Maggie and the Black-Tie Affair Page 4

  "Or maybe not," he said.

  "Who else could it be?"

  "I don't know. But there's a whole roomful of suspects we haven't questioned yet."

  Maggie put the towel into the dryer and hit the start button. "Then let's start grilling them."

  Maggie mingled for a while, somehow always bringing the subject around to where everyone had been in the last hour.

  Reese did the same, and after they'd covered pretty much everyone at the party, they met up again.

  "Nothing," she said.

  "Nothing for me, either," Reese said. "No one saw anyone go into that hallway. Let's face it: these people wouldn't leave this room if the building was on fire. They all want to be where the action is."

  "I don't know what—" Maggie started to say, but Reese interrupted with a jolly, "Sam!"

  Sam, the director who'd been the victim of Felicia's attempted lovebombing earlier, gave Reese a big hug.

  "How've you been?" Reese asked with what appeared to be genuine interest.

  Sam seemed flattered, even blushing a little. "Fine, fine."

  They chatted about their latest projects for a bit, and then Reese said, "sorry about Felicia."

  "Not a problem," Sam said. "She's not exactly your type, I would've thought."

  Maggie lifted her hands in the air. "That's what I said to him."

  "So why'd you pick her?" Sam asked.

  "She picked me. They usually do."

  "You could have said no," Sam pointed out.

  Reese shrugged. "Have you seen her legs?"

  "I didn't notice," Sam replied with a bemused smile. "But then that's why I'm not a fashion photographer." He smiled at Maggie. "As far as I'm concerned, she can go right back to Hong Kong or Timbuktu or wherever she's been modeling. I don't mean to be sexist, but there are some women who should be seen and not heard."

  "Some men, too," Maggie said dryly.

  "Fair enough."

  Reese shook Sam's hand and said, "well, I think I'll buy our hostess a drink. See you later."

  He took Maggie by the arm and steered her in the direction of the bar. "I don't think he did it," he said. "He's disgusted with her, but doesn't seem petty enough to steal her jewelry." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Maggie. No one has a motive."

  "Sam has a crush on you," Maggie pointed out.

  "I know," he said. "He has for years. But he knows that's not going to happen."

  "You don't think he could be jealous of Felicia?" she asked. "He sure doesn't like her."

  "You don't like her, and you didn't steal her stuff."

  They went into an alcove off the main living room. It led to a sweeping stairway. There was a velvet rope across the stairs to keep the partygoers out of the private rooms upstairs.

  Reese unhooked the rope and led Maggie up the stairs. "We haven't searched here."

  "You said yourself that no one would leave the party for fear of missing out on making connections with someone important," Maggie reminded him.

  "I know. But we're running out of options." He sighed as they climbed. "I really hate this. That kid is going to spend the night in jail."

  "Do you think she could be convicted on such slim evidence?" Maggie asked.

  He shook his head. "Logically, you wouldn't think so. But I don't trust that cop. He seemed to think he had enough to haul her in just on Felicia's guess about what happened."

  "Could we be wrong?" she asked. "Is it possible she's guilty, and is just playing innocent because she got caught?"

  "Maybe," he said.

  Maggie stood at the top of the stairs and stared out a window at the panoramic view of Carita Cove. "I felt like I was looking in a mirror when I saw her." She frowned. "Maybe that's making me biased. Maybe I'm stupid to believe some teenager just because she reminds me of myself at that age."

  "Be stupid," Reese said.

  "What?"

  "Be idealistic. For once. Let's both believe in something."

  "I'll try," she said.

  They started searching all the upstairs rooms.

  "Shhh!" Maggie warned. "Not that door. It's Mac's office and he's on that important call."

  But Reese had already opened the door and peered in. Then he quickly stepped back, pulling the door shut.

  He turned and faced her. His expression was totally blank. "Where do we try next?" he asked.

  "Why do you look like that?" she asked. "What's in there? A dead body?"

  She tried to go around him, but he put his hands on her shoulders. "Don't, Maggie."

  She shook him off and opened the door.

  Mac was happier than he had been in ages. The woman was curvy, like her. About twenty-five, like Maggie had been when she'd been Big Mac McJasper's secretary and he had told her that his old hag of a wife was mean and vindictive and didn't understand him.

  Now it was Maggie's turn to be the mean old hag in the story.

  Big Mac's tuxedo would never be the same once his secretary was through with him. Not secretary. Personal assistant. And she was getting very personal.

  So personal that neither of them noticed the door open.

  Maggie eased the door shut and turned away.

  "Maybe I should get a tattoo on my rear like hers," Maggie muttered.

  "Please don't," Reese said.

  "Why not?" Maggie said. "I tried everything else."

  "It's time to stop trying," he said bluntly.

  "Yes. It's past time to stop trying," Maggie said softly. She sighed. "Her name's Virginia. Obviously not an appropriate name. She works for him at the studio."

  "I'll bet she does," Reese said. "I'm sorry."

  She threw her shoulders back. "Don't be. I think I knew. I wasn't listening to my gut until now, but I knew."

  Those blue eyes of his were too intense. She turned away.

  "Are you gonna be okay?"

  "Yeah." She thought about it. "Yeah. I think I am. I'm sure later I'll have a good cry, but after that, I think I'll be okay."

  "I knew there was some reason I always liked you, Magdalena Lopez."

  "I can't believe you remember my maiden name."

  "I was at the wedding, remember?"

  "Yeah. You went to your boss's wedding ten years ago. But how do you even remember that kind of detail?"

  "When I first got sober, everything was crystal clear for a while. I remember every detail from that time. It was like coming out of a coma."

  Maggie sat down on a bench in the hall.

  Reese sat next to her, loosened his bow tie, and unbuttoned the top button on his pleated tuxedo shirt. "I need to breathe," he muttered.

  She played with the chipped acrylic nail on her ring finger. It snagged on her shimmering gown and she muttered a curse while she worked to get it loose. The ragged nail clashed with the five carat engagement ring and matching diamond-encircled wedding band she wore.

  "I've never liked diamonds," she said, looking at her fingers. "I like pretty colors and fun patterns and things I make with my own two hands. Not jewels and platinum. I told him that, but he kept buying me all this flashy junk."

  "I'm sorry, Maggie."

  "Mac never even liked my name," she muttered. "Magdalena Lopez, I mean."

  "Magdalena? It's a pretty name."

  "The Lopez part always bothered him."

  "Really?" he said, his voice chilly.

  "No. Not what you're thinking. It's because my dad's Lucky Lopez and it bugged Mac to be reminded of that."

  "Your dad is Lucky Lopez, the Car King of Cupertino?"

  "You've heard of him?"

  "Sure. I remember his old TV commercials. But that's nothing to be embarrassed about."

  "I'm not embarrassed. My dad is a great guy. He built his business from scratch into one of the top dealerships in the state. But Mac likes people to think I'm… fancy. Like the people here."

  "Oh, please. Nobody at this party is fancy. It's all phony. Every bit of it."

  "I don't know, Reese." Her gaze r
oved over the tuxedo-clad movie star from head to toe. "You're pretty fancy."

  "No, I'm not. I'm Stanley Tibbets from Deep Creek, California."

  "Stanley Tibbets?"

  "Yup. Really. I was named after my grandfather."

  "I did not know that. I mean, I knew about Deep Creek, of course." Deep Creek was the name of the teenage rock band that had burst onto the scene twenty years ago, propelled to fame by a charismatic lead singer who eventually went from fronting a band to acting in hit movies. "Stanley," she said softly.

  "Yeah. Nora came up with the name Reese Stevens when she found us."

  Nora McJasper was his manager, the woman who had discovered Reese playing at a county fair when he was just a kid.

  Nora was also Big Mac's ex-wife, the mean old hag he had told Maggie about when she was young and stupid and believed him.

  Maggie had later learned that the first Mrs. McJasper was actually a charming woman who was so nice she was friends with pretty much everyone in Los Angeles.

  Even Maggie herself, the woman who had replaced her.

  The only reason Nora wasn't at the party tonight was because she was now happily married to a lovely man who worshipped her, and had better things to do on New Year's Eve than kiss up to a bunch of industry hacks. Maggie wondered if her own turn at being the ex-Mrs. McJasper would go as well.

  "You okay?" Reese asked.

  "Yeah." She sniffed to clear up the tears that were stinging her eyes a bit. "I never would have pegged you for a Stanley." Then she thought of something. "Isn't that the character in Foul Play?"

  "Never heard of it," he said, his expression blank.

  "The movie, Foul Play, from back in the 1970s."

  "Before your time."

  "Of course, nitwit. But it was great. Starred Goldie Hawn."

  "Kate Hudson's mother?" He sounded confused.

  "Yes, you dope. Goldie Hawn plays a secretary who stumbles into a murder plot, and one of those guys from Saturday Night Live plays the handsome cop."

  "John Belushi," he said.

  "No. You're playing me, aren't you?"

  He grinned. "Just a little. Foul Play. 1978. Set in San Francisco. Goldie Hawn plays a librarian, not a secretary, and Chevy Chase is a police detective who thinks she's nuts, but falls in love with her anyway. Dudley Moore stole the movie as Stanley Tibbets."

  "You know it pretty well."

  "Dudley Moore plays a character with my name. Of course I know it."

  "Is that why Nora wanted you to change your name?"

  "I changed it because Stanley Tibbets didn't fit on the Tiger Beat magazine posters. You remember those?"

  "Vaguely," she said. His poster had graced the wall of her bedroom when she was twelve, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

  Maggie glanced back down the hall to Big Mac's office. "We'd better move on."

  "Can we? I think we're stuck."

  "We'll figure it out," she said.

  "No, Maggie. I mean we're stuck. We made our choices when we were young and foolish, and now this is the life we've got. I'm dating a woman who would shoot me between the eyes if it would get her a walk-on in the next James Wan picture. And you're married to a man who's too old for you, too dumb for you, and too unfaithful for you."

  "Geez, when you put it that way, maybe we should just slit our wrists and be done with it."

  He frowned. "Not even as a joke, Maggie."

  She glanced at his wrists, still bearing the faint scars. "Sorry, Stanley."

  He stood up, then held out his hand to her.

  She took it and he lifted her to her feet.

  "Enough of the self-pity," he said. "This poor kid is being railroaded."

  "And we're running out of options."

  Reese headed back to the hall in a last-ditch effort to keep Lieutenant Ibarra at bay, but Maggie spotted Cassidy Carter, an actress at about the same level as Felicia, and decided to see if she could learn anything from her.

  Cassidy was canoodling with the droning accountant. He wasn't droning at the moment. He could hardly take a breath with her on him like an octopus. Maggie had to give the woman credit for ambition.

  When they came up for air, the man seemed shellshocked.

  Cassidy gave him the glitzy smile that had won her several toothpaste commercials, and then sauntered to the bar for a drink.

  Maggie made her way over to greet her. Cassidy gave Maggie the smile she reserved for people whose husbands could help her career, and said hello.

  After a few pleasantries, Maggie congratulated her on her latest sitcom part (Beautiful Cashier #3). Cassidy preened at the praise. Then Maggie casually steered the talk to Felicia.

  "I understand Felicia Dalton's career has been really heating up," Maggie dropped into the conversation.

  "Oh, please. She's not hot."

  "Do you know her?"

  "Sure. Known her for years."

  "I see. So what's she been up to?"

  "She was modeling in Hong Kong last I heard. But with those fake implants of hers I doubt she was getting too much work over there. Then she suddenly waltzes back into town and starts auditioning for commercial spots again. Thinks she's gonna get all the jobs."

  "The jobs you want."

  "The jobs I deserve. I've put in my time."

  "I'm sure you have," Maggie said dryly.

  Cassidy got huffy, so Maggie quickly backtracked. "Felicia's not the nicest person I've ever met," she said, maneuvering to see what Cassidy knew about the whole affair.

  "She's a jerk," Cassidy said. "There's no give and take with her; she's just out for herself."

  "Give and take?"

  "She has different diamonds for every day of the week, but she won't even pick up a check for drinks at Chateau Marmont, you know?"

  "Really? If her career is on the skids, where does she get so much jewelry?"

  "From her boyfriend, of course."

  "Her boyfriend?"

  "Yeah." Cassidy tossed her hair back and accepted a second white wine spritzer from the local college kid who was tending bar. She thanked him with a dazzling smile. The bartender took a step back as if dizzy.

  Cassidy focused her attention on him, but he turned to Maggie. "How's Abby?" he asked.

  Maggie shook her head. "Nothing's certain yet."

  "Hello," Cassidy said pointedly to the man. How dare someone not make her the center of their attention.

  "Sorry," he muttered. "My friend is gonna be arrested for stealing that actress's earrings if they can't find 'em."

  "Too bad," Cassidy said indifferently. Then she turned to Maggie. "That's why you're asking about Felicia? She lost her earrings?"

  Maggie nodded.

  Cassidy laughed out loud. She raised her spritzer and saluted. "Good."

  Maggie saw the bartender bristle, so she gestured for him to leave them alone. He walked away, his back stiff with anger.

  Cassidy's surprise at Felicia's missing jewelry had seemed genuine, but who could tell with these actors?

  Maggie toyed with a drink napkin. It was black linen, emblazoned with a silver BIG MAC logo. She saw her dear husband strolling into the party across the room, his secretary entering a discreet ten feet behind him, still adjusting her skirt.

  Mac headed over to Maggie. When he got there, he leaned in for a kiss, but she just happened to turn her head away and his lips brushed her cheek instead.

  "Did your call go well?" she asked brightly.

  "Fine," he said. "You know—just business as usual."

  "Yeah. I know." When he seemed ready to settle in at her side for a while, she nodded to the crowd. "You need to mingle. Everyone's missed you."

  He smiled his big smile and headed off to gladhand his guests.

  She turned back to Cassidy, who appeared about to leave, disappointed at not meeting the famous producer.

  "Oh," Maggie said. "I forgot to introduce you to my husband. I'll do that next time he comes around."

  That got Cassidy to happily
hang out with her and chat a bit longer.

  Maggie kept playing with the napkin and, after a bit more back-and-forth about the party, she innocently asked, "you said Felicia got the fancy jewelry from her boyfriend. Do you mean Reese Stevens?"

  "Reese?" She glanced disdainfully at Maggie. "Are you kidding? Reese is for party invitations. The boyfriend's for jewelry."

  Isn't everybody using everybody else? Reese had said.

  Maggie felt the linen tear in her hands. She saw she'd ripped right across the silver BIG MAC logo. She ran her finger over the rip, knowing it was beyond repair.

  "So who was the jewelry guy?" she asked casually. "Someone I know?"

  Cassidy finished her spritzer with a gulp and motioned to the bartender, who didn't appear to see her.

  "The jewelry guy?" Maggie repeated.

  "Daniel Krakower," Cassidy said.

  Maggie was acquainted with Daniel Krakower, the owner of Best Jewelers on Rodeo Drive. She remembered him telling her about his daughter's ballet class last time she'd been in there to pick up a bracelet. He was a sweet (but rather homely) little man with a receding hairline and an expanding waistline. "I thought he was married. Dorothy or Donna or something?"

  "Duh." Again the disdain, like Maggie was the most naïve little country bumpkin Cassidy had ever run across. "Felicia was milking him like the cash cow he was. He'd let her have anything in the store. But I bet he'll kill her for losing those earrings."

  "Yeah," Maggie said. "And that wouldn't bother you at all, would it?"

  "Nope," Cassidy said. "I wouldn't shed a tear."

  Maggie didn't bother to mention that with a face full of Botox, it was unlikely Cassidy could shed a tear if her life depended on it.

  So she just said a polite goodbye, dumped the torn napkin in the trash, and went in search of Reese to tell him what she'd learned.

  She found Reese with the lieutenant.

  Abby perched on her stool, her head down and her fingers clenched around her book bag. Felicia sat on her stool, shoulders hunched, miserable.

  Mrs. Queen hovered.