Undercover in High Heels (10 page)

“Oh, wowzers, can you believe this line?” she asked, panting.

What was hard to believe was that anyone over the age of twelve used the word
wowzers
. Though, looking at Kylie, I found it kind of hard to believe she
was
over the age of twelve. She was like Britney Spears (pre K-Fed), Jessica Simpson (post-
Newlyweds
) and Nicole Richie (pre-eating disorder) all rolled into one. Perky little ski-jump nose; fresh pink cheeks; round,
sort of vacant blue eyes; and blonde hair cut in a flirty layered look. This morning her locks were pulled back in a messy-chic ponytail, and she wore Uggs with pink sweats that read JUICY on the butt.

“It’s, like, so unfair we have to go through this, ” she said, pulling a compact out and dabbing concealer over an invisible blemish. “I mean, Veronika was killed with panty hose, not a gun. What’s with the freaking metal detector, ya know?”

I had to admit she had a point.

One that seemed more and more valid as we inched forward in line until I spied my nemesis—the plastic security doorway.

“God, I hate this thing, ” I muttered under my breath.

“It’s no big deal, ” Dana said, slipping her Fendi off her shoulder and onto the belt. “Oh, crap, I forgot my cell in your Jeep. I’ll be right back. Grab my bag on the other end for me, ’kay, Mads?”

“Fine, leave me alone with this thing.”

Dana waved me off, jogging back to the parking lot.

Considering that there were about fifteen guys lined up behind Kylie, I figured all I could do was plow ahead.

I gave Bug-eyed Billy my name, then set my Spade down on the belt beside Dana’s fake Fendi. Then I carefully took off my shoes, my watch, my hoop earrings, my toe ring, and my necklace. And today, despite the noticeably flattened appearance of my chest, I was sans underwire. I
would
make it through this time.

Queen Latifah was on duty again. She waved me through the plastic doorway with her wand. “Next!”

I took a deep breath, bit my lip, and stepped one foot over the frame. Nothing.

Hallelujah! I felt like hugging Latifah, I was so happy. Forget graduating college—this was a major life accomplishment!

“Uh, ma’am, ” Bug-eyed Billy spoke up from behind his monitor. I turned. He was holding Dana’s fake Fendi. “Is this your bag?”

Uh-oh.

“Uh, well, it’s my friend’s bag, ” I said, glancing toward the parking lot.

“I’m going to have to inspect the contents for non-approved electronic devices.”

“Uh, okay.” I stepped over to the monitor and watched as Bug-eyed Billy proceeded to paw through Dana’s Fendi, pulling one item after another out onto the now-stagnant conveyer belt. Lipstick, credit cards, checkbook, pen. I winced as he pulled out two condoms, and saw a couple of PAs in line lean forward.

But then Bug-eyed Billy really hit the jackpot.

He pulled out a slim pink battery-powered device with a soft, rounded tip.

I felt myself grow hot as my jaw dropped open. Dana’s pocket rocket!

“Ohmigod.” Kylie giggled behind me.

Bug-eyed Billy inspected it as if he’d never seen one before, holding it up to his thick glasses. Of course, the PAs were a little quicker to catch on, openly laughing, and I think I heard someone call out, “Hot stuff, ” from the back of the line. Good God, they thought it was mine!

If I hadn’t just gotten my nails done, I would have seriously considered clawing at the asphalt to dig a hole I could crawl into.

“That’s not mine!” I protested hotly.

Bug-eyed Billy raised an eyebrow at me. “What is it?” he asked.

I heard a snort of laughter from one of the PAs. “Yeah, honey, tell him what it is.”

I clenched my fists into balls. I was so going to get Dana for this.

I leaned in close, trying to be discreet. I know: lost cause at this point. “It’s a personal massager, ” I whispered.

Billy tilted his head to the side, still inspecting Dana’s little friend. “Like for your neck?”

More snorting from the peanut gallery.

“Um, yeah. Like for your neck…or something.”

Billy contemplated it for a moment, no doubt trying to figure out just how that might work, but finally he shrugged and, to my immense relief, dropped it back into the fake Fendi. “All right.” He nodded. “You’re cleared.”

I grabbed the bag, shoved my shoes back on my feet, and quickly gathered up the rest of my belongings just as Dana made an appearance at the back of the line. She cheerily waved her cell phone and motioned that she’d meet me inside.

Some days I think having friends is overrated.

“Speed. And…rolling!”

“Okay, Nurse Nan, we’re ready. Who’s the father?”

“I’m sorry to tell you that the results aren’t what we were hoping for.”

“What?”

“What do you mean, not what we’d hoped for?”

“I mean it seems that neither Chad nor your husband is the father of your baby, Ashley.”

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand as I watched from the edge of the soundstage. Neither one? Wow, that was a bombshell. I thought back to last season’s episodes. Who else could it be? I mean, there’d been that one guy who used to be on
Sex and the City
, but they wrote him out when he poisoned the next-door neighbor to cover up his gambling addiction that led to his mortgaging his sister’s house and forcing her to work as a high-class call girl.

“There’s someone else, Ashley?”

“No, Chad, I swear it. There’s just been you. And my husband.”

“Then explain these results.”

“I…I…I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, Chad!”

“I’m not sure I can, Ashley.”

“And…cut! Brilliant—take five, everybody.” Steinman beamed from ear to ear behind his monitor. Grips slapped one another on the butt, and even Margo and Ricky did a high five. The only one who didn’t seem pleased was Mia, still shooting daggers across the soundstage at Margo.

Dana skipped out from her perch behind the reception desk and mini-jogged over to me. “Oh, wow, did you catch that?”

I nodded. “No freaking way the baby is someone else’s!”

“My money’s on the electrician across the street.”

“But he’s been dating Tina Rey ever since she saved him from that drunk driver in season two.”

“Yeah, but Tina Rey’s been seeing that undercover detective on the sly.”

“Ooooh. Right. I forgot about that.” God, I loved this show!

“Hey, ” Dana said, elbowing me in the ribs. “Ricky’s alone. Now’s our chance to grill him.”

“Grill him? What is he, a ribeye?” But before I could protest, Dana grabbed my arm and was dragging me across the stage to where Ricky was trying to extract himself from his clip-on mic. She stopped just short of him and did a less-than-subtle throat clearing, accompanied by another shot to my ribs.

“Ow! Okay, geez, ” I mumbled. “Uh, Ricky?”

Ricky looked up. “Oh, hey. Maddie, right?”

“Right.”

“Ah-heh-hem!” Dana cleared her throat again.

“And this is my friend Dana.”

Dana stuck out her hand, doing her best flirty blonde. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hey.” Ricky shook it, and I swear I saw Dana melt on contact, giggling like a sixth-grader.

“Uh, anyway, I was wondering if I could ask you something.” I said.

“Sure.” Ricky pulled his microphone through his sleeve. “Shoot.”

“You mentioned yesterday that you and Veronika had dated. When was that?”

Ricky pursed his lips. “Um, I’d say about three months ago. Why?”

Alarm bells louder than one of Mrs. Rosenblatt’s muumuus clanged in my head. Three months was exactly
how far along Veronika had been. I tried to keep my voice calm even as I asked, “Why was it you two broke up again?”

Ricky bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes doing a slow survey of the soundstage behind me. “We, uh, we just didn’t hit it off.”

“Oh, I totally know how that goes. Compatibility is so important, ” Dana gushed. She laid a hand on Ricky’s arm and batted her eyelashes.

“And Veronika felt the same way?” I asked.

Ricky shrugged again. “I guess. I dunno.”

“You never talked to her about it?”

“Uh, well, um, not really.” Ricky fidgeted with the microphone in his hand, looking about as uncomfortable as when I wore those cheap leatherette pumps from Bargain Barn last summer during that heat wave. Obviously I wasn’t getting the whole story.

“Ricky?” I prodded.

He glanced nervously from side to side. Then sighed. “Okay, fine.” He paused, leaning in closer. “But this stays just between us, okay?”

“Absolutely, ” Dana promised, punctuated by a big, toothy smile.

I held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“Look, we went out a few times, and then this one time I took her to the movies and dropped her back off at home. Her neighbor was outside watering her lawn. She saw me and recognized me from the show. I mean, she was nice enough, so I signed a couple of autographs for her.”

“Go on, ” I prodded, wondering where all this was going.

“Well, then this lady asks me what I’m doing there, and I told her I was taking Veronika home. Then she
kind of got quiet. So, I figured something was up.”

“Such as?”

“Well, she tells me that she’d seen some
other
guy go home with Veronika the night before. And he didn’t leave until morning. Well, I mean, come on. I’m just not into that. I mean, I’m a one-woman kind of guy.”

I think I heard Dana sigh beside me.

“So, I broke it off.”

“Any idea who this other guy was?”

Ricky shook his head. “Nope. I didn’t ask. Honestly, I kinda didn’t want to know, you know?”

I nodded, disappointed.

“Anyway, please don’t tell anyone, ’kay? I mean, my publicist has worked really hard to make me look like this bad-boy womanizer. If word got out that I’m into monogamy, my image would be toast.”

“I think that’s so sweet, ” Dana said, her eyes glazing over as she stared up at him.

“Remember the chip, ” I mumbled to her.

“Chip, schmip, ” she whispered back.

“Hey, you don’t happen to have Veronika’s address, do you?” I asked Ricky.

“Sure.” He pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote it on the palm of my hand.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, no sweat, ” he said. Then he flashed us both one of his trademark hunky-gardener smiles.

This time I was sure I heard Dana sigh. Though I had to admit, as he walked away the rear view was hot enough to make me sigh a little, too.

“I think I’m in love, ” Dana said, tilting her head to the side for a better angle.

“So, do we believe him?” I asked.

Dana rounded on me. “Of course we believe him! Did you see those tight glutes?”

I rolled my eyes. “All right, what do you say we go pay Veronika’s neighbor a visit?”

Thanks to the shifty-eyed AD, Dana had to wait until lunch to get away. But as soon as Steinman yelled, “Cut, ” we bolted for the parking lot and pointed my Jeep in the direction of the address Ricky had given us: 1342 Coronado Court.

I made a right on Melrose, then a left onto Highland before getting caught at a red light between Santa Monica and Lexington.

As we idled, Dana leaned down to flip on the radio.

Which, as it turned out, was a good thing. Because had she been sitting up in her seat, her head might not have survived the impact as a car slammed into the driver’s side of the Jeep.

“Unh!” I felt my neck jerk to the right like a rag doll’s. Instinctively, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. I looked up to find a white Range Rover crunched up against the side of my car. I blinked hard, trying to get my bearings as adrenaline surged through me.

“Ohmigod, someone just hit us!” Dana yelled, stating the obvious.

What wasn’t obvious, however, was why the Rover was backing up.

Then surging in for another attack.

I braced myself against the steering wheel as the SUV slammed into the side of the car again.

“Holy shit! Is this guy nuts or what?” Dana screeched, grabbing onto the dash in a white-knuckled grip.

The light in front of us turned green just as I saw the Range Rover back up for another run.

“Go, go, go!” Dana yelled.

I admit, up until that point I’d been paralyzed with shock. But as I saw the Rover’s tires spin, revving toward us again, adrenaline kicked in full force and I slammed my wedge down on the gas pedal, hard enough to send my Jeep fishtailing through the intersection.

I watched in the rearview mirror with horror as the Rover cut into traffic behind us and sped up to kiss our bumper.

“Ohmigod, who is this creep?” Dana asked, swiveling around in her seat. “What does he want?”

I bit my lip, my eyes ping-ponging between the cars in front of me and the SUV closing in behind us. We were coming up on Sunset and the traffic was three lanes thick. “Hold on, ” I warned, making a sharp right turn onto a side street, just barely missing the curb. The Rover didn’t have quite our turning radius, jumping up on the sidewalk and knocking into a bus stop as it followed.

“Dammit, he’s still coming after us, ” Dana said, her eyes glued to the back window.

A point he illustrated by surging forward and ramming into my back bumper.

Dana and I both whipped forward.

“Unh.” My head snapped back against the headrest so hard it rattled my teeth. I pushed the gas pedal down as far as it would go, quickly making another right and swinging into an alley behind an all-night diner.

The Rover followed and, since it had about fifteen horses on my little Jeep, easily caught up to us. Only this time instead of ramming us from behind, it pulled up alongside us, so close that Dana could reach out and touch the white metal beside her window. She let out a whimper and ducked as the driver swerved left, bumping us against the side of the building. I could hear the sickly sound of metal scraping as we careened out of control down the alleyway.

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ” Dana chanted in the seat next to me.

Ditto. Only my adrenaline was pumping too hard to form actual words. Instead, I closed my eyes, prayed, and slammed on the brakes, pulling hard to the right.

The Rover sailed past us as my little red Jeep
whipped around in a circle, tires squealing against the pavement. When the world stopped spinning, we were facing the opposite direction. I switched to the gas again and surged out of the alleyway as fast as I could, making a hard right into the parking lot of a Hollywood Video before pulling the car to a stop.

I cut the engine, the only sound Dana and I panting like Rottweilers as we both tried to bring our heart rates to something slightly lower than a Pomona drag race.

Dana was the first to recover, digging her fingernails out of the dash and slowly flexing her limbs. “Ohmigod, Maddie. He could have killed us!”

A vision of my squirrel friend with the tread marks flashed through my head. “I think that was the general plan.” I pried my hands off the steering wheel, doing a slow mental check of my person. My neck was starting to tense up, but other than that everything else seemed to work. Toes wiggled, arms moved. I looked down. Miraculously, I hadn’t even wet myself.

“Are you okay?” Dana asked, rubbing her temple.

“I think so. You?”

She nodded, even though I could see a bump starting to form on her temple.

I tried my door handle. Wouldn’t budge. Not surprising, since what I could see of the driver’s side looked like it had been shoved in a trash compactor. My poor baby!

Luckily, Dana got hers open, and, after navigating over the gearshift, we both climbed out on legs that felt like overstretched rubber bands. I gingerly walked around the car to assess the damage.

“Wow, ” Dana said.

All I could do was stare. The driver’s-side door was
smashed beyond recognition, the front lights busted out, the back bumper hanging on by a thread. The entire rear quarter of the Jeep was twisted at a forty-five-degree angle, and my back tires were flat.

“It’s, like, totally totaled, ” Dana said.

I felt tears well behind my eyes. She was right. The Jeep was toast.

That was it. I was so gonna get this guy.

“Do you think we should call the police?” Dana asked.

I thought about it—for about half a second. Calling the police meant calling Ramirez. And calling Ramirez meant another chapter in the “what’s Maddie gotten herself into now?” book. I was already verging on tears; the last thing I needed was another confrontation with Ramirez to top off my day.

Instead, I pulled out my cell and dialed the one person any independent, competent adult calls when a true crisis hits.

Mommy.

Fortunately, Mom picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”

“It’s me. Listen, I’ve been in a little bit of an accident—”

“Oh my God, you’ve been shot!”

“No, no, I haven’t been shot.”

“The pepper spray, you sprayed yourself?”

“No, Mom, I—”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been mugged?”

“No!” I yelled. “It’s my car.” I looked down at the carnage that was my Jeep and felt that lump in my throat return. “It’s been in a little accident.”

“An accident? Oh, honey, are you okay? Do you
have whiplash? Did you get their insurance information?” Mom fired off in rapid succession.

“Yes. Maybe. And no. He sped off.”

“A hit-and-run? My baby’s been in a hit-and-run!”

I felt my neck growing more tense and wondered if maybe this wasn’t the wisest person to call after all. “Mom, I’m okay. Really. I just…Dana and I need a ride.”

“Baby, don’t move. I’ll be right there.”

After I gave Mom the address, I hung up and dialed Information for the nearest towing company, who said they’d be there in half an hour. I sat down on the curb to wait next to Dana, who was digging in her purse for an aspirin, and stared at my crushed baby.

“Look on the bright side, ” Dana said. “At least he didn’t have a gun.”

You know your day sucks when the high point is that you haven’t had a gun pointed at you.

Ten minutes later Mom’s minivan screeched to a halt beside the remains of my Jeep. She barely had the engine turned off before she vaulted out of the car, followed closely by Mrs. Rosenblatt. And Pablo the Parrot.

“Squawk. Love my lady lumps.”

Mrs. R held Pablo’s cage by the top and waddled toward us.

“What is that thing?” Dana asked, peering between the bars.

“This here is Pablo. Marco said he’d give me twenty dollars to take him for the afternoon.”

“Maddie!” Mom yelled, wrapping me in a rib-crusher hug. “Are you okay?”

I winced as my neck seized up again. “I’m fine.” I think.

“What happened?”

I gave Dana a sidelong glance. But before I could send her the psychic message to wait until I’d formed an edited-for-Mom version, she flipped her hair over one shoulder and launched into dramatic-monologue mode.

“Ohmigod, it was, like, totally out of a movie or something. This SUV, like, totally slammed into us, and we were like, ‘Holy crap, he just slammed into us!’ and then he did it again. So then Maddie did, like, this total street-racer move down this alley, and then this SUV, he jumped a curb and comes up beside us and totally starts trying to smash us against the wall! So then we, like, slammed on the brakes and did this killer spin, then flew into the parking lot. I totally think he was, like, trying to kill us or something!”

Mom blinked. Then she grabbed me in another fierce hug.

Mrs. Rosenblatt shook her head. “I tell you, that Mercury in retrograde makes people nuts. Did you try shootin’ him with your pepper spray?”

“Oh, well, I, uh, I kinda lost my spray.”

“Lost it?”

“Um, yeah. Sorry.”

Mrs. R dug around in her purse, pulling out a canister. “This here is from my personal stash. I always carry one. I used this sucker on a creep in this bar once. Knocked him flat. Course, I took him home after that and he turned out to be my second husband, Carl.”

I rolled my eyes. But considering I was still dealing with adrenaline aftershocks, I slipped the spray into my purse.

“Really, it was her car that took the brunt, ” Dana said, gesturing to what was once my Jeep.

Mom took one look at the smashed Jeep and
hugged me again. Honestly, though, this time I didn’t mind. Staring at my car, I kind of needed a hug.

After the tow truck arrived and hauled my mangled Jeep to the nearest service station, Mom, Mrs. R, Dana, Pablo, and I all piled into her minivan and she drove us back to the studios. All to the tune of Pablo singing his little heart out. “Don’t you love my lady lumps! Squawk.”

Mrs. Rosenblatt should have held out for fifty.

By the time we got back to the lot, Dana was way late and Steinman was yelling out for that “new wardrobe girl” to get the hideous pair of chandelier earrings off Margo. After that it was changing Ricky’s sweater so it didn’t clash with the shoes Mia wanted to wear, and after that it was pinning Kylie’s hem higher so she didn’t look, and I quote, “all old ‘n’ stuff.” After that I was in serious need of an aspirin. With a tequila chaser. My neck was so stiff I couldn’t turn to the right, and my head was starting to ache. I was just contemplating an early leave when Steinman caught me at the Starbucks carafe.

“Wardrobe, right?” he barked.

I tentatively looked up from my cup. “Yes?”

“I need Blake out here in his hospital gown now. We’re shooting Mia and him in fifteen.”

“Okay, but then I need to go…” I started to say, but Steinman had already walked away.

So much for leaving early.

On the other hand, I hadn’t yet had a chance to talk to Blake alone. And while Veronika’s baby-daddy was at the top of our list, I couldn’t ignore the fact that being forced into a coma could give a guy one heck of a motive for murder.

I downed my coffee and, after stopping off at wardrobe to grab Ricky’s gown, made my way out back to the trailers. I passed by Mia’s, now void of the ugly crime-scene tape, and the one marked TALENT, until I got to Blake’s. The outside was the same white corrugated metal as the others, though I noticed it looked a couple of feet shorter than Mia’s.

I climbed the steps and gave a sharp rap on the closed door. “Wardrobe!” I called out.

I heard a muffled, “Come in, ” from inside and turned the metal latch.

While the exterior of the trailer was a match to Mia’s, the inside couldn’t have been more different. Instead of the custom drapes, plush furnishings, and granite-covered kitchen, Blake’s trailer looked like your standard-issue motor coach for the retired and idle. A small bench-style dinette sat in the middle, the top covered in papers, while a tiny kitchen holding a microwave and mini fridge done in seventies olive green sat to the right. The carpet was a matted brown that was so thin I’d bet my Via Spigas it was laid right on top of the plywood. The curtains were a dull, pleated polyester, and the entire place smelled slightly of burritos and stale Chinese food.

“Dusty, is that you?” Blake called from down the hallway.

I peeked my head to the left and noticed a bedroom, as in Mia’s trailer, this one considerably smaller and done in wallpaper made to look like wood paneling. “Actually, it’s Maddie. Steinman wants you in your hospital gown for the next scene.”

Blake groaned, then appeared from the bedroom, his slacks and white shirt looking rumpled, as if I’d caught him napping. “I don’t know why he even bothers.
It’s not like I’m any more than a glorified prop at this point.”

“Sucks being in a coma, huh?” I asked, handing him the gown.

Blake shrugged his shoulders and shot me a sad look. “Well, at least I don’t have to stress over my lines.”

“How long has Preston been comatose?” I asked.

He gave a deep sigh. “Months.”

“Any idea when he’s waking up?” Okay, I’ll admit, this was just the TV junkie in me asking now.

He shook his head. “No. No end in sight. Be right back. I’ll just…” He trailed off, gesturing to the gown, then shuffled back down the little hall to the bedroom.

Keeping one eye on the door, I walked over to the dinette, gingerly sifting through the papers. Mostly racing forms, crossword puzzles, a few fan letters thrown in, though certainly not the pile Mia had. “So, I heard that the coma was originally Mia’s idea.”

“That’s right, ” Blake replied from behind the door. “She thought it would add some drama to her and Nurse Nan’s relationship.”

“Was that the only reason?” I quickly scanned through the fan mail. Nothing threatening, though I noticed that Blake’s fan base tended to be a bit older than Mia’s. There was one woman asking him to appear at her bingo club, another wanting to take him for an early-bird special at Applebee’s.

Blake popped his head out of the room and I quickly took two steps back from the table. Luckily, Blake didn’t seem to notice. “Why? What have you heard?” he asked.

“Nothing…” I hedged, watching his reaction.
“Just that you and Mia had dated, and then she suggested that your character be put in a coma.”

Blake emerged from the bedroom, his hospital gown flapping pathetically around his bare ankles above black dress socks and loafers. “It’s true, things didn’t exactly end well between us.”

I raise one eyebrow. “Oh?”

“No. She said she wanted to see other people, but I didn’t. I…” He paused, biting his lip. “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard by now. I had a breakdown. It wasn’t just Mia. It was the whole pressure of the show. The press conferences, the interviews, the appearances.”

I could well imagine how Blake wasn’t suited to being in the public eye. I could see him starting to sweat just talking about it.

“Anyway, it was after I came back that they put me in the coma. I guess Mia just felt it was too awkward to work with me.”

I phrased my next question carefully. “And you weren’t upset by this?”

Blake shrugged. “A little. But not terribly surprised. Before the coma, Kylie’s and Deveroux’s characters were the hot items in the ratings. Tina Rey and the electrician were getting all the press. Mia was in danger of slipping into a supporting role. The coma’s slowly pulling up her numbers. Well, that and the press she’s been getting lately over these letters hasn’t exactly hurt her.”