Undercover In High Heels

“You wanted to talk to me?” she asked. She pulled a slim silver cigarette case from a drawer beside her and flipped it open.

“Yes, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the show.”

“Sure.” She offered the case to me. I shook my head and she shrugged again, pulling out a long, slim clove cigarette. “What do you want to know?”

“I suppose you saw Mia’s press conference this morning?”

Margo snorted. “Who didn’t? That woman is the biggest media whore I’ve ever seen. And I’ve been around, ” she added, gesturing to her treasure trove of B-movie credits. “I know whores.”

“I take it you’re not that fond of Mia?”

“Hell, no.” Margo punctuated this by stabbing the unlit cigarette in my direction. “She’s a first-rate bitch, that woman.”

“Because of the comment she made about your age the other day?”

Margo gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Oh, honey, we go back way farther than that.”

“How far?” I asked, leaning forward.

“I was the one who first discovered her.”

“Oh?”

Margo nodded. “She was doing this terrible Actor’s Playhouse production in North Hollywood. I was there with my second husband, Randolph Amsted, the director of Dorm Demons?” She paused, looking expectantly at me, as if I should know him.

I nodded, playing along.

“Anyway, the play was awful, but Mia…I could tell she had something. She was driven. She made the audience pay attention to her. I convinced Randolph to put her in his next picture. You know, just something small, like a bit part. He did, and she used that as the springboard to television. Of course, ” Margo added, a bitter note to her voice, “Magnolia Lane has been her big breakout.”

“I heard that Mia was originally cast in the role of Nurse Nan, ” I said watching her reaction.

Her blue eyes whipped around to me. “Who told you that?”

“Uh…” I shrugged noncommitally. “Not sure. I guess I just heard it…around.”

Margo narrowed her eyes at me, and for a second I feared I was going to get thrown out of the B-movie museum. But finally she just leaned back on her sofa with a little plastic burp. “I was the one who suggested her to the producers in the first place. She was supposed to be my supporting actress. But, being Mia, of course, she went behind my back and convinced them that she would be a better fit to play opposite Ricky.” Margo barked out a sharp laugh. “Please. I’ve had lovers half his age.”

I refrained from commenting on Margo’s math. Ricky didn’t look a day over thirty, and if Margo had fifteen- year-old fans, I was a rocket scientist.

“So, Mia got the role of Ashley and you got the supporting role?” I prodded.

Margo lit her cigarette, blowing a fine stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “At least on the small screen.” She looked at me, her eyes twinkling. “Did you know that FOX picked up the film rights? There was going to be a Magnolia Lane movie, starring yours truly.”

My heart leaped into my throat and my internal TV junkie did a happy squeal. “Really? Ohmigod-too cool!”

Margo smiled smugly. “Oh, yeah. ‘Cool, ’ all right. Even cooler? I was the executive producer. The movie was not only going to be my return to film, but also my revenge on that little tramp.” She took another long drag. “I was writing Mia out of the film.”

“Writing her out?” I asked. “But isn’t she the star of the show?”

Uh-oh. The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Margo froze, cigarette halfway to her lips, and gave me a death look.

“There are other inhabitants of Magnolia Lane, you know, ” she barked out. “Tina Rey and the electrician were the hot item in the ratings last season. And my lines have doubled since Blake went into that coma.”

“Right. Of course. Sorry.” Though I personally couldn’t imagine a Magnolia Lane without Mia. I mean, Blake in a coma and Nurse Nan hovering over him a story did not make. Where was the drama in that?

“Anyway, ” she went on, “that was going to be my revenge on the backstabbing bitch.”

“Was?” I asked, honing in on the word. “Did something change?”

Margo stood up, slashed her cigarette in the air. “Mia found out about film and pitched a royal fit! Suddenly the whole project’s on hold. And now with the letters and these murders, backers are talking about pulling out altogether. All because of that overrated prima donna.”

I waited while Margo took a long drag of her cigarette, exhaling vigorously before she sank down into the love seat opposite me, the plastic casing crackling beneath her frame. “I swear to God, if that wacko writing the letters offs Mia next, I’ll die a happy woman.”

I watched Margo’s nostrils flare in and out-thanks to the aggressive face-lift, the only part of her face that held any expression. The bad blood between the two actresses ran deep; that much was clear. Deep enough for Margo to kill two innocent victims just to get to Mia? I wasn’t sure. But if the treasure trove of artifacts filling her home was any indication, Margo took her films seriously. Mia’s sabotaging her comeback to the big screen just might be enough to put Margo over the edge.

I was about to ask Margo how well she had known Veronika when the maid came into the room again.

“Excuse me, miss, ” she said softly, addressing me.

I turned. “Yes?”

“There’s a woman out front. She told me to say”-the maid blushed-“to get your ‘fanny’ outside. She’s on the night shift tonight and if you don’t hurry the”-she paused again-“ ‘heck’ up she’ll take off without you.”

Any other time, I would have sent a return message that Porn Star Barbie could go to “heck.” But unfortunately she was my only ride.

I rose, painfully peeling my exposed thighs off the plastic couch, and thanked Margo for seeing me.

“Anytime, honey, ” she said, blowing smoke out through her nostrils. “My door is always open for a bitch session about Mia.”

Jasmine drove through the evening traffic back toward West Hills, having composed herself enough by now that instead of her seeming freaked, the set of her bony jaw just made her look pissed off. She was silent, no doubt using all her brainpower to mentally add up how much it was going to cost to have her baby fixed. I took the opportunity to check my voice mail. Just one message. I keyed in my PIN number and got an earful of Ramirez’s growl.

“I’m at your place, Maddie. I couldn’t help noticing that neither you nor my officer is here. Where the hell are you, Maddie?” he asked, his voice growing louder with each word. “I got a call about a woman shooting at a blonde in a McDonald’s parking lot. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Then the slam of his receiver hanging up echoed through my ears as the message clicked over.

Needless to say, I didn’t call him back.

I looked out the window. The sky was turning dusky pink and blue as the sun sank behind the hills. It was clear that I couldn’t go home tonight without risking a) a pissed-off cop with a pair of handcuffs, or b) a pissed-off crack head with a gun. Ditto Ramirez’s place. Despite his invitation this morning, I had a feeling he wouldn’t be all smiles and sunshine at seeing me right now.

I hit speed dial and called Dana’s number.

No answer on her cell, and Daisy Duke informed me that she hadn’t been home all day. Great.

I looked across the console at Jasmine. If I bribed her with a front-page mention, I could probably spend the night in her den of iniquity, but the idea of strangers touching their tab A while watching me sleep was creepier than a stuffed ferret.

Which left me with only one place to go.

I bit my lip.

“Hey, Jasmine, do you think you could drop me off someplace?”

She gave an exasperated sigh and looked at her dash clock. “If it’s on the way. Where?”

I took a deep breath, hoping the slime didn’t rub off as I gave Jasmine Felix’s address in the Hollywood