As Rex peeled off for his office, she heard from down the hall, “Joel? Is that you?”
Pain in the ass Bonnie. Ravinia smiled to herself, walking carefully. She’d never worn such a short skirt ever. The cool California air slipping up her thighs had made her feel half-naked, but she could see the possibilities of dressing up and looking good.
As long as she didn’t trip and fall.
“Yeah, I’m just here for a minute,” he called back to Bonnie.
Ravinia passed by his office door. She’d washed her hair and let it dry straight. One of Rex’s mysterious female visitors had left some makeup scattered in a drawer so Ravinia had attempted to put some on. She’d smeared the eyeliner and had to wash it back off and had hit her eyeball with the mascara wand, but all in all, she thought she’d done okay.
Rex eyed her critically when she’d appeared in the kitchen, then stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. “You look like somebody else,” he admitted.
“That’s the point, right?”
“That’s the point,” he agreed.
She carefully strolled into the front of the office. Bonnie’s back was to her as the girl was looking through the front windows. Sensing someone, she turned around, clearly expecting Rex. The way her mouth popped open and her jaw sagged was an image Ravinia would treasure for a long time.
“Wha . . . what are you doing?” she asked in a strangled voice.
“I’m on a job with Rex,” Ravinia told her.
Rex came out of his office at that moment, holding some papers, frowning down at them. “Bonnie, would you print off a contract for me?”
“For who . . . her?” She looked stricken.
“Yes. Ravinia Rutledge, right?” He glanced at her.
“That’s what’s on my GED.”
He checked his watch. “We’ll pick up lunch then head over to the Cochrans. Kimberley’s rendezvous at Casa del Mar could be a nooner. Don’t want to miss it.”
A nooner. Ravinia filed that away as Bonnie slowly sat down in her chair and pulled up something on her computer. She pressed a few buttons and Ravinia could hear a machine chunking away in another room.
“It’s printing,” Bonnie said dully.
“Thanks.” Rex moved down the hall toward the sound.
“I should be the one going,” Bonnie said in a voice so low Ravinia almost didn’t hear it.
Ravinia thought up a number of retorts, but in the end, she just lifted her shoulders, spread her hands, and smiled. Pretty sure she was the victor in that skirmish, she went in search of Rex.
If Elizabeth hadn’t already had the appointment with Mazie’s daughter, she would have taken Chloe to school, driven home again, gone back to bed, and pulled the covers over her head. GoodGuy was dead. She didn’t even bother to pretend it had nothing to do with her; she knew it did. She could think of no other explanation. Whoever had poured the gasoline on Channing Renfro had done so because they knew she’d thought he was a far cry from what his license plate had proclaimed.
But who was doing it? And to what purpose? The only people who knew about GoodGuy were her friends and whomever they’d told.
But they don’t know about Mazie . . . and Officer Unfriendly. . .
Or do they?
She shook her head as she walked up the steps to the front door of Suncrest Realty. None of her friends were killers. She wouldn’t believe that. What did that leave? Some stalker? Something indefinable . . . supernatural. . . like her ability to sometimes see disaster right before it happened?
Pat was at the front desk and Elizabeth made a quick jog left toward Mazie’s office where she was meeting Amy.
“I saw the news,” Pat said loudly to Elizabeth’s back as she tried to ease past. “That guy you were talking about with your friend. GoodGuy. That was his license plate on TV!”
Elizabeth stiffened. She’d forgotten that Pat had overheard her talking with Jade. “I didn’t know him, but it’s a tragedy.”
“Really?” Pat said with a disbelieving look over rimless glasses. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
“We never met.”
“Just on the road.” A nasty glint surfaced in Pat’s stare.
Elizabeth’s pulse skyrocketed, but she wasn’t going to be baited. She walked down the short hallway to Mazie’s office and wanted to slam the door, but she didn’t get the chance. Connie Berker breezed in behind her and did the honors by pulling the door shut behind her.
Connie’s frosted blond hair had been freshly cut, the back of her neck shaved beneath stiff, product-laden strands that shone beneath the overhead lights.
“What’s going on?” Elizabeth asked as she opened one of the drawers in Mazie’s desk where she knew a stack of notepads was kept.
“I should be asking you that. You don’t know this is my office now?”
“No . . . I didn’t.” Elizabeth closed the drawer.
“You’re meeting with Amy Ferguson.” It came out like an accusation and she could see that it was meant to be taken that way, too. “Right?”
“Yes. I thought I’d meet her in here as I forgot to tell her that my office is down the hall,” Elizabeth explained. “I didn’t know you’d moved.” She glanced at the walls and desk. Nothing had changed.
If Connie were staking her claim, there was no proof. She hadn’t hung a picture, or an award, or put anything on the desk, including her name plate.
“This is one of the best offices in the building,” Connie went on, her head bobbing, blond hair unmoving. “You can see right out to reception.” She motioned toward the glass door and Elizabeth followed her gaze, spying Pat at her circular desk, peering as always, over her shoulder.
Get a life, Elizabeth thought as the front door opened and Amy walked in. A tall, somewhat gawky young woman, she said a few words to Pat who nodded, a fake smile tacked onto her face.
Pat half-turned again. Reaching out, her fingers pointed to where Elizabeth stood in her mom’s old office.
“I’ve known Amy for years,” Connie said stiffly, her spine seeming to lengthen. “And yet suddenly she’s your client. Just how did that happen?”
Elizabeth wasn’t about to play office politics or get into an argument, so she didn’t respond and moved toward the door, reaching for the handle. “I’ll meet with Amy in the back.”
Connie put out a hand and held the door closed. “Watch yourself. You’re making enemies right and left around here. I’m telling you this as a friend.”
Connie’s advice didn’t sound very friendly to Elizabeth, but she merely nodded and put her hand on the doorknob. “Noted,” she told the angry Realtor then twisted the knob to open the door and walked down the hall where she met Amy. With every step, Elizabeth felt Connie’s gaze like a hot knife between her shoulder blades.
For someone carrying on an extramarital affair, Kimberley Cochran wasn’t trying to be careful, secretive, or even discreet. She backed her silver-blue Mercedes out of the garage, then guided her car through the slowly opening gate, and hit the gas. Without a look in her rearview mirror, she kept the Mercedes at maximum speed until she reached Ocean Avenue and the crawling traffic that forced her to slow.
Rex and Ravinia followed behind in the Nissan.
At the hotel, Kimberley valeted the car and stepped toward the front doors. In a silver dress with matching five-inch heels, she sashayed her butt like an open invitation, drawing stares from men and women alike.
“I’m dropping you off,” Rex said.
“I know the plan,” Ravinia retorted. She was already pushing open the door as Rex eased to a stop and let her out.
“Just try not to be obvious.”
That was a joke. In her short skirt, she felt like a beacon, although she didn’t get quite as many stares as Kimberley.
Ravinia walked up a short flight of sweeping stairs to the upper lobby where she caught a glimpse of Kimberley heading toward the restaurant that faced the ocean. Hurrying after her, Ravinia’s right ankle wobbled a b
it. She had to slow down to bring that under control and by the time she reached the maître d’s stand, she was walking like she’d been in heels her whole life . . . pretty much. “Is there a table by the window?”
Kimberley, soul of discretion that she was, had already enthusiastically hugged her date, a young, buff man with longish brown hair, smoldering dark eyes, and an avaricious look about him.
Ravinia searched his heart as she cruised past to the next table, drawing a startled look to his face, but found only a modicum of interest in anything of the world outside himself.
Bad choice, Kim.
She was seated at the table next to them and when the waiter brought her a menu, she pretended to peruse it, nearly losing focus from Kimberley and her friend when she saw the prices.
She glanced over the top as she heard Kimberley telling him eagerly, “Putting together a reunion show. All of us that were modeling before are in one place, well, except for Donna, since she’s gone on to other things. The men, of course, have their own rooms, but the new competitors are staying at another hotel.”
Her date wore a dark gray T-shirt molded to his sculpted chest. He was leaning his bare forearms on the table and her fingers slid across to touch them. Her smile turned absolutely naughty as she trailed one hand possessively up his taut muscles toward his shoulders. “That’s where you’ll be,” she assured him huskily.
“That’s a solid?” His voice was surprisingly squeaky.
“Yes, Donovan. Yes.”
His smile spread to a thin, wicked line. “Ya wanna fuck?”
“Yes, Donovan. Yes . . .”
Elizabeth walked Amy Ferguson, who was as nice as her mother was mean and suspicious, to the front door under Pat’s watchful eye. Amy had her cell phone out and was looking at her calendar. “I’d like to meet before Saturday, but I don’t know that I can. The rest of Mom’s stuff is being picked up that morning. The house should be completely empty by the afternoon.”
“Saturday’s fine,” Elizabeth said, annoyed at the way Pat hung on every word.
To make matters worse, Connie suddenly burst out of Mazie’s old office and stalked their way.
Amy was saying, “I almost moved into it, but my job’s taking me to Seattle. You never know, do you?” She pushed through the front doors to the outside where weak afternoon sun was fighting its way through a bank of gray clouds.
“No, you never do.” Elizabeth tried to pull the doors shut behind her, but Connie yanked them open and rushed out.
“Oh, Amy, how’re you doing, girl? Haven’t seen you since the memorial service. It’s Connie. Connie Berker,” she said to Amy’s blank look, thrusting out her hand and pumping Amy’s for all she was worth. “Your mom was such a fantastic person. I learned everything from her. She just knew this business and everybody in it. A real dynamo.”
“Thank you,” Amy said, shooting a glance to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth stepped outside. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Amy, you need anything, you can call any one of us.” With ill grace, Connie added, “I know Elizabeth was your mom’s right-hand woman. She took great care of all her clients.” Something in her tone made it clear she didn’t believe a word of it. From the palm of her hand, she suddenly produced a business card with the adroitness of a magician. “All of us at Suncrest feel like you’re family, just like Mazie was.” Her lips trembled and for a moment Elizabeth thought Connie might actually produce a tear. “I miss her so much.”
Amy looked down at the card, opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again.
Burning with repressed anger, Elizabeth said tautly, “Let me walk you to your car.”
As they headed away from Connie who seemed to want to follow them but couldn’t figure out how without being a further buttinsky, Amy said, “Mom was a lot of things, but she wasn’t well loved at work.”
Elizabeth shook her head, glad for the honesty but aware that, no matter what she said, they were talking about Amy’s mother. “She was a hard worker.”
“What’s the story with this other agent?” Amy held up the card.
Elizabeth decided to answer Amy’s honesty with some of her own. “She’s trying to poach you as a client.”
“Mom trusted you. So do I.”
Elizabeth’s heart stuttered. She shouldn’t have trusted me, she thought, but she smiled a good-bye at Amy then looked around to see what had happened to Connie. The agent was lingering by her white Lexus, probably calculating if there was some way to intercept Amy before she climbed into her Range Rover.
No chance, Elizabeth thought with a renewed spurt of anger. She felt guilty where Mazie was concerned, but she hadn’t asked for her daughter to seek her out as the agent to sell Mazie’s house.
As Amy pulled away and Connie followed her out of the parking lot, Elizabeth gazed after them. Though a glint of sun peered through the high clouds, she felt a sudden chill slip down her back, an icy finger skimming her spine. Again, as if hidden eyes were watching.
She spun around quickly, scanning the lot and the surrounding street.
“Who’s there?” she said aloud, but the only answer was the sound of accelerating cars on the highway at the end of the block and the whisper of the wind through the trees in the lot.
There was no one.
Did you see, Elizabeth? Have you been watching? He got what he deserved and now he abides in whatever special hell is reserved for scum like Channing Renfro. I know there are others working against you. I’ve heard them, seen them, sensed them. But don’t worry, we’ll take them out together, one by one. I’m right behind you, love. Your savior, your soldier . . .
You don’t see me yet, but you will when I’m ready.
All for you, my love. All for you.
Chapter 22
The drive back to Costa Mesa was a nightmare as Rex chose to fight the traffic rather than wait until it was late enough to make the trip with little or no delays. Ravinia reported what she’d seen and heard. Rex called Dorell Cochran and told him his wife was at Casa del Mar with someone whose first name was Donovan and that they’d taken the elevator to an upstairs hotel room.
“Donovan Spinelli, the eternal surfer boy,” Dorell responded in a voice taut with anger.
“So, you know him,” Rex said.
“Oh, yeah. Calls himself a model. Vacant between the ears, but knows how to sniff out money. My money.” Dorell paused, then added, almost under his breath, “She was supposed to give him up.”
“They’re at the hotel right now if you need proof,” Rex told him.
“Can you get a picture of ’em coming out of the hotel together?”
Rex considered. “I could, but I don’t think that’s going to net you what you want. This is an opportunity for you to . . . see for yourself.”
“Jesus Christ. Sounds like you want me to confront them,” Dorell raged, though Rex could tell he was mad at himself.
“Confrontation . . . no. But having the upper hand, and still acting like a gentleman will go a long way to getting what you want.”
“Fuck that.”
Rex inwardly sighed. “You hired me to follow her and find out if she was having an affair, and I believe that’s what I’ve done.”
“All right, all right. I’ll go and nicely confront the bitch. And I’ll send you a goddamn check.” Dorell slammed down the phone.
Though Ravinia wasn’t part of the call, she heard enough from the passenger seat to get the gist. “He’s not happy.”
“Didn’t expect him to be.”
“You don’t look happy, either,” she pointed out.
Rex shrugged. “Sometimes you just wish for something better.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized how naive and hopeful he must sound. He’d followed a lot of cheaters and it was depressing how little love and caring went into most relationships. Not that he was any kind of romantic, but sometimes the job made him wonder if any good was left in people.
“What?” Ravinia asked. br />
He realized he’d made some kind of frustrated sound. “Never mind.”
“We’re not going to make it back in time to go to the school, are we?” Ravinia asked, peering out at the traffic.
“Unlikely.”
“So, what are we going to do?”
“Go home. Get something to eat. Have a beer . . . well, I will. Make some calls that I’ve put off.”
“I want to meet that older woman at the apartments. Brightside.”
“Tomorrow,” he told her firmly. The way he’d let Ravinia take over his life needed to be controlled.
Her expression clouded. “Maybe I should go by myself.”
“Be my guest.”
If he sounded snappy, he didn’t care. He felt snappy. Though he was glad he didn’t have to follow Kimberley Cochran around any longer, it felt like he’d tangled himself up in Ravinia Rutledge’s affairs for no goddamn good reason.
“I’ve helped you. It’s your turn,” she stated stubbornly.
He cut her off. “Symbiosis. I know. But the way I see it, you want to be a part of this investigation, and you’re angling for some kind of long-term position that’s not there. Understand? You’re not a partner of mine. You’re a kid, and as soon as we find your cousin or give up, we’re going our separate ways.”
“Testy,” she said, affronted. “We are going to find her.”
“Then it better be damn soon,” he growled, hitting his brakes and the horn at the same time as a black Mazda suddenly jigged in front of him, narrowly missing his bumper.
“Pain in the ass,” Ravinia said.
“Amen.”
Elizabeth’s cell sounded the default ringtone as she dropped her purse on the kitchen counter, kicked off her heels, and rubbed her right insole. She’d dead-bolted the front door behind her as soon as she’d entered the house. The sensation that someone was following her hadn’t abated once she’d finished work and driven home. She planned to pick up Chloe from preschool by three thirty, but had wanted a moment to unwind and assess first.