The young woman who answered the door was petite, with hair colored a plum shade and a nose ring. She wore a leotard and leg warmers and was barefoot.
“I’m Sarah Booth Delaney,” I said, trying hard to read her face, but she gave nothing away.
“I’m due to dance rehearsals in twenty minutes. It’s a big opportunity for me.”
“I’ll be brief.” I slipped inside before she could block me at the door. “Are you sure Estelle has gone to Los Angeles?” I asked as I took in the decor. Low-rent college kid furnishings were mixed with some expensive furniture and art.
“She said she was going, and yesterday morning she was gone.”
“Did she take her things?”
Regena shrugged. “Estelle has things here, in Malibu, and in Europe. She doesn’t have to carry things. They’re there waiting for her when she arrives.” There was no bitterness in Regena’s tone.
“What kind of person is Estelle?”
She sank into a beanbag chair-an artifact from the seventies, I suspected. “She’s very kind. She helps people when she can.”
“And she hates her father.”
She looked away, a telling gesture. “Federico was never there for her. After she turned ten, she was shipped off to boarding schools. Whenever she wanted to come home, he told her no. She wasn’t even allowed to visit her mother when she was dying. How would that make you feel?”
“Pretty shitty, I’m sure.”
“Her dad doesn’t care about anything but himself and his movies. He even had Estelle thrown out of her house.”
I thought of Federico’s face as he tried to assure me Estelle couldn’t be involved in the attack on me. “That isn’t true, Regena. He’s devoted to his work, but he cares about Estelle. He’s worried about her right now.”
“She doesn’t think so.”
And therein lay the rub. Perception was everything.
“Has Estelle been in Petaluma long?” I was curious to discover if she was in Malibu when Suzy was killed.
“She’s been gone for a couple of weeks, and she came in the night before you guys arrived. She travels a lot.” She went to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of water and handed me one. “She was in a state. She talked about booby-trapping the house. She said she asked her father not to film there, out of respect for Carlita. He just ignored her. The film was everything. Estelle’s feelings didn’t matter at all.”
I sipped the water. “Has Estelle ever mentioned that her mother’s ghost is in the house?”
Regena gave me a look that left no doubt she thought I was nuts. “Look, Estelle is angry, not insane.”
“She’s never spoken of a ghost or spirit in the house?”
She laughed. “Not to me. But it sounds like a good way to run off a bunch of unwanted company.”
“You’ve never heard ghost stories about the house?” That was peculiar. Daniel Martinez, the security guy, had mentioned the ghost stories as if everyone in town knew them.
She shrugged. “Any old house that sits empty is going to get a reputation in a small town. Petaluma isn’t a big city. Kids used to go out there to park, until a couple of them got spooked away.”
This was interesting, but impossible to track down. “Do you remember any of the stories?”
The blush that touched her cheeks was unexpected. “I was there one summer evening with a guy I used to date, swimming in the cove. I thought I saw a woman in a red dress on the balcony.”
My gut tightened and my skin began to crawl. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did your date see her?”
She bit her bottom lip. “No. He thought I was making it up to avoid, you know. He got mad because I insisted that we leave. Anyway, there were a couple of people who saw something like that.”
“No one ever investigated?”
“Nope.” She walked to the door. “Now I have to go. I can’t be late or they’ll cut me from the rehearsals.”
I followed her out the door. “Thank you, Regena.”
“When you finally track Estelle down, ask her to call me, please. I’ve left twenty messages and she hasn’t returned my calls. Sometimes she gets depressed and just sort of fades. That worries me and I have some things we need to talk about.”
“Will do.” I kept it perky and upbeat, but the talk about depression concerned me, too.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Another day in paradise was concluding, and I returned to the mansion with a mental list of people to talk to. Ricardo was right at the top, but I wanted to catch him away from his dad.
Tinkie, Chablis, and Sweetie were at the beach. I walked to the edge of the gardens and looked down to see her and the dogs scurrying around castle rock. It took me a moment to realize that the slick body in the surf wasn’t a dolphin-Graf was in scuba gear examining the portions of the rock that were underwater.
They were looking for clues. My heart surged with warmth. Graf really seemed to care about me. And Tinkie, well, she was the best friend ever.
We were an odd couple for a business team. When I’d first come home, licking my wounds and in dire financial circumstances, I’d failed to see past the Daddy’s Girl exterior that Tinkie projected.
I’d sold her short.
But she was far more than her five-carat engagement ring, her banker husband, and her Dun & Bradstreet report. Tinkie, for all of her slavish devotion to glamour and fashion, was smart. And loyal. And caring.
Watching her and Graf and the dogs, I again thanked whatever lucky stars had brought her into my life. I’d lost a lot, but I’d also gained.
Tinkie and Graf went into a huddle, and then they packed it in and started back toward the mansion. I changed into some cool shorts, sandals, and a sleeveless T-shirt and went down to greet them.
Graf swung me into his arms, making me giddy with laughter, as Tinkie looked on with approval. “It’s good to see you happy, Sarah Booth.” She punched Graf’s arm lightly. “I never thought this celluloid playboy could do it, but I was wrong. I think he’s good for you.”
“And she’s good for me,” Graf said.
“And we all have to be good detectives to get this whole mess resolved.” I put my arms around their waists as we walked to the front door. When I told them my plan, they readily agreed.
Tinkie distracted Federico, while I talked to Ricardo. Graf was going to the third floor to see if Sally and Dallas had heard or seen anything unusual.
Ricardo had a room on the second floor in another wing from my room. I knocked on his door, half expecting that he wouldn’t be in.
The door swung open and he stood there, shirtless, in a pair of shorts. Like his father, he was handsome, and he knew it. While his conduct on the set was impeccable, I’d heard he was something of a rake and a scoundrel with the young women who were part of the crew.
“Dad send you to talk to me?” he asked, leaving the door open so I could enter or not.
“No. Why would he?”
He flashed his perfect white teeth. “Because Dad doesn’t like confrontation of any kind.”
“And what have you been doing that would lead to a confrontation?”
“Sleeping with Dallas. Dad is afraid if I dump her she’ll quit in the middle of the film.” His grin was just a hair too smug.
“Your father has legitimate concerns, Ricardo. No one likes to be used like garbage.” Dallas was a beautiful young woman. She could have her pick of any number of men, but Ricardo could make her feel like trash in a ditch.
He shrugged, picked an apple from a table, and bit into it with a loud crack. “I’m giving her what she wants.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
