Gone in a Flash: A Naked Eye Cozy Mystery Read online

  “There should be a reservation for two under either Marissa Larkin or Jensen Davis? Mr. Davis is probably already here, though. I’m running a little late,” Marissa told her.

  The hostess grunted. “We don’t actually take reservations, ma’am, so I can’t help you there. But you’re welcome to look around and see if he’s here. Lemme know if you don’t find him and I’ll get you on the wait list. It’ll be about twenty minutes.”

  Before Marissa could admit she didn’t know what the man she was meeting looked like, he stepped up to her, holding out his hand for her to shake.

  “Jensen Davis,” he said in an obnoxiously nasally voice, “You must be Marissa.”

  Jensen Davis was a rat in a cheap suit. He had a small face, large pointy nose, and beady little eyes that roved over her in a salacious manner. His mousy colored hair was receding at the temples and it didn’t help his appearance in the least. A wrinkled suit and paisley tie completed the sleazy used-car-salesman look.

  Marissa disliked him immediately.

  “Your table is ready, Mr. Davis,” the hostess announced, saving Marissa from the need to respond. She gestured for them to follow her and spun on her heel to head into the dining area.

  “Ladies first.” Jensen smiled at Marissa, revealing a mouthful of small, predatory teeth that made her shudder.

  As Marissa started to follow the hostess, she felt Jensen’s hand settle on the small of her back and she tensed. Apparently he was handsy. Great.

  They wound through the tightly packed tables to a small booth on the far side of the restaurant. The hostess plopped two menus on the table between them and disappeared. Marissa reached for hers and grimaced at the sticky feel of the laminated pages. Didn’t they ever wipe these things down?

  Jensen eyed her over his own menu and smiled again. “You’ve got a pretty face, babe. Have you ever thought about getting into the business? I could represent you. For a cut of the action, of course.”

  “No, I’ve never considered it, but I like my current line of work.” Marissa tried not to gag at the thought of daily interaction with this slime ball.

  He clucked his tongue in disappointment. “Shame. With those long legs and bedroom eyes, I could make you a star.”

  Good lord, people actually use that cliché outside the movies? Marissa forced herself to smile as she responded. “I appreciate the offer and if I ever change my mind, I’ll get in touch.”

  The waiter approached and took their drink orders. Jensen ordered a water with no ice and two lemons and Marissa asked for a diet cola. They made awkward small talk until their meals arrived—Jensen again ordered the cheapest thing on the menu—and Marissa finally broached the subject that had brought them together.

  “Mr. Davis—“

  “Call me Jensen, babe,” he said around a mouthful of medium steak.

  Marissa cleared her throat and began again. “Jensen, then. What can you tell me about Jessie and Julia Marlow?”

  “Before we go there, we need to get something straight.” His beady eyes turned shrewd. “This conversation is strictly on background.”

  “Why?” she asked bluntly.

  “Because Julia and Jessie Marlow are my only clients and their contract has some pretty strict guidelines regarding talking to the media. I’m not looking to lose my job over whatever sensationalistic drabble you might turn this into.”

  “The World at Large isn’t a gossip rag,” Marissa told him flatly, “and I’m not a hack. We only publish factual, high quality articles, which you’d know if you ever read our magazines. But if it makes you more at ease for this to be on background, I agree to your terms”

  “Glad to hear it.” Jensen grinned at her, clearly unperturbed by her terse response. “You’ve got balls, lady. I like that.”

  Marissa raised her brows. “Thank you. Now, Julia and Jessie?”

  Jensen nodded. “Cute kids now and they’ll be smokin' hot women in a few more years. They’ve got talent, too. Hoppenheim couldn’t make an offer fast enough to get them for Gossip Queens. I’m hoping for movies soon and, just between you and me, I’ve got some feelers out in the big name studios.”

  Ugh, why can’t he chew with his mouth closed? It took a great deal of effort to keep from snapping at him. Instead, she fiddled with her pen for a moment before asking her next question.

  “Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt them? Somebody with a grudge, against them or their mother?”

  Jensen snorted. “Siena ticks everyone off. She’s a stuck-up witch and if your world doesn’t revolve around her she has no use for you. But the girls? Nah. They’re sweet. Julia is quiet and has her nose in a book when she isn’t filming a scene and Jessie spends all her spare time on the soccer field. Kid’s quite the athlete, or so I’ve heard.”

  “Has anyone made contact, asking for ransom, or making demands of any kind?” Marissa pressed.

  “Not so far. The girls are worth big bucks, so I’m surprised nobody has. Makes me wonder if this is even a kidnapping at all.”

  “What do you mean?” Marissa tilted her head curiously.

  Jensen swallowed a large bite of steak before answering. “They’re teenagers. Teenagers from the wealthy class. Those kinda kids go on benders, stay gone at weekend parties, you know, rich kid stuff.”

  “But you just said they were good, quiet girls,” Marissa pointed out.

  Jensen shrugged. “So? Even good kids have a wild streak.”

  “So you don’t think they were kidnapped.”

  “Didn’t say that. Just that it isn’t the only possibility.”

  Marissa gleaned less and less information from the remainder of her questions. It became increasingly clear that Jensen Davis was concerned with little beyond covering his butt and ensuring the continuation of his gravy train. They finished their meal and when the bill came, Jensen asked the server to split it. He paid his half, left a crappy tip, and said his good-byes. His fingers caressed her palm in a suggestive manner when he shook her hand and Marissa wasn’t sorry to see him go.

  “Can I get you anything else, miss?” the waiter asked after Jensen had departed.

  “A gallon of hand sanitizer would be great,” she said with a grimace.

  He laughed and took her card to run it at the machine, returning a few moments later with her receipt, a handful of Wet Naps, and some mints.

  “Best I can do,” he teased.

  “My hero!” Marissa laughed as she ripped open one of the little square packets and began to scrub her hands.

  The kid just grinned.

  Chapter 8

  At 12:50 on a gorgeous, sunny morning, Marissa arrived at the Marlow home. Her appointment wasn’t until 1:00, but through her research—though in this case it involved way more gossip magazines than usual—she learned that Siena was a busy and impatient woman.

  Marissa drove through a pair of wrought iron gates. Beyond the gates stood a large brick house that looked like it had been plucked from a 1800s Southern plantation and dropped amidst a well-maintained lawn.

  Mansions lined the winding street in this Beverly Hills neighborhood, taking up acres of land and flaunting the wealth of their owners. On her drive up, she’d passed the occasional expensive car that cost more than she’d make in her entire life.

  The Harlow house held true to show the trend of showy grandeur. However, there was something different about the brick and mortar plantation house. It was older than the surrounding mansions and possessed a charm they did not.

  Parking in the circular drive, Marissa exited her car and took a moment to enjoy the quiet. Then, before starting up the stone steps, she snapped a few pictures of the house, the visible grounds, and the stunning view of L.A. behind her. She took several of the gate as well, struck by how pretty the scrollwork was.

  Satisfied she had enough photographs, she climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. A prim-looking man answered the door, greeted her politely, and ushered her through a foyer that could hold Marissa’s en
tire apartment, easy.

  It was also the tackiest room she’d ever seen.

  The pink marble floor was covered by gaudy—and probably extremely expensive—rugs and the walls were covered in…well, she supposed it must be art. Whatever it was likely cost her yearly salary for one piece and she found herself wondering, not for the first time, who decided this crap was good. She made a mental note to ask Brand if he knew.

  The only redeeming quality the room had was the spill of natural light through a pair of large windows that flanked the door and the lush potted plants that sat in front of them, even if the pots themselves were a hideous brownish-purple.

  Her escort paused outside a closed door and knocked briskly.

  “Yes?” called a smoky female voice from within.

  Marissa assumed that would be Siena Marlow and her suspicion was confirmed a split-second later.

  “Miss Marlow, the reporter from The World at Large has arrived.”

  “Send her in.”

  Marissa entered a…parlor? Sitting room? Whatever its technical name, it was even tackier than the foyer had been and it was a struggle to hide her distaste. Colors clashed wildly, from the heavy pink velvet drapes to the yellow-and-burgundy rugs, and there were pillows on every surface. She would have to move at least five to be able to fit into the chair across from her hostess.

  Speaking of hosts, Marissa studied the woman who rose to greet her. She was pretty in a very Hollywood sort of way. Marissa would be surprised if there was an inch about her that hadn’t been nipped, tucked, lifted, augmented, and whatever else celebrities paid plastic surgeons beaucoup bucks for. From her bleach-blonde hair to the tips of her very-high-heeled designer shoes, Siena Marlow was more plastic and silicone than skin at this point. And she flaunted it shamelessly. Marissa was almost afraid that if the woman took too deep a breath, her perky DD’s would spill right out of the neckline of her clingy pink dress.

  “So you’re the reporter,” Siena said coyly.

  “Marissa Larkin,” Marissa replied, holding out a hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Siena grasped her hand gingerly as if worried she would catch something, then pointed to a chair.

  “Please have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Wine? A cocktail?”

  Is she serious? Marissa thought, it’s barely noon! Out loud she declined politely.

  Siena shrugged as if it were her loss before taking a sip from her own alcoholic beverage. Heavy, diamond-studded gold rings sparkled on her fingers and a stack of bracelets clanked together as she moved her arm.

  Marissa took out her recorder, a notebook, and a pen. She set the recorder on the glass coffee table between them and switched it on. Siena’s brilliant green eyes lit up and her posture straightened from the practiced slouch she’d been sitting in before.

  “I’d like to ask you some questions about your daughters,” Marissa began, “I understand they’ve been acting since they were quite young?”

  “Oh, yes,” Siena gushed, “Just like their mom! I was a model by age five and won every beauty pageant I was in, until I gave it up for acting. I was even crowned Miss California. Did you know I was almost chosen as the lead actress in Paris Forever?”

  Marissa blinked in surprise at the tangent but recovered quickly. “No, I wasn’t aware of that. You must be very talented. Your daughters—“

  Siena cut her off, eyes looking into a past that clearly still upset her. “I was this close but that slutty Angelique Henna got the role. I’m sure she was sleeping with the director or something. That seems like something she would do, don’t you think? She just looks like she’d be a slut. And the stories I’ve heard about her you wouldn’t even believe!”

  Marissa cleared her throat and tried to redirect the woman to the topic of her visit. “Can you tell me a bit more about Julia and Jessie?”

  Siena sighed. “Like what? They’re twins. They’ll be, um...thirteen?...fourteen next month. Can you believe I’m the mother of teenagers?” She gestured down at herself. “People mistake me for their older sister all the time and I love it! Guys fall all over themselves to get my attention at the clubs. I haven’t bought my own drinks since I turned twenty-one.”

  “I’m…sure they do,” Marissa said. What is wrong with this woman?

  Siena tilted her head and looked Marissa over critically. “With that skinny body, you could totally model. All those girls who walk the runway are skinny and knobby-kneed for some reason. You’d fit right in. So what’s your secret? Pilates? Hot yoga?”

  “I’m sorry?” Marissa blinked at her in confusion.

  “That’s all right, you can keep your secret. I’ve got a really great personal trainer. Hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. He just makes me...mmmm.” Siena shivered dramatically before changing topics yet again. “You have very pretty eyes, too. Are they really that color or are you wearing contacts? Contacts, right?”

  “Uh, this is my natural eye color. Now, about your daughters?”

  “Fine,” Siena huffed, “What else do you want to know? They work a lot and I travel, so we don’t see each other much.”

  Not surprising, Marissa thought, then said, “What can you tell me about the day they disappeared?”

  Siena shrugged. “Thomas—that’s the loser their agent hired as a bodyguard—drove them to the set like he did every day. I got a call a few hours later asking if the girls were coming to work. I said ‘How the heck should I know? Call Thomas and ask him.’ And then I guess somebody called the police. Those jerks came stomping in here, tracking dirt all over my Silk Isfahan rugs and demanding to see the girls’ rooms and interview the staff! Can you believe that? They were here for hours!”

  “That’s standard protocol,” Melissa replied. She was starting to get really fed up with this lady. “Has the kidnapper contacted you or have there been any ransom demands?”

  Siena waved a hand. “My cell number is very exclusive and only a few people have it so how would they call me for something like that?”

  “Has anyone in the family been contacted? A grandparent, cousins, friends…anyone?”

  “There isn’t any close family, at least not the we have anything to do with. I think my parents still live somewhere in northern California, but Julia and Jessie have never met them and I’m an only child, so they don’t have cousins. That’s how my mom and dad spent so much time on my modeling and acting. No siblings to try and steal the limelight, ya know?”

  “What about their agent? Mr. Davis?”

  “Jensen?” Siena rolled her eyes. “Nobody wants to talk to that little weasel. He’s not bad in the sack, though—“

  Marissa finally lost her patience. “Miss Marlow, do you understand that your children are missing? As in, gone, kidnapped, no one knows where they are?”

  A look of shocked indignation crossed Siena Marlow’s face before her over-plumped lips drooped into a pout. Her eyes rose to Marissa’s and they were icy. “Get out of my house. And you better not use what I’ve told you to publish some trashy smear-fest, because believe me, I have enough lawyers to sue you and that rag you work for into third world poverty.”

  Trying hard to contain her outrage at the gall of this woman, Marissa rose stiffly and gave Siena Marlow a tight smile as she collected her recorder and stowed it in her bag.

  “Thank you for your time, Miss Marlow, and I hope your daughters are found safe.”

  Siena didn’t reply; she was already tapping away at the screen of her phone. Madame Clueless was probably posting a rant on social media about being harassed by some nobody reporter.

  Marissa showed herself out, as her hostess had evidently intended. Her footsteps echoed forlornly on the ugly marble floors. She was struck again by the sheer tastelessness of the décor and made a face.

  “Miss Larkin?”

  The voice was soft, hesitant, almost fearful and Marissa paused with one hand on the doorknob. She turned her head and found a petite woman in a starched uniform standing at
the foot of the stairs, wringing her hands in distress. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat bun and her almond-shaped eyes were a deep brown.

  “I heard what you said to Miss Siena and…I…I want to help,” the woman continued after a moment of awkward silence. She glanced around fearfully and lowered her voice. “But we can’t talk here. We might be overheard.”

  “Oookay,” Marissa said, drawing the word out. “Where did you have in mind then?”

  “Come to the kitchen. Miss Siena never goes in there, so we should be safe to talk for a few minutes at least.” She beckoned Marissa to follow her down another hallway.

  Chapter 9

  Marissa soon found herself in an enormous kitchen. It was much more subdued than the rest of the house she’d seen so far. The entire kitchen was bright white except for the stainless steel appliances. There was a small table and chairs tucked into a breakfast nook under a window and they sat across from each other. The woman clasped her hands on the table. Her knuckles turned white with how hard she was clenching her fingers.

  “Thank you so much for talking to me, Miss Larkin,” the woman said a little breathlessly, “Miss Siena is going out tonight, so she’ll need me very soon.”

  Marissa bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making a noise of disgust. The woman’s twin daughters were missing and she continued to party like nothing was wrong. She had to wonder if the police were looking at Siena Marlow as a suspect. She would.

  “It’s not a problem...?”

  “Ming,” the woman introduced herself with a shy smile. “I’m the housekeeper.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ming.” Marissa returned the smile. “Now, what is it you wanted to tell me?”

  “Several things,” Ming said, “Things I know Miss Siena probably didn’t tell you...” She hesitated and her eyes darted around nervously.

  Marissa reached out a comforting hand. “It’s all right, Ming, you can tell me.”

  “Miss Siena received a ransom note in the mail this morning,” Ming admitted, eyes downcast and focused on their hands. “The person who kidnapped the girls is demanding $2,000,000 in cash by Friday or Julia and Jessie will be killed.”