Helena Goes to Hollywood: A Helena Morris Mystery Read online

  Roger nodded. “I’ll give you the check right now and the rest will be on time every month. No need to involve the IRS.” He headed back to the office and I watched him carefully. Roger wasn’t a runner, but he returned promptly and handed over a check I could live on for a year.

  “That’s a good start.” I pocketed the check and began to rock in that impatiently expecting way that would make him antsy.

  “Start? You’re not leaving?” He looked around at some of his employees who were watching.

  “I think your son needs a cushion—it’s only fair. Emergencies come up and kids have growth spurts. All that kid stuff isn’t cheap. We didn’t even charge you late fees.” This guy had too much not to push him a little more.

  “He’s on my health insurance and dental plan. I’m on the hook for his entire college. I take care of my son!”

  “Good, then we agree. Emmy shouldn’t get stuck with the emergencies while you’re getting a flat monthly bill. He’s your kid and I think you should write a check to Emmy for six months’ worth of child support as a buffer for emergencies.” I’d had enough single moms in my classes or working for me to know they got the short end of the stick.

  “Six months!” He started to turn red. “The settlement says nothing about a buffer.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t, but think of it as good will. What would you California types call it? Karma! It’s good karma to provide for your kid. Just in case you fall behind again, with those cash flow issues and all. Don’t worry, you can keep a copy of the check so you’ll get credit with the court. But that way Chris doesn’t have to feel guilty about spending his mom’s money on things a kid should have. Do you want your son to feel guilty?” I spoke from experience.

  My mom had worked nonstop to provide basics. I felt guilty wanting what my friends had—nothing fancy. No one could give their kids everything but I felt for Emmy; she was trying. The cost of living here was a lot higher but kids don’t know there’s a difference.

  “What do you know about my son?” He folded his arms and glared.

  I hopped to my feet, standing on the plush leather seats. “I know a lot about dads walking out and not paying a dime. Trust me, the IRS won’t look favorably on you being late either. So you should go write that check, and it better cash or the IRS man will be at your door in record time.” I turned my phone so he could see AJ-IRS in my phone book, just in case he thought I was bluffing.

  “I see. Well, you win. Follow me.” He headed to the office, looking flustered.

  I hopped out of the Shelby and followed. He wrote a huge check and ran it through the copy machine.

  “Good.” I pocketed the big check and a copy. “Don’t think that this counts for Christmas or his birthday either. It doesn’t. This is emergencies and big items.”

  “I get it. So what, Emmy does your nails for free a few times and you shake me down?” Roger had moved to the final phase; now he feared me and accepted reality.

  It’s awful to admit but I loved it when men were afraid of me, physically or just mentally. The joy of blackmailing a car salesman! What court in America would convict me of wrongdoing after all the times they’d screwed their customers?

  “Emmy’s a friend. What you need to remember is I can put you in audit hell for years.” I smiled.

  “How much do you want?” Roger still had his checkbook open on the desk.

  Now he thought I was dirty. Lovely. I was flattered. “Nothing. Believe it or not, this is about the kid.”

  Roger frowned and closed the book but didn’t relax. “So you’ll be back for more when?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not like that. You pay on time, every month, and you’ll never see me again. You’re late once, I’ll make a call to the IRS and you’ll legally suffer for years. I’m giving you one chance to straighten up and that means you show up for all of your visitation time, go to his baseball games, and do stuff your kid wants to do in addition to paying your fair share. You don’t do it and IRS karma is a much bigger bitch than I.” I shook his hand. “Nice doing business with you.”

  I strolled out and hopped in my old blue Mustang, knowing at least I’d done one good thing while I was in L.A. Maybe my good karma would give me a break in my sister’s case.

  Cruising toward the studio, I found myself not far from Danny’s place. On a whim I drove by to check out the current state of things. This time there was a cute red VW Bug parked in the driveway along with the Hummer. As I got closer I could see the Bug had black dots all over it. A ladybug styled Bug. Seriously? This girl was so cutesy she made my sister look like a tomboy. It had to be that Faith woman Danny told me about.

  I saw two figures in the front window concealed only by sheers. Who had sheers anymore? But it was just a rental place. One figure was Danny for sure, and the other was a toothpick with boobs who had to be Faith. Shouting and finger-pointing continued inside and I parked my car. They were too involved to notice a stray Mustang on the street.

  When Faith left the front window view I ducked down in my car, just in case.

  I heard the front door slam and stayed out of sight.

  Then the little Bug fired up and streaked out of the driveway without even looking. I gave it three seconds before I popped my head up. If Danny planned on following his new girl he’d have done it by now. Who to go after?

  Throwing the car into drive, I caught up with her fast and followed right behind. There was no need to be sneaky; she’d never seen me. If Danny was crazy enough to show her his wedding pictures he deserved to be dumped by both women. Faith pulled into the parking lot in front of a women’s only gym a few blocks away. I parked behind the Bug and watched her go in. Just in case, I used my cell to take pictures of her license plate and the front of the gym. I drove around to check the front of the car out of morbid curiosity.

  Damn, her Bug even had big eyelashes over the headlights. This chick freaked me out. For a moment I debated if I should go in and do the free trial they advertised on the banner above the door—just to get a good look. But I’d be stalking someone when I wasn’t sure if I was on the right track.

  The upside was I knew where she came when she was stressed out. Information I’d use if Faith proved to be a solid suspect, but my money was still on Bernadette or Danny. Dr. Brian gave me bad chills too. Sonia had frenemies who would benefit from her misery as well, like Carmen. But those seemed to fall into normal Hollywood competition categories. I had to tread lightly.

  Sonia wasn’t taking Danny back so Faith had no real motive; still, stalkers imagined connections or feelings that weren’t necessarily real. I sped off on my original course back to the studio for more Glock 101, no doubt. My real job was stuck in the mud, so staying near Sonia was priority.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next day I suffered from cabin fever. The studio was boring. Rehearsals had just started on some big conversation scene so my tech skills weren’t needed. Sonia would be under hot lights with the same people watching her for hours and I dragged Jordan out for an early lunch of real food since I had another errand to run.

  I backed off a little on the accelerator as we cruised out of the studio. I wasn’t in any hurry now that I was out of there and wanted to enjoy the brief break from thinking about my sister’s case and playing make believe on the set. I parked in front of Hollywood Nails and noticed a lot more foot traffic milled around than when we had visited just a few days before. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll go. Too much sun isn’t good for my skin.” He followed me in.

  The salon seemed empty for the middle of the day. When Sonia and I had come it was late evening and deserted, fairly normal I’d expect. But what did I know? I only did the mani and pedi thing for events—guns and karate had a way of chipping polish anyway.

  “Is Emmy in?” I asked one of the techs sitting at an empty station.

  “She’s in the back.” The woman pointed.

  I followed the direction she indicated, passing a large
room then a few smaller ones before finally finding the office. I gave a soft tap on the closed door.

  “Come in,” she said.

  Opening the door, I found Emmy hunched over her laptop hitting keys.

  “Hi!” She changed from frustrated to bubbly fast.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Sure, slow today. Lots of people out.” She nodded at the guest chairs. “Sit.”

  “Sorry it’s slow. Emmy, I don’t know if you know my sister’s friend, Jordan.”

  “Of course, he’s come in a few times with her. How are you?” She shook his hand, still smiles, and sat back down in the rich leather chair.

  “Chris okay?” I sat, something felt wrong. Kids sometimes had problems when their parents divorced.

  “Sure, he’s good—it’s just business. I lost some of the equipment with rental costs going up. So I had to let the waxers go. Some of the girls weren’t getting enough business or paid on time during the divorce. I had to juggle to meet with lawyers and be there for Chris. Men get all the easy things and my little business is screwed.” She slammed her laptop closed.

  “I hear you, honey.” Jordan leaned in. “But your nails are fabulous.”

  “I know, the service is good but I just have too much space now. Steam room and waxing rooms are too expensive and my lease is up this month. They’re raising the rent.” She threw up her hands with flawlessly long nails and sighed. “Sorry, it’s not your problem. It’ll be okay. I keep seeing Hel on the gossip websites and it’s so much fun!”

  “I know, this girl is all over.” Jordan grinned.

  “I’m not interested in me. What do you know about Carmen?” I asked.

  “Tramp. She’s smart, though. Not someone you want as an enemy,” Emmy admitted.

  Jordan nodded. “She’s cruel but not crazy.”

  “You must be on to something.” Emmy bounced in her chair. “Tell me, who is the stalker?”

  “If I knew I’d have dealt with them already and been back in Vegas. I don’t even know if it’s someone on the show, but I can keep an eye on her there and make a little money. It’s not a big deal.”

  “The director raved about you. Sonia said he couldn’t stop asking about you.” Emmy tapped her nails on the desk like I was hiding something.

  “Sam’s got a thing.” Jordan nodded.

  “What thing? Like a disease?” I asked, my nose wrinkling at the thought.

  “No, silly girl, a thing for you!” Jordan smiled at me. “He’s asking me and Sonia all about you when you’re not around.”

  “He’s never said a word to me.” I waved it off.

  “Because he thinks you’re leaving us once the stalker thing is cleared up. That guy gets yanked by women who want to use him for his child star status or director status. He said you’re the first person who didn’t care who he was. I think that turned him on,” Jordan said.

  I shifted in my seat, hoping desperately for a change in conversation. “It doesn’t take much to get a guy turned on. And I’m not staying once the stalker is caught and things are normal. Then I’m headed back to the land of cactus and gambling.”

  “Fine, leave us,” Emmy pouted. “So why are you here to visit me?”

  “Well, I stopped by your ex’s—,” I started.

  “I forgot about that. Why? He hasn’t said a word about it.” She pointed a long fingernail at me. The bronze glitter was pretty with her skin tone.

  “Relax, I just had a little chat with him,” I said.

  “He’s got too many cars there. Crazy,” she grumbled.

  “What do you drive?” I asked.

  “A Lexus 350 SUV. Part of the divorce—it’s new and nice. Why? Why did you go there really?” she asked.

  “Child support. You said he was running late paying and Chris had the baseball stuff coming up.” I pulled the two checks out of my pocket. “This brings him current and a six month cushion.”

  “Cushion?” Her eyebrows lifted almost to her hairline. “He didn’t volunteer this.”

  “No, we had a little chat about his inventory and my ex-boyfriend at the IRS. Roger was very agreeable at that point.”

  “I thought your ex is in the FBI?” Jordan asked.

  “Ex-husband, yes. I’ve got a few ex-boyfriends too. Most of them are federal agents—DEA, IRS, and so on.”

  Did they think because I wasn’t a size two blonde that I couldn’t get a date? I tended not to get serious but I had my share of men and I mostly stayed friends with my exes. Half the numbers programmed in my phone belonged to ex-boyfriends. Maybe that was weird?

  “So he gave you this?” Emmy’s eyes bugged out at the second check.

  “Yep, and you’ll still get the monthly payments. That’s for emergencies, baseball gear, when he grows out of stuff and you have to get it fast. It’s not fair you get the burden and he pays evenly every month when that’s just not how expenses flow, and up until now you had the combined income to draw on.”

  Emmy chewed her full lip with bronze gloss transferring to her teeth. “That’s so sweet.” She put her hand in front of her face.

  “It’s no problem. If he’s late one day or gives you any crap, I make one phone call and he’ll be sorry.”

  “Thank you. Maybe now if my rent isn’t too bad here I can keep the place. I don’t want to work for someone else. Right now my schedule needs to be around Chris.” Hopping up, Emmy rounded the desk and hugged me. She wasn’t very tall so I didn’t even need to stand up.

  “Well, I can’t lean on your landlord but maybe you and he can work something out. Or you can get your waxers back. That’s just hot wax and tables, right?” Trying to solve problems for others made me forget my own.

  I’d thought about my own business, a martial arts studio that had classes in self-defense for women and then the traditional practices. Small business took time to turn a profit and I had to live too. Emmy had to deal with reality. I’d done all I could.

  “We’ll see.” She didn’t sound convinced but didn’t elaborate either. Letting me go, she sat back behind the desk and put the checks carefully in the top drawer. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. Sonia and I know what it’s like to just have a mom. It’s not fair.” I looked at my watch. “We’re going to grab a burger for lunch. My treat—want to join us?”

  She shook her head. “I have a few clients coming in soon. Thanks.”

  “Okay, but next time.” I got up and Jordan followed, giving Emmy a supportive wave.

  After dropping the checks at Emmy’s, Jordan and I went across the street to the café and sat in the open patio area.

  Jordan shook his head. “She’s going to lose that place, such a shame. Good location, lots of foot traffic. But if she can’t swing the rent she’s screwed. Even if she can reopen somewhere else, once you lose the clientele odds are they won’t come back. It’s all about service because everyone in Hollywood wants to feel like a star. Half the waiters are aspiring to be something else so food service sucks, but everyone has to eat so they deal. Being pampered is different. If Emmy wasn’t there cracking the whip—”

  “I can’t do any more without messing it up. If I turned her ex in to the IRS it can make things messy for her too. They could freeze his assets so he can’t pay at all. That’s why I wanted the cushion. It’s a good threat but one you don’t want to make good on unless absolutely necessary.”

  The waitress buzzed by with menus but I went ahead and ordered a cheeseburger and fries. Jordan ordered a chicken wrap on lettuce, no dressing. I wanted to protest but at least it wasn’t a total salad.

  Jordan stretched back in the chair and inhaled deeply. “Don’t let it bug you. Emmy is a grown ass woman. She can’t expect her ex to support her nail salon too. Some of these Hollywood wives have it too easy and then they get dumped and it’s a culture shock. I have to work! I can’t afford a full staff? I’ll get on reality TV. Alimony is a dying deal since women can work and have all that equality. They get stuck taking
care of the children and having to work. Not so easy. At least the kid is in school and Emmy had a business started. She’s not above working but it can’t be a side project anymore, she has to get empowered.”

  “It’s not just Hollywood, it’s everywhere. Women work but it’s hard to find the day care and take care of the house. I don’t know how they do it. Too much work for me.” I waved it off.

  “You should stay here, you’re fun,” Jordan said as our food arrived.

  I almost choked on a seasoned fry. “Please, I’d kill myself. There’s no ketchup on the table. How do you eat fries without ketchup?”

  “No one here eats fries past puberty. They’re probably laughing at you in the kitchen.” Jordan bit into his wrap.

  “I don’t have to wait tables or work in a kitchen for a living and they’re laughing at me? Hollywood is insane.”

  I dug into my burger and realized there was a tiny container of ketchup nestled amongst the fries. Fancy. Fast food would’ve been fine for me but I didn’t want to see Jordan faint. I was in heaven with red meat and cheese.

  “Yes, Hollywood is crazy. That’s why I love it! Do you eat like this all the time?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “This? A couple times a week, sure. Pasta, chicken, usually a salad for lunch, Chinese, and I love Mexican food. I like to mix it up.”

  “You really must work out a lot.” Jordan nodded.

  “Every day, but I enjoy it. That’s the fun of martial arts—it burns off the calories and the frustration. I wouldn’t turn it into a career if I didn’t love it. Eating carbs is just a perk.”

  Jordan put down his food and stared at me with a twinkle in his eye.

  “What?” I wiped my mouth with a napkin.

  “You could kill someone with your bare hands, couldn’t you?” he asked.

  Was that all? “Of course, anyone can. You snap the neck with enough force— Okay, that requires some muscle. But strangling, crushing the windpipe doesn’t take much pressure. You can smother someone with your hand or a pillow. Everyone has the power to kill. It’s just that most of us are sane, ethical, and don’t use it.”