that far.”

Nikki scrunched up her nose. “I think anyone could be capable of killing someone else.”

“Even
moi
?” Dino pretended outrage and tossed imaginary hair over his shoulder.

“Even you, sweetums.” Nikki blew him kisses. “But I agree motives are thin for Don and Coleman. Tara has the best motive of all.”

I agreed. “But I don't think Tara did it. I have no good evidence. Only a feeling.”

Nikki held Teenie up to eye level with me, waving one of her paws as she spoke. “Teenie wants to know who Kate thinks was the big, bad killer?” Nikki giggled, Dino smirked, and Holly smothered a laugh. Teenie looked nonplussed.

Nikki lowered the dog and grew serious. “Seriously, who would you pick if you had to bet on a killer now? What's your gut feeling?”

“Coleman.” The name slipped out before I could consider if I should say it.

“He'd be my guess, too,” she replied. “Even though he was Billy's uncle. He's a bully. Billy was learning it from him.”

“You called Billy a bully before. What did he do?”

Nikki frowned. “He wasn't nice to people he thought were below him…waiters, valets, even Dino's staff.”

Dino gave an enormous sniff. “Had to ban his ass from this place.” He waved his scissors in the air—snip, snip, snip—for emphasis.

Nikki sighed. “I never understood why he was good to animals and generous to homeless people begging, but rude to workers providing service. I didn't like it.” She paused. “Did I remember to tell you about the breakfast club?”

“Not yet.”

“I confirmed Coleman and Edward were members, and Billy was a junior member for the moment. Don says Billy was always in Coleman's shadow, and really seemed to be picking up on Coleman's habits and attitudes.”

“Don?”

“Sure, Don Kessberg is also a member. Didn't I tell you?”

Chapter Forty-one

Don Kessberg was one of the gang of shady businessmen helping each other get around the law. Including helping men like Richard Arena get rid of people. How connected is Don? How far would he tap his resources to take care of the boy toy screwing his boss and screwing up his business?

“Kate.” Holly was trying to get my attention. “You're done investigating, right?”

I glanced at Nikki and caught a sly expression on her face. I looked back at Holly. “Right. Done. Don't care.”

Nikki tried a few more approaches to get me to change my mind, including payment, peer pressure, guilt, and promises of handsome men as my slaves. The latter got Holly giggling, though that could have been due to the Latin-lover makeup artist staring raptly into her eyes. I resisted all entreaties.

Nikki finally heaved an over-dramatic sigh and stood up. “I'm not giving up.”

“Why is it so important to you she's involved?” Holly asked.

“I want someone on my side to figure out what happened. I want a woman involved. Call it instinct or intuition, but I want Kate looking out for my interests.” She paused. “Besides, all three of my spiritual advisors told me she must be part of it if Billy's murder is going to be solved.” As an exit line, it was outstanding.

I was still shaking my head over Nikki's proclamation a couple hours later, as a chauffeured Town Car delivered us to the famous Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard for the movie premiere. I had to admit, Dino and his staff knew their jobs. We looked amazing. Our hair had reversed roles for the night: Holly's was blown out straight and sleek and mine was pinned up in a complicated arrangement of curls. Add a cocktail dress and high heels, and I had my social armor on.

Thankfully, I was able to duck through the press line with minimal notice on the part of the photographers. Inside the theater, I was surprised to discover how many drivers, team members, and racing series staff was there. We chatted with Alexa Wittmeier, caught sight of Don Kessberg and Nikki across the room, and waved at SCC Series staff.

The movie delighted everyone in the audience, and we all laughed and applauded when we heard recognizable driver voices. On the way out, Holly and I looked around for signs to the post-premiere reception, on a higher level of the Hollywood and Highland complex adjacent to the theater. I finally spied IndyCar drivers leaving the theater courtyard to walk along the sidewalk.

Holly tugged me forward. “I want to walk through the entrance where the stars make grand entrances for the Oscars.” She dove into the flow of humanity. I stayed close behind.

We worked our way across the courtyard and joined the crowd. Hollywood Boulevard, with the stars in its Walk of Fame, attracted tourists at any hour. The stretch of it in front of Hollywood and Highland, a multi-level, open-air mall perfectly aligned for views of the famed Hollywood sign, was always one of the busiest spots on the street. On a balmy spring evening, right after a major studio premiere, it was a mob scene.

I saw three street musicians performing, six costumed characters posing for photos—for a fee—a man preaching the gospel, and a woman reading tarot cards. Plus a group of ten-year-olds doing precision dance steps. All in only a two-hundred-foot stretch of extra-wide sidewalk.

I was next to the curb, nearing the main entryway when my attention was caught by the sight of three Spidermen walking down the block together sporting matching middle-aged paunches. I looked down to pull my phone out of my clutch purse for a photo, when suddenly I was off-balance. Tripping. Dropping my purse. Falling toward the street into traffic.

Time slowed down almost as it did when something went wrong in the car. But I had fewer options on foot on Hollywood Boulevard. Step. Step again! I felt my ankle jam as I stumbled in my ridiculously high heels. Catch yourself! No amount of willing it to happen could put my feet in the right place to keep me vertical. My upper body kept heading out to the street.

Falling. Instinctively, I put my hands out to break my fall.
Can't drive with a broken wrist!
Tucked them into my body. Tucked my head. Prayed there weren't any cars coming soon. That they could stop in time.

Closed my eyes. Twisted, turned. Thumped down onto asphalt on my shoulder and side. Braced for other impact.

The noise I'd blocked came back in a roar. The squeal of brakes, mercifully short. The blare of horns. The screams and shouts of people. In a moment, I was swarmed. I heard one voice above the rest: “Get back. Give her room.”

I kept my eyes closed and did a survey. Toes and fingers wiggled. Ankles, knees, and back felt battered but not seriously injured, though one knee stung like crazy. I must have scraped it.

The hip, shoulder, and ribs I'd landed on hurt, but my neck and head seemed fine. I opened my eyes and started to move. A chorus of instructions greeted me.

“Are you okay?”

“Take my hand.”

“Don't move.”

I ignored them all, focusing on the messages I got from my body. By the time I sat up, unassisted, ignoring everyone gathered around me, I could tell I'd be fine. Bruised and sore, but not really hurt. I'd been lucky.

Finally, Holly's voice. “What the hell?”

“Here, little lady.” Another voice, with a Texas drawl, accompanied a big, beefy hand holding out my clutch purse, which sagged open.

Holly took it from him and glanced inside, thanking him.

I looked up to see a big, white handlebar mustache under an even bigger white straw Stetson. “I certainly hope y'all are all right. Your little purse was on the sidewalk, and I'm purely sorry to say there was no cash inside it, but I did look to see if any identification and credit cards were there, and they do seem to be. Plus your phone and a note. I apologize for not catching the miscreant who took your money.”

I blinked up at him. He spoke so slowly and deliberately his explanation took a long time. While I sat in the middle of a lane on Hollywood Boulevard, impeding traffic.

I shook my head to regain my senses. “Thank you. Would you help me up?”

The moment I was upright, I knew the shoes were no longer an option. I thanked my Texas savior, leaned on Holly to slip the heels off, and hobbled over to the sidewalk. By this time, the crowd had dispersed, and a police officer had walked over from his traffic duty at the corner. I managed to wave everyone off with apologies, references to high heels, and assurances I'd watch where I was going next time. I didn't have to pretend to be embarrassed.

I limped over to the grand staircase the stars ascended in ballgowns for the awards show and sat down.

Holly settled next to me. “Did you have much cash in your purse?”

“Twenty bucks.”

“Do you need remedial lessons on how to walk in those heels?”

I turned to look at her, finally letting down my guard and allowing myself to react to what happened. I was short of breath. Cold. “Holly, I was pushed.”

“Seriously?”

I started to shiver. “The Texan said there was a note in my purse. Let me see.”

She flipped open the catch. I pulled out the rumpled piece of paper, unfolded it, and read the message aloud: “Stop investigating Billy's death. Leave it alone, or you'll be next.”

“But you told everyone you were quitting!”

“Someone didn't get the memo.”