Part 18 (1/2)

Dana and I did the simultaneous eye roll thing again. We were getting pretty good at it. Almost completely synchronized this time.

”Okay, so the killer drugs Alexa, kills her, then the night of the party he follows Becca and drugs her, too?” Dana asked.

I shook my head. ”No. That's the genius part. I did a little googling and found out that the drug doesn't kick in until a full thirty minutes after the victim ingests it, and it doesn't take full effect until two hours afterward.”

”So whoever killed her must have spiked her drink at the party,” Marco said.

I pointed at him. ”Bingo. All he had to do was make sure she drank the stuff, then he'd likely be nowhere near the body at the time she actually died.”

”So it was Sebastian!” Marco said. ”I knew it.”

”Goldstein was at the party, too,” Dana pointed out.

”Yeah, but what are the chances he'd drug her, providing himself with a great alibi, then actually drive her somewhere and wait to watch her die? It defeats the purpose of using the time-released drug.”

I nodded. ”Good point. Okay, so let's a.s.sume that it was Sebastian. Let's say the girls were blackmailing him over something that happened at the parties, and he kills Alexa at the club, making it look like one of her vampire-wanna-be lovers did her in.”

”Then when Becca comes nosing around for pay-off money to keep quiet about the murder, he spikes her drink,” Marco continued, ”knowing that by the end of the night, she'll be dead, too.”

”Perfect!” Dana agreed. ”Now all we have to do is prove it.”

”What we need is to find the murder weapon,” I decided.

”Uh, Mads? The guy's fangs are in his mouth,” Marco pointed out.

I shot him a look. ”I meant the drug. He clearly kept it around after he killed Alexa. Maybe he's still got some squirreled away somewhere now.”

”And, if so,” Dana said, ”it's probably at his place right now.”

”Which means we need to find it, quickly, before he gets rid of the evidence.”

”So we break into his place?” Dana asked.

I shook my head. ”We don't need to. I called the girls' agent, Bowman, and he said that Sebastian is having another party tonight.”

”Perfect!” Dana said.

Marco did a deep sigh. ”Fine. But we need to swing by my place after work so I can change into my turtleneck.”

Chapter Nineteen.

We left Marco to finish his s.h.i.+ft at Fernando's, promising we'd pick him and his turtleneck up later that evening. Then Dana went back to the Sunset Studios lot to score us more vampire attire and three pairs of fangs, and I went home to a) pee and b) eat. Only the second I walked in the door I was ambushed by my mother and Mrs. Rosenblatt.

”Why is my grandchild home alone again?” Mom asked, pouncing on me as she cradled Baby-So-Lifelike in her arms.

I looked down at my Santana bag. c.r.a.p. I'd forgotten to take the doll out of the carrier last night.

”Sorry. I forgot,” I mumbled, pus.h.i.+ng past her toward the hall bathroom.

”Forgot?” her voice followed me. ”You can't just forget a baby, Maddie!”

I shut the door, giving my eyes a good three-sixty the second I was out of her sight. ”I forgot the doll. I won't forget a real baby.”

”You are failing at practice, young lady!” she shouted.

I ignored her, instead moving to do my business. But as I looked down at the toilet seat, I realized that wasn't going to be possible. There was a bulky plastic arm wedged between the tank and the lid, holding it firmly shut. I tried lifting it, but it wouldn't budge.

”Mom?” I called, reopening the bathroom door. ”Did you do something to my toilet?”

She appeared in the doorway a moment later. ”Yes. I locked it.”

”Is this some sort of punishment?” I asked, crossing my legs.

”Oh for goodness sakes, Maddie,” Mom chided. ”It's for the baby. You can't have him playing in the toilet water. And you and Ramirez didn't have anything baby proofed yet. Mrs. Rosenblatt and I thought we'd come over and help.”

”You know what would help?” I asked. ”If you'd unlock my toilet.”

She gave me a look, but thankfully did, pus.h.i.+ng some b.u.t.ton, pulling some lever, and twisting some piece of plastic until the lid popped open.

I quickly shooed her out of the room and did my thing, emerging a new woman a few minutes later.

Where I saw Mom and Mrs. R fiddling with another suspicious looking piece of plastic on the refrigerator door.

Oh no.

”Uh, what else have you two baby proofed around here?” I asked, my eyes whipping around the living area.

”Just the basics,” Mom a.s.sured me. Then proceeded to tick off items on her fingers. ”Locks on the bathroom cabinets, safety rubber on the bathtub faucet, door stoppers and handle locks on all the doors, an oven s.h.i.+eld, b.u.mpers on the fireplace and all of the table corners, outlet covers, power strip covers, a baby gate for the kitchen doorway, and a refrigerator lock.”

I blinked at her. Then blinked at my living room. It was covered in soft foam and white plastic contraptions. ”Do we really need all of this?”

”That depends,” My mom said, putting both hands on her hips. ”Do you want your child to be safe?”

”Fine, okay,” I conceded. ”I'll find a way to rock the padded cell look. Though I do have one teeny tiny favor to ask?”

”Yes?”

”Any chance I could get a sandwich from the refrigerator before you lock it up?”

I spent the rest of the afternoon nibbling, napping, and putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches on the white woven wedge for my spring collection generally trying to take my mind off our evening of snooping around a killer's house. Which didn't work all that well, as by the time Dana arrived on my doorstep that evening I was a bundle of nerves anyway. (But I was proud to say the wedges were looking hot!) Dana had managed to commandeer another pair of gothic style outfits from the set, and she quickly helped me into mine. It was a deep burgundy jacket in crushed velvet with black lace peeking out from the collar and sleeves, paired with a long black skirt. It came with a ”loose” blouse, but after popping one of the b.u.t.tons, it was clear I wasn't going to be able to fit in it. Instead, I grabbed a black, long sleeve work-out T from my closet, dressing it up with an oversized crucifix my Irish Catholic grandmother had given me when I'd started dating Ramirez.

Dana had gone the slinky route again, wearing a short, black, satin dress that dipped low in the front, showing off an Elvira-worthy amount of cleavage. It was the perfect disguise; I could guarantee no man would be able to remember her face. She'd paired it with a long, black cape, high platform shoes, and a long, dark wig that perfectly matched mine.

We both capped off the outfits with a pair of fake fangs, attached with some Fixodent she'd picked up at the drug store.