The Dead and the Beautiful (10 page)

“On the receipt for the tank. It was nice of you to buy it. Dad's tickled. He thinks you need some relaxation in your life. You being famous and all.”

Nikki thought it interesting that Mars had made no indication he knew who she was. Was he so accustomed to working for
celebrities
that it didn't faze him? Or was he one of those rare individuals who just didn't care if she appeared on E! occasionally or that her mother was a movie star?
The
Victoria Bordeaux?

“How can I help you, Moon?” Nikki asked.

“I heard what my dad said about your friend. About her aura. Dad's a little wacky about that sort of thing. He always wants to assume the best about people.”

Nikki slowed for a yellow traffic light. “Okay . . .”

“He said he didn't think the dog walker killed that guy, but I'm not so sure. You seemed nice. I'd hate to see you get wrapped up in the whole thing. You know, if she did do it.”

“What makes you think she might have done it?” Nikki asked, thinking this was a really odd phone call. Could she trust Moon? But what reason would the young woman have to lie to her? Moon was the one who had initiated the call.

“I don't know if I should be telling you this. No, I'm sure I shouldn't be, but I just had this feeling I needed to call you. Daddy doesn't know I'm calling.”

Nikki waited.

“I have a friend who works for a security company. That's who I was talking to when you were in the store. Can't be coincidence, right? Anyway, her name's Tulip. Yesterday, she mentioned that the police had come to the security company where she works the day after the murder. They had a warrant to get a digital copy of the security footage for the Melton house.”

“So . . . there were no physical tapes?” Nikki knew that some people still used VHS tapes to record security footage, but more and more houses were utilizing digital feeds that could be recorded and/or sent to monitors in the house, but also to an outside site.

“I don't know the particulars. Tulip didn't really say. We were actually talking about warrants, not about the murder.”

“Where does she work?” Nikki eased through an intersection and signaled to turn.

Moon was quiet on the other end of the line for a second. “Adam Ace Security in Beverly Hills. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this on the down-low. I'm sure Tulip's boss would be pissed if she knew she was gossiping about what went on in her office.”

“Sure. I really appreciate you calling me, Moon.”

“Yeah, well, my horoscope this morning said I would provide vital information to a stranger, so I felt like I needed to call you.”

That tidbit caught Nikki off guard and it took her a beat to respond. The girl was in her mid-twenties, getting a PhD, and read her horoscope every day? “Thanks, Moon. I mean it.”

“You enjoy that fish tank,” she said.

Nikki disconnected.

So had Alison been arrested because she lied about the dog . . . possibly about what she had been doing in the Melton/Elliot house? Or had there been something incriminating on the surveillance footage the police confiscated?

Nikki needed to talk to Tulip. But first . . .

“Victoria, mobile,” she said.

“Calling Victoria, mobile,” a voice replied.

Chapter 10

N
ikki left a message for her mother, then pulled over to get an address for Adam Ace Security and punched it into her GPS. She was almost back to Beverly Hills when Victoria returned her call.

“Crazy question,” Nikki said, changing lanes on Santa Monica Boulevard.

“I'll attempt not to provide a crazy answer,” Victoria returned dryly.

Nikki assumed this would be a waste of time, but in the past, her mother had been able to provide her with items she could use to barter for information. Or at least give in thanks for cooperation. Victoria had an armoire full of gifts and gift certificates she'd received in green rooms before a television or red carpet appearance. She also had access to concert, performance, and sporting event tickets long after they had been sold out. It was all about who you knew in L.A., and Victoria knew everyone.

“You don't know the Dalai Lama, do you?” Nikki asked.

“What a ridiculous question.”

Nikki laughed. Traffic was moderate to heavy. She stayed in the center lane and did her best not to get plowed over by the trucks and enormous SUVs. “I just wanted to check.”

“Could you hold a moment, dear? That nice Megan is here scratching at my door. I'm in my trailer powdering my nose.”

Nikki wasn't sure why her mother couldn't just say she needed to use the restroom. After all, she was human like everyone else, but that wasn't a word in Victoria's vocabulary.

She heard her mother's muffled voice, then a higher-pitched voice. A moment later, her mother was back on the phone. “Apparently we're reshooting a scene.” Victoria sighed with obvious annoyance. “One of the
gentlemen
doesn't like how his hair looked in the last take.”

Nikki smiled to herself. Victoria could be difficult at times, mostly with Nikki, but she was never,
ever
a diva on set. She learned her lines, showed up on time, and was always professional. She had little patience for those who did not behave in what she perceived as a professional manner.

“So, the Dalai Lama,” Victoria said. “Have you decided to become a Buddhist, Nicolette?” She pronounced it “Bud-ist.”

“Not this week. I was just wondering if you knew him because apparently he's coming to California. He's speaking at the University of Southern California and . . . there are these two girls I was hoping to get tickets for.”

“Well, of course I can't call His Holiness directly,” Victoria said. “I don't even know that there
are
phones in Buddhist temples.” Again,
Bud-ist.

“Mother, I don't think he actually lives in a temple.”

“Let me make a few calls after we shoot this silly scene again. I'll call you later? This cell phone is very handy. I can call you. I can call Amondo to bring the car around. I suppose I could call and make an appointment to get my hair done, if I wanted.”

“Which is why I've been telling you for years that you'd like having a cell phone, if you could just start keeping track of it.” Nikki was about to launch into another diatribe about the conveniences of modern telephone technology. Then she realized what her mother had just said. She was getting as bad as Victoria with her digressions. “Wait a minute.” She gripped the steering wheel. “You
do
know the Dalai Lama?”

“Well, it's not as if we're bosom buddies. His Holiness is busy . . . doing whatever it is that a Lama does. You know, people believe he's the reincarnation of the most learned Lama. He's reached enlightenment. He can't be reincarnated as a fly or a beetle.”

Nikki couldn't resist a chuckle. “Mother, how do you know about Buddhist lamas?”

“Well, Richard, of course.”

“Richard?”

“Heavens, I don't remember his name. He was in that sweet film where Julia Roberts played the prostitute.”

“Richard
Gere
?”

“That's him. I only have a minute, dear, so will you let me finish?” Victoria paused and then went on. “I'm not
friends
with the Dalai Lama, but I've met him. When I was in India, years ago. He was very kind. He had a pleasant smile. And he knew who I was . . . though I can't imagine he would have seen any of my films,” she mused.

“And you really think you could get me tickets?”

“I don't see why not. I know someone who makes the arrangements when His Holiness is in the U.S. Two, for USC. Anything else, Nicolette? I have to run.”

It was on the tip of Nikki's tongue to say, “Just that I love you,” but she didn't. Couldn't. It wasn't something they said to each other. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome, Nicolette. Have a grand day. I'll call you when we wrap for the day.”

 

Nikki found Adam Ace Security on Brighton, off Rodeo Drive. It was in a four-story modern glass office building. She parked in the garage below and took the elevator to the third floor.

Nikki introduced herself as a real-estate broker at the reception desk and asked to speak with Tulip. It turned out she was a technician; she was out on a service call, but the pleasant older woman behind the desk said she was expected anytime.

Nikki had spent less than ten minutes answering e-mails on her iPhone when a young woman with inky black hair and multiple piercings and tattoos walked in carrying a laptop bag.

Nikki stood. “Tulip?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm Nikki Harper. I . . . Moon gave me your name.” She eyed the receptionist. If Tulip was going to be willing to give her any information, she was certain it wouldn't be in front of another employee. She took a chance. “She said you were looking at a property I'm listing?”

Tulip glanced at the receptionist, then back at Nikki. “Nikki. Right, right. Come on back.” As she led Nikki through a swinging half door, she said to the receptionist, “North Canon is up and running again. Kids had a loose guinea pig and it chewed a wire.”

“I'll let the clients know.”

Tulip led Nikki down a hall, past several offices with glass doors. As Nikki followed her, she took in the baggy knee-length shorts, short-sleeved T-shirt over a long-sleeved T-shirt, and canvas sneakers . . . all black. Tulip was also wearing black knit gloves, the kind without fingertips. Like Moon, she was probably in her mid-twenties.

“We can talk in here.” Tulip led Nikki into a conference room and closed the door.

Nikki wondered if Moon called and warned Tulip that Nikki might try to contact her. Had she been expecting Nikki? Was that why she was going along so easily?

“Thanks for seeing me,” Nikki said quietly.

“Look, let's cut to the chase. I don't know anything about his association with any drug cartel. I haven't even seen him in at least a year.” Tulip dropped her laptop bag on an oval glass table. It was a nice conference room, done in light-colored wood and clean lines; very Ikea. “I told that to the last Fed who came here.”

“Fed?”
This girl had had contact with Feds?
“No. No, I'm not with the FBI,” Nikki assured her. “I'm a real-estate broker.”

Tulip studied her suspiciously. She was a pretty girl, despite the heavy black eyeliner that encircled her bright green eyes . . . and the tattoo of a snake with a long, forked tongue on her neck.

“You're not with the FBI? Because if you are,” she said defensively, “I think you have to tell me.”

“I'm Nikki Harper, with Windsor Real Estate. You can call my office and check, if you like.” She reached into her bag and pulled a business card from the inside pocket. She offered it.

Tulip scrutinized the card, then Nikki. “Wait a minute. I know you. Aren't you—” She snapped her fingers. “I know you! Your mom is Victoria Bordeaux. You have her eyes. The Bordeaux blues.” She tucked the card into her back pocket and clasped her gloved hands. “Oh my gosh. I can't believe it! I
love
her movies. My grandma and I watch them all the time.
The Widow's Daughter
has to be my favorite. I've seen it a hundred times.”

Nikki smiled. She was always amazed by the different kinds of people she met who said they loved Victoria's films: cops, sanitation workers, grandmothers . . . and Goth techies.

“I apologize for coming to your work, but this is kind of important. Moon didn't call and tell you I might be coming?”

“Actually, I think she left me a message half an hour ago, but I didn't get a chance to call her back. Can I get you a Coke or something? Oh, gosh. I'm nervous. Sit down.” She indicated a chair and waited for Nikki to sit before she took a seat across from her. “I can't believe Moon sent you here. She's the best. I didn't know she knew how much I liked Victoria Bordeaux.”

“Actually, I didn't tell Moon I was coming. I . . . I wasn't sure you would talk to me if I called ahead of time.”

“Wouldn't talk to you? Are you kidding? What do you want to know? Brad and Angelina's code to their front gate? State secrets? I don't know any, but I'd tell you if I did.”

Nikki laughed and waved her hand. “Nothing like that, but . . . what I need to ask you is a little delicate.” Nikki quickly related her relationship to Alison.

Tulip knew all the details of the murder. She said it had been the hot topic of conversation, in the break room, all week.

“So, she's in jail?” Tulip asked, wide-eyed.

Nikki had thought Tulip was an odd name, especially for a girl in black eyeliner and tats, but she seemed more and more like a tulip with every minute that passed. There was something sweet about her. Innocent.

“No,” Nikki said. “She's out on bail.”

“And
why
are you investigating the case?” Tulip asked. “You're not like some kind of double agent, are you? Real-estate agent by day, cop by night?”

“I'm not a cop.” Nikki exhaled. “I'm here because . . . because I feel like it's important that her brother—”

She pointed. “Your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend, believe his sister.” She waved her hand. “It's more complicated than that. I'm sure my psychiatrist would have a field day with this, if I had one. Anyway, it's important to me not only that Alison not have to stand trial, but that she be proved innocent, in Jeremy's eyes. So, what I want to ask is if you know what the police found on the video surveillance of the Melton/Elliot house that day.”

“Actually, I probably couldn't tell you that. It's against company policy, and I like my job too much to break the rule of client confidentiality. But it doesn't matter because they didn't see anything.”

“They didn't see anything?” Nikki asked.

Tulip shook her head. “Nope, everything had been erased.”

“Erased?”
Nikki repeated.

“Yup, from the home. I didn't install that system, but they probably have a laptop or a notepad that records the digital images and feeds them to us. But once they erase their images, ours are erased.”

Nikki shook her head trying to understand what Tulip was saying. “Someone in the house erased footage?”

“Sure did.” She leaned closer. She narrowed her green eyes. “Want to know my theory?”

“I do.” Nikki held up her finger. “But first, let me make sure I've got this. Ryan's murder was not recorded?”

“Nope, the computer was clean until just before the police arrive . . . and find Ryan Melton dead. Whoever did it knew what he or she was doing.”

Nikki sat back in her chair, thinking. “Can you tell when the cameras were shut off?”

“No, but whoever erased it went back to five a.m.”

Which was about the time Diara would have left for the set. Victoria left at five. Nikki returned her attention to Tulip. “So what's
your
theory?”

“That Ryan erased them because there was something recorded that day that he didn't want his wife to see. Like maybe he was cheating on her. A hot-looking guy like him? You know girls had to be throwing themselves at him. I know I would be.”

Nikki gave her a quick smile. “So . . . I'm still not entirely clear on the whole erasing thing. If he erased the evidence of whatever he had been doing in the house, wouldn't that have made his wife suspicious?”

Tulip shrugged. “I don't know. Someone erases stuff in that house all the time. But a lot of clients do it.”

Nikki sat back in her chair. “It doesn't make sense,” she said as much to herself as to Tulip.

“Maybe the killer did it.”

Nikki looked up, smiled, then nodded. “I think maybe you're right.”

 

“You bought a what?” Jeremy asked. He was cranky. He'd invited her for dinner and now was acting as if he didn't want her there. Dinner had been awkward. Jocelyn had been at play practice. Alison hadn't said a word through the entire meal. Nikki spent the meal chatting with Jeremy's kids. She now knew that Lani was on a horse kick and was reading
National Velvet
, Jerry was excited about some new comic book series release, and Katie had fish sticks at school for lunch.

Jeremy had been almost as quiet as Alison. Now, at least, he was speaking to Nikki.

She slid a dirty plate into the dishwasher. “A saltwater aquarium.”

“What are you going to do with a saltwater aquarium?” He sounded judgmental.

“I don't know.” She sounded defensive. She shrugged and reached for another dirty plate in the sink. “I thought maybe your kids would like it. We could have it set up in the living room. We can have it serviced so you don't have to do a thing.”