The Dead and the Beautiful (5 page)

Chapter 5

“A
dog leash?” Nikki murmured.

“We'll have to wait for the autopsy and lab reports, but we're pretty sure—
I'm
pretty sure—that's what was used. The assailant approached from behind the lounge chair where Mr. Melton was sitting, dropped the leash over his head, and tightened.” Dombrowski crossed his fist over his coffee cup and pulled back, making a motion as if to strangle someone with a rope. Or a dog leash.

Nikki's bad feeling turned to slight nausea. She closed her fingers around the paper coffee cup. Felt its warmth. “That doesn't mean the dog walker did it.”

“Her fingerprints on the leash came up as a match.”

“Wait,” she said, confused. “You fingerprinted Alison?”

“Didn't have to. She was already in the system. Priors.”

Nikki was quiet for a second. She didn't know what
priors
Alison could have had. Was this what Jeremy was referring to the other day when he suggested Alison might not be telling the truth? “Okay, that does sound incriminating.”

“Thus the warrant.”

“But she's the
dog walker.
Her prints are on Stan's and Ollie's leashes, too.”

He drew his eyebrows together. “Laurel and Hardy had leashes?”

She almost smiled. She was surprised by how many people
didn't
make the connection. “My dogs, Stanley and Oliver. Alison walks them, too. They were with her the day Ryan died. She took them and his dog to the dog park.”

“The dogs tell you that?” He didn't wait for her to answer. “Her story's shaky at best, Nikki.” He actually seemed to feel bad about it.

“You sure you have the right leash?” She took a sip of the coffee. “Maybe you've got the wrong leash. I have half a dozen, at least.”

“We confiscated five from the Melton/Elliot house. We'll check them all, but I'm fairly certain we have the right leash. It matched the ligature marks on his neck.”

Ligature marks.
Nikki hadn't noticed marks on Ryan's neck. She had been too busy looking at his gorgeous, dead face. At the objects around his chair, assuming they might hold significance: the drink glass, the laptop, his sunglasses. “Do you know when he was killed? The beverage in the glass was still cold.”

Dombrowski arched one eyebrow.

“I noticed that the glass was still sweating a little when I walked out onto the pool deck.”

She got a half smile. “Good pickup. I saw that, too. There was actually still a sliver of ice in the glass when I arrived. The ME will give us an approximate time of death, once he does the autopsy, but I think Mr. Melton was killed less than an hour before the 911 call was placed by the guy servicing the fish tank.”

“If the fish-tank guy and the dog walker had access, who knows who else could have walked in the back or the front doors?” She looked at him, thinking out loud. “What kind of security is on the gates, front and rear? The front gate was wide open when I got there, but that might have been because of all the emergency vehicles.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then lifted the coffee cup, holding it short of touching his lips. “I came here to let you know what was going on, not to pick your brain on the evidence. Obviously, this is a police matter.” He took a sip.

“Obviously.”

“Which means I don't want real-estate agents—”

“Broker,” she interrupted.

“
Brokers
interfering with my investigation.”

“The way brokers have
interfered
in investigations before?” she said, referring to the murder of her mother's next-door neighbor the previous fall. Nikki was the one who had figured out who actually killed him, and even called Dombrowski to hand the murderer to him on a silver platter.

“Stay out of this, Nikki. Please,” he beseeched with one hand. “I'm saying please.”

She scrutinized him. “So
why
did you come here to tell me about Alison's arrest?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. Because I thought you'd want to know. Your boyfriend will want—with Ms. Sahira having a teenage daughter and all. Someone might want to pick her up from school before it hits the news. Or maybe I came because it was an excuse to see you.”

Nikki shot out of her chair, his last comment barely sinking in. “I have to go.” She pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk and grabbed her ancient, beloved Prada shoulder bag. It was supple tan leather, shaped more like a feed sack than a handbag, with a long strap and only a few pen marks and water stains. “I don't want Jeremy to hear from someone else that his sister's been arrested.” She came around her desk. “Has she already been picked up?”

He checked his watch. “Should have been. I told them to wait until the daughter had left for school, but get there before Ms. Sahira left Dr. Fitzpatrick's house for the morning.”

Nikki crossed her office.

Dombrowski opened the door for her.

She halted in the doorway and looked up at him. “Thanks, Tom. I appreciate this.”

He nodded and she was out the door.

 

Jeremy had a high-end office in a high-end building not far from Windsor Real Estate, on Wilshire in Beverly Hills. He practiced general dentistry, but his
star
past made him popular with celebrities. They appreciated the confidentiality he and his staff offered and the spa-like atmosphere of the office itself. That had been his wife Marissa's idea.

Nikki entered his waiting room. It was plush and decadent, decorated in gold and red as if Jeremy's patients were royalty. Which in a way, many were. She walked past Brad Pitt and one of his kids. At the front desk, Jolene, a cute blonde, smiled. She was wearing khaki pants and a tight, low-cut, green T-shirt. The two additional receptionists behind the counter were wearing identical T-shirts. Monday, they would be wearing the same T-shirts in teal. But Fridays, Fridays were green tee day. Jeremy liked order. He didn't mind that his staff wore different colors on different days, as long as they wore the same color, the same day every week.

“Ms. Harper, nice to see you.”

“You, too, Jolene,” Nikki said, subdued. “Is Dr. Fitzpatrick busy? I mean, I know he's
busy,
but I need to speak with him.”

“He's just finishing up with a patient.”

“I'll wait in his office. Can you tell him I'm there?”

“Sure thing,” Jolene sang.

Nikki went through a closed door, into the back, and walked into Jeremy's office. It was expensively furnished, but in good taste: oxblood leather and cherry wood with one wall covered in paneled, cherry wainscoting. She dropped into one of the two leather armchairs in front of his massive desk. His desk was clean, of course. Neat. A computer monitor and keyboard. His cell phone. Framed, candid photos of the kids and a leather cup of pens. She noticed that the picture of Marissa on his desk was gone. He must have removed it recently because the last time Nikki was here, maybe a month ago, the framed photo had been there, behind the children's. Another sign Jeremy was moving on, recovering from his wife's death from cancer. As much as anyone could recover from such a thing.

Nikki didn't dare contemplate what that would mean for her and Jeremy. They'd been in sort of a holding pattern for a while. He had definitely moved to boyfriend status, but they'd never talked about what that meant. What it
could
mean in the future. Which was just as well, because Nikki didn't know what she wanted or how she felt about Jeremy. She knew she loved him, but they had been through so much, together and apart, that she didn't know where their relationship could lead. Her mother's seven marriages had turned her off to the whole institution, but she'd learned a long time ago to never say never. Something else her mother had taught her.

“Hey, everything okay?” Jeremy walked into his office, looking very handsome and very professional in his shirt and tie and white lab coat. He took one look at her face and closed the door. “Everything's not okay.”

She shook her head. “Jeremy—”

“Alison did it, didn't she?”

“No, no, of course not.” She was momentarily taken aback, not only by his accusation, but by the way he made it. As if he'd thought all along that his sister had killed someone. She rose from the chair. “But she's been arrested.”

There was a glisten in his eyes and he looked away. His hands hung at his sides. “I'll have to get money together to post her bail.”

She rested her hand on his chest. This was the Jeremy she knew, not the accusing one. He was the kind of man who would bail his sister out because it was the right thing to do, not because he thought she was innocent. “Tell me what I can do.”

“I'll have to call my attorney. He can find out what her bail will be set at.” He was talking to himself, not really her. “Move money around.” He swore under his breath, something he rarely did.

“Jeremy, this is a mistake. She didn't do this.”

He turned his gaze on her, his facial expression hard, something she wasn't used to seeing. Jeremy was usually so easygoing, so slow to pass judgment. “No? How do you know?”

“Because this is Alison. Your little sister. She wouldn't hurt anyone.”

“No? Ask her to tell you about the armed robbery she was involved in.”

Nikki's mouth dropped open. For a second, she thought she might have to close it manually. “Armed robbery?” she whispered. “When? Not recently?”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, as if speaking of it literally tasted bad. “No, it was before she met Farid.”

“Alison was involved in an armed robbery?” Nikki repeated. “You mean she was
accused
of being involved.”

“She
was
involved. A man was seriously wounded. Alison didn't pull the trigger, but she knew it might get pulled.”

Nikki was flabbergasted. “But . . . but she never went to jail.”

“Not for more than a couple of nights, because I bailed her out. She lied to me. Promised me she had nothing to do with robbing this convenience store in East L.A.”

“But . . . but if she was guilty, she would have served time in prison.”

“Doesn't always happen that way, Nik. There was an error on how the evidence was filed or something. She got away with it. They all did. She and her friends.”

Nikki didn't know what to say.

She didn't think Jeremy did either. He walked around his desk and sat in his high-backed, leather-upholstered chair. “I need to make some phone calls.”

“For a murder charge, a judge will have to set bail,” Nikki said quietly. “That could take a few days.”

He nodded. “Right. I still want to call my attorney now. And catch one of my stockbrokers before he heads off for a long weekend in Catalina. Could you tell Jolene to reschedule the rest of my day?”

“Sure, of course.” She picked up her bag, hovering.

He lifted the telephone from its cradle and looked at her across the desk. “Jocelyn,” he groaned. “I need to get to Beverly Hills High School and get her out of there before someone starts tweeting that her mother's been arrested for Ryan Melton's death.”

“That's what Detective Dombrowski thought. He's the one who told me that Alison was being arrested. I can't sign Jocelyn out, though. I don't have her mother's prior permission.”

“I can.” He lifted the phone to his ear. “I'll take care of it. Can you be at the house when the kids get home from school?”

“Sure, of course.” Nikki was relieved to have something to do. “I'll see you later,” she said as she went out the door.

He didn't answer.

 

At four-thirty in the afternoon, Nikki was in the kitchen making Jeremy's youngest a snack when Alison rushed into the kitchen.

“Is she here? Is Jocelyn home?”

Nikki was surprised, bordering on shocked, to see Alison. She couldn't imagine how she could have posted bail so quickly. Jeremy must have pulled some strings somehow. She glanced down at little Katie. “Would you like to take your snack in the living room and bug your big sister?”

Katie bobbed her head and grinned.

Nikki gave her a plastic Hello Kitty plate with cut-up carrots, apple slices, and peanut butter on it. “Go for it.”

Katie galloped out of the kitchen.

Nikki turned to Alison. “Jocelyn's not with you?”

“With me?” Alison's usually pale face was even paler. She had no makeup on and looked as if she'd had a rough day. Maybe been arrested and spent time in a holding cell. She wrung her hands. “Nikki, I was arrested this morning for Ryan Melton's murder. How could Jocelyn be with me?” She was beginning to sound panicky. “She was in school. Did she not go to school?”

“I'm sure she's fine.” Nikki wiped her hands on a dish towel and approached Alison. “She went to school as far as I know. Jeremy was going to pick her up early . . . in case someone heard about your arrest before we . . . before Jeremy had a chance to tell her himself. But weren't you with Jeremy? Didn't he bail you out?”

“He was going to post my bail?” Tears filled her eyes and she looked at the floor. “I can't believe he'd do it again. After . . . the last time. After what I did.”

Nikki exhaled. She didn't know when the right time to talk about that with Alison was, but she was sure it wasn't right now. “I'm confused. How did you get here? Did Jeremy post your bail and then not pick you up?” That didn't sound like him, but she was beginning to realize that Jeremy wasn't the same person with his sister as he was with everyone else on the planet.