Spying in High Heels

Why, do I stick out?”

I looked around the salon. Actually, she didn’t. Hey, this was L.A.

“So,” she asked. “What’s the pedi emergency?”

As quickly as I could, I filled her in on the events of the last two days. Ramirez in Richard’s condo, the floating redhead, and finally my impromptu chat with Greenway. By the time I was finished our toenails were soaked, moisturized and filed and Dana’s jaw was permanently stuck in the open position.

“This is better than The Sopranos! You actually talked to a murderer? What did he sound like?”

“Kind of pissed, actually.”

“Ohmigod. You could have been killed!”

Did I mention Dana has a flair for the dramatic?

“It was just a phone call, Dana.” I didn’t tell her about my own overly dramatic reaction to said call.

“So what did you do?”

“Nothing. He hung up.”

Dana looked at me like I was the worst Nancy Drew ever.

“What do you mean, ‘nothing’? Didn’t you ask where he was?”

I slowly shook my head.

“Did you hear anything helpful in the background? Check the caller ID? At least star-sixty-nine him?”

I shook my head again. I was ashamed to admit I hadn’t even thought of those. “Dumb, right?”

Dana was such a good friend, she didn’t even answer that. Instead she drew her blackened eyebrows together in concentration. “You know, I dated this guy once who worked at the phone company. He said that some of these small companies keep a log of calls coming in or going out. You think maybe Richard’s firm does that?”

I thought back to the blurb in Jasmine’s file about her long distance calls. “Yes! They do. Ohmigod, Dana, you’re brilliant.”

Dana sat back in her chair, looking like she’d just solved a Rubik’s cube.

Obviously Jasmine wasn’t going to give out any company information to me, but I had a feeling if I waited until she went on break again tomorrow, I could probably convince Althea to look up the number. She’d seemed sympathetic enough to Richard’s plight. And if that didn’t work, I could always bribe her with a free manicure.

“This is so cool,” Dana said, wiggling her primped toes. “It’s just like that pilot I shot last Spring, Diva Detectives. We’re actually tracking down a murderer.”

We?

“Whoa. What do you mean, ‘we’?”

Dana feigned a hurt look, sticking out her over-lined lip. “Hey, there’s no way I’m letting you go all Charlie’s Angels without me.”

While I appreciated the help, the light in Dana’s eyes as she said “Charlie’s Angels” had me immediately fearing feathered wigs and bellbottoms.

“It’s not a game, Dana. I think Richard’s really in trouble.” And even as I said it, the whole idea of running down Greenway was beginning to sound a little crazy. What were we actually going to do if we found him? I mean, as Dana so exuberantly pointed out, he was a murderer. What if he had a weapon? What if he tried to shoot us? I didn’t think I could face being shot at any more than I could face an EPT.

“Maybe I should just turn this all over to the police,” I said. “I mean, they have all the resources. Not to mention experience with this sort of thing.”

Dana narrowed her eyes at me. “And what do you think will be the first thing the cops do when they find Richard?”

I bit my lip. “Give him a ride home?”

“Ahhhnt.” Dana made a buzzer sound. “Wrong answer. They’re going to read him his rights and slap a pair of cuffs on him. Honey, they tore his office apart, they searched his home. They don’t do that unless they’re after a serious suspect. Don’t you watch C.O.P.S.?”

My heart sank into a hollow pit in my stomach. I did. And she was right. The look in Ramirez’s eyes as he’d questioned me yesterday had been clear enough. Richard was no longer considered just a witness.

“But Richard is innocent,” I protested. Only it sounded oddly uncertain even to my own ears. “And there’s more,” I admitted.

“What ‘more’?”

I leaned in close, half whispering to avoid Marco’s gossip radar. “When I was going through Richard’s office I kind of found something. Something that shouldn’t be there.”

Dana leaned in so close I could smell her morning nonfat decaf latte on her breath. “What?”

I swallowed hard. “A condom wrapper.”

She blinked, looking at me as if still waiting for the punch line. “So?”

“So, Richard and I have never done it in his office. I mean, we’ve only done it in his bedroom. Or mine.”

“Wait, you mean to tell me that you’ve never had sex with Richard outside of a bed?”

I’m no shrinking violet. I watch HBO, I have frank discussions with my gynecologist using anatomically correct language, and I’ve had enough sexual experiences that I have to take my socks off to count them all. But something about the way Dana was looking at me as if I’d just confessed I didn’t know where second base was made my cheeks grow instantly hot.

“No,” I said defensively. “Richard likes to be comfortable.”

Dana made a disbelieving sound, something between a snort and a cough. “Comfortable and sex are two words that should never go together. Wild and sex, maybe. Passionate and sex. Even animal and sex-”

“Okay, I get the point.” I think Mrs. Spears was beginning to stare.

“Wow. You live a sheltered life.”

If my cheeks got any hotter, I’d erupt. So, Richard liked things comfortable. What was wrong with being comfortable? Comfortable was fine. No gear shifts in your back, no soap in your eyes. We might not be on the sexual safari that Dana was, but Richard and I were fine. And I swear my mind did not even flash for a second on Ramirez when she mentioned wild animal sex. Not one second.

“Dana, you’re missing the point. That condom was not mine.”

“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe it wasn’t his, maybe it was one of his friends’.”

Yeah right. That was the same excuse I’d used the one time I’d been dumb enough to try pot senior year of high school and my mom had caught me trying to air out my room before she got home from work. It was flimsy then and it didn’t sound much better now.

But I was desperate.

“You think?”

“Sure. Or maybe he just emptied his pockets onto his desk after an overnight at your place.”

Hey, that one didn’t sound so bad. “Right. That’s probably it.”

“Of course it is. Richard’s mad about you. It’s not like he’d go bop his secretary or something.”

Richard and Jasmine? That thought made me ill. I’d have to buy a gun and put myself out of my misery because I didn’t want to live in a world where the likes of Miss PP could steal a boyfriend from the likes of me. Not that I’m a conceited person, but Jasmine was one step up from belly button lint.

“Right. You’re right. I’m sure Richard will have a perfectly good explanation.”

Once I found him.

* * *

After our toes were Fuchsia Fusion and Pinkberry Stain, Dana and I went for lunch at the Brown Bag Deli on Wilshire. There Elvira, Mistress of the Dark Eye-shadow, signed no less than three autographs for star happy tourist, with a hopeful, “I’m so getting this part.” By the time we were both stuffed with kosher pickles and turkey sandwiches (hers with low fat mayo and sprouts. Mine with extra cheese and salty fries. Hey, I was possibly eating for two now, right?) it was getting late and I realized I hadn’t touched the Strawberry Shortcake hightops in days. I promised Dana I’d call her as soon as I saw Althea and dropped her at her audition before heading back to my studio.