The Dead and the Beautiful (14 page)

 

Nikki's phone rang at seven the next morning. The number that showed on the screen was unfamiliar, but that wasn't all that unusual in her line of business. One of the downsides of her job—everyone had her phone number. “Nikki Harper,” she said, throwing her legs over the side of her bed.

“Porn.”

“I'm sorry?” Her dogs began to bark and dance at her feet. “Who is this?”

“Just shoot me. I'm sorry, Miss Harper. Nikki. It's Jessie, Jessie Bondecker. Sorry to call you so early, but I talked to my brother's roommate last night.”

Nikki could barely hear Jessie for all the barking. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and padded barefoot out of her bedroom. The dogs followed. “Hush, guys.”

“I'm sorry?” Jessie said.

“Not you, Jessie. My dogs.” Nikki snapped her fingers and led them down the hall toward the stairs. She lived in an amazing little Craftsman bungalow on Wetherly Drive in West Hollywood, a bungalow with a backyard. “Sorry. Can you start again?”

“I woke you up. I am
so
sorry.”

“It's okay. Really. Just hang on one sec.” Once downstairs, she walked through the living room, into the kitchen, and opened the back door. The dogs sailed out, cute ears flopping. “Can you start again, Jessie?”

“I talked to my brother's roommate last night at the party. The one who works for that computer place. He was
so
wasted. I beat him playing beer pong like four times. He's kind of cute, but I don't think he knows I'm alive. You know what I mean? I mean, he
knows
I'm alive. He played beer pong with me, right? But you know, like he's not interested in me.”

Nikki made her way to the kitchen counter and added water to her electric kettle. Coffee was definitely in order this morning. “Jessie, when you first called, did you say something about
porn
?”

“Yeah, that's why I called. Like I said, I'd never take advantage of having your phone number and call all the time or anything.”

Nikki leaned against the counter. The refinished maple flooring under her bare feet was cool. She was just wearing boxer shorts and a ratty T-shirt. She wished she'd grabbed a sweater on her way down. “What were you talking about when you said ‘porn,' Jessie?”

“That's what was on the computer.”

Nikki switched her cell from one ear to the other. “Ryan Melton's laptop had porn on it?”

“Yup,” the girl said triumphantly.

Nikki grabbed a mug from the cupboard. “So? What's that got to do with Alison?”

“It was her.”

The teakettle whistled. Nikki was still fuzzy from sleep. Or maybe Jessie was just hard to follow. “Who was her?” She rubbed her forehead. “What are we talking about, Jessie?”

“That's what I'm trying to tell you. The skin flick on Ryan's laptop. Your friend who was arrested. She was in it.”

Chapter 14

N
ikki was upstairs getting dressed when she heard someone knock at her door. Her back door. She pulled on a pair of jeans. Her backyard was enclosed by a nine-foot privacy fence to keep the boys safe.

Nikki hurried downstairs. “Coming!” she hollered. Sometimes Stan or Ollie, or both, squeezed under the fence and ran into Rob and Marshall's backyard. They didn't mind if the dogs dropped in once in a while, but they did mind the gifts the dogs left behind, usually on their pool patio. “Sorry. I was upstairs getting dressed,” she said as she opened the door.

It was Marshall, dressed in expensive Italian athletic pants, a tight black Under Armour T-shirt, and running shoes. He didn't dare run in their neighborhood, for fear of being spotted by fans or paparazzi, but he liked to hit the treadmill first thing in the morning.

The dogs shot through the door ahead of him and disappeared into the front of the house. Probably because they knew they were in trouble.

“You're not going to believe what I just read on this crazy blog I follow.” He came into the kitchen. “I'm pretty sure the blogger is somehow connected to the Beverly Hills police force, because she knows
way
too much to just be a casual observer. Maybe a wife or a girlfriend of a cop who talks too much?”

“Coffee?” she offered. “I'm on my way out the door. I'm kind of in a hurry.”

“Where you headed so early?”

Nikki pulled another cup from the cupboard and reached for her French press on the gray soapstone counter. “I've got to talk to Alison.”

“I'd say. You're not going to believe what I just read.”

She poured the coffee. The smartest thing was to go to Alison and just ask her outright what Jessie could possibly have been talking about. Pornography? No way. Obviously there was a mistake. Maybe miscommunication or exaggeration? Maybe Alison posed for some semi-nudie pictures or something once upon a time? Maybe that was what Jessie's drunk beer-ponger was talking about. A topless photo of Alison when she was nineteen. Not good news for her child-custody case, but that certainly didn't make her a murderess.

She added cream and artificial sweeter to both cups. “What'd you read, sweetie? I really have just a minute.”

“It can't be true! It's too shocking, in every sense of the word.”

Nikki took a sip of her much-needed liquid caffeine and pushed the other cup into Marshall's hand. “What now?”

When Marshall ran out of gossip rags to read, he surfed the Net for Hollywood gossip blogs. He was featured in them all the time. Nothing delighted him more than to hear what beautiful female costar he was now dating.

“Don't tell me,” she said. “Another Victoria's Secret angel is having your baby?”

“No one's having my baby. Rob and I aren't ready.” He held the hand-thrown pottery mug between his big hands. “It's Alison, honey.” He grimaced. “You may have been a little premature in jumping to her defense.”

Nikki looked up at him over the rim of her coffee cup. “Let me guess. Nudie photos.”

He frowned, an exaggeratedly sad look on his face. “Victoria wasn't even sure I should tell you. She—”

“My mother knows?” She laughed, amused more than annoyed. “You already talked to my
mother
?” She grabbed a banana off the counter, but seeing it had a big brown spot, dropped it. “Don't you have your own mother?”

“You don't get up until seven on Saturdays and my mother has water aerobics. I can always count on Victoria being up when I'm on the treadmill.”

She took another swallow of coffee. “I
really
have to go. Can you tell me on the fly? I need shoes.” She walked out of the kitchen, past a handmade mirror she'd bought in an antique shop in Mendocino. She glanced at her reflection and tugged on her saggy ponytail. “And maybe a comb.”

“And lipstick. If you're headed to Jeremy's, there may be paparazzi.” He followed her through the living room. “Go with a nice peach. And some mascara.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Nikki turned on her heels, coffee mug still in her hand. “Paparazzi? Why would there be paparazzi at Jeremy's?” She got a sinking feeling in the bottom of her empty stomach. “Marshall, I'm not following you.”

“It's bad, Nik,” he said gently.

She waited, nibbling on her lower lip. “Okay.”

“Porn.”

It was the same word Jessie had used. “You . . . you mean like photos, right?” She stubbornly clung to her assumption. Her prayer. “Topless on the beach. She was in France that summer—”

“I'm afraid it wasn't photos they were talking about.”

Nikki held her coffee cup against her chest as if she could protect herself. “You're kidding me. You've
got
to be kidding me.”

“Porn as in pornographic movie. Miss Tinseltown Tattletale says authorities believe Alison murdered Ryan Melton after he tried to blackmail her with the thought-tobe-long-lost footage.”

Nikki groaned. “Really, Marshall? Alison? Making pornography?” She turned and headed up the steps. It couldn't be true. It was more nonsense, like the alien spacecraft and Emma Stone's secret triplets he'd read about the previous week. “Sweet, innocent,
boring
Alison?”

Marshall remained at the bottom of the staircase and called up to her. “It's always the boring ones who surprise you!”

 

Nikki used the code to open the security gate to Jeremy's house in Brentwood and made sure it closed behind her before she proceeded up the driveway to his two-story Colonial.

She called him from her car. “Just coming up the driveway,” she said when he picked up. “What'cha doing?”

“Eating cereal. Reading the paper.” He sounded as if he was in a good mood for the first time in a week.

Nikki suspected she was about to ruin his good mood. Bringing up the word
porn
in association with a guy's sister was never fun. Maybe she wouldn't have to talk to Jeremy about it. Maybe she could get Alison alone and clear it all up.

“Did I know you were coming?” Jeremy asked. “Yesterday I forgot Katie's pediatrician appointment. This whole thing with Alison, it's got me rattled, I guess.”

“I . . . I was just stopping by before I go to Mother's, to . . . help her with some stuff in the attic.” Not exactly a lie; Nikki had been promising Victoria that she'd help her go through some boxes. Victoria had it in her head that she didn't want people pulling through her possessions after she was gone. Nikki had been arguing that while she agreed the chore should be done, she didn't suspect her mother was going anywhere soon. Maybe today really would be the day to start the project. “I thought I'd say hi. Fortify myself with some of that fresh ground Colombian of yours.”

“Ah, I won't ask about the attic,” Jeremy said. “Front door's open.”

Once inside, Nikki stopped in the living room to say hi to Jeremy's girls, who were watching cartoons while big sister Lani tried to show little sister Katie how to play Candyland. Lani informed Nikki that their thirteen-year-old brother had gone camping with his Boy Scouts troop and that she hoped rattlesnakes got him. Apparently, he'd taken her pillow instead of his own.

“Morning,” Nikki said when she walked into the kitchen. “You sure you don't want a fish tank? I think the girls would love it.”

Jeremy sat at the granite counter with the
L.A. Times
open, an empty cereal bowl pushed to the side. “Morning. No fish tank. And you might not want to kiss me,” he said as she leaned over for said kiss. “I ran, but I didn't shower yet.”

“I don't care.” She kissed him soundly, happy to see him acting like himself again.

He smiled. “Coffee's made. Want me to get you a cup?”

“Nah, I'll get it myself.” She stalled, taking her time making it, wiping up spilled milk on the counter, hoping Alison would appear.

“Alison here?” she asked finally, trying to sound casual. She sipped her coffee.

He cut his eyes at her. “As far as I know. I assume still in bed. Jocelyn had a sleepover and then some kind of science bowl practice today. My sister doesn't get out of bed unless she has to.”

Nikki sipped her coffee. “She's not working?”

“I don't know what she's doing.” He began to fold up his paper, sounding tense again. “I know she's still working for some clients, but it seems like she spends most of her day moping around here.”

“Do you blame her?” Nikki asked as gently as she could. “I mean . . . this is pretty awful. Being accused of killing someone.”

He didn't say anything. He got up and rinsed out his cereal bowl. “I don't want to fight about my sister,” he said as he shut off the water and wiped his hands on a towel.

“Me neither.” She met his gaze and they stood there for a second just looking at each other, neither sure where to go from there.

“You staying a few minutes?” he said finally. “I'm going to run up and grab a shower.”

“Sure, I'll be right here.”

Nikki had read the front page and skipped to the world news when she looked up, surprised to see Alison walk into the kitchen. It wasn't nine yet. She was dressed. Hair combed. She was wearing one of her 90210 dog-walking polo shirts. “Alison? Going to work?”

“I promised a client I'd be there. I have to make my car payment, I guess.”

Nikki glanced in the direction of the living room; she could hear the girls laughing. Jeremy was still upstairs. “I need to talk to you.”

“
Please,
let's not start again. I don't know who hired Lillie Lambert.” Alison moaned. “And I'm not really in a position to care too much.”

“What if the real killer hired her?” Nikki asked. The thought hadn't occurred to her until the words came out of her mouth.

Alison scowled. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“None of it makes any sense.” Nikki got up from the stool and walked around the counter, trapping Alison between her and the coffeepot. “Ryan Melton's computer was taken at the scene of the murder.”

“Was it? I guess that's pretty routine, isn't it?” Alison's voice sounded airy. She poured herself a cup of coffee.

“They're saying there's something on that computer . . . something that Ryan could have been . . . trying to hold against you.”

Alison began to add sugar to her cup. One teaspoon. “Hold against me?” Another.

“Blackmail you.”

Alison added a third spoon of sugar. “Who's
they
?” She tried to catch a glimpse of Alison's face to get a better read on her, but she was facing the sink, her body turned slightly away from Nikki. “Could the police have found something on that computer that they could think is evidence against you?” When Alison didn't answer, Nikki went on. “Because, what they're saying. It's crazy. There's no way it's true. So if you just tell me, honestly, what's on that computer, I—”

Alison turned to look at her, her face stricken.

Nikki halted midsentence. “Oh, no, Alison. You're not serious.”

“It was a bad time in my life.” She started to blubber. “It was just the one. My boyfriend at the time, he said it would make us rich. He said . . .” She took a gasping breath. “I never thought I'd get married, have a daughter . . .”

“What is it? Not just pictures?”

Alison shook her head.

So Tinseltown Tattletale knew what she was talking about. Nikki felt like an idiot. No, just naïve.

“How . . . how did you know that's what was on his computer?”

“He told me,” Alison whispered.

“I'm sorry,” Alison sobbed, covering her face with her hands. “I'm so sorry. I've disappointed you. I've embarrassed Jeremy and Jocelyn. I'm so sorry!”

“It's okay.” Nikki put her arms around Alison, who was shaking all over. “It's okay. We'll figure this out.”

“I don't want to go to jail. I don't want Jeremy to think I belong there!”

“Shh,” Nikki soothed, patting her back.

“I can't believe I've made such a mess of my life!” Alison was crying so loudly that neither of them heard Jeremy come into the kitchen.

When he saw the two of them hugging, he cursed under his breath and closed the door between the kitchen and the living room. “What's going on?”

“I didn't want to tell him,” Alison whimpered. “I'm not supposed to tell anyone anything. Lillie was very specific. She said they wouldn't pay my bill if I ran my mouth.”

Nikki smoothed Alison's hair. “It's going to be all right.” “It's not,” Alison whispered.

“Tell me what?” Jeremy had changed into jeans, a green polo, and boat shoes. His wet hair was combed and he was wearing the Chopard watch Nikki had given him for Christmas.

“The police have some incriminating evidence on Ryan Melton's laptop,” Nikki said slowly.

Alison sniffed and stood up, letting go of Nikki. She'd left a wet spot on the shoulder of Nikki's T-shirt. “It's not what it sounds like. I mean,
it is
. That is me.” Alison's voice quavered. “But he wasn't trying to blackmail me.”

Nikki grabbed a paper towel off a spool on the counter and handed it to Alison.

“Is someone going to tell me what's going on here?”

He was back. Angry Jeremy. Nikki didn't know him.

“You tell him,” Alison said softly. “I can't do it.”