Helena Goes to Hollywood: A Helena Morris Mystery (18 page)

BOOK: Helena Goes to Hollywood: A Helena Morris Mystery
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He turned and headed back to his car before we could say anything more. So calm and so seemingly normal.

I felt my face burning. “Search him.”

“No, Hel, we’re not doing that. I’ll put a guy on him to watch him and be sure he doesn’t try to crash the after funeral event or do anything to the gravesite.”

“He’s here for a reason.” I swallowed hard. “You can question him.”

“We already have and we’ve got nothing. We’ll watch him. Danny is not Michael Jackson, Hel—we can’t shut down the whole city for his funeral.”

I nodded. “Thanks.” Ricky was right. Still that guy set off my creep radar so badly I wanted to figure out why.

Chapter Twenty-Six

A
far cry from the rock star display, the same mansion was now somberly decked out in dark greens and black. The weird sense of déjà vu hit when I noticed the same bartender who’d given me a makeshift ice pack when I elbowed the rock star on my last visit to the residence. He now stood at the same post to serve mourners.

The food was laid out everywhere, a buffet feast that had prime rib, filet, chicken Kiev, lobster, and salmon. I swear I smelled corned beef and cabbage but it had to be my imagination. The spread was bigger than at any wedding I had attended with sides of every kind and waiters circulating with caviar and other appetizers.

“What’s up on the landing?” Sonia pointed to a few people clustered up there.

“Let’s go see.” Mom and Lou lead her upstairs.

“Hey,” Jordan said as I was left alone in the crowd of mourners.

He was decked out in all black and showing neither ankle nor midriff, although he did have black nail polish and a neckerchief instead of a tie. He looked very James Bond and anywhere else it would be over the top and rude. But at a funeral in L.A. he fit right in.

I got a hug. “Thanks for coming and finding me a dress,” I said.

“What are friends for?” He glanced up at the stairs. “How’s she doing?”

“Okay for now. The doctor gave her something to help her function.”

“Don’t knock good meds as long as she doesn’t stay on them. She really has been distraught. I’m getting texts and phone calls at two in the morning.”

“I know, but she needs to eat. Before she was stress eating and drinking but the medication has killed her appetite. Can you get her to consume something? Sonia says Mom, Lou, and I are suffocating her.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he nodded.

I shook my head and added, “Not
Hollywood
eat—real people eat. Carbs too. Bread, potatoes, and protein.”

I was so my mother’s daughter at times. Food didn’t cure everything but it didn’t hurt when nothing else fixed the problem. Right now losing myself in ice cream sounded good but I had to keep my eyes open.

“I talk actors into a lot of things, don’t worry.” He went off in search of my sister.

Taking a deep breath I joined the mourners wandering around the food.

What I found on the way was Sam. “Hi, I can’t thank you enough for this.”

He hugged me a little longer than I expected but Sam always smelled good so I didn’t mind. His strong arms felt good. It was odd to see him in an expensive suit and tie. On the set he was in jeans and T-shirt, which made me feel normal.

Finally he let go. “I’m happy to host—you should thank my sister. She’s the hostess in the family. Every event I ever needed to throw was either a wife’s birthday party or something for work. By then the wife was an ex-wife, so Harriet always stepped in to help.”

“I don’t think I met her the day of the band’s performance. With a rock star grabbing me and trying to keep my eye on Sonia. I didn’t have much of a chance to circulate.”

“That was a drama, plus she had to deal with some guys peeing in the fountain. Then some girls were camped out in rooms naked trying to wait for the band. I tried to help but the show had to go on. I’ll introduce you. She’s actually Sonia’s agent—-a real ball buster.” He headed back to the kitchen.

I followed and instantly knew Harriet from everyone else. She was dressed in a black tea-length dress, black pumps and had a Bluetooth in her ear while barking at the staff. Dark blonde hair in a blunt bob cut that was straight as a pin and moved only when she did. She belonged in New York.

She tapped the ear bud, gave her brother a hug, and turned to me. “It’s you, the Hollywood Ninja.” Harriet hugged me too.

I patted her back briefly and cursed that Queen Bees website. “I’m not a ninja, just Helena Morris.”

She waved it off. “I know. But it’s such a cute nickname—use it. Image sells.”

Subject change please.
“I don’t need an image. I’m not selling anything. Thanks for doing all of this work.”

“This? It’s nothing, I’m happy to help. Go away Sam, we’re talking.”

Sam went and Harriet grabbed my arm. “Now do you know who did it yet?” she asked.

Usually I only gossiped with people I knew better but as Sonia’s agent, Harriet’s concern made sense. “The police are working on it,” I said.

“Don’t think I’m one of those crazy people who gossips and shares because I’m not. I need to look out for Sonia.”

“That’s good.” I half believed her.

“You’ll solve this.” Something chirped and she held up a finger.

Harriet reminded me of Streisand crossed with Fran Drescher. This woman never met a stranger and barely seemed to stop for breath but oozed class. Sonia picked a good agent.

When Harriet’s call was over I said, “I’m just here for my sister. The food looks delicious.”

“Naturally. I know it’s for mourning but Danny was Irish. I followed the theme and we only ordered the best. Not that many people actually eat,” she shrugged.

I stepped in closer. “I have a question and it might be awkward but I need the truth. You’re a new agent for Sonia. Did you represent Danny?” I asked.

Harriet shook her head. “No. Before me Sonia was with Myra Andrews. Danny stuck with her. She’s nice and good.”

“Not a shark?” I asked.

“She handled a lot of soap actors. Some moved up, some made it a career, and some fizzled into B rate movies and so on. She’s a starter agent. Over there in the black dress. Curly black hair.” Harriet nodded.

I followed her eyes and spotted the middle aged matron. Pencil thin, flat chested, and tall. “She reps the girlfriend too?”

“Faith? Sure. Extra material, really. So many kids come here and believe they’ll be a star. Pretty and fit isn’t enough. They need a hook and spark. Hell, I can get character actors more work. You’d be a great soccer mom turned spy. Or maybe district attorney,” Harriet said.

“I’m sure that’s a compliment,” I smiled.

“It is. Different is a bigger draw than the same old pretty face.”

As I watched Myra a tall man walked up to her and put an arm around her shoulders. The woman broke down in tears.

“Is that her husband?” I asked. Danny mentioned he’d been renting the house from his agent and her hubby.

“Sure. Norm. He’s done well. When the property values tanked he bought up a bunch of foreclosures and remodeled them. He rents a bunch and sold several. But he spends money just as fast.”

“Drugs? Women?” I asked.

“Not drugs,” Harriet smiled. “Why?”

I shrugged. “No reason. Just finding out about the people around Danny.”

“You think it’s connected to whoever is stalking your sister? I agree it’s possible. Myra might be good to talk to. Now is it true you’re a black belt?”

Her topic hopping threw me off balance. “It’s a job and good exercise.”

“Jordan said you might do classes. I want in.” She wagged a long fingernail at me.

“I’m not really set up for classes. I’ve done tech consulting while I’m here and then I’ll be back in Vegas once this is all settled.”

“Oh please, you must to stay. Do you have any idea how popular you are? I had all three of the Queen Bees begging to get on the guest list for this funeral. I had to keep it to the one I’ve known since childhood or it’d look tacky.”

“One of them is here?” I stopped short and looked Harriet in the eye. “I’d like to meet them.”

“Wait, you’re not going to go all Bruce Lee on him. I know it’s a gossip website and it’s upsetting, but this one is different. It’s all true. The title Hollywood Ninja—okay, that’s just fun. All the pics are real and he’s a huge fan of yours. Why go off on Keith?”

“I won’t go off and it’s not about me.” What business did any reporters or gossip queens have at a family funeral? “I’ll be nice.”

Harriet nodded and pointed at a chubby man pushing fifty in a gray suit with a pink tie.

I walked up to him and took some food since that’s what he was doing. “Keith the Queen Bee?” I asked.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

H
e looked up and smiled slowly. “Well, aren’t you getting up to speed? The Hollywood PI is tracking
me
down.”

“You’re at my brother-in-law’s funeral. I should have you arrested.” I kept my voice even and low.

He shook his head. “I was on the list. Besides, I’m not interested in covering this.”

For a second I was speechless. That never lasted long.

“Then why are you here?” I asked.

“You. Look, it’s sad Danny is dead but there’s no benefit in those pics for me. The truth is out there so my job is done. He was a soap actor and not going to be much more. If he was lucky he’d end up on a season of
The Bachelor
or something. Your sister had the morals to dump a cheater and no one can blame her for that.”

“Not that my sister had anything to do with it,” I insisted.

“The guy didn’t deserve to be killed either but it’s still news. It’s not my kind of news though. Now, Sonia’s classy and mourning him—very Heath Ledger. And that girl he was dating—who was she?” He rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Who cares? No one, that’s who. But that’s not going to be Sonia’s future. Your sister has the talent, the show, and the potential for more.”

“You take one picture of her here and I’ll feed you your camera.” I filled a plate so it looked like a friendly chat over garlic dill potatoes instead of threats.

Keith grinned. “Sweetie, it’s not about her now. Every tabloid will have a photo of her from someone here or before at the cemetery. Those are easy to get. You, now—you’re new. Most people don’t know about you yet. That’s what I do. I get to the people before the public is crazy for them. You’re halfway there.”

“Contrary to what you or your website says, I’m not your creation. I’m not something to market so stop playing with me and my family. There’s nothing to know. I’m not an actress. I’m really very boring,” I whispered.

“Please. You’re anything but boring. You’re a tech consultant on a new hit show. Not thrilling but technically you are in the entertainment business. Your sister is famous and at the center of a murder investigation and that murder has miraculously saved her old soap from cancellation. So you’re stuck. Sorry, but it’s all true.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal. “The good thing is I only print real pictures—nothing doctored so you are just you. Other outlets have picked you up since a murder is involved and everyone loves you!”

“I’m not a ninja or a PI.” I took some prime rib. “Can’t you at least delete that title?”

“That title is gold. Better, it’s platinum. Catchy and fun and very memorable. We’ll see which one sticks, but no one cares if that’s true or not. You’ve got a gun, know martial arts, are protecting your sister, and you’re in Hollywood right now. Those add up to your catchy nicknames.” He glanced at my plate. “You’re really going to eat all of that?”

I looked down. Chicken breast, prime rib, dill potatoes, a little seasoned rice, and a roll. So I’d taken a little of everything that appealed to me. To make a point I added some butter to my plate. If there was ever a time for comfort food it was now.

“Yeah, and if you take a picture of me eating—I don’t care.” I needed to get a handle on my rage and threats...it served no purpose with a gossip queen.

His lips pressed into a thin white line. “Point taken. How about you give me an interview and I’ll be super good? Nothing unflattering.”

“I thought you posted the truth. I don’t need you to be nice any more than I need to be a double zero. What’s unflattering now?” I couldn’t help but be curious.

“The jogging picture. You’ve got no makeup on,” he whispered.

“Who cares? I’m not doing an interview, no way, because I have nothing to say.” That artificial sense of power over the world when I couldn’t protect my sister or Danny would only work for so long.

“Okay, I understand. Not while things are still under investigation. How about a picture of you and me? I’ll keep the unflattering stuff down on your sister for now if you promise to have lunch with me sometime. We can wait for the truth to fully come out.”

“And you won’t put up anything about my sister, the case, or Danny until it’s solved?” I asked.

He paused. “Well, I do news updates. I broke the news of his death but that’s just facts.”

“Nothing more?” I challenged.

“Okay, fine. You win. A blackout on them until the case is solved if I get you for as long as you’re here in exchange for a picture now and interview later.” He extended a well-manicured hand.

With some doubt I shook it.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and steered me to the kitchen. “Harriet?”

Ten minutes later I had my picture taken with a Queen Bee named Keith and wondered if I’d made a deal with the devil or just one of his soul sucking minions.

If I could hold down the gossip on my sister I might have a better chance to find the killer. Keith refraining from putting up shots of her and Danny was a good start. I didn’t want life to be a circus. So much was out of my control but I had to try.

I found a quiet corner where my mom and Lou were hiding. I sat down and dug in. The food was a little cold by then but I didn’t care. I needed to eat, I wanted a nap, and I really wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

I made it through half of my food when Emmy strutted up on patent leather heels so high I was afraid she’d tip over. But she was an expert and the black was in keeping with the funeral.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. What a horrible day.” Emmy hugged me. “Sorry I wasn’t here earlier, I had to find a sitter for Chris. Believe it or not his father took him.”

BOOK: Helena Goes to Hollywood: A Helena Morris Mystery
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