“Oh, yes, she was. Chickie could bear a grudge as well as the next diva. And she loved it. She collected grudges and feuds like other people collect shoes or stamps. She even kept notebooks with her grudges so she would remember where she left off.”
“Any of these people happen to be around?” asked Odelia.
“Well, I heard Charlie Dieber is in town. And then there’s Laron Weskit and his wife. And if I’m not mistaken Jamie Borowiak was in here yesterday, getting into another big screaming row with Chickie.”
“Jamie was here?” asked her mother. “Why didn’t she come up to say hi?”
“Because she and Chickie haven’t been on friendly terms for a long time.”
“I didn’t know. Why didn’t anyone tell me? I could have talked some sense into them.”
“Because Chickie loved her fights and had no intention of being talked out of them. Besides, I didn’t even know about most of her feuds, to be honest. Nor did I care.”
“You worked as your sister’s personal assistant?” asked Odelia.
“Yes, that’s right. She only trusted family, so I took over as her PA a couple of years ago.”
“And you’ve done such a wonderful job, too,” said Yuki. “Chickie wouldn’t be where she is today if it wasn’t for…” She paused, then corrected herself. “Chickie wouldn’t have been where she was without her twin sister.”
“You’re twins?” asked Chase.
“Not identical ones,” said Nickie, “but yes, Chickie was my twin.”
“Why did she only want to work with family?”
“Because the PA she had before me was a liar and a thief.”
“She stole from us,” said Yuki. “Used her expense account to buy Louboutins and Louis Vuitton purses and even two iPhones—one for herself and one for her mother.”
“Don’t forget about the Netflix account she bought her cousin in Connecticut or the Lexus she got for her dad.”
“Chickie was always too naive, and too generous,” said her mother.
“She wasn’t naive or generous,” said Nickie. “She was swindled.”
“Did you go to the police?” asked Chase.
“Yes, we did. The woman did a couple of months of hard time and was ordered to pay back the money she stole. People who work for a person of such extreme wealth as my sister are sometimes tempted by all that opulence. They think what’s thine is mine and start spending money without thinking. When I found out I told my sister and the woman’s contract was immediately terminated and charges filed.”
“How did you find out?” asked Odelia.
“Before I was my sister’s assistant I was her accountant.”
“Nickie has a degree in economics,” said her mother. “She even has an MBA, isn’t that right, darling?”
“I have an MBA,” Nickie confirmed. “I worked for Ernst & Young for a while, until Chickie asked me to join the family firm as her personal accountant. She was doing so well it seemed like a pity not to enter the fold.”
“Her previous accountant swindled her out of a million dollars,” said Yuki.
“Jeezes,” said Chase. “Is there anyone who didn’t swindle your daughter?”
“That’s exactly why she decided only to work with family,” said Yuki.
“Dad works as our accountant now,” said Nickie. “He’s a CPA.”
“And what did you do for your daughter, Yuki?” asked Odelia.
“Oh, I worked as her stylist. That’s my profession, you see. I used to design clothes for a living.”
“And she was very good at it, too,” said her daughter.
“Oh, nonsense,” said the woman modestly. “I worked for Oscar de la Renta for a long time, but when Chickie needed me, of course I hopped at the chance.”
“So how many family members worked for your daughter, Yuki?” asked Chase.
“Um… let me think. Well, cousin Greg, of course. He’s our impresario—in charge of everything to do with Chickie’s tours and concerts. Cousin Sam organizes the car park and the fleet of private jets. Cousin Mimi takes care of the houses—we have a place in LA, a pied-à-terre in Paris, an apartment in London, and of course Lake Cuomo. Mimi does a wonderful job keeping them all in tip-top shape and making sure they’re ready when they need to be. She’s also in charge of hiring and firing all household staff.”
“And you all live together?” asked Odelia, surprised.
“Yes, we all live here,” said Yuki, “though Mimi is on holiday right now.”
“And Sam is in France,” said Nickie, “checking out a new jet.”
“And Greg is in Manhattan, talking to tour promoters about the US tour.”
“And cousin Martine—she’s our PR person—is in London setting up a video shoot.”
“We’ll have to call them,” said Nickie. “They’ll have to come back for the funeral.”
Mother and daughter were silent for a moment as they contemplated the reality of the situation: the family firm had just lost its raisin d’être—its shining star.
“I called your father just now,” said Yuki finally. “He was devastated, of course. He’s flying home immediately.”
Chase handed Yuki a piece of paper and a pen. “Could you make us a list of the people present at the house this morning, Yuki? We would like to set up interviews with all of them.”
“Oh, sure,” she said.
“So why is there only a small crew here right now?” asked Odelia.
“Chickie was rehearsing for a tour, and writing new songs,” said Yuki.
“My sister loved to be surrounded by her family and friends, but not when she was in creative mode. Then she liked to be alone—let inspiration be her guide.”
“Once she had a couple of songs written, or an idea of how she wanted the new tour to look like, the house would be buzzing again.” Yuki’s shoulders sagged a little. “Only now the house will never buzz again, will it? Not without my little girl at its heart.”
Chapter 10
Marge was just wondering if she hadn’t forgotten something when the doorbell rang again. She rolled her eyes and yelled, “Ma! Someone here to see you!”
A wild guess, but one she was pretty sure was correct.
The doorbell had already sung out five times that morning, every time announcing one of her mother’s admirers. When Mom didn’t respond, Marge stomped into the hallway and yanked open the door, only to find yet another pensioner on the mat.
The man flashed a set of perfectly bleached pearly whites and she forced a smile onto her own face.
“Hi there, Marge,” said the man.
“Hi there, Dick. I’ll bet you’re here to see my mom?”
“Unless you’re prepared to be my lady of the night,” he quipped.
“Ha ha,” she laughed without much enthusiasm. “I think I’ll leave that honor to my mother.” She stepped aside. “She’s in the basement.”
“Oh, a secret meeting in the basement, huh? Now isn’t that exciting?”
Dick Bernstein was one of Gran’s oldest friends, and a regular at the senior center. Mom had told her he was a great dancer, though Marge doubted whether that was why she’d invited him over today.
When the sound of people talking floated up from the basement, Dick said, “I recognize a great party when I hear one. Sounds pretty cozy, Marge—you sure you don’t want to join us?”
“Very sure,” she said, and as she watched him potter off in the direction of the basement door, hoped the old man wouldn’t break his neck on those rickety stairs.