Scandal:The Complete Series(18)
I’m talking the whole nine yards here: mascara, rouge, powder, lipstick, eye shadow and even eyeliner which I usually avoid because it tends to irritate my eyes.
More bad decisions ensue when I decide to call my mother while driving. It’s not the first time and it probably won’t be the last. Ella Wade can be a really bad girl. Then again, it’s probably an unwritten rule that you call your parents from the car, which could also be called dead time, so you don’t have to invest any real time in the communication.
“I spoke to Jim,” my mother says, after the initial questions about my health, eating and sleep. “He flew in to LAX last night to take care of the formalities.”
My throat seizes up. Jim must have flown to Los Angeles for the funeral arrangements once the body is released from the coroner’s office. Poor man, what a terrible ordeal to go through.
My mother keeps talking like she always does when she’s in denial or feeling lost. “I told him about you helping in the investigation,” she goes on. “He liked that. It made him feel better that you’re involved. He said he’d like to see you. He got married again, you know. Last year.”
“That’s good, at least he won’t go through it alone,” I say.
“I know, Ella. It got me thinking. What would I do if anything happened to you? What will happen to you when I’m gone? I should have given you a sibling. It should have been my top priority.”
“Mom, stop it, all this is pointless. We’re fine, we have each other and we’re all we need.”
It takes her a moment to respond. “That deadbeat father of yours should be hanged by the neck. At least, Madison’s mother is dead. What’s your father’s excuse? He just walked out on us and never came back. Son of a bitch.”
“Mom, calm down, please. We’re better off without him. I don’t even remember what it was like to have him around.”
It’s true. My real father left us when I was eight and if it weren’t for the few photos my mother has kept, I might have a hard time remembering what he looked like or how his laughter sounded or what he smelled like when he kissed me goodnight. No matter how much it hurt at the time, I’ve moved on.
My mother sighs. “You’re right. What’s on your agenda today?”
As soon as I tell her I’m heading for the Beverly Hills Police Department, I turn onto Rexford Drive and have to hang up. I really hope my mother will get out of her funk fast. I might have to spend the weekend with her.
Detective Esposito actually looks pleased to see me. It could be my paranoia or my guilty conscience or both that led me to believe otherwise when he called.
Today he’s dressed casual with dark jeans and a black t-shirt that accentuates his virile shoulders and pecs. Rick Esposito is made of the same rugged toughness that makes for the best TV detectives. From Rick Castle to Jack Larsen to Seeley Booth.
My mom would get all gooey for a real man like him.
“Ella, please, take a seat,” he says. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
He quickly finishes reviewing a folder on his desk before he finally turns his attention to me. “I read the report you sent to the Daily Scandal this morning.”
“How?” I say but then shake my head. “Never mind, it’s obvious you’re working closely with Mark Devlin.”
“Working together might be a stretch,” Esposito says. “Aiding each other in the investigation would be more appropriate.”
“How is Mark pivotal to the investigation?”
It’s a fair question but Esposito decides not to answer it. Instead, he opens the folder in front of him and takes out a hand-written page. “These are the latest pieces of information we have. Why don’t you take a look while we’re waiting to hear from the medical examiner?”
Esposito’s handwriting is small and dense, as if he used the full force of his hand to write. On top of the list is Jim’s arrival to town. “Will you question Madison’s father?” I ask.
“I was thinking that maybe you’d like to talk to him, interview him is what you’d call it I guess, before my department calls him, to ease him into the investigation.”
I nod, almost grateful. “I would like that, yes. Thank you for thinking of it. It’d be best if he talked to someone he knows first.”
“That’s settled then,” he says with a benevolent grin. I can’t deny it, he’s starting to grow on me with his masculine self-assurance, his good taste in clothes and décor and even his improving manners. Not in a Jaxson Cole kind of panty-dropping way, but I’m definitely liking him better today.