“I’m the only guy who gets to be concerned about you.”
If he didn’t look so scary, I might have been touched.
Instead, I gulped.
“What the hell are you even doing here?” Ramirez asked. He gave a long glance at my dress (lingering in what would have been the cleavage area, were I actually big enough to fill it out), and I could hear him mentally adding, In that. “I thought I told you to stay put.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, obscuring his view. “And I’m just supposed to do as I’m told, huh?”
“Once in a while it might be nice.”
“You know, you have some nerve-asking me to move in with you, then interrogating me.”
Ramirez raised one eyebrow. “Move in with me?”
“This morning you said I should stay at your place.”
Ramirez snorted again. “For a couple of days. Maddie, I didn’t say you should move in.”
I gulped back another lump, this one slightly larger. I know, I know. I’d been the one having the commitment freakout just this morning at the thought of cohabiting. But he didn’t have to sound so repulsed by the idea.
“I know!” I said a little too loudly. “I mean, it’s not like I thought you meant permanently. Of course you weren’t actually asking me to move in. I mean, hell, you’re the guy who can’t even bring himself to give me a key.”
Ramirez scrubbed a hand over his face and muttered, “Jesus, ” under his breath. “Look, just stay away from this Felix guy, okay?”
My turn to narrow my eyes. “I don’t think you’re exactly in a position to tell me who I can and can’t be friends with.”
“The guy slipped a loaded gun into your purse! You realize you could have been arrested for carrying that thing onto studio property?”
“He was just trying to help!”
“What would help is if you stayed the hell out of this investigation. Look, just go back to my place and wait for me there.”
“I can’t, ” I yelled, tears piling up behind my eyes. “I locked the door!”
Ramirez muttered another “Jesus.” He rubbed a hand at his temple, as if just talking to me gave him a headache. “Look, I’ll have a uniformed officer drive you home. He’ll wait with you there. Okay?”
No, not okay. I hated being treated like I needed a babysitter. But since I was currently without home, car, or decent wardrobe (not to mention being stalked by a crazy woman), I didn’t have much choice. “Fine, ” I muttered. “But tell me one thing first.”
He rubbed at his temple again. “What?” The word came out on an exasperated sigh.
“Whose body did you find in Central Park?”
Ramirez paused, putting his Bad Cop face firmly into place.
“I’m going to find out sooner or later anyway, ” I reasoned.
He gave me a look, then blew out a deep breath. “Oh hell, ” he said, caving. “I’m sorry, Maddie. It was Dusty.”
Chapter 14
For some inexplicable reason the room began to mambo in front of my vision, like I’d had one too many cosmos on the dance floor. “D-Dusty?” I sputtered, my voice sounding oddly disconnected even to my own ears.
It couldn’t be her. Dusty was fine. She was just a little shaken up about Veronika, right? She was just taking a few personal days. She was fine. Wasn’t she?
“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice high and threatening to crack.
Ramirez gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid so. Purple hair, multiple piercings?”
He was right. It was pretty hard to mistake Dusty for someone else. “B-but how? Why?” I asked, my mind racing over the last message Dusty had left me. She’d sounded upset. Or had she been scared? Fearing for her life?
Ramirez shook his head. “The why, we don’t know yet. But she was strangled, the same as Veronika. Only this time the guy used a bright orange scarf.”
I paused. Why did that ring a bell?
“An orange scarf? Orange wool?”
Ramirez cocked his head at me. “I don’t know about the wool part, but it was thick. Why? Do you know something?”
I licked my lips, willing the room to sit still. “Maybe. Margo has one. She tried to wear it on the set the other day, but I made her take it off.” I gulped down another crack in my voice. “Ohmigod, it’s Margo! Margo did it, didn’t she? Because she was jealous of Mia?”
“Hold on there, Nancy Drew.” Ramirez held one hand up. “What did Margo do with the scarf after she took it off?”
I closed my eyes, thinking back. Things had been a bit chaotic that day (what else was new on Magnolia Lane?). “I think she put it in the wardrobe room.”
“You think?” he prodded.
“Yes, I’m sure.” I nodded my head, gaining conviction. “I told her the scarf and the Crocs had to go, so she put them both on the sofa in the wardrobe room because she didn’t have time to go back to her trailer before the scene started. We were kind of running behind in wardrobe because Dusty…” I trailed off, remembering how Dusty had been absent from the set the last few days. I suddenly felt guilty. I should have tried harder to call her. Whatever had been bothering her, she’d never be able to tell me now. I wondered if maybe it was what had gotten her killed.
“So, anyone could have picked up the scarf?”
I gave myself a mental shake, pushing thoughts of Dusty to the back of my mind. “Maybe. But did you know that Margo has a serious grudge against Mia?”
“Oh?” He raised one eyebrow, leaning forward slightly.
I nodded and relayed the info Dana had shared with me that morning, watching his face for any sign of agreement. “If Margo did have it in for Mia, ” I finished, “maybe Dusty saw something she wasn’t supposed to when Margo offed Veronika, only Margo thought that Veronika was Mia, but maybe Dusty knew it was Veronika, or at least she did after she found her in the trailer the next morning.” Yes, I realized that put like that, my theory was about as twisted as an L.A. freeway. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t accurate. As I’d learned lately, people could be pretty twisted, too.
Ramirez sat back in his chair, his face a complete blank as he digested this.
Remind me never to play poker with this guy.
“So, what do you think?”
“I think it’s time for you to go home.”
I rolled my eyes. “I meant about Margo.”
But Ramirez didn’t answer, instead scraping his chair back as he made for the door. “Wait here. I’ll get a uniform to drive you home.”
“But…” I started to protest, then gave up. What was the use? Actually, I’d gotten off pretty lucky. He hadn’t arrested me, and neither of us had stormed out. All in all, it had been one of our better conversations lately.
I picked at my flaking nail polish (mentally making an appointment at Fernando’s) as I waited in the little room again. Finally, a guy in uniform blues with a greasy black mustache walked in, my purse in one hand, my shoes in the other. I had never been so glad to see anyone in my life. I thanked him profusely as I donned my pink pumps and followed him outside to slip into the backseat of his patrol car.
Under the uniform’s watchful eye, I dialed Dana’s cell, letting her know what had happened. She told me Steinman had, obviously, closed the set again today, and that she was going back to Ricky’s place to help him run lines instead. I told her to remember her celibacy pledge and said I’d call her later.
I sank back into the vinyl seats as we rode in silence toward Santa Monica. Even though I wasn’t under arrest, I felt slightly criminal sitting behind the divider between Officer Mustache and me, knowing that my doors didn’t open from the inside. I wondered how many big-time bad guys had occupied this same seat on their way to prison, where they knew they’d spend the rest of their lives. Carjackers, rapists, murderers. Murderers like Margo? I wondered. She was one of the few people on the set whom I hadn’t talked to much. Though until today she’d always struck me as harmless enough. In fact, she had a habit of fading into the background, and, with the exception of that one blowup on set, you tended to forget she was even there. I wondered if that would have been different if Margo had gotten the role of Ashley. If Mia were out of the way, I wondered what would happen to Nurse Nan’s character? She had been gaining momentum lately, especially with the baby-daddy story line.