Double Dose, page 3
The receptionist shook her head. “Her mother won’t let her go to New York.”
“This shoot is turning into a nightmare,” Amanda moaned. She marched back into one of the rooms.
“What was that all about?” Roberta asked the receptionist.
“See that?” Kara pointed to the poster behind her with a pencil. “It was all her idea. She lined up all these sisters, and now half of them can’t come.”
“Who’s this Carlisle person?” Mollie asked. “Do I really look like her?”
“A little. You’ve heard of Kathy Carlisle, haven’t you?”
Mollie looked at Roberta and shrugged. “Not really.”
“She’s the model for Illusion Cosmetics,” Kara said. “She and her sister Bitsy are supposed to be in the Splendiferous spread. Only Kathy went off on some spiritual retreat to Nepal, and now her little sis has to stay home.”
The phones started to go wild again, and Kara rushed to answer the lines, take messages, and forward calls. Mollie stepped over to one of the doors and peeked in.
“Eleanor is going to kick our butts if this shoot doesn’t get finished before the International Face Show,” a man wearing a dark gray suit yelled. He was pacing back and forth, his shoes clacking on the hardwood floors as he turned around, then paced back in the opposite direction. His hair was slicked straight back, plastered against his head.
Amanda was sitting behind a large glass-topped desk, chewing on the end of her pencil. “Tracy, did you finish that list with all the clothes we need yet?”
“No,” Tracy replied softly from behind her desk. “It’s slow going.”
“Well, hurry up,” Amanda snapped.
“I’m trying. It’s not easy figuring out how to retrieve all the files I lost when the computer went down yesterday afternoon,” Tracy answered.
“What? The computer went down?” the man yelled. “What next? Another earthquake?”
Roberta suddenly stepped into the room. “Did I hear you say you’re having a computer problem?”
All eyes stared at her. “What are you, the roving computer repairwoman?” the man quipped.
“Do you want it fixed or not?” Roberta replied calmly.
“What are your rates?” he asked.
“Who cares about her rates? We need the damn thing fixed,” Amanda cried.
Mollie wondered how many cups of coffee they had all drunk. Talk about a stressful environment.
Roberta went over to Tracy’s desk and started talking to her about what had happened, and what she’d been working on when the computer died. Then she typed in different commands, while everyone watched.
“Here it is,” Roberta said a minute later. “It’s called FEMMEFO, isn’t it?”
Tracy smiled as she watched the file come up on the screen. “You’re a lifesaver!”
“Is it all there?” Amanda asked. “Sizes, clothes, prices?”
Tracy nodded.
Roberta stood up and brushed her hands together. “That was a piece of cake.”
“How would you like a job?” the man asked. “You could come in a few days a week to make sure everything’s running smoothly. You’ll be our staff computer consultant. I’ll give you twenty bucks an hour.”
“Well, I—sure,” Roberta said with a quick glance at Mollie.
“I’m Aaron DeDario.” The man walked over to Roberta and shook her hand, giving her a phony smile. “What’s your name?”
“Roberta. And this is my friend Mollie.”
“You girls aren’t still in high school, are you?” Aaron asked.
“Who, us?” Mollie said. “No way. We graduated last year.” She wrinkled her nose. Aaron smelled as if he’d bathed in cologne—cheap cologne—and the stuff in his hair smelled foul.
“Yeah, actually, we’ve both been looking for jobs since June,” Roberta said.
“Well, I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you, Mollie. Not right now, anyway,” he said with a pointed look at Tracy. “But I’ll keep you in mind. Where do you girls live?”
“Bayside,” Roberta said. “But we’re looking for an apartment in the city.”
“Bayside, perfect. I have a speedboat I keep down at the Marina Club. Maybe you’ve seen it—the Daredevil?”
Roberta turned to Mollie and raised one eyebrow. “Actually, it’s been a while since I’ve been to the club,” she said. The Marina Club was the snobbiest place in Bayside, with an “initiation payment” rumored to be twenty-five thousand dollars, and annual fees that weren’t much lower.
“You’ll have to come down sometime. I’ll take you for a ride,” Aaron said.
Roberta smiled. “Sure. Sounds great.” As Aaron stooped over to brush some lint off his pants, she whispered, “I’d rather eat worms.”
“Hey, you girls want to see a magic trick?” Aaron asked when he straightened up. He took a gold money clip packed with twenties out of his pocket and waved it in the air. It vanished. Mollie hadn’t seen him slip it up his sleeve. She had no idea where it had gone. She hoped he’d made a mistake and slipped it into her jacket pocket.
“That’s about how fast my money disappears around this place,” Aaron said, winking at Mollie.
He was about the most bogus person she’d ever met. He thought he was so suave, it reminded her of Nick. They probably went to the same Lack-o-Charm School.
“Aaron, would you mind getting back to work now?” Amanda said, a peeved expression on her face.
“Relax.” Aaron looked over his shoulder at her. “It’s going to be great. We’re supplying several of the models for the International Face Show.”
The way he said “supplying” made Mollie think of office supplies, as if people were on the same level as staplers and hole punchers.
Aaron started to talk to Roberta about her job a little. Amanda got a phone call, and Tracy was busy with the computer, so Mollie decided to poke around. Clothes were strewn all over the office, hanging from every available pipe, wardrobe rack, even window shade. In the corner were three large steamer trunks, almost as big as refrigerators. Mollie stopped at a couple of vacant desks, piled high with clothing designs, and photos of models. She picked up a picture with the name “Bitsy” across the bottom. She couldn’t see much resemblance. So they both had shoulder-length red hair, and a tiny birthmark on their necks. On a second look, they did look a little alike, she thought.
“While you’re here, you’ll learn a lot about the biz,” Aaron was saying to Roberta. “Naturally, much of it is confidential.”
As Mollie was putting the photo back on the desk, she spotted a pile of airline tickets issued to the Carlisle sisters. But Bitsy wasn’t going to New York for the shoot, and Kathy was in Nepal. They weren’t going to need their tickets. She, however, might need to go to New York to find out more about what happened to Meredith. …
Mollie glanced over her shoulder, then folded the envelope in half and stuck it in her jacket pocket. Sure it was a sleazy thing to do, but when in Rome … Mollie walked back over to Roberta and smiled. Aaron was still yakking away about what a tycoon he was.
“Aaron, I have Eleanor on the line,” Amanda yelled from across the room. “Do you think you could find the time to talk to her?”
“Excuse me, girls.” He looked as if he were scared. “See you tomorrow, Roberta.” Then he dashed over to his desk and sat down, grabbing the phone. “Eleanor. What can I do for you?”
“She owns the agency,” Roberta explained as they walked out of the office. “He just runs the San Francisco office—the headquarters are in New York.”
“What a jerk,” Mollie said. “He’s almost as bad as Nick.”
“I know. And I actually have to spend more time with him.”
“Did you girls get what you were looking for?” Kara asked as they passed her desk. “What were you looking for, anyway?”
“Yes,” Mollie answered, being purposely vague. Then she heard a familiar voice coming out of the office on the right. “It’s been nice talking to you, Kara,” Mollie said. She grabbed Roberta’s arm and went out the door as quickly as she could.
“What was that all about?” Roberta asked once they were outside.
“I heard Rahel—remember, the model at Meredith’s?”
“So she works for Whistler,” Roberta said. “That’s interesting. You know, I bet DeDario came up with the name for this place. Whistler? Give me a break. He probably spends his free time harassing women down at the beach.”
“Yeah, from the deck of his speedboat,” Mollie said.
“Any luck?” Johnny asked when they walked up to the car.
“I got a job,” Roberta said.
“Don’t tell me you’re the new face of the nineties,” Johnny said.
“Oh, and why couldn’t I be?” Roberta replied.
Just then a familiar blue Mercedes passed them and pulled into a parking spot. “Hide, you guys,” Mollie said. She and Roberta got into the front seat and crouched down low enough so they couldn’t be seen.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of rich guys driving German cars?” Johnny asked, looking at them as if they were crazy.
“Well, yeah,” Mollie said, peering out the window. “But that’s not why we’re hiding.”
She watched as Derek Hughes got out of his car and walked up to the agency. A minute later he and Rahel came out, holding hands.
“Uh-oh,” Roberta said. “Eeyew, that’s gross.”
Mollie looked at the unlikely couple again. Derek Hughes had pulled Rahel to him and was kissing her—passionately.
“A peck on the cheek that’s not,” Mollie said.
“Yeah, like I said, gross,” Roberta repeated.
“Nah. Just a little sloppy,” Johnny commented.
Roberta hit him on the arm. “That’s Meredith’s father.”
“Oh,” Johnny said. “In that case it’s disgusting.”
CHAPTER 4
“Do you want to come in for some lemonade or something?”
Johnny looked over at Mollie and shrugged. “Sure.” He opened the car door and got out. “Actually, it’s almost time for dinner. I should be getting home soon.” Johnny lived with his grandmother and his younger sister, Katie, who was six. Mollie knew that Johnny helped out a lot at home, but picturing him cooking dinner was a bit of a stretch. Johnny Chelios—with an apron over his black leather jacket?
“Just come in for a few minutes,” Mollie said. “I want to talk about how we’re going to solve this case.”
“Have you been watching Jake and the Fatman?” Johnny asked as they walked into the kitchen. “You’ve got the TV detective lingo down and everything.”
Mollie grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, and Johnny sat down at the table in the corner. “No lemonade,” Mollie said, inspecting the refrigerator contents. “How about iced tea?”
“Sounds great,” Johnny said. “I got mighty thirsty sitting in the car.”
Mollie laughed. “You sound like a dog.”
“Oh, thanks.” Johnny tipped his chair back against the wall. “I love you, too.”
“Hello, Mollie.” Mollie’s father walked in from the living room. “I thought I heard you come in.” He looked at Johnny, who gently slid his chair back onto the floor.
“Hi, Dad. You know Johnny Chelios.” Mollie poured the iced tea and put it on the table. She hoped her father wasn’t going to embarrass her.
“Hello,” Eric Fox said sternly.
“Hey,” Johnny replied. “How’s it going?”
Mollie’s father grunted and left the room.
“Don’t mind him, he probably had a lousy day at work.” Mollie sipped her iced tea.
“Yeah, right.” Johnny downed his iced tea in one long gulp. “Listen, I’d better take off.”
“But we haven’t talked about—”
“Yeah. I know.” Johnny stood up and put his glass in the sink. “I’ll talk to you later.” Before Mollie could say anything else, he was out the door, heading down the driveway to his car.
A few minutes later her father walked into the kitchen again. Mollie was sitting at the table, thinking about Meredith, and the Whistler Agency, and the two airplane tickets in her pocket.
“Did your friend leave?” her father asked.
“Yes,” Mollie said.
“Good. I don’t want you hanging around alone with that guy. You’ve been seeing too much of him as it is.”
“What?”
“You heard me, Mollie. His father’s in jail for arson. Johnny has a record, too. He’s not exactly the guy I want you to go out with.”
“Dad! I’m not dating Johnny Chelios,” Mollie said, adding the word “yet” in her head. “Anyway, even if I wanted to, it’s none of your business.”
“None of my business? Mollie, I’m your father. I don’t want to see you going out with someone dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Johnny is not dangerous. He’s just, well … he’s just a little unpredictable,” Mollie argued.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” her father said. “I mean, what’s wrong with Jordan? He’s a nice guy—no problems, no hassles, no police record—”
“Trust me, Dad, okay?” Mollie interrupted. “You’ve said more than once that I’m a good judge of character.”
Eric Fox sighed. “All right—maybe I am being over-protective. I do trust you. But I still think you should be careful.”
“I will be. Hey, Dad, I was talking to Meredith today. I know she’s innocent, and I was wondering … is there anything you can do to help?”
“Not a thing. It’s out of my jurisdiction.” Eric Fox opened the oven and peered inside. “Looks like the casserole’s almost done. Why don’t you go get Rosemary and Donny? I’ll make up a salad. Your mother’s going to be home in ten minutes.”
Her father always tried to change the subject when Mollie asked him about police work. It was a game they played. Mollie just kept asking questions until he broke down. “So who’s handling the case?” Mollie prodded. “Anyone I know?”
Silence.
“I was just wondering, because whoever it is,” Mollie went on, “must not know Meredith very well to think she’d be involved in drugs. But then again, maybe someone has a vendetta against her family, and it’s one of those local-politics things like the time back in Iowa when the county fair was sabotaged by—”
“All right! I give up!” Eric Fox threw the pot holder in the air. “His name is Detective Benjamin. I don’t know him very well, but I’ve heard he’s tough to deal with.”
“Why’s that?”
“It could just be grumbling, but one detective I know had to work with him on a case. Whenever he suggested a new approach, Benjamin didn’t listen. He’d already made up his mind about what happened.”
“Doesn’t sound too good for Meredith,” Mollie said. “But how come Benjamin is still on the force if people keep complaining about him?”
“Politics. It’s all politics.”
Politics. That made Mollie think about Dayton Hughes and his gubernatorial campaign. She felt more confused than she had before she’d seen Meredith. “Dad, don’t you ever wonder what’s going on in this town?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” Mollie decided it would be best to keep her father in the dark for the time being. “It’s just … I don’t think we’re in Onagle anymore.”
“Your Honor, I would like to submit Exhibit A,” the prosecutor said as he placed a small plastic bag on the judge’s desk along with a tin of tea. Mollie had never been in a courthouse before. She’d seen them on television, and in movies, but she’d never appreciated just how real—and how scary—they could be.
On one side of the room Meredith was sitting at a table with her father. On the other side, the prosecutor was sitting with Detective Benjamin.
Mollie and the rest of the Mall Rats, except for Johnny, were in the back of the room watching the pretrial arraignment. It was one o’clock on Wednesday afternoon; they’d cut out of school early. So far the prosecutor had painted Meredith as an irresponsible, spoiled brat with a serious drug problem.
“Is he talking about the same Meredith we know?” Jaime asked.
Next, the prosecutor presented several hair strands, which he said proved conclusively that Meredith was a heavy cocaine user. “This hair was subjected to a spectrographic analysis, which showed that cocaine metabolites were present in the hair cells. Since cocaine is metabolized quickly, it would not show up in spectroanalysis unless the individual repeatedly and consistently ingested large amounts of the drug,” he said. “The analysis, and the length of the hair strands, show that Meredith Hughes has been abusing cocaine for the last three years.”
“Yeah, Meredith got hooked when she was thirteen,” Sherman said. “She could hardly keep it together in junior high.”
“Do you believe this guy?” Roberta said.
Mollie shook her head. “I don’t know where they got their proof, but they’ve got it. That’s all it takes—solid evidence.”
“That’s someone else’s hair,” Jaime said. “No way is that Meredith’s.”
Derek Hughes presented a short defense, and then the judge announced that there was enough evidence to hold Meredith over for trial. The trial date was set for six weeks from the following day.
“This is a setup if I’ve ever seen one,” Sherman said as they stood up to leave.
“Have you ever seen one?” Roberta asked.
“Well, no,” Sherman answered.
The courtroom was full of other people awaiting arraignments. Outside in the hallway, they waited for Meredith to come out so they could talk to her. They weren’t the only ones waiting—a few television crews were standing by the doorway, with reporters from various stations ready to pounce.
Derek Hughes finally opened the heavy doors and came into the hallway, followed by Meredith, who kept her head down. “No comment,” Mr. Hughes told the press. “No comment.”
Mollie hurried over to them. “Will you come talk to us for a minute?” she asked.
Derek Hughes didn’t seem pleased, but he stepped off to the side.
“Mollie, I didn’t do it,” Meredith said. “You believe me, don’t you?”
