The Celebutantes (9 page)

What was it with celebutantes ending up in jail these days?

What saddened Madison most was that few people would ever know the real Coco McKaid. Beneath the bubbly and giddy persona was a sweet, smart, warmhearted girl who loved animals and kids and old people. She volunteered at Roosevelt Hospital on a fairly frequent basis. She'd spent a whole four weeks working for Meals on Wheels. Her unspoken dreams—the ones she'd shared with Madison—had nothing to do with fame or fortune. Instead, Coco fantasized about moving to Montana or Wyoming and living on a farm, where she could watch the horses being exercised and supervise the team of beautiful stablemen. More than once, she had expressed a desire to leave their elite social scene for something more meaningful.

Coco wasn't a killer. She wasn't a heartless Lolita. And if, by some very rare stroke of fate, she
had
killed Elijah Traymore, her guilt was a complex matter. Nothing about it was open-and-shut. Madison knew the reasons for Coco's possible guilt, and those reasons had everything to do with insecurity, self-deprecation…and vodka. Coco had never felt good about herself. She had always looked to other people for acceptance, had always measured her self-worth according to which boys liked her. And Madison was sure that she had fallen prey to Elijah Traymore's seductive powers.

He had probably told Coco that she was beautiful and wonderful and sexy, that he wanted to sculpt her and immortalize her in a timeless work of art. He might've gone as far as to tell her he felt their meeting was love at first sight. Or something of that dramatic variety. And Coco, of course, hadn't been able to see through his sleazy act. All he'd wanted was a cheap, one-time fling with her. Pretty ironic that the one-time thing had ended up being his last-time thing.

“I can't believe it either,” Park whispered. “We know Coco better than that. The really crappy thing is that the evidence places her right there at the scene of the crime.”

“True, but we've seen that a lot with innocent people.” Lex looked hopeful.

“What about that almost-handprint you two saw on Elijah's shirt?” Madison said. “Lex, you said it was probably the result of an oil-based moisturizer. Coco would never use something oil-based. She only uses serums.”

Lex frowned. “I said it
could
be the result of oil-based moisturizer. But it could also be a bunch of other things. And in any case, that'll probably be a minor thing. Right now, we have to consider the facts.”

Madison sniffled. “The facts don't all make sense.”

“Coco left the luncheon a few minutes after Elijah,” Park said. “We saw the two of them getting a little close. Coco was drunk and Elijah probably took advantage of that. He probably told her to meet him up at the penthouse for a little alone time, and obviously that's where Coco went.”

“There's no way she was in any of the bathrooms on the first two floors,” Lex added. “I checked them, and they were totally empty. She was up in the penthouse while Tallula and Ina were at the luncheon with us.”

“And something ugly obviously happened up there,” Park said quietly.

“Ugly?” Lex raised an eyebrow. “It doesn't get any uglier. For whatever reasons, we're supposed to believe Coco shoved Elijah off a balcony. He hit the ground and splattered like a water balloon.”

“We know there were signs of a struggle,” Park whispered. “So I guess that means…”

Silence.

“It means what?” Lex was sitting on the edge of her seat, waiting for one of Park's customarily accurate crime reenactments.

A hard, pensive look clouded her face, but Park simply shook her head. “Nothing. I just can't piece it together. Not without being there in that living room.”

“Where did you go when you left us all in the study?” Lex asked. “I totally thought you'd scoped out the living room and the balcony.”

“I couldn't.” Park shrugged helplessly. “There were all those crime techs around. I went into the bedroom and—”

“It's my fault,” Madison said suddenly.

“What?” Lex stared at her.

“It's my fault,” Madison repeated. “I should've known Coco would fall under Elijah's cheap little spell. And she was so drunk. I let her leave the luncheon by herself and I should have gone with her. I would've been able to stop her from following him upstairs.”

“Madison, that's insane!” Lex snapped. “You were busy. You had other stuff on your mind. And besides, Coco's been drunk and alone before.”

“Yeah, and look at all the dumb things she's done in the past!” Another tissue and another honk of her nose. Madison knew her makeup was a mess, but she didn't really care.

“The fact of the matter is that Coco wanted to hook up with Elijah,” Park said. “If you had been able to stop her today, who's to say she wouldn't have gone and done it tomorrow? Or any other day? You've always been a good friend to her, Madison, and I don't want to hear any more crap about this being your fault.”

Madison let the words sink in. “I just don't understand how it happened,” she whispered. “I mean, Coco wouldn't hurt a fly. How do you go from
that
to being accused of shoving someone off a penthouse balcony?”

“Self-defense.” Park folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her seat.

“What?”

“Self-defense,” she repeated. “I'm not saying I think Coco did it. I'm just saying what'll happen once she's formally charged and arraigned.”

Madison crinkled her nose. “I don't get it.”

“Look, we all know what kind of guy Elijah was,” Park began. “On the outside, at least. God knows how many times he cheated on Tallula. He was probably the youngest guy on the planet with a Viagra prescription. The point is, I think he got a little rough with Coco when she met him in the penthouse. Maybe he forced himself on her. Maybe he said things to really upset her and she wanted to leave. But he wouldn't let her, and that's why there were signs of a struggle. There's no other reason why Coco would suddenly become a killer.”

“Homicidal impulse,” Lex said, snapping her fingers. “I've read about that. It happens a lot. It's like a short circuit of the mind. Like, the plug in your brain gets overloaded and just explodes.”

Madison's eyes were wide. She looked at Park. “I know we've solved two murders in the past, but is this impulse info true?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Park replied. “The psychology of homicidal impulse goes deeper than that, and it's a little different than plain old self-defense. People who claim homicidal impulse aren't always in a life-threatening situation. People who claim self-defense
are.
”

“So then, you're saying people are going to think Coco went temporarily psycho?” Madison sounded uncertain, and just a wee bit spooked. “You're saying a psychiatrist would tell a jury that she was insane?”

Park wagged her finger. “
Insanity
is a legal term, not a psychiatric one. People who plead guilty by reason of insanity have a hell of a tough time trying to convince a jury of that. I don't think psychiatry is going to enter into this. If we want to solve this case fast, self-defense is going to be Coco's only option. She's going to have to prove that she did what she did because she felt threatened, because she defended herself. She wasn't temporarily insane—we stood with her and Detective Roan right after Elijah's body hit the sidewalk, and she didn't appear to be insane.”

“True,” Lex said.

“But what about Ina?” Madison cried. “Don't you think she's a suspect? She was in the damn room when it happened!”

“But her story pieces together nicely,” Park said, disappointed by the fact that it did. “At least, for now it does.”

Madison closed her eyes and heaved another sob.

Park leaned over and gave her sister's hand a squeeze. “Honey,
we
don't think she's guilty. But right now, everyone else does.”

“And the only two people who
could
have been suspects have alibis,” Lex chimed in. “Well, sort of. I mean, Ina was in the shower and her hearing aid got trashed. And Detective Roan said that it's been confirmed that Tallula got stuck in the elevator for like ten minutes after she left Elijah in the suite. So who the hell else could've gone up there?”

“Anyone,” Park said. “And no one. That's what sucks about this. It's impossible to believe Coco did it, but it's just as impossible to think someone else could've done it. That leaves us in a big pile of investigative poop. The way it stands now, Coco's headed for the slammer.”

Madison covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God! I can't listen to this anymore! I can't!”

“You're going to have to get used to it, sunshine,” Park said firmly. “Each one of us is going to have to give a formal statement to the cops, and if Coco pleads not guilty and the case goes to trial, we'll be called as witnesses.”

“You think the trial will be televised?” Lex asked.

Park shrugged. “Depends on the judge. It would totally be a ratings sweep.”

“What do you wear when you're going to testify in court?” Lex reached into the limo bar and grabbed a bottle of water. “I mean, think about it—you can't be too flashy because that would obviously turn off the jury. You can't wear black all the time because that would imply mourning, and maybe even guilt. It's a tough one.”

“I guess a smart suit would work,” Park mused. “But nothing with a plunging neckline. Maybe you should start a line of clothing for celebrities who are about to go on trial. There're a lot of those these days.”

Lex guzzled the water and seemed to be considering the possibility. “We could call it Innocence.”

“Ha!” Park laughed out loud. “I like that! Too bad they're not necessarily all that.”

“Will you two please stop it!” Madison screeched. “We're supposed to be figuring a way out of this for Coco, and you're both cracking jokes!”

“You're right,” Park said. “But we're stumped. Coco has no alibi. I want more than anything to come up with a different scenario and solve this. You know nothing excites me more than a homicide.”

“Poor Coco,” Madison whispered, staring out the window. “She'll never live this one down.”

“Listen,” Park said calmly, “we're going to go home and sit down and try to piece this together. Coco will be arraigned tomorrow, and hopefully she'll be released on bail. Then we'll be able to talk to her. And stop blaming yourself—no one could have known this was going to happen.”

“You're wrong about that,” Lex chimed in briskly. She stared at Madison, then at Park. “Poppy van Lulu knew it was going to happen. She told us someone was going to die.”

“Holy shit!” Madison screamed. She sat up so fast, her purse flew off her knees. “You're right! She
did
say that! I completely forgot!”

Lex nodded. “Remember the dark cloak of whatever she saw hanging in the air? I guess it wasn't a shawl after all.”

“That rhymes,” Park said. “Very cute.”

“I'm covered with goose bumps!” Madison said. “How could Poppy have known something so horrible was going to happen? How?”

“She's a psychic,” Lex answered flatly. “That's kind of her job.”

“
I
don't believe in psychics, so as far as I'm concerned, Poppy has some serious explaining to do.” Madison leaned forward, stretched her arm through the partition, and tapped Donnie Halstrom's shoulder. “Donnie? Forget about taking us home. Take us to the Dakota on Central Park West, where the little shaman lives.”

“Okay,” Donnie answered.

Park perked right up. “Wait a minute. Did you say the
Dakota
?”

“Yes. That's where Poppy landed herself an apartment after her last divorce.” Madison made a sour face. “Right next door to Yoko.”

“Huh,” Park said. “I might've just added someone to the suspect list.” She opened her purse and pulled out the skeleton key and the crumpled piece of paper. She held them up. “I found the key a few feet from the body,” Park explained. “I think it might've bounced out of one of Elijah's pockets—but I don't know what it's for. And this little sheet of paper you see here? I found it in his wallet when I went snooping around the bedroom. Look what it says on it.” She unfolded it and held it up for Madison and Lex to see.

Dakota, tonight, 6:45.

Madison gasped. “Oh my God! But wait. Park—you just stole that from his wallet? And you took the key from the sidewalk? What if someone finds out?”

“You know I have a little problem when it comes to collecting evidence from a crime scene,” Park replied lightly.

“Hot damn!” Lex shouted. “You think Elijah meant Poppy's apartment?”

“Could be.” Park carefully placed the evidence in her purse again, then stopped and yanked out the black business card with the weird Web address on it. “I also found this,” she said, handing it to Lex. “I don't know what it means either, but it looks interesting.”

“Looks weird,” Lex said. “But it sounds like something paranormal.”

Park nodded. “That's what I thought.”

“Is this everything?” Madison asked. “You didn't spot anything else interesting in that bedroom?”

“There wasn't any time to,” Park answered. “And I almost got caught. A crime-scene tech came in while I was there. I had to come up with an excuse. Thank God he believed me.”

“Well, I don't like this little connection one bit,” Madison said. “It's too much of a coincidence that Poppy predicted something terrible and that Elijah had the word
Dakota
written on a piece of paper.”

Park nodded, feeling her pulse quicken. “Remember how Elijah made that comment about Poppy when we first met him? He asked us if we were clients of hers.”