Someone knocked on the front door while Rex was in the kitchen calling Goodhue. Marla answered it to find Liz there. By the pinched set to her eyes, the visitor wasn’t there on a friendly house call. “Good! I was hoping to find you home,” Liz said, settling onto the sofa Marla indicated.
Was her showing up good news or bad news? She’d been the first team player Marla had seen on Saturday. “You’re here to see me and not Kitty?” she asked her visitor.
“That’s right. I want to hire you to investigate Eloise Wallace’s death.”
“I think you’re confusing me with the character I played on TV. I’m an actress.”
“You found out who killed Drake Elliot. I’m asking you to do the same for me.”
Marla sank into a nearby easy chair. “That was a fluke, Liz. Since the guy lived here in the building, the chief of police thought I’d have better access to those who might be suspected in his death. That, plus I could trade on my celebrity to encourage folks to talk to me.”
“I also live in this building, and I was there Saturday. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still a celebrity.”
“You give me too much credit. Rex Alcorn played a large role in tracking down the killer,” Marla replied.
“But you helped him.”
How would she react to the news she was about to deliver? “I can’t accept your offer because I’ve already been contacted by Police Chief Goodhue and asked to consult on this case also.”
“Are the two of you partnering up again?”
“Yes, although that’s just been decided, so it would be premature to tell anyone at this point.”
“Then I guess you’ll be talking to me soon, only not as your client.” Liz’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“We’ll wait, if you need time to find someone else to represent you.”
“Like an attorney? At least not at this time. I didn’t kill her.” She stopped abruptly. “Omigod! I called her a ‘witch’ when I first saw you that day.”
“Maybe it’s best you say nothing more until Rex and I talk to you in our semiofficial capacity.”
Liz hastily got to her feet. “You’re right. I hate the idea of appearing to be on two different sides, though.”
“If what you said about not killing her is true, and at this point I have no reason to doubt you, then we’re on the same side, that of finding the truth.”
“When should I expect you?” Liz asked.
“Probably sometime today, once Rex and I get our act together.”
Liz made her way to the door. “Later, then.”
Later, right. What had she agreed to?
“Liz wanted to hire you to discover who killed Eloise Wallace and clear her name?” Rex asked a few minutes later after Marla brought him up to date.
“Are you hurt that she didn’t come to you?” she asked, half joking.
“I’m doing my best to hide my tears.”
“Not so long ago you were praising me for solving the Elliot case. With your assistance, of course.”
“Assistance?” His voice rose.
“Okay, with your experience and great intellect. Satisfied?”
“Better. But back to my question. Did you pick up on any particular vibes behind her asking?”
She tilted her head to consider what he’d asked. “I get the idea she came to me not because of my—our success with our prior case but for some other reason. Although that is how she couched her offer. You’re suggesting she had an ulterior motive?”
“Not suggesting. Asking you,” he replied.
“Do you think she anticipated my being asked to team up with you again by Chief Goodhue and this was a strategic move to cut me off at the pass?”
“Just asking. What do you think?”
“Interesting theory. Fortunately, she was too late. But I might’ve given her offer more serious consideration if you, the chief and I hadn’t already talked. Do you think she’s worried she’ll be charged with the murder?”
“We won’t know until we’ve talked to her officially. Maybe not, probably not even then. But she’s given us a place to start.”
Liz was waiting for them when they knocked on her door ten minutes later. “I’m sure Marla told you about my earlier visit,” she said before they brought it up. Another attempt to cut them off at the pass?
“She mentioned it, yes,” Rex replied. “That was very clever.”
“Clever?” she returned. “I’m rarely accused of that trait. Where did that come from?”
“Rex and I both wonder if you anticipated my being part of the investigation and you wanted to make it impossible for me to participate by tying me up before I got the offer,” Marla said.
Liz started to say something and then stopped. “Oh. Yes, I can see how that might make me appear to be very clever. The thing is … I thought if you were looking into the case on my behalf, we could get to know each other better.”
Had she gone into fangirl mode? Such behavior was not unfamiliar to Marla, although she hadn’t experienced it in months. “You didn’t need the ruse of hiring me to get to know me better, Liz. I’ve hardly seen you since the book club lunch. Why haven’t you stopped by just to say hi?”
Liz glanced at her shoes. “I, uh you’re a big star and I’m not. But when I saw you handling the water last Saturday, I realized you were approachable. But then all this ugliness with Eloise’s murder happened. All I could think to do was ask you to clear my name instead of coming to you to talk about my fashion ideas.”
“Fashion ideas?” Marla asked. She exchanged a quick glance at Rex. Neither had expected that kind of response.
Liz stuck out her chin before replying. “That’s right. I design and fabricate clothes on the side.” Her tone was between prideful and defensive. “Women’s fashions. Primarily cocktail dresses and evening wear. Most retailers haven’t gotten the message that prom dresses of the seventies are out, except for those selling prom dresses, who think their clients are showgirls. Or have no idea what to make for girls with less than perfect figures.”
Unable to think of an immediate comeback, Marla let her go on.
Liz seemed to realize she’d been rambling and stopped short. “Sorry. Guess I’ve been practicing my spiel so much in my head, the first part just rolled out. Anyway, yes, I had an ulterior motive for coming to you, Marla, but that was it. Not to prevent you from consulting for the police.”
Rex shifted his weight. “Now that you’ve shared why you approached Marla, let’s move on to the reason we’re here.”
“Which is … to grill me?” Liz said.
“This will be a lot easier for all three of us if you drop that attitude, Liz,” Rex told her, his official voice now quite evident. “We want to know what you observed at the games last Saturday.”
“As well as any insights you might have about the victim and anyone else that was there,” Marla added.
“Yeah, I know. Where do you want me to start?”
“Tell us everything you can remember about Saturday, starting with your arrival,” Rex said.
“Let’s all sit first,” Liz replied. “This may take a while.”
Marla and Rex settled on one end of Liz’s turquoise L-shaped sectional. Liz went to the other end.
“I arrived a half hour earlier than my usual time because I wanted to get in extra practice time. Eloise had been harping about my backhand needing more work. We don’t really get much of a warm-up period on game days because the other team is already there. Our team usually practices late Wednesday afternoons, but Eloise hadn’t been satisfied with my progress and strongly suggested I return on my own on Thursday or Friday. But my day job—I’m an investment consultant—demanded my attention. The stock market has been fluctuating more than usual lately, and I needed to analyze the health of my clients’ portfolios.”
Liz had already revealed more than just the time of her arrival on Saturday. “We’ll talk more about your chronology in a minute, but first, tell us why Eloise was concerned about your backhand. Was she the team’s captain or trainer?” Marla asked.
“No, definitely not!” Liz replied with unexpected vehemence. “The team never voted on it. In fact, the role of captain was never discussed. Eloise just assumed she was in charge, and no one ever challenged her about it. Not directly, anyhow. You met her that day. I saw her talking to you. She wasn’t the kind of person you said no to unless you were prepared to do battle with her.”
“I never met Ms. Wallace. Why don’t you explain for me why no one felt they could say no to the woman,” Rex said.
“Take my situation, for instance. I knew Eloise way back and hadn’t run into her in years until a few months ago. She could be quite ingratiating when she wanted to be. She was all smiles and compliments about my hair and clothes. My ego needed a boost that day after I’d nearly lost a client because we couldn’t agree on a stock she wanted to purchase. When Eloise invited me to join her pickleball team, I was ripe for the picking.
“She only invited me because I could get her access to the pickleball courts here at Rambling Meadows. I guess in the first few minutes we were getting reacquainted I must have mentioned living here. Looking back, I can’t believe I said yes. I played a little tennis years ago, but I was never that good at it. I was out of shape. I didn’t realize I’d be committing my Wednesday afternoons and a good part of my Saturdays for the next several months, especially when I quickly learned this sport wasn’t as easy as others claimed.
“I guess I assumed she was the one in charge, since she’d invited me to join the team without consulting anyone else. It wasn’t until I’d been playing with them a couple times that I learned she considered herself the self-appointed leader. That was from one of the other team members, Grace Adamson, her former partner. I didn’t know about that relationship until one of the other team members, I forget who, clued me in. I recall wondering out loud why Grace had remained on the team—now I remember. It was Nell, who still worked for Eloise—and she said something about no one being able to leave the team unless she kicked them off.
“I thought her comment odd, but I didn’t press. That was before Eloise started attacking my game. Last month, I’d reached what I thought was the end of my tolerance of the heavy-handed way she treated everyone else on the team and told her I was quitting. I’d give her two weeks to find a replacement for me. She did a one-eighty in the way she treated me. That day. In the course of her begging me to stay, she revealed she needed me because of my affiliation with this condo complex. She must have realized immediately what a misstep that was because she then asked how her public relations firm could help my career. I made the mistake of mentioning my fashion design dream, and she took full advantage of it, promising to help me launch my line.”
“And have you?” Marla asked, getting caught up in Liz’s plans and almost forgetting the investigation.
Liz’s lips curved into a hopeful smile. “Almost. But any help Eloise might have given me is a thing of the past.”
Which was probably why Liz had suddenly gained enough chutzpah to approach her.
Marla couldn’t help comparing Eloise Wallace’s hold over Liz to some of the unhealthier symbiotic relationships she knew about in LA. People used other people. That seemed to be a fact of life in the network-driven culture in which she’d had to survive as an actor.
“Okay, you’ve given us some background about your relationship with the victim,” Rex said, cutting off further discussion about Liz’s future as a fashion designer. “Let’s get back to this past Saturday. You told us you got there early. Were you able to get in your backhand practice?”
“Not at first. Eloise and Tanner and Nell were already there. Arguing. In the kitchen, that’s the front area of the court. Actually, it was Eloise and Nell who were at it. Tanner, in his usual hanger-on manner, just stood there a foot away from them, taking it all in.”
“Arguing? Like how? About what?” Marla asked.
“Can’t help you there, I’m afraid. As soon as she saw me, Eloise stuck out her hand and told me to keep away. When I pointed out that they didn’t appear to be doing anything related to pickleball, she actually snorted and turned back to their quarrel like I didn’t even exist.”
“How long did they remain there?” Rex asked.
“For most of my practice time. They got quieter for a bit, most likely due to my presence, and then they seemed to forget about me and got louder with a lot more gesturing. I got a telephone call from my mom about then—she never can remember I’m tied up for several hours on Saturdays—and I walked away from the court to talk to her. When I returned a few minutes later, Nell was no longer on the court. Tanner had moved closer and appeared to be trying to calm her. Grace and Brecken, Eloise’s ex, had arrived by then and were engrossed in a much quieter discussion with Nell outside the court.”
“Was that typical?” Marla asked.
“You mean all the fireworks and secret councils?” Liz replied. “Sort of, but last Saturday was a little more intense than usual.”
“Any idea why?” Marla asked.
Liz ran her hands back through her hair. “I’m guessing it had something to do with Eloise’s company, and since Nell was so incensed, it might have concerned Eloise’s firing her two weeks ago. The woman’s still getting over the recent death of her wife.”
This was getting complicated. This “team” seemed to be a team in name only. They certainly hadn’t been pulling together on the pickleball court. “Where does Brecken, the husband, fit in all this?” Marla asked.
“Ex-husband,” Liz replied. “I don’t know for sure, but my bet would be he’s backing Nell and Grace. His divorce from Eloise wasn’t amicable.”
Rex beat Marla to the punch on the next question. “That being the case, why was he on the team?”
Liz raised her hands surrender-style. “Beats me. Why did any of us stay on the team? I, uh, told you my reason. You barely met Eloise. She was a very compelling woman. There seemed to be a force field surrounding her that dared anyone who defied her to back down.”
Marla had to agree, although she’d save that opinion to share with Rex later and not tell Liz now. For as brief a time as she’d been in contact with Eloise Wallace, the woman definitely matched Liz’s description.