Athen and Paulie headed to Lucy’s office. The rental car from Natasha’s place had yet to be towed to the precinct’s garage.
“We’ve been slammed,” Lucy said, shifting a lock of hair from her forehead. “I will let you know as soon as it’s here. We’re all anxious for close examination. And I know you want to get hold of the dashboard camera.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. Has our computer guy, Terry Stein, found anything useful in his search on Natasha’s laptop?” Athen asked her.
“No. He says it’s a dead end. While we’re waiting for the dashboard cam, are you going to the cigar bar to talk to Felice Farmer?”
“Yep. And If we find out which cleaners got hold of Natasha’s laundry, I’ll go talk to them. Maybe Felice knows where Natasha goes. After that, I’ll come back here and chase up our contacts.”
“Find me something,” Lucy begged. “You’ve got no idea the looney tunes that have been calling here with crazy-assed leads on Natasha. We even got a psychic from that shop on Wilshire Boulevard telling me she was abducted by aliens.”
Athen grinned. “That was my first guess.”
Lucy laughed then. “Yeah, mine too,” she joked.
“Have any of the callers revealed that they know Natasha’s not a real princess?” Paulie asked.
“No. Which means Natasha and her friend Maggie did a damned good job of hiding her real identity.” Lucy shot Athen an anxious look. “Hopefully, we’ll get something out of the husband. Or Felice Farmer.”
“We all want that,” Athen said.
She nodded. “Okay, cool. Let me know if you need backup on the spaceship that allegedly abducted her. They can be real tricky with all those lights and stuff. I’ll let you know as soon as the dashboard cam’s in house. Oh, and I’ll call Soup and Lorne and update them. We gotta make sure Cameron Deck corroborates Tyler’s story about the fight.”
“Roger that.” Athen was happy that Lucy’s sense of humor was still going strong, but he felt as though he was going nowhere fast. As he headed outside, it felt like he was moving underwater through cement shoes. Nothing was falling into place. Yet.
“What do you think about Tyler?” Paulie asked as they reached the car.
“He’s got balls of steel that one.”
Paulie grinned. “Couldn’t have put it better myself. He seemed quite happy to help. Which means he thinks we’re all complete morons. Or, he had nothing to do with Natasha’s disappearance at all. I just scrolled through his Instagram. And it’s just like he says. That photo was taken just over three months ago. Right before you moved in.”
Athen tried to relax. He’d noticed since moving to Beverly Hills that he was grinding his teeth a lot. His friendship with Tyler was over, and it bothered him that he hadn’t sensed the guy’s fastidiousness was borne of a need to control beyond anything Athen had experienced before. He might not have killed Natasha. She’s lucky. But what are the odds there are two psycho killers in her orbit?
“I think he might have been attracted to Natasha. Thank God she got into that fight and he realized she wasn’t going to be easy pickings,” he said as he slid behind the wheel and buckled up.
“That is probably really accurate,” Paulie said. “Something about that guy really creeps me out though. I think he probably did kill the woman in Virgina Beach.”
“I think so too.” Athen couldn’t wait for the DNA results. The sooner Cricket got the little weasel arrested and off the streets, the safer all women would be. As he made the turn onto Brighton Way, he tried not to think about the move he and Grady had ahead of them. Wherever he went would have to be dog-friendly, in a city that was becoming increasingly dog unfriendly.
He parked in a loading zone near the club and slotted his BHPD ID card onto the dashboard so he wouldn’t get a ticket. That was another thing he wouldn’t miss. The overzealous parking enforcement patrol at his home. He turned off the engine and checked Paulie’s phone for Tyler’s Instagram account.
There was the photo of him and Natasha. He got a few comments but over twenty-thousand likes. Wow. He scrolled up. Lots of photos of Tyler with hot young women.
“Fancies himself as a real ladies’ man,” Paulie said.
Athen nodded. “Sure does.” He hadn’t alerted Felice Farmer to their pending arrival. He wanted her slightly off guard. It was four-thirty by the time they reached the entrance, but there were already several well-dressed people waiting to enter. Things started early in Tinseltown. Despite the glamorous reputation, it was an industry business with start times of around three a.m. 11pm was a late closing in a city that was usually done by 10. He suspected the Cuban club here had a much later off-switch,
The doorman was dressed better than most people headed to the opera at Disney Concert Hall. He gave Athen a disparaging once-over. “I think you can go home and change,” he said.
“Well, I think you can let me in, or I’ll come up with a reason to arrest you,” Athen said, flashing his badge.
The doorman opened the door, murmuring, “Ice, ice.” He was wired for sound. Interesting. Athen suspected that the club was either providing drugs for a price, or there were illegally employed staff members inside. Ice covered a lot of sins in his experience. He entered, Paulie shouting in his ear, “He just alerted somebody to us being in here.”
Athen nodded. Despite the obnoxious bouncer, he loved this place. It had been decked out like an old-fashioned speakeasy from the 1950s. His vibe for sure. Low-lying sofas, leather club chairs, dreamy wall sconces, candles flickering from inlaid crevices. It was a startling contrast with the mundane world outside. He visualized making out with Grady in a dark corner and couldn’t wait to try it.
From somewhere the booming sound of Cuban artists Rene Alvarez y Los Astros performing “Yo soy Congo” filled the dark space. He knew this one-hit wonder very well. His father had loved music from the Golden Age of Cuban jazz and had played the record often. That was another thing Athen could do now; unearth his vast collection of records that he’d put into storage and bring them to the new place.
“Can I help you?” a young woman asked.
Athen narrowed his gaze. The room was filled with cigar smoke and it burned his eyes now. It had been so long since he’d been in an establishment that allowed smoking, he’d forgotten how unpleasant it could be.
“Felice?” he asked. She sure looked different with makeup, a bustier, and her hair teased into a dramatic beehive. She wore a black leather mini skirt and her dramatic, long legs were encased in gossamer black stockings. The whole effect was topped off with towering six-inch black high heels. “Wow, you look amazing.”
She laughed. “Thanks.” She crinkled her forehead and laid a hand on his chest. “Should I be offended?”
“Not at all. I know you’re working. Is there some place we can talk privately?”
“Yes. Follow me.” She enveloped them both in a seductive smile as she led them toward the back of the club. She didn’t totter or stumble, despite the spindly heels of her shoes. As Athen followed, he realized she had seams in her stockings. She was a vision of mid-century feminine beauty.
“If I wasn’t married—” Paulie flicked his hand up and down as though his fingers were on fire, making Athen laugh.
As they walked, Athen took in the tables of men smoking and drinking. There were tables filled with couples snuggling over champagne. Huh. No food. What a smart idea this place was. No food meant a lot less trouble for the staff.
Felice led them to the back door, where people trooped up the stairs. Athen was surprised to see a payphone mounted on one wall, circa 1950s. “Does it work?” he asked her.
“Oh, yes. “And it only takes a dime. Just like the good ol’ days.”
The music still pumped out over the sound system but had now migrated to Israel Cachao López’s mambo classic, Pamprana.” Athen tried not to snap his fingers and swivel his hips to the music, even as he promised himself he was going to start playing all his records again.
“Is there any news on Natasha?” Felice asked as they stepped outside to a staircase leading to a small parking lot. She reached into the bosom of her bustier and extracted a cheroot, lighting it with a Zippo lighter. It looked vintage to Athen’s critical eye.
“No,” Athen said. “I don’t have any news. And I don’t mean to rush things, but I need to know why you wanted to speak to me privately. Do you have information that can help us locate Natasha?”
Felice drew on her cheroot and moved her weight from foot to foot. He knew three things in that moment. Her shoes were uncomfortable. She was very nervous. More than that, she was afraid. “I think she’s dead,” she said, blowing out a thin plume of smoke. Athen had never seen a woman smoke a cigar the way Felice did. It was thinner than the typical cigar, but she smoked it like a cigarette, dragging deeply on it. The effect of her whole ensemble was a bunch of smoke and mirrors. Just like the whole Natasha King case.
“What makes you say so?” Athen asked.
“I’ve never known anyone to play so many men at the same time. She had guys at the building constantly. A few she was sleeping with, or wanted to sleep with. Some who wanted to sleep with her. And, she had a stalker, you know.”
“Really? No, I didn’t know.” Athen glanced at Paulie, who mirrored his surprise. “Who was stalking her?”
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t say. All I know is, she didn’t want Cameron to know because she was worried he would throw her out.” She puffed on the cheroot again, glancing around as though checking for skullduggery in the back of the Beverly Hills bar.
“Why would he throw her out? She paid for a year’s rent in advance,” Paulie said.
Felice made a tsking sound. “I don’t know. She just begged me not to say anything. I saw lots of guys here, but she told me one guy was showing up at odd times of the day.”
“Did she give you a name?” Athen recalled Deck telling him two men had turned up the night before. He still had no clue who they were.
“No. She didn’t. Of course,” she went on. “She didn’t want to say anything to Cameron, because he was already pissed that so many guys were coming over. It’s none of his business what we do. Way too intrusive if you want my honest opinion.” She paused. “Then again, there was the fight. S’pose you heard about that?”
“We heard about it,” Athen said. “Were you there?”
“No. But Cameron complained about it. He was mad because Tyler James was interested in being involved in the show, then went running for the hills.”
Since she wasn’t there, anything she told Athen was hearsay.
She went on. “Cameron was always there. Ready to pounce. He’s scared off a couple of my boyfriends.”
“Do you know anyone that Natasha actually dated?” Athen asked.
She shrugged, tamping out the cigar on the stair handrail beside her. She tucked the cheroot and the lighter back into her bustier. “Lots of them.”
“Do you know if she was involved with Tyler James?” Athen asked.
“No. That was a bit of wishful thinking. Look, what I think you need to do is check out that guy from the consulate. Jamie Fahdi. He was over here all the time. Real obsessed with her.”
“What about her husband?” Paulie asked.
She gave him a look of disgust. “The gay guy?” She rolled her eyes. “He’s in it to win it. He needed money. She gave him the money. She just paid for some fancy dental work for him. She married him even though she already had a green card.” She shoved up her breasts with her hands, so they almost poured over the top of her bustier. “I hope I’m wrong, but my money’s on Jamie Fahdi. I have no idea what she saw in him, but I try and keep as far away as possible from him.”
“What makes you think she’s dead?” Athen asked.
Felice took a deep breath. “Because she never, ever would leave that cat.” For the first time, apart from fear, her emotions seemed real. “I think something really bad happened to her.”
The words lingered between them for a moment.
“And that’s all you can tell me?” Athen asked.
“Yeah.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I didn’t have the money to invest in the TV show, so we’ve drifted apart a bit. I’m no longer on the inside.”
“One more question. Do you know of a Chinese laundry where she takes her clothes?” Athen asked.
She frowned at him a moment. “That would be Wong’s, over on Beverly Boulevard, but I don’t think she’s going to them anymore.”
“Why not?” Athen asked.
“Because she had a bad falling out with them over a stupid dress.”
“What falling out?”
“They ruined it.” Felice shook her head. “Isla Sanchez has been pestering for her to return the dress, because it belongs to her, but Natasha was petrified to tell her it was destroyed.”
“How did they ruin it?” Paulie asked.
“Whatever cleaning solution they used, they shrunk it. Natasha kept pretending the dress was okay. Kept promising to return it. She wasn’t trying to keep it, but she was afraid of a lawsuit, because that’s what Isla was threatening. As an immigrant to this country, she can’t have a blemish on her record. She’s been going crazy trying to find a replacement dress because the duplicate Wong’s made for her was a disaster.”
Pretended it was okay. Athen held back a long sigh. Pretense seemed to be Natasha’s stock in trade. “She got a duplicate?”
“Wong’s has a cleaning side to the business, but they’re also a salon that specializes in duplicating couture gowns. They do it for all the Beverly Hills housewives. On the QT of course. People pay a lot to get those dresses made. Usually, you can’t tell the duplicate from the original. It’s a closely guarded secret but nobody would ever tell because the customers don’t want to admit they’re being cheap, and Wong’s doesn’t want to out their clients.”
“Besides which, stealing somebody’s designs is illegal,” Paulie said.
“Um, yeah.” Felice looked nervous. “They’re like the Heidi Fleiss of the fashion industry.” She gave them a twisted, sad smile. “I actually felt bad for Tash. She spent a pretty penny having that duplicate made. You talked to Isla yet?” When neither Athen nor Paulie responded she said, “Tash showed me the duplicate and it’s pretty bad. I could have done better, and I can’t even sew a button on a shirt. She’s been in a real quandary over it.”
“Beverly Boulevard, you say?” Athen asked.
“Yeah. Let me tell you, that dress cost her almost as much as it would have to simply replace it, but she can’t find the exact same dress.” Something on her person beeped. “That’s my phone. I gotta run.” She dashed past them back inside the club. She turned at the door, the fearful look back in her gaze. “Don’t get heavy with the people at Wong’s. They’re trained to deny everything. Just be nice and they’ll be helpful.” She banged the door on her way back inside.
For a moment, Athen and Paulie stood, saying nothing.
“Well, at least we understand the mystery of the red dress a little better,” Paulie said.
“Yeah.” Athen put a call through to Lucy and patched Soup into the conversation. He quickly told them about the conversation.
“Wow,” Lucy said. “We’ve had a lot of complaints about many of our local businesses, but that isn’t one that’s familiar to me. You going there now?”
“Yes. Unless you have good news for me.”
“None yet. I still have Tyler James here. He’s busy playing the superstar getting selfies with everyone. We just got a group of school kids in for a tour. He’s posing for photos with them now.”
“Geez,” Athen said.
“I know, right? Still waiting on DNA, still waiting for the dashboard cam, but the car is on its way here.”
Soup spoke up. “Deck claimed not to know anything about a fight between the two women, but then changed his story. Everything he said backs up what Tyler told you. I’ll tell you something else he casually slipped into the conversation. He said Isla confided in him that she dated Tyler James. Once. Said he was a real weirdo and she wouldn’t see him again.”
“Smart girl,” Athen said. “If she told him in confidence, that means she probably didn’t tell Natasha. Paulie and I are heading to Wong’s to find out about the red dress and the laundry Natasha was supposed to take there. You should talk to Isla Sanchez right now. We can hit the post office right after it.”
“Okay,” Soup said. “Talk soon.”
Athen and Paulie made it to Wong’s in four minutes. The salon was hard to miss with its leopard print façade bedecked with huge pink bows. Athen didn’t think he would trust a dressmaker with such garish taste. But what do I know?
There was a closed sign on the door as they approached, but Athen spotted people moving around inside the salon. Paulie jumped out of the car and raced over, hammering on the door. Once Athen parked and made his way there, it was obvious two women were hiding behind the counter. They were visible through the window via the mirror that lined the back wall.
“This is the police!” he shouted. “We know you’re in there. We can see you!”
The two figures dropped to the floor.
Athen cursed under his breath then caught sight of the store’s phone number stenciled on the window. He called it. A woman answered.
“Wong’s,” she announced breathlessly.
“Don’t hang up. This is Lieutenant Athen Mavromatis with the Beverly Hills Police. I don’t want to talk about the phony clothing. I’m chasing up an active missing person’s case. If you don’t open the door right now, I’ll get a search warrant and I’ll make your life hell. I promise you that.”
The two women peeped at him over the edge of the long store counter. He held his badge to the window, and they exchanged glances. One of the women got up and made her way slowly to the front door. As she did this, she ended her call from Athen.
“I cannot believe Felice Farmer called and warned them,” Paulie muttered. “What’s she playing at?”
“I don’t know but I plan to mess with her hairdo,” Athen responded.
The woman opened the door and stared at Athen in a haughty way. “What do you want?” she demanded.
Nice. “We’re here about Natasha King—”
The woman’s facial expression brightened. “You’re here to pick up her laundry?”
“I’m the police,” Athen said, his temper shredding. “I don’t pick up people’s laundry.”
“Can I check your ID?” she asked.
He stepped inside, Paulie close behind him. Athen handed her his credential wallet and as she studied it, he took in the luxurious décor, briefly admiring the nod to old-fashioned sewing rooms. Antique modeling forms, large black and white photos featuring old-time movie stars in various stages of frilly undergarments, and walls stuffed with vintage sewing machines, spools of colorful threads, books, knitting needles... all of it gave an effect of having stepped back in time.
She handed the wallet back to him. “You’re better looking on TV.”
Gee, thanks. “And what’s your name?” he asked.
“You may call me Mrs. Wong.” She wore a tight black sheath dress with a gold and black scarf knotted at her throat. He recognized it as vintage Hermes. He knew the design was called Ceintures et Liens and that it retailed at around seven hundred bucks. His sister was a big fan of the line. He and Grady had bought her a similar scarf when she’d completed chemo. It had been a huge investment for them. As for Mrs. Wong, clearly, there was big money in producing knockoffs.
The woman’s spindly black heels clicked against the polished floorboards as she led him to the back of the store. “Somebody was supposed to pick up her laundry yesterday. She has a three thousand and twenty-seven-dollar bill with us. I’ve tried calling her, but she doesn’t answer. Unusual for her. She usually picks up straight away.”
She reached the counter and stood behind it. Her shoulders dropped a little indicating she was a little more comfortable now. Maybe she thought the marble slab between them was a safe buffer zone.
Paulie strolled around the store as Athen continued talking to her. He was Athen’s eyes and ears.
“How can I help you?” Mrs. Wong asked, flicking an annoyed glance at Paulie.
“Maybe you haven’t heard but Natasha King is missing.” Athen watched for her reaction.
She seemed skeptical. “What do you mean, missing?”
“Vanished. Last time anyone saw her was when she left her apartment to come here.”
Mrs. Wong scoffed. “She didn’t come here. She owes us money.”
“How do you know she didn’t come here? I didn’t say when she was last seen.”
Mrs. Wong’s eyes hardened. Her hands fluttered to her elegant, glossy bob, her French manicure impeccable as she moved her fingers beneath her hairline. He hoped like hell she didn’t have knuckle dusters or a flick knife under there. She was a scary lady. So much so, he almost took a step back.
“When did she last come here?”
“Two weeks ago. She claimed the dress we made for her was—” Mrs. Wong stopped speaking. It was obvious she hadn’t meant to say that.
“It’s okay,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Paulie trying to catch his attention. Athen shot him a swift glance. Paulie pointed to his eye then a spot above one of the shelves. Ah. Cameras. Good.
“We know about the dress,” Athen said. “So, you made a reproduction of it and from all accounts the duplicate was terrible.”
Her mouth dropped open. “That girl lied about my dress. And I have proof.” She stared at Athen defiantly. “You want to see my proof?”
“Sure.”
His response seemed to surprise her. “You’re much nicer than the other man who came in to ask about it yesterday.”
“What man?” Athen asked.
She closed her eyes a moment. “Do I need a lawyer?”
He gaped at her. “No. Why?”
“Because the man who came in about this dress threatened legal action.”
“Who was he?” Athen asked.
Mrs. Wong looked distressed for the first time. “This could kill my business if he finds out I talked. But he was so mean! It was the mayor.”