Sex, Murder and a Double Latte (21 page)

“So this monster, whose name was…” I put the
T-rex
down in front of me and tried to come up with a suitable monster name. “Smirnoff, the evil monster Smirnoff—and this mean little guy here is his sidekick, the devious Jack Daniel.” Jack carefully poked at the velociraptor I had placed next to Smirnoff.

“Every Saturday night Smirnoff and Jacky D would lure the weaker willed villagers to their lair, and the next morning the people would all suffer from horrible ailments. This went on for years, and the villagers were beginning to suspect that they were doomed to a life of headaches and silly behavior until—da-ta-da-da!” I held up an impressive-looking triceratops. “Look, it’s our heroine, Janice! She’s come to save the day!”

“What are you teaching my son?”

I looked up to see Leah in the doorway looking horrified.

“I was, um, teaching him about the evils of addiction. Aren’t you the one that always says kids need to learn about that stuff young?”

Leah snatched the triceratops from my hand just as the doorbell rang. “Behave yourself!” She put the dinosaur on the end table as if it were a valuable centerpiece and went off to “receive” Cheryl.

I leaned over to Jack. “Some people don’t need Janice,” I whispered. “Some people would benefit more from the assistance of our other hero, Mr. Bong.”

“Sophie! I haven’t seen you in eons.”

I pulled myself to my feet and tried to smile at the bottle blonde in the too-tight mini. “Hi, Cheryl, how are you?”

“Great! Oh, and look at little Jack.”

Jack glanced up at the sound of his name and then promptly went back to testing the “nontoxic” label on the crayons by sticking two in his mouth.

Cheryl wrinkled her nose in distaste as I carefully removed the now slimy crayons from his lips. “Leah, you should really clean his face and get him some decent clothes,” she commented, while idly adjusting the clasp of a trendy but obviously cheaply made necklace, “he’d be so much cuter that way.”

Leah was standing behind Cheryl making psycho-like stabbing gestures at her back.

“Guess what?” Cheryl made eye contact with me as she waited for some kind of prompting.

I tried really hard not to roll my eyes. “What, Cheryl?”

“Less than an hour ago I stopped by the Ritz to pick up my check and you’ll never guess who was there? Leonardo DiCaprio! Of course those of us who know him just call him Leo.”

“Well, that’s…” I shrugged, giving up on the idea of feigning interest.

Cheryl didn’t seem to notice. “So tell me,” she continued, “are you still going to be writing a screenplay for Tolsky productions?”

“Thanks to Tolsky’s untimely death, that project’s been put on indefinite hold.”

“Oh.” Cheryl’s voice went flat. “Leah, did you say you made snacks?” She turned her back on me and faced Leah, who now had her hands innocently laced behind her back.

“Of course, Cheryl. I just picked up the most incredible Brie—”

“Ugh, do you have any idea how much fat is in that?” Cheryl looked down at Leah’s figure and smiled. “Of course not, you’ve never been one of those superficial people who worries about watching their weight. Gosh, it must be so nice to be able to just let yourself go.”

I stepped back to better avoid being electrocuted from the sparks I knew would be imminently flying from Leah’s head, but to her credit (and my shock) she kept her tone steady. “Well, I suppose I do spend less time on my appearance than I used to, but that’s what happens once you’ve settled into a committed relationship with a man… Oh, I’m sorry!” Leah put a hand on her cheek in a halfhearted attempt to fake embarrassment. “You’ve never had a meaningful relationship. How thoughtless of me to have brought attention to it!”

I was impressed. Leah had actually learned how to insult people without messing up her good-wife-and-mother image. If I had been in her shoes I would have said something much less elegant, like, “Get the fuck out of my house.” Although as far as I was concerned, my way would have produced better results.

Jack, who had been toddling around the room, removed Janice from her display position and started smashing her against a defenseless Smirnoff. I stepped in front of him so that he was partially hidden behind my legs. “So, Cheryl, I understand that Tolsky made reservations at the Ritz the night before he died.”

Cheryl started at the sound of my voice and turned around in surprise. Apparently, after I had given her the bad news about my screenplay she had promptly forgotten my presence. “Yes, that’s right, I never got to meet him,” she said dismissively before turning around again to trade more insults with Leah.

“But he’d stayed at your hotel before,” I pressed. “I remember him mentioning that he was staying at the Ritz when I met with him.”

Cheryl regarded me with renewed interest. “I’d forgotten that you lunched with him. Was there anyone else with him? You know he and Tarantino were very close.”

“I’ve never met Tarantino.” Cheryl’s eyes glazed over again, so I tried to come up with some phony celebrity sighting that would keep her attention long enough for me to sneak in a few more questions. “Leah, you did tell her what we did after the meeting, right? You know, about how you, Alex Tolsky, George Lucas and I all got together for five-o’clock cocktails?”

Leah’s smile could have outshone the sun. “You know, I may have forgotten to mention that. You really should meet George, Cheryl, he’s such a nice man…of course he doesn’t fraternize too much with hotel clerks.” This time her insult was somewhat undermined by Jack, whom she had to rush to before he knocked over a table lamp.

Cheryl looked like she was on the verge of setting Leah’s hair on fire, but at least she was paying attention.

“So,” I continued, “Tol—Alex was staying at the Ritz during that visit, right?”

“Yes, he always stays with us when he comes up to San Francisco, but I’ve never been at my post during the times that he came and went…. Have you and George Lucas stayed in touch?”

“Oh yeah, we’re drinking buddies. Did Tolsky come up often?”

“As far as I know—and I know everything that goes on at that hotel—he’s only been there three times, twice in the three months before his death.”

That was a lot of visits in a short period of time, especially when you considered that he had planned on coming up again. That would have made three times in less than four months. There was something to that. “Was he planning on filming a movie up here or something?” I asked.

“Probably, everyone loves filming in San Francisco. You know Keanu Reeves was up here filming recently. He is such a cutie. He made a point of making conversation with me when he checked in and out—I think he had a little thing for me. Leah, you have no idea what it’s like for me to be constantly put in the position of fielding the advances of so many attractive, rich men.”

“I can’t imagine,” Leah cooed. “I read in
People
that a lot of the Hollywood stars have given up on the practice of hiring prostitutes and now simply have their flings with average women. I didn’t believe it when I read it but it sounds like there’s some truth to it after all… Jack put down the fire poker!”

This was like watching heavyweight boxing, except a lot more gory. I heard my cell phone ringing in the foyer and gratefully excused myself.

I checked the number quickly before answering. “Hey, Dena.”

“Are you sitting?”

“Yeah, I’m sitting,” I lied. “What’s going on?”

“I talked to Barbie’s parents. They told me that the police have made an arrest.”

“What? Wait, hold on for a minute while I find a better place to talk.” Cheryl and Leah had made it to the kitchen and Jack was close behind them. Either Leah hadn’t noticed that he had gotten his hands on a permanent ink marker or she was hoping that Cheryl’s miniskirt was her son’s next target.

“Leah, I’ve got to go. If you talk to Mama before me, tell her I’m fine and I’ll stop by soon.”

“But you can’t leave. Somebody’s got to eat the Brie!”

“I’ll try it next time around.”

Cheryl smiled brightly at me. “Well, I’m glad we got a chance to catch up. Call me next time you and George get together. The three of us could have drinks at The Terrace.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen. Leah…” I ended my sentence with a little wave and ran out to the sidewalk before I pulled the phone back to my ear.

“I’m back, Dena. Now what do you mean they made an arrest? Who the hell did they arrest?”

“Barbie’s ex.”

“No way. But I thought he was in Vegas.”

“Not for the past week. He’s been in San Francisco following Barbie around. Her parents gave me the inside scoop. Jack the Ripper was a pussycat next to this freak.”

“No, no, this doesn’t make sense, he couldn’t be the killer.”

“Maybe not, but he was at the crime scene either during or right after Barbie was offed.”

“How do they know that?”

“The lighter was his. The man was going ninety-five on 280. They found traces of her blood on his clothes.”

My eyes traveled to my rental car parked in front of Leah’s garage. “Dena, this doesn’t make sense,” I repeated.

“Yeah, no kidding. But I gotta tell you, with his history it’s no fucking wonder that the cops think he’s guilty.” I leaned against the hood and waited for her to fill me in. “As a teenager he was convicted once for sexual assault and once for rape. As an adult he’s done time for beating the shit out of his ex-wife and dealing coke. But the thing is, he’s in three-strike country now. He could get life for shoplifting at Wal-Mart, and since they already have evidence that he’s violated the restraining order Barbie had against him….”

“Got it. I want to talk to him.”

“I do too,” Dena said. “Actually, I want to rip him a new asshole. Do you think the cops will let me do that if I ask really nicely?”

I sighed and tapped my fingers against the windshield. “I think I should do this on my own.”

“How come you get to have all the fun?”

“Because you’re just going to antagonize him.”

“And you’re going to bring him a batch of homemade cookies?”

“I’m going to ask him questions, and if you’re standing over my shoulder telling him what a prick he is, he may not be in the mood to answer.”

I heard a faint scraping noise on the line, probably Dena’s teeth gnashing together. “I think you’re wrong on this one. I think we should do a good cop, bad cop deal. You be the good cop and—”

“Do you really think that would work?”

More gnashing. “No. But I really want to be the bad cop.”

“Some other time. Hey, once we’ve cleared Jason, why don’t you do some role-playing with him? God knows you have all the costumes and the props.”

“Already done it. It’s not the same as the real thing, although I did develop this rather unique interrogation technique….”

“More information than I need right now.” I made a mental note to myself to drill Dena about the details later. Interrogation techniques and feathers—just had to know. “Where’s he being held?”

“At the Bryant Street location. And, Sophie?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t forget to ask the police about the new asshole thing, for future reference.”

While driving to see Mark Baccon behind bars, I tried to wrap my mind around the latest turn of events. Of course it was possible that Barbie’s ex-boyfriend suddenly decided to chop her up with a hatchet, the same weapon used in
Sex, Drugs and Murder,
just days after someone vandalized my car in a manner consistent with the same book. But somehow it seemed that the chances of that happening were right up there with Ed McMahon personally delivering me a check from Publishers Clearing House.

When I got to the jail I spent a few minutes prying information out of the deputy sheriffs. Mark was being held on charges of reckless endangerment, violating a restraining order and drug possession. He had yet to be charged with Barbie’s murder. No doubt the D.A. was taking his time, making sure he had an ironclad case. After all, what was the rush? The guy wasn’t going anywhere. One of the deputies escorted me to the visiting room. Several men seated behind a thick pane of glass seemed to be competing for the title of king of the trailer trash.

“Here he is.”

I sat opposite a thin man with a scarred face. Where did I know him from? Maybe I’d met someone who looked like him? Simultaneously, we picked up the phone on our respective sides. His eyes moved very slowly from my waist to my chest. He never quite made it to my face. Funny, he hadn’t touched me, yet I suddenly felt the need to go through a decontamination process. “You’re the ’ho from the store.”

“Excuse me?”

“You came out of that pussy shop and told me to go in and check it out.”

The pussy…oh wait, I knew who this guy was. He was the one outside Guilty Pleasures the day I met Jason.

He was also the tourist who’d rushed past me as I was entering the Botanical Gardens.

CHAPTER 13

“Lots of people try to be sleazy but a few individuals have it down to an art form.”

—Sex, Drugs and Murder

I
involuntarily recoiled.

He scratched his chin—probably lice.

“So what’s your deal?” he said. “You don’t look like no public defender.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

“Then who the fuck are you?”

“Sophie Katz, I am—I was—an acquaintance of Barbie’s.”

“Oh fuck, I don’t need this shit.” He smacked the counter with the base of his palm. “First off, her name’s Bonita, she just pulled this Barbie shit out of her ass. Second off, I didn’t kill the bitch, all right?”

“I…I don’t think you did.”

Mark finally moved his gaze north of my boobs. “What’s that?”

“I don’t think you killed her.”

Four distinct horizontal lines formed on his forehead as he scrutinized me. After a long pause he shrugged and took a deep sniff. “If you know I didn’t do it, why don’t you tell the fuckin’ pigs that? Did you do it?”

“No.”

“Then what the fuck are you doin’ here?”

“Like I said, I think you’re innocent…of this, which means that whoever did do this is still out there. That makes me a little nervous, so I was hoping you could help me figure out who the guilty party really is so the police could lock up the right guy.”