A Corpse in the Soup (21 page)

Goldie checked the delicate antique platinum and sapphire watch that she plucked from her own display case at the Silver Spoon. The ancient hands showed just a little past noon. “Godiva, Mr. Goldensheim
did
promise to call as soon as he had anything to tell us. It probably makes sense to wait and see what he has to say. The police would just blow us off anyway. Right now, as Mom would say, let’s get down to brass tacks and figure out how we can help Caesar.”

After brainstorming for about an hour they had a laundry list that made sense. The top priority was to talk to Chris Cross and Candy Vanderloop followed by several secondary people to contact. Goldie jotted down logical actions below each name. The big question mark of Wesley Wellington would be left to Angel.

Godiva tapped the pad with her crimson fingernail. “We should interview Candy first because she left Caesar’s show in a huff. Do you think she was upset enough about the way things turned out to kill Wellington and let Caesar take the rap?”

“Probably not, but let’s not rule her out yet. Besides, maybe she knows about someone else who hated her boss enough to kill him. I think we can be pretty certain that Edgar told Caesar he was Biff’s stooge. But, now the question is, would that have driven Caesar to kill Wellington? I sure hope not, but we have to be unbiased here.”

They called Candy and she agreed to meet with them at five. Godiva’s eyes sparkled. “Perfect, let’s go now. We have time to stop at the Euphorium Emporium on Sunset. I’m almost out of my moisturizer.”

Chili was still asleep when they left so Goldie put a note in the one place she knew her daughter would stop before going anywhere: the refrigerator. Held up by a cheerful Miss Piggy magnet, there was no way Chili would miss the bold message written in black marker pen.

Chili—

Martina is off today, so fix something simple for yourself and Grandma and Uncle Sterling. Godiva and I might be back late.

—Love ya, Mom

They miraculously found a parking space across the street from Godiva’s favorite spa.

Goldie looked at the expensive window dressings and shook her head. “Geez, Sis. Why drop a couple hundred for a jar of moisturizer when you can get Ponds at the local drug store? They’re made with the same gunk.”

“They are not! Luxor Lotion is an ancient Egyptian formula. Queen Nefertiti herself used the stuff. You look like you could use a bit. You’re dry around the eyes. Let me get some for you too, my treat.” Godiva turned off the engine and popped out of the car before her sister could decline the offer.

Goldie rolled down the window and shouted after her, “Don’t waste your money on me. I don’t want any.”

Candy lived in West Hollywood just south of the Sunset Strip, an area Godiva and Goldie both knew well. Their old alma mater, Fairfax High School, was within spitting distance.

The legendary Sunset Strip, dotted with chic restaurants, high-tone boutiques and all types of day spas marked the southern edge of the luxurious hillside neighborhood. South of Sunset was a nice little enclave of apartment buildings, condos and some old Spanish type bungalows that somehow survived the devastating wrecking balls of the ’70s. The area was a haven for a mixed population that included gays, artists, musicians and others in the entertainment fields.

“Candy seemed mighty cozy with Chris Cross at the service, didn’t she, Goldie? I just can’t figure her having the hots for that skinny little guy, particularly knowing how crazy she was about Caesar. But it looked like she was all over him.”

“Well, it didn’t have to be a romantic link, Sis. Maybe they’re just close pals who bonded after sharing the abuse Wellington heaped on both of them. Maybe they were clinging to each other for support.”

Godiva hated to back down, even when her sister made perfect sense. “I guess, but still, opposites do attract sometimes, you know.”

“Let’s just keep on track. We’ll grill Candy, then check in with Chris Cross. I’ll bet he has something to add to the story. I think we can squeeze it out of him, don’t you?”

Ten minutes later they parked in front of a very attractive six-story apartment building with a pseudo-Spanish façade. The security board to the right of the massive, ornately carved double doors showed Candy’s name beside apartment 407. She must have been waiting by the phone, because as soon as Goldie released the button Candy’s breathless voice answered.

She buzzed them into a charming lobby. The floor was set with Saltillo pavers and hand-painted Mexican tiles. Carved settees and a few chairs were grouped around a large tile-topped table. The elevator was just beyond.

Candy stood in the doorway of 407 waiting for them. They almost didn’t recognize her in a pair of faded jeans and a loose pink sweatshirt. The red rims around her eyes, shadowed by dark smudges, didn’t do much for her pretty face. Her shoulders drooped and the spring was gone from her step. All in all, divested of her flashy clothes and make-up, the smashing Candy Vanderloop looked like just another girl. She directed them to the pink upholstered chairs at the dining room table. “So, what can I do for you?”

CHAPTER 38

Without asking if they would like something to drink, Candy poured three small glasses of vodka straight up. She raised hers. “A toast to Biff the Bastard’s final reward. May he rest in Hell.” The sisters followed her lead, slugging down the surprisingly mellow vodka.

“Which one of you is G.O.D.?” Candy looked from one sister to the other, wringing her hands and shaking her head.

“I am.”

“Well, first I have to clear the air. The papers say you’re Caesar’s new girlfriend. Is that true?”

Godiva hesitated for a moment, not wanting to upset the girl any further.

“There is some truth to that, Candy. We are friends and are very fond of each other. However, there’s nothing serious going on, if that’s what you’re asking. We met when I got food poisoning on his show.”

Candy seemed to relax. “Okay. I needed to know.” She took a deep breath and shuddered as she released it. Her eyes never settled on one point for any length of time. “I need to tell you something.” Without waiting for a response, she barreled on.

Tears slid down her cheek and the hand wringing stepped up a notch. Her words ratcheted out in wispy little gulps. “Chris...he could be in trouble...still in...studio...when I left...Biff was alive.” She took a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

“I didn’t want to say anything...but I have to.” At that point she broke down completely. Unable to suppress her motherly instinct, Goldie went over and put her arm around Candy’s shoulders as sobs wracked her shapely body.

The twins waited for her to get it all out. Then Goldie gave the young woman a gentle pat on the back and pressed her for more information.

“Okay,” she ventured, “So Chris was still there. What was he doing and why do you think he could be in trouble?”

“Well, Biff was really mean to Chris, calling him names and making threats. Chris ran into Biff’s office, just to escape him.”

Godiva leaned toward her. “So?”

“Well, Biff was more nasty than usual, and believe me, that’s horrible! There were some old cleaning people there. Can’t imagine why they were there so early, I mean, the cleaners always come in the evening. Anyway, it looked like he was going to hit them and I tried to protect them. Poor old folks, having to work at their age.”

Godiva smiled at Goldie.
Yes, such a shame
.
Having to work...

Goldie shrugged her shoulders. ...
Yeah, right.
Then she said aloud, “What happened then?”

“Oh my God! Caesar stormed in and they had an awful fight. I was crying, they were fighting and yelling and...and Caesar said he’d murder Biff.”

Godiva gasped.

“No, no, you don’t understand. I didn’t even tell that to the police because I knew they wouldn’t understand either. Caesar didn’t mean
murder
, like, you know, stick that knife in his back. He meant like on TV and in the newspapers...with words. Publicity is Caesar’s God.” She locked eyes with Godiva. “...Umm, well, you know what I mean. He worships the power. When he said murder, he meant he’d destroy Biff’s reputation...kill him that way, not for real.”

“You could have told the police what you just told me.”

Candy shrugged. “Have you met that awful policewoman? I couldn’t say that to her. All she would hear is that Caesar threatened to murder Biff. There’s no way she’d listen to me about murdering someone in the press. Biff might have been dead a few hours later, but I know Caesar. The only thing he would plunge a knife into is a fancy cut of beef!”

“Let’s get back to Chris. You said you’re worried about him. What’s that about?”

“Well, remember I told you he ran into Biff’s office?”

The sisters nodded.

“We all left...me, Caesar, the old folks, but Chris was still there and Biff was still alive.”

Everything was silent for a moment. Then Candy continued in a shaky voice.

“Since Biff was killed, Chris and me...well, we’ve become really good friends. Chrissy...that’s what I call him...is a really sweet guy. Not like those muscle-bound hunks I usually wind up with. Um, tell you the truth, I think Chrissy more than likes me. And, actually, I sorta more than like him. And, that’s the problem...” She started sobbing again.

Godiva shot Goldie a triumphant glance, and stroked Candy’s arm until she calmed down again.

“What if...if Chris killed Biff? Not thought out...you know. But because he was like being so mean to me. He told me how much he hates the way Biff treated me and Biff was really, really mean to poor Chrissy, too.”

Candy continued to pour out everything she knew, or thought she knew, concerning Biff’s death and how she and everyone else in the studio could write long lists of people who hated his guts.

It was agreed that an unannounced visit to Chris would be best. Candy called him to make sure he was home and sobbed into the phone for a few minutes. Finally she told him she’d call back in an hour and then turned to her visitors. “Now you know he’ll be there for at least an hour. I’m sure he won’t want to miss my call.”

The twins headed for the door, knowing that the first twenty minutes of the hour would be used in driving to his place. As she saw them out, Candy’s final words to Goldie and Godiva were, “He’s really special to me. He’s the only person who doesn’t treat me like I’m dumb. Please try to help him. Even if he did it...God, I hope he didn’t...I know it wasn’t planned out, like pre-medi...whatever...” Her words drifted away as she closed the door, a series of clicks telling them she had locked herself in. They could still hear her muffled crying through the heavy panels.

Godiva retrieved her keys from her Gucci clutch purse. “Well. Little Miss Candy sounds pretty convincing. But she’s still not off my list.”

CHAPTER 39

Goldie pulled out the address that Candy had scribbled on a yellow sticky note. Poring over the Thomas Map book she saw it was in Silver Lake, an inexpensive neighborhood to the north and east of Hollywood.

“Put the top down, Godiva, I want to soak up some of this warm air before I go back to soggy Juneau.”

They drove east on Sunset Boulevard, passing through a part of Hollywood that Goldie had not seen for many years. With a heavy heart she took in all the changes. Hookers and transvestites prowled the street. Many of the once proud buildings, now in various states of disrepair, stood out in sharp contrast to all the entertainment related businesses nestled between them.

When they zipped past Hollywood High, Goldie laughed out loud. “Hey, Sis, remember the time Fairfax miraculously beat Hollywood High and those football fans set our palm trees on fire?”

“I sure do. Our team was so bad it’s a wonder we won any games at all! But don’t forget, the next night someone cut a big ‘F’ in their front lawn. Did you ever tell Dad how his grass clippers got broken?”

“And risk being put in the guillotine box?”

They parked in front of a vintage apartment building that looked like it had not been painted since it was constructed in the late ’30s. Chris Cross lived on the second floor. The narrow hall leading to the stairwell reeked of cabbage.

“Wow, someone must be having corned beef for dinner. And it’s not even St. Paddy’s day.” Godiva pressed her scented linen hanky to her nose. She steered clear of the walls, which sported dingy gray peeling paint that was probably off-white in some other decade. The faded maroon carpet with a feather plume design was threadbare down the middle.

Goldie rapped on the door of apartment #4. The door cracked open and a pair of wary eyes regarded her just above a security chain.

Godiva stepped in front of her sister. “Are you Chris Cross?”

At first he looked confused, then fearful as he took them both in. Next he looked at them squarely and said, “If you’re bill collectors, there’s no Chris Cross here.”

“No, no, darling, we’re certainly not bill collectors. I’m Godiva DuBois and this is my sister Goldie Silver. May we come in? We’d like to chat with you a bit about Biff Wellington.”

The door edged closer to the jamb. “I already spoke to the cops. I have nothing more to say.”

Godiva oozed Hollywood charm. “We’re not with the police, Chris. We’re friends of Chef Romano. Can’t we please come in?”

The eyes widened in the shadows, then the door clicked shut. The sisters raised their hands to knock again when they heard the chain loosen and the door swung open. Chris beckoned to them to enter.

“Welcome to my palace.”

Goldie’s eyes swept the room.
Hmm, kid’s got some good fifties stuff.

“I’ve decorated it in classic rummage sale.”

He tapped a flickering lamp on a TV tray and it cast a weak light.

Goldie saw Godiva’s lips part, but motioned to her to be quiet and let her take the lead. “Well, Chris, we saw you at the funeral, so you probably know that Caesar was arrested for Biff’s murder.”

“Yeah. I thought I’d seen you somewhere. Sorry about Caesar, but what’s it to me?”