“I’m going to keep asking around,” Johnny said, “just to see what else I can find out. If everyone says the same, then we can be pretty sure it’s Moeller.”
“Okay, just don’t ask the wrong person,” Mollie said. “By the way, how did you know to talk to T.C.?”
“I could just tell.” Johnny tapped the side of his head. “I’ll meet up with you later.” He walked over to talk to a woman with spiked hair and a cigarette in a long holder. Mollie felt as if she were at a Halloween party. She looked around and saw Rahel sitting at the bar, with her arms wrapped around a younger man. Every few seconds they would lean forward and kiss. Mollie wondered if Derek Hughes had any idea of what Rahel was up to in New York. Since they were both being unfaithful, though, maybe they deserved each other.
“Having fun?”
Mollie turned around and saw Hilary standing behind her, on the arm of a very handsome black man. “Bitsy, this is Andrew.”
He shook Mollie’s hand. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Andrew, would you mind getting me a glass of champagne? I need to talk to Bitsy for a minute,” Hilary said.
“I’d be happy to,” Andrew said. He moved smoothly off through the crowd toward the bar.
“Look at that woman over there.” Hilary’s lip curled as she stared at Rahel. “She’s disgusting.”
“Do you know her?” Mollie asked. She wondered if Hilary had any idea of what was going on between Rahel and her father.
“More like I know of her,” Hilary answered. “She’s famous for blowing assignments—literally.”
“What do you mean?”
“She spends everything she makes on coke. Not that she makes much anymore—she used to be a famous child model. When she got older, she wasn’t nearly as beautiful. She got into coke about three years ago, and her career’s been taking a nosedive ever since. Excuse the bad pun.” Hilary laughed. “She’s only twenty-two, but she looks thirty-five, doesn’t she?”
“She’s only twenty-two?”
“Yeah, the drugs have added, like, ten years to her face,” Hilary said. “Plus she sits out in the sun too much. She’s not too bright.”
“I’ve noticed,” Mollie said.
“The rumor is that the agency’s going to give her the ax any day. I, for one, can’t wait to see it happen. She’s such a waste case.”
Mollie looked at Hilary. She sounded especially bitter toward Rahel, and Mollie couldn’t help thinking that maybe she did know about Rahel’s relationship with her father.
“So have you learned anything yet?” Hilary asked a moment later. “How’s your disguise working?”
“Fine so far,” Mollie said. “Johnny and I are still snooping around. Do you happen to know who owns this loft?”
“I heard it belongs to that guy out in San Francisco—the one you mentioned, what’s his name?”
“DeDario?”
Hilary nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he owns it, but he’s never here, so he lets Moeller use it.”
“Are you serious? This is Moeller’s apartment?”
“One of them, anyway,” Hilary said. “I think he has a place uptown, too. He’s loaded.”
Mollie nodded. “He must be. Do you mind if I look around a little?”
“I don’t, but Moeller might. You’d better be careful.” Hilary surveyed the room. “I don’t see him anywhere, but that’s not unusual. He likes to sneak around.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for him,” Mollie said. “Hey, have fun. Your date’s gorgeous.”
Hilary smiled. “I know. When are you leaving town?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Mollie said.
“Oh. Well, say hi to Meredith for me,” Hilary said. Then she walked off to the bar to meet Andrew.
Mollie strolled around the fringes of the party, looking for other rooms. A few men checked her out as she walked past them; everyone seemed to think that models were fair game, just because they were beautiful.
She found a door with a framed photograph of a naked woman on the outside. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching her and then opened the door. It led into a huge bedroom—Moeller’s bedroom. There were more pictures of naked women—and men—on the walls, a lava lamp next to the king-sized bed, and an aquarium that took up almost a whole wall. The aquarium reminded her of Nick Keverian and how they’d eaten his tropical fish while they were trapped underground. Mollie couldn’t help smiling at the king-sized bed. Moeller couldn’t be more than three and a half feet tall. What did he need a king-sized bed for? On second thought, she didn’t want to know.
She opened the walk-in closet. There was a low rack with tiny suits hanging from it. Small shoes covered the floor. In the back she saw a small red trunk. There was a sticker on the outside of it that said EASTERN STUNTS AND NOVELTIES.
Mollie was creeping into the closet to investigate the trunk when she heard the bedroom door open. She froze.
“I know you’re in here,” a man’s voice called out. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
Suddenly the closet door swung open. Mollie looked up. T.C. was standing there, a big grin on his face. “This is a fun game. What do we do next?”
“Actually, I was just leaving,” Mollie said. She started to walk past him, but he blocked her way.
“Why? The party’s just getting started. There’s a king-sized bed over there that’s looking awfully empty.” He winked at her, and Mollie felt her stomach turn into a big knot. She had to get out of there, fast.
“Bitsy!” There was a pounding at the door, and Fran walked into the bedroom. “Bitsy, I’ve been looking all over for you. The photographers are ready for you!”
Mollie felt her heartbeat slow down. “Thanks, Fran.” She turned to T.C. “You should have locked the door, you idiot.”
“I usually don’t have to,” T.C. said. “What were you doing in here, anyway?”
“Looking for the bathroom,” Mollie replied. “Only I found the trash room instead.” Then she walked out with Fran. Only when she got outside did she start to shake.
“Are you okay?” Fran asked. “I saw you go in there—and then I saw T.C. go in after you. I figured he was probably not in your plan.”
“No, he wasn’t. I don’t know what I would have—”
“Don’t think about it,” Fran said. “But you have to watch out for some of the guys at these parties, okay?”
A woman carrying a large basket walked up to them. “Here, a gift from Femme magazine.” She handed both Mollie and Fran a disposable camera. “Enjoy yourselves.”
“What are these for?” Mollie asked.
“They always give away some party favor at Whistler parties,” Fran said.
“Are we supposed to take pictures?” Mollie asked.
“If you want,” Fran said.
“I want to get a picture of you and Jackie. Where is she?”
“She took off with Rahel a few minutes ago. I think they went downstairs.”
“What’s downstairs?”
“The bathroom. It’s in the hall, right when you get off the elevator. You were looking for it, weren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Mollie said. “Listen, I’ll be right back.”
Mollie caught the elevator down to the next floor. There was no telling what kind of trouble Jackie was getting into with an older sister like Rahel showing her the ropes. Mollie didn’t know why she felt so responsible, but after seeing how Meredith’s life had been turned upside down after her drug bust, she didn’t want to see the same thing happen to anyone else.
The cold, dark hallway was deserted. She knocked on the door with a picture of Marilyn Monroe on it—next to one with James Dean’s picture. Cute. “Just a second,” Jackie yelled. Mollie heard them giggling.
A minute later the door opened, and Jackie and Rahel walked out into the hall. Rahel sniffed and headed straight for the elevator. “Jackie, can I talk to you for a second?” Mollie asked.
“Sure.” Jackie smiled. “What’s up?”
“I know I just met you and everything, but … are you into drugs, the way your sister is?” Mollie whispered.
“Who are you, the police? First you’re talking about how Meredith’s into the drug crowd, then you assume that just because my sister is having a good time, she’s a derelict. It’s really none of your business.”
Obviously Mollie had struck a nerve. “Look, I only said something because I don’t want you to end up like her. I heard she’s going to lose her job if she doesn’t clean up her act.”
Jackie shook her head and started to walk away. “You know, I liked you when I first met you, Bitsy, but you’re turning into a real jerk.” She pushed the up button and stepped onto the elevator. Mollie got on after her. “Leave me alone already. I don’t need you to insult my sister and preach to me. I hate preachy people.”
“So do I. And so did my older sister Ellen. She didn’t want to listen to people who told her not to get into a car with a friend of hers who was messed up, so she got killed instead. It’s not being preachy to yell fire in a burning theater, Jackie. Drugs are dangerous, and your sister might end up in a lot of trouble sometime. You will, too, if you try to be like her.”
Jackie looked into Mollie’s eyes. “I’m sorry you lost your sister.”
“Me too. Maybe you should try to hold on to yours, by helping her,” Mollie said.
“I didn’t know Kathy Carlisle had two sisters,” Jackie commented, a confused expression on her face. “In her biography in Mode magazine this month, she only talks about you.”
“Well … she doesn’t like to talk about Ellen. It only happened a year ago, and it’s still too painful,” Mollie said. That wasn’t a lie. It did still hurt, a lot.
“Hey, look! There’s Kathy now!” Jackie cried.
Mollie looked at the center of the room, where a tall, gorgeous woman was standing, surrounded by people. On each side of her stood a baldheaded monk in a white robe—escorts from Nepal, Mollie guessed. Kathy had dressed down for the occasion in a big, furry wool sweater, ski pants, and hiking boots, as if she had just returned from climbing Mount Everest.
Mollie stood on her tiptoes and looked around the room for Johnny.
“Aren’t you going over to say hi?” Jackie asked.
“In a minute,” Mollie said. “First I want to find my boyfriend.”
“I’ll tell him you’re looking for him,” Jackie said.
“Okay, tell him I went outside for a breath of fresh air. All the smoke in here’s getting to me,” Mollie said.
“What about your sister?” Mollie heard Jackie ask as she walked away. She headed straight for the coat check near the elevator. When she’d walked into the party, a girl had taken her coat and handed her a ticket.
Mollie walked into the vestibule. The girl got up from her chair and started to hunt for Mollie’s coat. Then, suddenly, Moeller walked in. “Janie, would you run down to the corner and get some cigarettes for me?”
“As soon as I find her coat,” Janie said.
“I’ll find it. The cigarettes are for Eleanor, so hurry.” Janie nodded and took the twenty Moeller was holding out to her. “You know the special kind she likes.”
Mollie tried to slip out with Janie, but Moeller wouldn’t let her. “Going somewhere?” he asked, blocking her way.
“Actually, I—”
“You know, I shouldn’t even have let you into this party in the first place,” Moeller said. “You don’t belong.”
Mollie didn’t know what to say. He had her there. “But I’m Bitsy Carlisle. I was invited.”
Moeller shook his head. “You are no such person. I don’t know who you are, but you are not Kathy’s sister. I knew the first time I saw you that you were an impostor.”
“Okay, so maybe I wanted to get a glimpse of the exciting life of modeling.”
Moeller glared at her through beady eyes. “Sit down.” He pointed to the chair, and Mollie sank into it.
Then Moeller picked up the hose of a garment steamer and pointed it at Mollie. “In fact, I have a special facial treatment I give to people who come into my house uninvited.” He turned on the machine, and steam started to come out the end, right in Mollie’s face.
“Is this guy getting your coat for you?”
Mollie glanced over at the doorway. It was Johnny.
“I see you’re having a problem finding it. Let me help.” Johnny walked over and unplugged the steamer from the wall. “Here it is.” He grabbed one off the rack, then stepped in front of Moeller, grabbed Mollie’s arm, and pulled her out of the chair. “Sorry, munchkin. We’re out of here.”
“Make sure you don’t ever come back,” yelled Moeller. “Or I’ll be forced to take drastic measures.”
“Like what? Are you going to give us a sauna?” Johnny asked. Then he and Mollie headed for a door marked EXIT.
“Enough of elevators. Let’s take the stairs,” Johnny said.
“Fine by me,” Mollie said. “I want to get out of here, now!”