I narrowed my eyes. So much for Katie’s rebelling against modern technology. Was that whole speech she’d given me a line of bull? If so, maybe she did have a computer. And maybe my suspect list wasn’t so depleted after all.
“Is she scheduled at the salon today?” I asked.
“She’ll be here in half an hour.”
“Thanks, Marco. Hey, be a doll and keep her there as long as possible, ’kay?” I said. Then added, “There’s a backstage press pass to Clay’s next concert in it for you.”
I heard Marco do a happy squeal as I hung up.
I grabbed my purse and stood.
“Where are we going?” Cal asked, suddenly at my side. He was licking the remnants of a protein bar off his fingers.
“Katie Briggs.” I headed for the elevators, my shadow a step behind me as I quickly passed Allie’s desk. She was scrunching her nose at her computer screen, no doubt trying to figure out how to spell “guilty.” She looked up as I hustled past, but I ignored her.
“I thought we already talked to Katie,” Cal protested.
“We did. And apparently she really is an Oscarworthy actress, because it turns out her whole aversion to technology was a fake.” I quickly filled him in on the conversation I’d had with Marco as we waited for the elevator.
“So, you think Katie was lying about owning a computer?” he asked.
“Could be. Look, Blain has no motive, Jennifer has an alibi, and Pines was in jail. Katie’s our best bet at the moment.”
We rode down two floors, then Cal beeped open his Hummer, and I hoisted myself inside, cueing up his GPS as soon as he cranked the engine over.
“What’s that?” Cal asked, watching me input the address.
“Katie’s house.”
“I thought you said she was at Fernando’s.”
I grinned. “She is. Which means we only have an hour at best to search her place for a computer with Audio Cloak installed.”
Cal cut the engine. “You’re joking.”
“What?”
“We are not breaking into her house.”
“There’s no way I can trust Katie to be straight with us. The only way to out her as a murderer is to find that computer.”
“Then let the cops search her place.”
I put my hands on my hips. “You really think my word is enough probable cause for a search warrant?”
He bit the inside of his cheek. Obviously he saw my point. “You’re making it very hard for me to do my job, Bender.”
“Your job is to protect me from bad guys. No one said anything about keeping me from bending the law a little.”
Cal narrowed his eyes at me. Then finally muttered an, “I need a raise,” and turned the car back on.
I tried to hide my smirk of triumph.
“And quit smirking.”
Okay, fine. I didn’t try
As soon as we were on the freeway, I grabbed my cell and dialed Cameron’s number. She picked up on the fourth ring.
“Cameron Dakota.”
“Hey, Cam, it’s me,” I told her. “Listen, where are you right now?”
“Afternoon baby bump watch on Melrose. Why?”
“I need a favor. Think I can steal you away for a couple hours?”
“Are you kidding? You’d be doing me the favor. It’s like a hundred degrees out here, and I’ve already downed three Frappucinos. What’s up?”
I quickly filled Cam in on our little mission and gave her the address to Katie’s place in Beverly Hills.
When I hung up, Cal still had that I’m-going-to-live-to-regret-this look on his face.
“You’re dragging Cam into this, too?”
“She’s got a telephoto lens that can spot cellulite at a hundred yards away. She’s our lookout.”
Cal just shook his head again. “A
At six square miles, Beverly Hills is actually one of the smallest towns in California. But the wealth in those miles could buy a small country. Several times over. Designer boutiques, oversized homes on acres of prime real estate, and more Mercedes per capita than anywhere on the planet, it is a haven to the elite of L.A. society. Manicured, buffed, shined, and pleasant in every aspect, Beverly Hills is the sparkling gem of L.A. County. There isn’t even a hospital or cemetery to remind residents of the unpleasant thought of mortality. It’s said that technically, no one is actually born or dies in Beverly Hills.
Katie Briggs’s place was on a wide, tree-lined street full of homes on steroids. Big, bold, and fairly bursting from their lots. Katie’s was a two-story Mediterranean style, complete with adobe-colored shingles and wrought- iron balconies filled with brightly overflowing flowerpots. A narrow front lawn separated the house from the street, all wrapped up tight behind a large security gate that spanned the length of the property.
Cal parked at the curb in front of a faux Tudor across the street. “Now what?” he asked. Clearly not really wanting to know.
I ignored him, picking up my cell, dialing Cam’s number, and putting it on speakerphone.
“Yeah?” she answered.
“You in place?”
“Yep.”
I looked down the block. Cam’s Jeep Wrangler was parked at the corner, her camera to her eye.
“Any sign of security?”
“None that I can see. Bodyguard’s probably out with her.”
“Weak point?”
“I’d try the south side. There’s a bunch of trees shielding it from the road, and it leads right into the backyard.”
“Perfect.”
“You’re not seriously going through with this, are you?” Cal asked.
I hopped out of the car.
“Of course I am.”
“It’s breaking and entering. You could be arrested.”
“If I don’t figure out who’s behind the threats, I could end up dead.”
Cal clenched his jaw together. “This is crossing a line, Bender. I don’t feel good about it.”
“Fine. Wait here, then. I’ll be right back.”
And before he could argue any further, I was jogging across the street to the small grove of trees separating Katie from her neighbor. I cautiously looked both ways, then stepped behind a thick palm and eyed the fence. It was at least eight feet high, brick topped with decorative iron scrollwork. I lifted my arms as high as they would go and tried to get some traction with my feet. I scaled a full two inches up the wall before dropping to the ground again. The bricks were too uniform; there was nothing to hold on to.
I glanced around the yard, looking for anything to boost me over. Flowers, bushes, strategically placed decorative rocks. Shit.
Then I spotted it. A metal planter with a skinny little lemon tree sticking out. It was only a couple feet high, obviously a newbie. With one more over the shoulder glance, I dug my fingers into the soil around the little tree and lifted it, roots and all, out of the planter. I laid the baby tree on the ground, then flipped the planter over and shoved it up against the wall. I stepped up on top of it. It was just high enough that I could reach the iron scrollwork. I curled my fingers around it, planted my feet against the brick, and hoisted myself up on top of the wall. Quickly, I twisted over the top and dropped down the other side. As soon as I landed on Katie’s flagstone patio, my cell
