Page 22 of Wild Idol
Sable hesitated. “I really can’t say who was doing what. I mean, I’d be lying if I said nobody did drugs at the Pearl Room. But I don’t think anyone would be brazen enough to do it out in the open.”
“Even in the privacy of the VIP room?”
Sable hesitated.
Everett stepped in. “Gentlemen, you know how things can get out of hand. Celebrities and cocaine go together like hookers and politicians.”
“I never mentioned what she overdosed on,” I said, staring at him.
Everett’s cheeks flushed, and he stammered, “I just assumed. It seems to be the drug of choice.”
“Can you tell me who else was present that night?”
Sable shared another uncomfortable glance with Everett. “To tell you the truth, my memory of that evening is a little foggy. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I had a lot to drink. Maybe too much. My single hit number one. I celebrated a little.” Then she added, “I paid for it in the morning, trust me.”
I contemplated bringing up her recent stint in rehab but thought better of it.
I dug into my pocket and handed her a card. “If anythingshould come back to you about the evening, please get in touch.”
Sable took the card with a smile. “Will do.”
“I do hope you find who caused the girl’s death,“ Everett said. “What did you say her name was?”
“Haley. Were you at the Pearl Room that night?”
Everett shook his head.“To tell you the truth, I don’t care much for those kinds of functions. It’s not really my speed.” He smiled. “I’ll leave that to the young and pretty crowd.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Everett,“ Sable said. “You’re not that old, and you might qualify as pretty.”
He chuckled. “God bless you.”
We said our goodbyes, and the two escorted us to the door.
We stepped outside and walked back toward the Porsche.
Jack said, “What are the odds she’s at the Pearl Room the night of Haley‘s death, then someone tries to kill her two days later?”
“I don’t know. Seems a little suspicious to me.”
“This might be a stretch, but what if someone close to Haley saw that picture of the two of them together? Blamed her death on Sable?”
It was an interesting concept, but I shook my head. “Whoever tried to kill Sable was a professional. They didn’t screw around. Gunshot to the face and burning the car to destroy evidence… That took a bit of planning.”
Jack dismissed the notion. “How complicated is it to run someone off the road, shoot them, and torch the car to cover evidence?”
I shrugged and pulled my phone from my pocket as I climbed into the Porsche. I sent Brenda a text. [I think Jane Doe in the Lamborghini is Emily Fowler.]
[I’ll get on it in the morning. But I can tell you right now I won’t be able to match dental records. The victim’s face was obliterated with a .45.]
13
It was late, but we decided to visit Emily Fowler’s mother. I had pulled Emily‘s DMV photo. She looked remarkably similar to Sable. However, in the DMV photo, she had long brown hair and a slightly bigger nose. With a little makeup and a dye job, she could easily pass for the pop star.
This wasn’t a death notification, but we needed to get some information.
The lights were out in the home. It was a quaint little cottage on Glimmer Park with mint green siding, white trim, and a forest green door. The yard was well maintained, and a colorful flower bed bloomed. A lone palm tree towered overhead, and a white picket fence surrounded the yard. Thin white columns supported the veranda, and there was a swinging bench for relaxing on those pleasant evenings.
I put a heavy fist against the door and rang the bell a few times.
