Then I came to my senses and said, “Have you forgotten about Sarah Covington? Her engagement? To Ty?”
“I don’t know for sure that she’s engaged to Ty, remember? I told you I suspected it because of . . . everything,” Marcie said.
“Yes, I remember,” I said. I stewed for a minute, then said, “I have to know for sure if they’re engaged.”
“You could ask his personal assistant,” Marcie said.
I’d thought about asking Amber. We’d always gotten along. She’d understand why I wanted to know, plus she wouldn’t tell Ty if I asked her not to. I had that duffel bag full of Ty’s things in the closet of my second bedroom. I could use it as cover to call Amber, then ask about him.
I shook my head. “I’m not going to do the ex-girlfriend stalker thing. Would you find out for me?”
“Of course,” Marcie said. She was quiet for a minute, then said, “But if it turns out that Ty really is engaged to Sarah, are you going to be okay with it?”
Good question. Wish I knew the answer.
CHAPTER 16
I’d been busy all morning doing actual work for my actual job. It was no way to start a day.
I’d gotten a lot done, though. I double-checked every detail of Sheridan Adams’s party and studied her file to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. I hadn’t.
I’d put in a call to Lyle, the owner of the company hired to do the electrical, sound, and construction at her estate on the day of the event. Jewel had already set up everything with him, which made my job easier. Kayla had told me Lyle had been a Hollywood stuntman and most of his crew also did construction on television and movie sets.
He told me that everything needed for the Cirque du Soleil dancers to perform the “Lady Madonna” number Sheridan had requested would be ready—I saw no reason to mention that I hadn’t secured the actual performers yet. Lyle hadn’t complained, even though it was kind of last minute. I got the feeling he was used to dealing with this sort of thing.
I spent some time on Annette Bachman’s birthday party for her pooch Minnie, and sent her an e-mail suggesting a Hollywood-themed party, complete with a red carpet, a lighted archway for photos by the paparazzi—which I’d oh so cleverly termed “puparazzi”—hanging stars and banners, and a personalized miniature Oscar for everyone to take home.
I didn’t know whether Annette would go for it. Maybe I’d suggested it because I had Sheridan Adams’s event on my mind; at least Minnie’s guests would be easier to please.
At that point, I felt as if I’d done enough for L.A. Affairs for one morning. Time to get to my own personal business.
I started by calling Mrs. Quinn at the employment agency. I needed to get this housekeeper thing finished up.
“I’m working on it every day,” she assured me.
I thought about threatening to take my business elsewhere, but I suspected she’d be relieved.
“I’m anxious to get this concluded,” I told her.
“As am I,” she said.
I could tell by her tone that she’d never meant anything more in her entire life.
“I’ll let you know the minute I have a potential candidate,” Mrs. Quinn said.
I thanked her and hung up.
It wasn’t quite time to head out for lunch, yet I saw no reason to linger in my office and run the risk of finding any more work to do. I went to the breakroom and was a little disappointed that no one else was there to chat with. I guess they were all at their desks working—how weird was that. I got a soda from the vending machine and flipped through Elle magazine until my lunch hour rolled around.
I returned to my office thinking I’d take another run at Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s at the Sherman Oaks mall in what was proving a very difficult hunt for the Enchantress evening bag. Marcie and I hadn’t found one at Nordstrom last night, but I did buy an absolutely perfect cocktail dress to wear to Sheridan Adams’s party. Even though I’d be on duty that night, I needed to fit in.
I grabbed my cell phone and saw that I had a missed call.
Yikes! It was from Detective Shuman.
I called him immediately.
“Haley, I’m—I’m glad you called back,” he said when he picked up.
Shuman sounded like he was stressed out to the max. Not good.
“Can—can you get away?” he asked.
Something major must have happened. He’d never reached out to me like this before.
“Of course,” I said, using my I’m-here-for-you voice.
I don’t use that one very often.
“Where can I meet you?” I asked. “Where are you?”
“I’m in Bellflower,” he said.