Fearless in High Heels

“Oh, no,” I said, clucking my tongue in sympathy.

“Oh, yes. You know, it’s one thing to know that your boyfriend is pretending to have sex with another girl, and it’s another to actually have to hear it.”

“What did you do?” Marco asked.

Dana bit her lip. “I hung up, then left him a couple of voicemails telling him to turn the phone off.”

“A couple?” I asked.

Dana’s cheeks went pink. “Okay, seventeen. Was that excessive?”

“Maybe just this much,” Marco responded, holding up his thumb and forefinger.

Dana grabbed his mimosa and took a big gulp.

“Well, one thing’s certain,” I said, changing the subject before she downed the whole thing. “Clearly the fact that Becca is dead means she isn’t our murderer.”

Marco nodded. “Becca couldn’t very well have murdered herself. So who did?”

“Okay, let’s start at the beginning. Becca and Alexa were into something bad.”

“Most likely blackmail ending in a big payout,” Dana added.

“Right. They blackmail someone for cash, but something goes wrong and Alexa ends up dead. We thought Becca was on the run because she had something to do with Alexa’s death, but what if it’s the other way around? What if she was afraid for her life, too?”

“So she goes home and quickly grabs a bunch of clothes, then takes off,” Marco added.

“But then why show up at the party the other night?” Dana asked. “Why not just take off for Mexico or something?”

I shoved a bite of omelet in my mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Maybe she needed money? I mean, if their first attempt at blackmail failed, maybe she was broke. She needs some cash to get out of town, and now she has twice as much leverage against the blackmailee. She knows he killed Alexa.”

Dana raised an eyebrow. “You think she’d be stupid enough to try blackmailing the guy again?”

I shrugged. “She didn’t strike me as the brightest rhinestone on the ring, you know?”

Dana nodded. “Okay, so Becca goes in for a second blackmail attempt, but this one fails too, and instead of giving her the money the guy kills her.”

“So, who is our blackmailee turned killer?” Marco asked.

“It must have been someone from the parties,” I decided.

“So who was there that had a secret?” Marco asked.

I shrugged. “Who didn’t? I mean I’m sure there are people who the very fact that they were at the parties was knowledge they wouldn’t want to get out. Let alone the flirtations that went on there.” I paused. “Or more than flirtations.”

“I like Goldstein,” Marco said. “He’s rich, old, and married. Prefect material for blackmail.”

“But what about Sebastian himself,” Dana argued. “What if more was going on at those parties than we know about? What if he was pimping the girls out, and they got tired of it and tried to blackmail him for it?”

“But I don’t think we should count out the boyfriend, either,” I added. “He lied about knowing Alexa and he conveniently broke up with her right before she was killed. Or so he says.”

“Plus he was at the club the night she died,” Dana added.

“Let’s face it, we have plenty of suspects,” I said. “The problem is that we have absolutely no evidence.”

“Goldstein was the last person to see Becca alive,” Dana pointed out. “I think we need to talk to him again. Sure he says he dropped her off, but he could have easily killed her first.”

I shrugged. “It’s as good a place as any to start.”

“Uh, I’m gonna let you gals go on ahead,” Marco said, downing the last of his mimosa. “I’ve, uh, got somewhere to be this morning.”

“A hot date?” I joked.

He grinned. “Something like that. I’ll catch up with you ladies later, okay? Let me know how it goes with the lawyer,” he said, then got up from the table and headed to the parking garage down the street.

I watched his retreating back. Hmm… Marco skipping out on a big interrogation? What was that boy up to?

* * *

An hour later Dana and I were hoofing it from the parking garage on 5th to Goldstein’s corner office. We’d made it past the first receptionist, the second receptionist, and were just entering the third reception area when a familiar face began walking down the hallway toward us. Alexa’s sister, Phoebe.

Her eyes were rimmed in red, and she was clutching a tissue in one hand. At her side was her husband, one hand on his wife’s elbow, the other shoving a pair of spectacles back onto the bridge of his nose.

“Phoebe,” I called.

She looked up, recognition struggling behind her eyes.

“Maddie Springer,” I supplied. “We came to see you the other day about Alexa.”

She nodded. “Yes, I remember you.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, looking past her down the hall as if the answer might materialize.

“We were making arrangements with our attorney.”

“Wait,” I said, my rusty mental wheels squeaking into action, “Goldstein is your attorney?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yes. He’s handled all the family’s affairs.”

Mental forehead smack.

“He’s helping us with the arrangements for Alexa’s funeral,” she added, her voice cracking on the last word, prompting the tissue to hit her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” her husband said, putting an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “But we’ve had a rough day. Do you mind?” he asked, brushing past us without waiting for an answer.

I watched them get onto the elevator, riding back down to reception number one.

“That’s quite a coincidence,” I mumbled.

“I’ll say,” Dana agreed. “The same guy who’s sleeping with Becca and is the last person to see her alive also just happens to be Alexa’s family lawyer. What are the chances?”

My thoughts exactly. “Let’s go find out.”

Chapter Seventeen

“You didn’t tell us that you knew Alexa before the parties,” I said, once we had made it past receptionist number three and into Goldstein’s inner offices.

Goldstein shook his head. “No, I didn’t. It’s called attorney-client privilege.”

“So Alexa was your client?”

He paused. “I’ve been handling her family’s affairs for some time. I mostly dealt with Phoebe, but I knew Alexa.”

“That’s what her sister told us,” I said. “So you knew both Alexa and Becca slash Willow before you even started going to Sebastian’s parties?”

He shook his head. “No, I knew Alexa. Becca I met at the parties.”

“And that’s when you started sleeping with her,” Dana jumped in.

Goldstein shot her a look. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have to answer any of your questions. And I don’t particularly want to. So if you’ll please excuse me,” he said, gesturing toward his door.

But Dana wasn’t giving up that easily. “Look, pal, you can either talk to us, or we can talk to you wife,” she told him, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

Goldstein opened his mouth to protest, his cheeks going a deep red. But he must have seen the determination in Dana’s eyes, as he shut his mouth again with a loud click. “Fine. Yes, Becca and I… spent time together. Becca