Hollywood Confessions (22 page)

“
The tabloid, right?”

I nodded. “Unfortunately,” I mumbled.

“
Cool. I loved your article on Pippi Mississippi’s new hair color the other day. Made me think of maybe going a shade more strawberry myself, ya know? I hear redheads are the new blondes.”

“
Right,” I mumbled, glad I was doing the world a service. “So, um, Tandy—”

“
Sarah,” she corrected me. “My real name is Sarah Hansen.”

“
So Tandy was a fake name too?”

She nodded. “The producer of the show said it sounded more fun than Sarah.” She shrugged. “Whatevs.”

“
Listen, we were wondering if maybe we could ask a favor of you?”

“
Shoot.” Sarah, a.k.a. Tandy, gestured to the pair of upholstered chairs.

I sat down, watching Gary do the same. The fan turned toward us and blew my hair back like a wind tunnel.

“
Sorry,” she said. “Our AC is on the fritz. It’s hell on my hair, ya’ know?” she said, patting her frizz.

“
No prob.” I pulled my own hair back into a knot at the nape of my neck. Which promptly fell out again as soon as the fan rotated. “Anyway,” I said, pushing strands out of my face. “We were wondering if you have access to fingerprinting information?”

She pursed her lips. “What kind of information?”

“
We have a print, and we need to know who it belongs to. Do you have access to any of those sort of databases?”

She nodded. “Well, not here. But I got a friend at the precinct downtown who runs stuff for us sometimes.”

“
Any chance your friend could run this one for us?”

She grinned. “For Romeo here? Anything.” She gave Gary a wink.

He winked back.

I had a feeling they were both mentally reliving the hot tub date on the third episode of
Little Love
.

I cleared my throat. “Great. Thanks so much.” I pulled our index card out of my bag and handed it across the desk to Sarah.

She turned it over in her hands a couple times. “What’s this dust here? Is this eyeshadow?”

I nodded. “Midnight Mist.”

She nodded. “Nice shade.”

“
Thanks.”

“
Yeah, okay. I’ll get this to our guy today. Can’t promise he’ll be able to get a hit off it. It doesn’t look like a full print, but I’ll see what I can do for ya’.”

We thanked her and left, Gary lingering behind a moment to whisper something in her ear that made her giggle and nod before he hopped into my Bug.

“
What was that about?” I asked, as we pulled back onto Vanowen toward the 101.

“
What?”

“
The whispering and giggling.”

Gary grinned. “I got me a date Saturday night.”

I raised an eyebrow his way. “I thought you kicked Tandy off on the fourth episode.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I acted too hastily. You get a look at that leopard-print bra? Hot.”

I rolled my eyes. However, Gary’s impending date reminded me of
my
date last night with Alec, and the fact that in the face of my apartment being broken into and the colossally stupid decision to sleep with my boss, I still hadn’t had a chance to watch the footage Alec had handed me.

Once we’d cleared No Ho for the trendier Studio City, I pulled into the nearest Starbucks and booted up my laptop. While Gary ordered us a couple lattes and maple scones I plugged in the stick Alec had given me. A couple minutes later the footage started playing.

It was raw, unedited, so it mostly contained a lot of boring stuff like the kids brushing their teeth, Nanny McGregor ushering them all down to the practice room to walk back and forth with adorable smiles for the Barbie doll judges. I hit fast forward, watching the Davenport family zip through their day from various angles. Finally the time stamp on the footage indicated we’d hit the crucial zone when Barker had been murdered.

Gary watched over my shoulder as I let the video play, mentally taking note of who was there and who wasn’t.

Nanny McGregor sat in the living room, watching a movie. One of the older girls popped up and asked her for a glass of water. Nanny tucked her back into bed then went back to her movie. About fifteen minutes later, the front door opened and Don walked in. He said hello to Nanny then disappeared toward the kitchen. A couple minutes later a camera caught up to him there, recording mind-numbingly boring footage of him making himself a sandwich—bologna and American cheese—and loudly chewing it. He poured a beer into a glass, drank it, stared out the window a bit. Then he shuffled into the den, flipped on the TV and ordered a pay-per-view movie with a lot of skin and very little plot.

I looked at the timestamp. Twelve-thirty. He’d been home the whole time. No way could he have killed Barker.

I shut the video down, leaning back in my chair with an audible sigh.

“
Well, I guess Don’s not our man,” Gary said, voicing my thoughts.

“
No. But you know who we didn’t see on that tape?”

“
Who?”

“
Deb.”

Gary shook his head. “No way. I refuse to believe Deb would do anything to harm Barker.”

I raised an eyebrow his way. “I take it you’re a fan?”

“
Have you seen her on the show? She’s a frickin’ saint.”

“
Gary, you of all people should know the power of Barker’s editing.”

“
Plus, she’s hot.”

I rolled my eyes. “She’s a mother of twelve.”

He blinked at me. “So? She’s a total MILF. You know, Mother I’d like to—”

“
I get the point,” I said, holding up a hand to halt that train of thought before it went into total squickville. “Is there any woman on earth you don’t think is hot?”

Gary paused, scrunched up his brow, thinking hard about that one.

“
Never mind,” I said, “But despite her hotness, Deb doesn’t have an alibi.”

“
She was on her book tour when Barker was killed,” Gary countered.

I nodded. “Possibly. But it’s also possible she could have flown in for the night, offed Barker, then flown back to wherever her current book stop was, with no one being the wiser.”

“
Why would she do that?” Gary asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she was tired of being in the spotlight. Maybe she didn’t like where Barker was taking her career. Maybe he threatened to expose the truth about the affair to boost ratings next season?”

“
That’s a lot of maybe’s.”

“
Then I suggest we find out for sure. Let’s talk to Deb.”

Chapter Fourteen

According to Deb’s official book launch website, her tour was scheduled to end today with a mega signing at the Barnes & Noble at the Grove. From 2-4 pm. It was almost one, so we pulled into a drive through In-N-Out Burger and grabbed a couple of double doubles before the signing. Or, I should say, I grabbed
a
double double, and Gary grabbed a
couple
of double doubles. I shook my head at him as he devoured the first one in almost a single bite.

“
What?”

“
Where do you put it all?” I asked him.

“
I told you, I got a high metabolism. Besides, I don’t wanna see Deb on an empty stomach. Who knows what stupid shit I might say on an empty stomach.”

God forbid.

Half an hour later we were circling the parking structure, looking for a spot within a half mile walk to BN. Which, as it turned out, we needn’t have worried about. Because as we exited the structure we saw the line to get into the store spanned all the way around the block, down the next side street, around that block, then doubled back to the first block. There had to be a least a thousand people standing in line to get a signed copy of Deb’s book.

I whistled low in my throat. “Wow. I had no idea she was so popular.”

“
Are you kidding?” Gary piped up. “She only has the most followed Twitter feed in the world.”

We took a place in line behind a woman with four little girls in tow and one on the way, if her baby bump was any indication, hunkering down to wait. I looked at my watch. 1:45. I sincerely hoped Deb could sign her name quickly. It would take at least two hours to get through this crowd.

I checked out the other people standing in line and noticed most were, as expected, the mom-looking types—capris, flats, sweater sets or shapeless T-shirts covered in suspicious-looking stains. A few gathered in groups, while some had brought their broods of darlings along with them.

Then, mixed in with Deb’s target demographic, were a few guys who looked totally out of place. One wore a suit; another held a bouquet of flowers.

Gary nudged me. “See, I told you Deb’s hot. I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

“
These guys are really here to see her?”

“
See her? I’m guessing that guy with the flowers is hoping to do a whole lot more than just see her, if you know what I mean.”

I thought back to the pictures of Deb I’d seen. UFO-shaped haircut, khaki shorts, minivan full of rug rats. If that was the kind of woman men went gaga over, I was so misguided.

“
Look, we’re moving,” Gary pointed out as the line inched forward a step. Then came to a halt two paces later.

“
How much you think Deb makes on a signing like this?” Gary asked, standing on tiptoes to see through the crowd.

I shrugged. “Beats me.”

“
Her book’s hardcover, right?”

I nodded.

“
Okay, let’s say it goes for twenty-five bucks. She gets, what, ten percent of that?”

“
Probably more like eight.”

“
Yeah, well, eight makes the math hard, so let’s say ten.”

I rolled my eyes.

“
Okay, ten percent of twenty-five bucks is…” Gary paused, counting on his fingers while his lips moved. “Two-fifty? So, she makes two-fifty per book. There’s got to be at least five thousand people here.”

“
I was going to say a thousand.”

“
Five thousand times two-fifty…man, she’s loaded. I shoulda brought flowers.”

“
I have to ask,” I said, glancing down at the red sandals on Gary’s feet.. “What is that on your shoes?”

“
What?”

“
That outline on the top. Is that Spiderman?”

Gary’s eyes shot down to his sandals. “Shit! You can still see him?”

“
A little.” I paused. “Do I want to know why Spiderman is on your shoes?”

“
You know how hard it is to find men’s shoes in a size two? I thought I could peel the Spiderman stickers off.”

“
I’m sure no one will notice.”

“
Maybe I should just go barefoot when we get to Deb?”

“
Look lively, the line’s moving again.”

Which fortunately, it was. Unfortuntely, it stopped again two feet later.

It took us another half an hour to wind down the first block. Another forty minutes to hit the second. By the time the front door of the Barnes & Noble was finally in sight, it was nearing 4 o’clock, and I was starting to get antsy. Not only because we were nearing the end of the allotted time, but because, thanks to that 32-ounce soda at In-N-Out, I had to pee. Badly. So badly, I felt my eyes glazing over.

“
Think we’re almost there?” I asked, shifting from foot to foot.

Gary shrugged. “Could be. No idea how long the line is inside the store.”

“
Inside the store!” I whined. No way was I going to make it.

Four o’clock on the dot, we reached the interior of the place. Unfortunately, that was when the announcement came over the PA system that Deb had to leave, and for the rest of us who had stood in line, she had pre-signed books available for sale.

A collective groan went up from those assembled, the woman with kids in tow in front of us said a decidedly not preschool-friendly word, and people started filtering out the door.

“
Great!” Gary threw his hands up. “How are we supposed to interrogate her now?” he yelled.

I wasn’t sure. But I knew one thing for certain—if I didn’t find a bathroom in the next ten seconds, I was gonna explode.

I frantically peered through the crowd for that telltale faceless blue lady in a triangle-cut skirt. I finally found her hovering over a door near the maps section.

“
Wait for me here,” I instructed Gary. “I gotta pee.”

Then I hightailed to the restroom, shoving through the hordes of would-be book buyers. I think I may have even knocked a couple over. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was, nature was calling and I couldn’t put off answering any longer.

I pushed through the door, dashed into the nearest vacant stall and let out a big sigh of relief.

I did my business and emerged a new woman. I washed my hands, pulled out some lipgloss, and did a little fluffing of my hair that had fallen woefully flat in the heat outside. I was just about happy with what was looking back at me in the mirror, when a woman emerged from one of the other stalls and made her way to the sink beside me. I checked out her reflection in the mirror.