Undercover In High Heels

opposed to the three we passed that were just for decoration). I helped Felix splash water on his eyes, between his “bloody this” and “bloody that” curses.

Finally he stopped tearing and swearing, his eyes only marginally puffy. Okay, so he looked like a bee-sting victim in some slapstick-comedy movie, but since he didn’t have a mirror, he didn’t need to know that.

“Bloody hell, you’re a menace, girl.”

“Hey, I resent that. Besides, what do you mean, chasing girls like that? What was I supposed to think? There’s a killer on the loose, you know.”

“And you’re going to defend yourself against him with cayenne pepper?”

I put my hands on my hips. “Worked, didn’t it?”

He gave me a death look.

“So, what did you want anyway?”

“I wanted to see how your coworker Dusty was faring.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You mean you wanted to see if you could get an interview with her.”

He grinned. “You know me so well.”

I shook my head. “Uh-uh. No way, pal. Dusty’s not talking to anyone, least of all a sleazy tabloid.”

“Aw, come on. Throw me a little something. I’ve got to have some sort of follow-up to print in tomor-row’s edition.”

“How did you even get on the lot?” I asked.

Felix smiled. “I’ve got the golden ticket.” He pulled a laminated card out from his shirt pocket. “Press pass. It just so happens that the Informer’s editor in chief plays golf with the head of Sunset Studios. Thanks to the fact that the chief throws every game, I’ve got carte blanche on the lot.”

I scoffed. “Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”

“No, but here’s something that might get your attention: the coroner’s report.”

“On Veronika?”

He nodded.

Damn. He was right: I was all ears now.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What was in the coroner’s report?”

Felix clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Nah, uh-uh. Not until you give me something first.”

“Forget it. I’m not giving you any dirt.”

Felix shrugged. “Okay, then I’ll just keep Veronika’s condition to myself.”

I pursed my lips. Dammit. He knew my weakness. What condition? I was dying here. “How did you get a copy of the coroner’s report? That gold ticket get you into the morgue, too?”

Felix shook his head. “No. My excellent computing skills got me into the morgue. Or, more accurately, their database.”

“You hacked into the LAPD database?” I’ll admit, my tone was horrified, but inside I was actually a little impressed. The last time we’d worked together, Felix had proven himself competent at a variety of lock picking, a skill he still hadn’t totally explained. Now he was a computer hacker, too. Part of me was thinking I should be worried about this guy, but mostly I was wishing I had skills like those, too.

Of course, here was Felix offering to let me reap the rewards of said skills.

I did an angel-shoulder, devil-shoulder thing for about two seconds before I finally gave in.

“Okay, fine. I’ll give you a gossip tidbit you can run tomorrow. But cough up the report first. What condition?”

Felix gave a satisfied crooked smile. “She was pregnant.”

“No way!”

“Way. About three months.”

“Any idea who the father is?” Talk about life imitating art.

Felix shook his head. “Not yet. I’m sure the police are currently swabbing any male she’s come in contact with lately. I’ll let you know when anything pops across my screen.”

I chewed at my Raspberry Perfection lip gloss as I digested this bit of information. Maybe we’d been too quick to judge. Maybe Mia hadn’t been the target after all, but Veronika. She wouldn’t be the first mother-to-be who had broken baby news to a less than enthusiastic father.

“Hey, you all right?” Felix asked.

“What?”

He reached out a hand and wiped a finger down my cheek. “Looks like you’ve been crying.” He cocked his head to the side. “You all right?”

I sniffed hard, trying not to dwell on the irony that the most tender touch I’d had in days just came from a tabloid reporter. “I’m fine. Men just suck.”

Felix raised one eyebrow. “Tiff with the boyfriend?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Felix’s face broke into his charming grin (which actually was a bit comical with his eyes still swollen). “Definite tiff with the boyfriend. And, I’d venture to say, a big one.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

His grin widened. “Okay, fine. How about we talk about the juicy bit o’ gossip you’re going to lay on me?”

“Okay.” I cleared my throat. “Deveroux Strong is gay.”

Felix scoffed. “Oh, hell, I know that. Everyone knows that. That’s not news.”

I shrugged. “Sorry, it’s all I’ve got.”

Felix glared at me. “That’s it, then? I give you ‘Veronika’s pregnant’ and all you can give me is stale gaydar?”

“Better luck next time.” I waved and walked off in the direction (I hoped!-wow, was this place a maze) of stage 6G.

To the tune of Felix muttering, “Bloody hell, ” behind me. He really should learn to watch his language.

By the time I got back to the set, Steinman was just calling it a wrap. I grabbed my things and slogged out to my Jeep. As I pulled up in front of my apartment, I could hear the sounds of Mrs. Alvarez watching Wheel of Fortune, and my stomach was rumbling. I parked in the drive and carried my purse up the wooden stairs, mentally debating the merits of pizza delivery versus Chinese again.

I was having visions of chicken chow mein when my cell chimed from my purse. I fumbled with my keys at the front door as I balanced the phone between my ear and shoulder.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me!” Mom shouted.

I resisted the urge to jerk away from the receiver. “You don’t have to yell, Mom.”

“I’m on a cell!” she screamed.

I rolled my eyes.

“Listen, I’m sorry I’m late. There was traffic on the 101. But we’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

I froze. “Um, you’ll be here?”

Mom did her patented “where did I go wrong?” sigh. “You forgot?”

“No, of course not.” Oh, hell. What now?

“Connor’s gift. For his birthday party?”

“Right!” Mental forehead smack. “Oh, wow, um, you know what? It’s been a really long day and I totally trust you, so, you know, maybe you could just pick something up for me?”

“Don’t worry, I’m already on my way.”

“Mom, really, I’m beat and I-”

“Just a minute, we’ll be right there.”

“Seriously, I’m so not in a toddler toy place right now and-Wait, who’s we?”

Too late. I looked up to see Mom’s gold Dodge minivan pull up in front of my apartment. Mom waved her cell at me from the driver’s seat. I could see Mrs. Rosenblatt’s muumuu-clad outline in the back. And then the passenger- side door burst open and my cousin Molly waddled out. Waddled because, yet again, she was pregnant.

Molly had popped out four munchkins in the last four years and was the apple of my Irish Catholic grandmother’s eye. There’s nothing an Irish Catholic family loves more than a girl who gets married young and makes babies like a bunny. Don’t get me wrong; I loved Molly. She just made my ovaries hurt sometimes.