She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she was hoping she’d know it when she found it. She studied the original listing sheet she and Jessica had created when the March home had gone up for sale in the pocket neighborhood of Outpost Estates in the eastern Hollywood Hills. The area had a great history dating back to the 1920s when the luxury neighborhood had been in the heart of old Hollywood.
Nikki knew the listing from memory; it had taken hours to write. The estate was such a white elephant, it had been difficult to play up: an old commercial kitchen that desperately needed renovating, an out-of-date tiled pool, mediocre landscaping, not to mention the coup de grace , the mural of Rex on the wall in the salon. After glancing at the listing, she set it aside and studied the notes in the file; most of them were in her own handwriting, but there were a couple of slips of paper in Jessica’s handwriting.
Jessica walked into the office. She was dressed as if ready to make a public appearance, which, in a way, she was. The press couldn’t get enough of her right now. This morning, Nikki had had to drop her off on the street behind their office in order to avoid the paparazzi. She was wearing a cute little orange Badgley Mischka number and her signature sky-high heels. Nikki tried not to feel frumpy in her merino wool skirt and sensible knee-high black boots.
Jessica glanced at the open file on Nikki’s semi-messy desk. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Going over the March file. Rex had really been eager to sell the place. You know why?”
“Tiny master bath with shoddy tile?”
Nikki glanced over the desk at her friend, giving her an I’m trying to help you here look. “I mean, did he ever say anything about why they decided to sell? He knew the state of the market. Everyone knew Scarlett Johansson lost millions on the sale of her Spanish villa just down the street from them.”
“Are you asking me if Rex and I discussed the sale of his house while we were making love?”
“No, oh gosh, no.” Nikki put up both hands. “I do not want any of those details. I’m just . . . I’m trying to piece things together, Jess. Why would Rex fake his death?”
Jessica pressed her lips together, her eyes growing moist. “I don’t know. I swear to God, I don’t.”
“Sorry,” Nikki murmured.
“It’s okay.” Jessica dropped into her chair behind her desk. “You really think you’re going to find the answer in there?” She exhaled and moved a stack of paperwork from one side of her desk to another. “I can go home whenever you want. Downy doesn’t want me showing houses until the police are done with their nonsense questioning me. He thinks it’s bad for business.” She threw up her hands. “I’m thinking I might get the opportunity to show some houses, just because people want to meet me, you know, me being a murder suspect.”
“Jess, that’s a terrible thing to say.”
She shrugged. “A girl’s got to pay her AmEx bill.” She glanced at the file again and frowned. “You’re not going to find anything in there.”
“No. I guess not.” But Nikki continued to flip through the papers. There were notes on potential buyers. Copies of some estimates Nikki had gotten for Rex with the idea of making some improvements that would move the house. There was also a copy of a contract that had fallen through, and a copy of the current contract. Nothing of interest. She was scooping the papers up to drop them back into the file when a pink W HILE Y OU W ERE O UT slip fell to her desk. She picked it up. It documented a call from Rex a month before he supposedly died in the plane crash. For some reason, he had called the main number instead of Nikki’s or Jess’s cell. There was a return phone number on it that Nikki didn’t recognize. This was not Rex’s or Edith’s cell phones or their home phone. She held up the piece of pink paper. “You recognize this?”
Jessica barely looked at it. “Nikki,
Nikki knew the listing from memory; it had taken hours to write. The estate was such a white elephant, it had been difficult to play up: an old commercial kitchen that desperately needed renovating, an out-of-date tiled pool, mediocre landscaping, not to mention the coup de grace , the mural of Rex on the wall in the salon. After glancing at the listing, she set it aside and studied the notes in the file; most of them were in her own handwriting, but there were a couple of slips of paper in Jessica’s handwriting.
Jessica walked into the office. She was dressed as if ready to make a public appearance, which, in a way, she was. The press couldn’t get enough of her right now. This morning, Nikki had had to drop her off on the street behind their office in order to avoid the paparazzi. She was wearing a cute little orange Badgley Mischka number and her signature sky-high heels. Nikki tried not to feel frumpy in her merino wool skirt and sensible knee-high black boots.
Jessica glanced at the open file on Nikki’s semi-messy desk. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Going over the March file. Rex had really been eager to sell the place. You know why?”
“Tiny master bath with shoddy tile?”
Nikki glanced over the desk at her friend, giving her an I’m trying to help you here look. “I mean, did he ever say anything about why they decided to sell? He knew the state of the market. Everyone knew Scarlett Johansson lost millions on the sale of her Spanish villa just down the street from them.”
“Are you asking me if Rex and I discussed the sale of his house while we were making love?”
“No, oh gosh, no.” Nikki put up both hands. “I do not want any of those details. I’m just . . . I’m trying to piece things together, Jess. Why would Rex fake his death?”
Jessica pressed her lips together, her eyes growing moist. “I don’t know. I swear to God, I don’t.”
“Sorry,” Nikki murmured.
“It’s okay.” Jessica dropped into her chair behind her desk. “You really think you’re going to find the answer in there?” She exhaled and moved a stack of paperwork from one side of her desk to another. “I can go home whenever you want. Downy doesn’t want me showing houses until the police are done with their nonsense questioning me. He thinks it’s bad for business.” She threw up her hands. “I’m thinking I might get the opportunity to show some houses, just because people want to meet me, you know, me being a murder suspect.”
“Jess, that’s a terrible thing to say.”
She shrugged. “A girl’s got to pay her AmEx bill.” She glanced at the file again and frowned. “You’re not going to find anything in there.”
“No. I guess not.” But Nikki continued to flip through the papers. There were notes on potential buyers. Copies of some estimates Nikki had gotten for Rex with the idea of making some improvements that would move the house. There was also a copy of a contract that had fallen through, and a copy of the current contract. Nothing of interest. She was scooping the papers up to drop them back into the file when a pink W HILE Y OU W ERE O UT slip fell to her desk. She picked it up. It documented a call from Rex a month before he supposedly died in the plane crash. For some reason, he had called the main number instead of Nikki’s or Jess’s cell. There was a return phone number on it that Nikki didn’t recognize. This was not Rex’s or Edith’s cell phones or their home phone. She held up the piece of pink paper. “You recognize this?”
Jessica barely looked at it. “Nikki,
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