Barking with the Stars Read online

  “Had that happened to you?” I asked. “Did she give you something?”

  “She did.” Marsha lit up. “This bracelet.”

  She held out her wrist so I could see the delicate circle of silver studded with purple stones.

  “Very pretty.” I admired the bracelet. “I guess that would add an element of competition to it.”

  “Right.” She nodded. “But all in good fun.”

  Believe me I know a lot about competition and there usually comes a time when it’s no longer good fun.

  Chapter Fourteen

  AS MARSHA LEFT, I watched her walk across the lobby, again wondering at the difference between her body language when dressed as Purple and when she was herself. It was more than body language. It was demeanor or, I’d even say, attitude. Interesting.

  She’d seemed overly concerned about money a couple of times. She’d mentioned reimbursing the hotel and then she’d also seemed worried about paying me. I supposed the Purple costuming didn’t come cheap. Nor the travel and hotel stays involved in following the star from venue to venue.

  I wished I’d asked what she did for a living. It had to be expensive to support her habit as a Purple Poser.

  Since I had the list from Rufus, I ran through it again. I noted a problem with Shar Summer’s dressing room assignment. It wasn’t where we’d agreed.

  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t spotted that when we did the walk-through. If there was a good reason for the change I’m sure she’d be okay, but Rufus had perhaps not understood the number of sparkly items Shar and Babycakes brought to bear. I’d better check it out before things got started so if we needed to make changes we could. Before things, in Marsha’s words, got “bonkers.” I couldn’t remember if Rufus had used a key card to get us to the backstage area or not. I decided to take my chances.

  I retraced my steps and soon found my way to the hotel auditorium. The Ocean Mark had done a great job of labeling rooms and providing maps of exits so it made it easy.

  The auditorium was no longer deserted. A crew was beginning some set-up work. More equipment, more cords. A grand piano, some props. There were three guys discussing some problem with the scrim, the big screen that would be used for the photos and videos. I was glad it was Rufus in charge of the dress rehearsal tomorrow night and not me.

  “I’m with the event,” I explained, although they hadn’t challenged why I was there. “I just need to look at some dressing room locations.”

  They nodded and went back to their discussion.

  Pulling up the list in Rufus’s email, I walked the hallway. The change to Shar’s room assignment was a problem as she’d already dropped off some things in the room she’d originally had. I emailed him quickly in order to give him time to take a look.

  I rechecked some of the other room assignments. I’d be willing to bet he had signs ready to go for tomorrow night, but I wanted to have an idea of how I would need to time my own check-ins. Once I’d walked through the timeline, I went to tell the stage folks I was leaving, but they had already gone. They’d turned off all but a few lights so I took my time and stepped carefully. I didn’t want to trip on all those ropes and cords.

  Sheesh! It would have been nice for them to let me know they were turning off lights.

  I had started one step at a time down the stairs to go back to the service hallway when I realized there were people in the shadows of the auditorium. I could hear low voices, and I stopped to let my eyes adjust to the darkness.

  It was Drake Owen and Trevor Lang.

  I started to call out, but then stopped myself.

  Drake wasn’t even supposed to be in town. At least he’d told Sunny, Diana, and me that he didn’t plan to be. And how did he know Trevor?

  I was in a deserted auditorium with two guys who had been close to Purple. One of whom I believed had lied to me. And the other, who had argued with Mandy, and then had avoided talking to me.

  Malone’s warning echoed in the back of my mind. They had not yet been able to identify any motive. Everyone was still a potential suspect.

  Probably not my best option to reveal myself at this point. I quietly eased down the steps, glad I’d gone for the low canvas shoes. I could hear a little bit of the conversation now.

  “I can’t believe you did what you did.” I thought that voice was Trevor. His tone was a little higher than Drake’s.

  “You were done wrong.” That was definitely Drake, the twang was evident. “And now we’re fixin’ to set things right.”

  “. . . no legal standing . . . don’t have the cash to hire a lawyer and take this through the courts.” I’d missed the first part but could hear the last. Trevor’s demeanor was certainly different from the threatening stance he’d taken with Mandy.

  “That’d be a long haul and now you may not need . . .” The voice I believed to be Drake’s trailed off into nothing.

  What the heck?

  I couldn’t hear well to begin with from where I stood, and now they were walking toward the back.

  “You think about that opening.” Drake turned to look at the stage and I could clearly see his face now. I hoped to heck he couldn’t see me. I pressed myself against the wall.

  “I will.” Trevor held out his hand and Drake shook it and then they disappeared out the doors to the public area.

  Two guys making a deal? Or maybe one or the other, tying up the loose ends of a murder?

  I stood in the dark a while before moving.

  Making sure they were gone.

  And trying to decide what to do with the incomplete pieces of information I’d overheard.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ONCE I FINALLY got myself together and made my way back to the lobby, I immediately called Malone. The call went right to voicemail. I left a message.

  Holy Secrets and Lies, Batman.

  I need you to call me back, Malone.

  I gave the valet my ticket and waited for my car. Lines of fans continued down the walkway to where the Purple tribute area had been set up. It still seemed to be working out. I hoped Jamie and his grounds crew were able to keep up.

  Maybe I’d just go by the police station and see if I could catch Malone there. The trouble was when I caught up with him, I didn’t even know where I would start.

  The conversation with Sheron was more about people insights than hard facts Malone would be interested in. But my talk with Lew Simpson had told me he had the skills to hack the cameras. Malone might or might not know that. But Lew had also shared his potential for a clash with Purple over signing his purple vinyl record. Had she really agreed to do it and then forgotten to give it back to him? Or more likely forgotten to ask Mandy to give it back to him. Did he own it, or was he up to some sort of scam and they’d figured it out?

  And then Marsha and her mention that sometimes Purple mixed with the Posers. Perhaps she had the night she died and that’s why they were having so much trouble nailing down her whereabouts. Without the cameras, they knew when people had gone into the room, but they didn’t know who might have gone in with her. And don’t even get me started on the unreliability of eyewitness reports.

  And then finally, there was the overheard conversation between Purple’s fiancé and a guy she apparently had a history with. A guy who had some sort of dispute. Business dealings, Sheron had said. But then there had also been Sheron’s very odd reaction when I’d asked about Trevor. I didn’t know how I was going to explain that to Malone.

  I tipped the valet and dropped my bag in the front of my car. As I slid into the driver’s seat, a black SUV pulled up. Geoffrey got out and handed his keys to another of the valets, and then walked around to the passenger side. Holding the door open, he offered a hand to his female companion.

  I waited. No sting anymore, just curiosity.

  Mandy Barton a
ccepted his assist and stepped down from the big vehicle. It seemed an odd combination, the personal assistant and the murder suspect. She looked good in a strappy tank and an asymmetric turquoise skirt that showed a bit of leg. Nice but a big change from her usual blend-into-the-background Girl Friday look. She carried a tan Fendi bag—I knew what it cost because I had just looked at the same bag in red.

  Not that there was any reason to think that she couldn’t have afforded a high-end purse before. I was pretty sure assistants to superstars made decent money. Buy-several-designer-handbags kind of money. It was just that she hadn’t seemed to care before.

  Her hair color also was slightly different. The drab blond was replaced with shiny highlights. Maybe she hadn’t had the time when dealing with all the chaos of being assistant to a celebrity like Purple. Maybe she hadn’t had time to date.

  But seriously? Geoffrey Carlisle? Mandy, you have awful taste in men.

  They hadn’t spotted me although I was sure Geoffrey would at least recognize my car. I glanced back as I put the Mercedes in gear. He was straightening his tie in the SUV’s rearview mirror. He hadn’t even noticed my car.

  I pulled away and added one more odd happening, aka clue, to my mental list of things to share when Malone called me back.

  PARKING MY CAR in the garage, I grabbed my stuff and opened the door into the kitchen. I was glad to be home, and my menagerie was glad to see me. I took Dogbert out quickly, looking around the neighborhood. I hated to feel like a prisoner in my own home, and I hadn’t thought the note was threatening, but the fact that whoever had penned it had been careful to not leave prints made it seem a little creepier.

  Food for the felines could not come fast enough, at least according to them. I refilled bowls, gave out rubs, and rummaged for something for myself. Too bad I hadn’t really been at the grocery store when I’d given Malone the impression that’s where I was. And what was I going to do about Mr. Swanson and Grandma Tillie’s brooch.

  I had tried Googling him. No luck. I’m usually pretty good at different types of searches, but I didn’t know the man’s first name. Unfortunately, I’d been a little too quick to walk out of the Bow Wow Boutique when he’d first offered the brooch, otherwise I would probably have better information. I had to think Mel was also not cooperating in the way he’d hoped or he wouldn’t still be interested in talking to me.

  I found the makings for a salad, threw in some almonds, and settled at my computer to do some further searching while I ate.

  What did I know about him? Betty and Mel had met him when they were “glamping” in the Laguna Hills. He didn’t really look like the glamorous camping type. Maybe his participation had been encouraged by a wife or girlfriend. The glamping had been an exclusive pet-themed outing where you brought your dog, so that’s why Mel and Betty had gotten involved. There’d also been a murder and Betty had hinted at Mel’s near arrest, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever gotten the straight story on exactly what had happened.

  I made a quick note to myself that I needed to check in with Betty and see how she and Raider were faring. I hadn’t seen her around since the day at the police station. I really was concerned about her and her St. Bernard, but I also thought maybe she’d let slip some intel if I got her talking.

  A quick search of the online news told me that Sunny had made the announcement about a new headliner for the Warriors for the Paws fundraiser. One of the Hollywood news outlets had pulled out an archived story in which Nora talked about her own dog and her efforts to help shelters. She was going to be a fabulous spokesperson for the fundraiser. And what a champion to step in with such an awful situation.

  My cell phone beeped from the kitchen where I’d left it. I could use a laugh, so I kind of hoped it was another of the silly texts from Diana switching her and her pets’ faces. She had quite an assortment of animals at her house, so there was a lot of potential.

  Instead, it was a text from Malone letting me know he was tied up with something and probably wouldn’t call me back until morning. Unless it was an emergency, he’d added with a question mark.

  It wasn’t. My insights and the new information weren’t urgent. In fact, though some of the intel was new to me, it was quite possible Malone already knew most of it. I texted back that morning was fine.

  WHEN MALONE CALLED the next morning, he suggested meeting at the Koffee Klatch again and that was perfect for me. I had cleared the next couple of days of any appointments. The only thing on my list for the day was getting to the hotel and going over final details. It was sure to be a really long day.

  I showered and pulled out newly purchased Rag and Bone blue-and-white-checkered ankle pants. I’ve found it’s good to have a pattern in the event you need to camouflage drools or spills. I added a favorite sleeveless navy shirt and slipped on some flat serviceable sandals. A nice cool outfit that would work well with all the running to and fro at the hotel. My mama would have thought that I’d reached a new low for dressing to leave the house.

  I heard her voice in my head saying, “Carolina, you could at least put on some lipstick.” And so I dug out an Estee Lauder lipstick and swiped it on. It was a nice coral that had been in the Neiman Marcus care package Mama Kat had sent a month ago. There’s no use arguing with her and telling her we have department stores here in California. Like the helicopter mom of a teenager who’s gone off to camp, she keeps sending me care packages.

  When I arrived at the Koffee Klatch, Malone was already at a table in the breezeway with two coffee cups. He looked like he’d had a long night.

  “One for me?” I had assumed he had no idea what I drank.

  “Yep.” He pushed one of the cups my direction. “Not sure what it is but the burgundy-haired barista claims it’s your usual.”

  “So, Verdi is working?” I inhaled the smooth, nutty aroma as I took my first taste.

  “She is.” He picked up his cup and leaned in. “Sounded like you had information to share.”

  I started with my dropping off the bill at Purple’s house.

  “Which you could have mailed,” he noted.

  “I could have, but I wasn’t certain what would be happening with the house and whether it would be the same mailing address.”

  “And it gave you the opportunity to snoop.”

  “Well, yes, there was that added benefit.” I met his blue gaze.

  Dropping any pretense that I’d gone there innocently, I shared Sheron’s take on whether Drake and Purple would have ended up actually getting married. And also, her reaction when I’d asked about Trevor and his argument with Mandy.

  “She stands to gain as much as anyone from Purple’s death so probably has more motive than any of the others.” Malone looked thoughtful.

  “Who, Mandy? I’d wondered about that.”

  “No, Sheron.”

  “What?” I couldn’t imagine the tea-drinking, dog-mothering Sheron could be a murderer. “She doesn’t seem to care anything about the money. Sheron is all about the dog.”

  “Could she and Purple have argued about the dog?” he asked. “Was Purple ever abusive to the dog?” He rubbed his chin. I could tell he was remembering the incessant barking the day of the murder.

  “Not that I ever saw. She wasn’t always as attentive as she could have been. I often felt like Lavender was part of her accessories. Part of the ‘look.’” I did air-quotes with my fingers. “I only met Sheron after Purple’s death, but I hadn’t been working with Purple for very long. She hadn’t been in town more than a couple of weeks.”

  “Okay, just a thought. Go on.” He leaned back in his chair.

  All right. On to Lew Simpson and his collecting. From Malone’s reaction, it was clear that he knew about the vinyl record Lew claimed he had dropped off for Purple to sign.

  “What would something like that sell for?” he mused. “Do you have any i
dea?”

  “I did an online search last night and the highest priced collectible records can run into the tens of thousands of dollars,” I told him. “Those were mostly big names, but signed increases the price.”

  “I’ll bet so does deceased.” He shifted in the metal chair. “By a lot.”

  “You’re right about that.” My poking around on the Internet had yielded an amazing appetite for vinyl records. Even unsigned, a popular and rare record could bring ten to twenty-five thousand dollars, and a signature and a provenance, as Lew had explained, added value. Which reminded me of my second Lew insight. “Lew, the collector, also mentioned that in his day job he’s a . . . just a minute.” I had to find the note where I’d written it down. “Here it is. He’s an application developer of internal apps for FinZone.”

  “He gave us his employer but he just said he worked in their IT department.” Malone stared off toward the front of the coffee shop. “He wasn’t very specific.”

  “And then I had a chat with one of the Purple Posers. You know the people that dress up like Purple.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He grinned. “Your pal, Officer Hostas, was not happy about having to deal with all of them.”

  “I’ll bet.” I hoped the experience put into perspective all of the times Officer Hostas had dealt with me in unusual circumstances. At least I wasn’t dressed in costume any of those times. Wait, there was the one time, but Malone had drawn that straw.

  “What did the Poser have to say?”

  “Marsha was the fan who’d asked the two fan club presidents for my contact info and she’s a very believable Purple role play actor.” I continued to be fascinated with the whole cosplay world, and the psychologist in me wanted to know more. “She mentioned that sometimes Purple herself sort of infiltrated the group. Joining in on their events undercover, and that occasionally, if she were particularly impressed with a costume or the player, she might gift them with something of hers.”