Jinxed Read online

  “That's why it's good you invited your family to the wedding. Blood is thicker than water.”

  “They're not really my blood. They're Haskell's blood.”

  “Whatever,” Phyllis mumbled as she turned down Rodeo Drive. “By the way, where's Edward's family?”

  “He has none,” Lucretia answered sadly.

  “None? Everybody has a cousin hidden somewhere.”

  “I think it's too painful for him to talk about,” Lucretia said simply as they passed one designer store after another.

  Oh, brother, Phyllis thought as she checked her watch. She was missing her favorite show.

  In Saks, Lucretia found a beaded pink dress with matching shoes.

  “You look lovely,” the salesgirls all told her.

  “It's as good as it gets,” Lucretia stated, smiling at her reflection. “Now, let's find something for Phyllis.”

  “I don't need anything,” Phyllis protested.

  “Yes, you do.”

  Fifteen minutes later, when Phyllis disappeared into the dressing room with a handful of dresses, the reverential saleswoman stared chatting with Lucretia. “I haven't seen you before. Have you lived here long?”

  “Years ago, I lived here,” Lucretia began. “I was a silent film star. It was such a wonderful life . . .”

  By the time Phyllis had tried everything on and finally picked a handsome silk suit for the big day, Lucretia was wrapping up her life story. “I made millions on a dot-com, and now I'm getting married again.”

  “Husband number six. What a wonderful story. And to think you were a silent screen star. You're an inspiration to us all.”

  Lucretia smiled. “We're going down to pick up our marriage license this afternoon. And on Sunday I'll wear my beautiful dress from Saks.”

  As soon as Lucretia and Phyllis left the store with their purchases, the saleswoman picked up the phone. “I have a great piece of PR for us,” she began.

  9

  Regan let herself into room 178, a plain, inexpensive hotel room with a double bed, small desk, ample-sized armoire with a television and several drawers, and two nightstands. Regan often felt deflated when she checked into one of these sterile hotel rooms. The sight of the brownish gray spread and curtains could make anyone's serotonin levels drop. Perhaps to counter that feeling Whitney had made this place her own. A couple of needlepoint pillows were on the bed, framed pictures were on the desk, a colorful hat was perched on top of the armoire, and candles similar to the ones Regan had seen at Altered States abounded.

  It wouldn't take long to look around.

  A sliding glass door opened out over the hills toward the Pacific. The room might not be the most luxurious, but the view was great.

  Regan sat at the desk and picked up one of the pictures. It was Whitney and Lilac. They looked so much alike. Another photo showed Whitney standing between two men who looked as if they were related. Lilac had mentioned that Whitney was close to her two uncles, explaining that Whitney's father was a flake who had taken off when she was a baby. No one had heard from him in years.

  Regan pulled open the desk drawer. There was a copy of the script Jinxed. On the front page the name “Judy” was written in red. Regan flipped through the script and noted that all of the character Judy's lines were highlighted. If she went away for a few days, I'm surprised that she didn't bring the script with her, Regan thought.

  Regan pulled the drawer open a bit more and discovered an address book and a day planner. She opened the planner to today's date, and of course it was blank. On Sunday was Mother's Day. A brief survey of the other pages didn't provide any other information, but a piece of paper in the back of the book fell out. Regan read, “Things to do.”

  1. Get Mom a good present for Mother's Day. Pottery?

  2. Skin cream

  3. Vitamins

  4. GET CALM

  Wow, Regan thought. When did she write this list? A quick look through the remaining drawers revealed nothing unusual. Regan found a big empty suitcase in the closet. Toiletries were in the bathroom, but there was no sign of a toothbrush or toothpaste.

  On her way out Regan spotted a magazine that had fallen between the bed and the nightstand: Destinations and Diversions. Inside were a lot of notations next to ads for restaurants, hotels, and spas in central California. “I'm sure you don't mind if I borrow this, Whitney,” Regan said aloud. “I just hope it helps me find you.”

  The clock radio on the table read 12:15.

  Time for lunch, Regan thought as she exited the room.

  10

  Whitney Weldon had had a rough week. She'd gotten involved-with the director, Frank Kipsman, and they had to keep it secret until the movie was finished. She was so worried about doing a good job, and Frank was worried because they were running out of money. And her agent had phoned her to say she'd just lost out on another part to an actress who, it seemed, would always be getting in her way.

  Last night she'd driven out to the beach, headed north, and checked into a little motel right on the water. This morning she'd slept late and then walked the beach restlessly. She needed to get centered. Her thoughts kept returning to the career seminar that Ricky, one of the production assistants, had mentioned. He said there was a great program at a retreat in the hills on Saturday. It was something along the lines of EST and only for actors. There were only a few spaces left, so he told her not to tell anybody else. At first she balked, but her mind kept coming back to the seminar.

  Maybe I should go, she thought. Maybe it will help me. I have nothing else to do, and Frank is heading down to Los Angeles to try to raise money for the film. Whitney dug in her purse for the number Ricky had given her. She stared at the little piece of paper for several moments. Did she want to be that vulnerable? Whitney imagined that she'd be better known than any of the other actors there.

  But she'd just missed out on a big part.

  Grabbing the cell phone from the bottom of her purse, she turned it on. She dialed the number of the seminar and actually talked to the guy who was running it. He was a director and screenwriter, and sounded so pleased that she'd be joining them. The seminar would cost $500 and end Sunday morning. That would be perfect. She shut off her phone, not bothering to check the messages.

  “Good,” she said aloud. “I've taken a positive step.” She had half a mind to go back to the hotel in Unxta and spend the night. It was closer to the retreat, and she could pick up some comfortable clothing. Many of these kinds of seminars had you sitting on the floor all day.

  Nah, I want to stay away from that vibe. I'll stay right here, she decided, as she stared out at the churning waters of the Pacific.

  11

  A full luncheon buffet was ready in the park for the cast and crew of Jinxed. The table was filled with everything from salad to macaroni to sandwich makings. Hot dogs and hamburgers were on the grill. Fruit, cookies, and candy were on display. Five minutes after the last scene of the morning was finished, a long line had formed at the buffet table.

  Regan walked up the block to the park and spotted Joanne.

  “Over here, Regan,” she waved.

  Regan made her way to Joanne's table in the shade, amazed as always at how many people work on a movie set. It was a beautiful day, and everyone seemed glad to be outside. The tables were filling up, and the barbecue was smoking. Regan wondered how many vegetarians were in the bunch and if they were offended by the smell of the grilled meat.

  “Regan, would you like some lunch?” Joanne asked.

  “Thanks. I'll wait till the line gets shorter.”

  A sixtyish woman with striking red hair, wearing black stretch pants, a white overblouse, and sneakers, came barreling over to the table. Big earrings and an oversized pair of glasses completed the look. Regan could tell immediately that she wasn't a shrinking violet.

  “I'm Molly. I do makeup.”

  “Hi, Molly.”

  “Joanne told me you're looking for Whitney. Is everything all right?”


  “Yes, I think so,” Regan answered honestly. “A family wedding came up, and they'd like her to be there on Sunday, so I'm trying to find her.”

  Molly pushed the glasses back on her nose. “I know yesterday she wasn't very happy.” She sat down on the bench next to Regan. “When you do people's makeup, you get close. You talk. She mentioned something about really wanting to work on her acting, that she really wanted to learn how to ‘let go.’ Not that she's not good now. I really think she's going to be a star.”

  “Do you know if she takes any acting classes?” Regan asked.

  “Yes. She said she studies with a guy named Clay Ruleman in Beverly Hills. A lot of the actors I've worked with swear by him.”

  “I bet she wouldn't have gone down there for the weekend,” Regan mused.

  “She might have. He has a Saturday class.”

  “It's worth checking out,” Regan said.

  “Whitney also likes to hike. She finds it very relaxing.”

  Oh, great, Regan thought. Finding a hiker in California is like finding a needle in a haystack.

  Over a hot dog and a Coke, the only other thing Regan learned was that the hotel bar was where the movie people would congregate for a drink. Whitney had stopped by a couple of times for a glass of wine, but she always went to bed early. It was obvious that Whitney was nervous about doing a good job on the film—it was her first lead role—and she'd gone away for the weekend to relax.

  Regan handed out numerous cards with her cell phone number on it and asked, “If anyone sees or hears from Whitney, please have her call me.”

  Back in her car, Regan picked up her cell phone and asked information for Clay Ruleman's studio. A minute later she learned there was no Saturday class this week. Clay was out of town.

  Regan started the car. She drove past the house where the filming was taking place. Inside, Frank Kipsman was eating his lunch alone. He had no idea she was looking for Whitney.

  12

  Rex had rented the most nondescript SUV with the darkest tinted windows allowable by law. He would have preferred a convertible so he could soak up a few rays, but he knew that on this job he'd have to keep as low a profile as possible. As he headed up the highway toward Unxta, Rex started to get a little anxious. Five million dollars. That's how much he'd get if he kept Whitney Weldon away until after the wedding on Sunday.

  Rex laughed nervously. Boy, did Eddie luck out. This was the biggest deal ever. And it was a fluke that old Lucretia had made so much money off that dot-com. If she hadn't pulled out, she would have lost her whole investment like so many others who had put their money into the company. Rex couldn't believe that all Eddie had been hired to do was find investors—one of his only honest jobs. Who would have guessed that he'd reap such benefits while the whiz kids who hired him were now wiped out? Wait until they found out that Eddie was about to get a permanent seat on the gravy train, all thanks to their business that was now kaput.

  Running his hand through his hair, Rex sighed. How many years would Eddie have to put in before Lucretia kicked the bucket? Hell, for another five million he'd take care of things.

  It took less than two hours to reach the town of Unxta. Rex headed straight for the hotel that housed the Jinxed production office. I'll have a little lunch at the hotel and see what I can find out, he thought. But when he was about to turn into the hotel parking lot, Rex noticed a caravan of movie trucks parked up the street.

  He steered the SUV up the block. “Someone's having a picnic,” he muttered as he took in the setup in the park. Rex grabbed the nearest parking space, rolled down the window, and turned off the motor. He was just in time to hear a woman with a baseball cap tell another woman that a Regan Reilly would be here for lunch and she was looking for Whitney Weldon. He couldn't believe his luck. Regan Reilly was the private investigator.

  I'll wait until she gets here, he thought. Then I'll tail her and see what she's doing to find Whitney. And if she does find her, then I'll nab both of them. Whitney Weldon and Regan Reilly would have to disappear together. Rex laughed. Old Eddie would really be getting two for the price of one.

  A few minutes later a young, dark-haired woman who turned out to be Regan Reilly appeared. Rex got out and sat on a bench near the sidewalk, as close as possible to where Reilly was having her lunch. When she left the park, he got in his car and followed her. He didn't intend to let her out of his sight.

  13

  Regan sat in her car and thumbed through the copy of Destinations and Diversions she had taken from Whitney's room. It was a local travel magazine hyping hotels, restaurants, recreational activities, and beaches. Santa Barbara County had one hundred miles of outstanding California coastline. Whitney had circled the section on beaches and had exclamation points next to every beach mentioned. That really narrows it down, Regan thought as she grimaced. Frustrated, she put the magazine down on the seat.

  In the hotel parking lot, everything was quiet. It was midafternoon, the time of day when it was hot and energy levels dropped. Regan remembered that in the summertime when she was a kid, she'd splash around in the local pool all afternoon, never getting tired. As an adult you have to forge through the heat of the day. It would be nice to sit in the shade with a nice glass of lemonade, Regan thought.

  She got out her legal pad and started to make notes. Whitney was worried about her performance. She wanted to work on her acting. Her mother said she liked to go on these weekends by herself. Go with the flow. Regan had tried that a couple of times but always ended up going home to her apartment and calling a friend to get together for dinner. She'd spent enough time alone working on her cases. And after growing up as an only child, Regan preferred to be alone in her apartment rather than on the road where everyone else seemed to be with a group.

  But if someone wanted to be alone, where would they go?

  She had a hunch that Whitney would have headed to the beach.

  Regan turned on the engine, proceeded out of the parking lot, and headed back to the highway. Whitney would go north, Regan thought. That's where she had to end up on Sunday. She probably wouldn't have headed back in the direction of Los Angeles.

  Regan took Route 1 and stopped at a dozen hotels and motels along the way. None of the guests anywhere was registered as Whitney Weldon. Regan started compiling a list. She called Lilac and told her that she wanted to come up and get some help from her and her brothers in calling all the hotels and motels listed in the travel magazine.

  At 5:00 Regan once again found herself traveling down the bumpy road to the winery. All was quiet when she arrived. Inside the lodge Lilac was behind the reception desk. She got up to greet Regan and once again looked like Mother Earth with her peasant blouse, long flowing skirt, and clodhopper sandals.

  “Wow. I'm so glad you're here, Regan. Earl and Leon are dying to meet you. Let me get them.”

  Lilac ran off, and Regan got a chance to look around more thoroughly than she had the day before. The main lodge was certainly handsome. It had a rustic feeling. Large windows overlooked the vineyards and softly rolling hills. Glass doors opened onto a large deck. The bedrooms were located at one end of the reception hall, and the dining room at the other.

  Ten minutes later, Regan, Lilac, Leon, and Earl were seated on the back deck, with lemonade glasses in their hands.

  “Are you sure you don't want some of our wine?” Leon asked. “We have a stunning pinot noir and a wonderful, buttery chardonnay.”

  “Later,” Regan promised.

  The two brothers appeared to be completely opposite types. Leon was in tight jeans and a T-shirt, and had a macho appearance. His skin was deeply tanned, his hair was dark, and he sported a rather bushy mustache. His body was muscular and compact, and looked as if he spent a lot of time doing physical labor. Earl, on the other hand, was tall, thin, and angular. His head was shaved, and he was wearing what could have passed as gauzy cotton pajamas and a pair of flip-flops.

  It's amazing, Regan thought, the different typ
es who come from the same parents. She wondered what a brother or sister of hers would have been like.

  And there was no mistaking that Lilac had been a hippie in her day. She had long straight blond hair flecked with gray, wore no makeup, and looked like an ad for granola. Her attractiveness was otherworldly. Regan could imagine her twenty-five years ago naming her newborn child Freshness. All three siblings were baby boomers now in their fifties.

  “It's pretty amazing,” Regan said. “The three of you living and working all together.”

  “It's always been my dream to have a winery,” Leon told Regan. “I like to work with dirt.”

  “Uh-huh.” Regan nodded her head.

  “Our grandfather over in Italy made wine in the bathtub. From what I understand, it didn't win any medals for taste, but he loved it. When my mother moved to this country with my father, whom she met during World War II, she was always sending pictures of the California vineyards to my grandfather in Italy. Grandpa came to visit a couple of times before he died. I can still hear him saying, ‘Leon, the best thing you can do is work the land. Feel the dirt in your fingers.’ ”

  The grapes between your toes, Regan thought.

  “Trouble is, I had a job as a tree trimmer and was making pretty good money. I was married at the time and had a wife to support. I didn't have enough to buy a decent vineyard. Then a few years ago I saw a notice that this place was going on the auction block. It's supposedly haunted. It's not very big, but it was cheap! I couldn't believe it. I couldn't swing it on my own, so I persuaded my brother and sister to invest in it with me. We inherited a little bit of money when our parents died.”

  Earl and Lilac smiled at their brother.

  “Earl's got the meditation stuff going. Lilac runs the gift shop and the tastings and the bed-and-breakfast. We want this place to be a nice boutique winery that's a little different, a ‘get-away-from-it-all kind of place,’ you know?”