“Miss Leigh’s vehicle, a 2011 Barcelona Red Metallic Toyota Prius, license plate IMASTAR, has not been located. A spokesperson for the Los Angeles County Police Department said a search warrant for the vehicle was issued yesterday. Her apartment in Los Angeles was searched. The spokesperson reported there were no signs of a struggle, and it did not appear as if Miss Leigh had taken any belongings from her apartment. Police are searching for Christopher Clay, who was the last person seen with Miss Leigh. Mr. Clay is wanted for questioning. He is not considered a person of interest at this time.”

  A photo of Chris, the same one used when he was voted one of LA’s top ten bachelors, filled the screen. He was smiling, his sandy hair windblown and his eyes sparkling.

  “A one-hundred-thousand-dollar reward is being offered for information leading to the actress’s safe return.”

  Toots turned the television off. No one said a word. Grabbing her cigarettes, she went outside to the deck. Sophie followed her. Each sat in her own deck chair and lit up.

  The breeze from the ocean was still cool, the air quiet and gentle. Hues of violet, pale pink, and burnt orange rose from the aquamarine water. Seagulls cawed in the early-morning air. Lights from a variety of water vessels flashed in the distance. Waves crashed on the oyster-colored sand, white and frothy like a French latte.

  Toots gazed out at the beach, her thoughts reflecting the fright she felt.

  “You know Chris had nothing to do with that girl’s disappearance,” Sophie said gently.

  Toots nodded and couldn’t help it when a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I know, but I’m afraid, Soph. What if something terrible really has happened to that poor girl? What if Chris is accused of ... of harming her? I’ve dealt with a lot of problems in my life, but nothing like this. Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve tried his cell phone, his house, and, like Abby, I’ve sent a dozen e-mails. Chris always answers me, almost instantly. You know that.”

  Sophie placed her hand on Toots’s. “There is a perfectly logical explanation for this; I can feel it in my gut. That probably doesn’t help now, but you know I’m rarely wrong, or at least my gut isn’t.”

  Toots felt a bit encouraged. Sophie was right. Her gut was almost one hundred percent accurate. Toots had witnessed it many times. “Do you think there is anything you can do, you know, spirit-wise, to help locate this Laura Leigh?”

  “I can certainly try.”

  “Then let’s do it, right now.” Toots jumped off the deck chair. “Before Ida has to leave. She’s going to get her hair done at some high-class hair salon in Beverly Hills. She has to be there at nine o’clock.”

  “I wondered why she was all gussied up so early. I thought maybe the FedEx guy was making an early delivery. Ida’s such a slut.” Sophie crushed her cigarette out in the seashell ashtray.

  “Not that I’m aware of, but don’t say I didn’t warn you; I think Ida’s set her eyes on Goebel. Now that he’s lost all that weight, he’s a good-looking man. Not that he wasn’t handsome before. She hasn’t been with a man since Patel, at least not that I’m aware of.”

  Sophie lit another cigarette and passed it to Toots, then lit one for herself. “Goebel isn’t interested in her, trust me. She’s too prissy for him. I’m not worried, okay?” She blew smoke out in one big puff.

  “Remember, Ida likes a challenge. She is beautiful”—Toots turned to her friend—“but not nearly as beautiful as you.”

  “Oh, stop with the sappy shit. I know Ida’s easy on the eyes. I’m fine with that. Hell, we’re all easy on the eyes, especially for seniors.”

  They laughed at Sophie’s conceit.

  “Now, before we go back inside, I have something to tell you.” Toots whispered just in case. “I am going to get even with Ida. I have her new hairdresser’s phone number.”

  When Toots told Sophie of her plan they giggled just like they had in high school. As soon as they thought their laughter was under control, they would look at one another and start all over again.

  Poor Ida, Toots thought. She is in deep shit.

  Chapter 7

  Abby jerked upright, momentarily disoriented. Seeing that she was at home in her living room, safe and sound, she leaned back, remembering the events from last night. When she had returned from Chris’s, she’d been too tired to bother changing into her pajamas and crawling beneath the sheets. She’d lain down on the sofa, with Chester at her feet, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the cushion.

  Forcing herself into a sitting position, she cringed at the way she felt. Her neck was stiff, and her mouth was as dry as the Sahara during a drought. Chester, who had been disturbed by her movement, slowly hopped off the couch and headed for the back door. She unlocked the door and waited while Chester watered the lawn. When he finished, she whistled, and, now fully awake, he came running. “No squirrel watching today, Bud. We’ve got work to do.”

  In the kitchen, Abby prepared her morning pot of coffee, then filled Chester’s dish with kibble. She rinsed his water dish, refilled it with tap water, and said, “I’ll be right back.” Then she grabbed her cell phone from the coffee table and punched in Chris’s cell number. When it went straight to voice mail, she clicked off, as there was no point in leaving yet another message. There was no point in calling his house, either. She booted up her laptop, hoping against hope that he had sent her an e-mail. She scanned through the long list of e-mails, searching for his name, and again found nothing.

  Knowing there wasn’t anything she could do just then, Abby placed a quick call to The Informer to tell Josh she would be there later in the morning. She went back into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, then headed for the blessed relief of a shower.

  Stripping off her grimy clothes, she turned the water on and pulled the knob up for the shower. It took a couple minutes for the water to get hot enough, something she kept promising herself she was going to remedy later, but for now it was the least of her worries. Squirting grapefruit-scented body wash onto a mesh sponge, she quickly scrubbed, gave her hair a ten-second wash and rinse, then stepped onto the bath mat.

  Wrapping a huge bath sheet around her and a towel around her head, she wiped steam from the mirror with her hand. She brushed her teeth, savoring the fresh feeling. After smearing a light moisturizer on her face, she attacked her tangled hair.

  In her bedroom, she grabbed a pair of Levi’s and a black turtleneck T-shirt. She dressed quickly, then returned to the kitchen. Looking at her answering machine, she saw the red light flashing. Crossing her fingers and hoping for the best, she hit the PLAY button. Two calls from her mother. Poor Mom, Abby thought as she fast-forwarded through her messages. A call from Angelina, wanting to know next week’s assignment. She flashed through that, too. The last message was from a solicitor trying to sell her an ownership of a time-share unit in Florida. Still nothing from Chris.

  Damn. She was getting more worried by the hour. It was way out of character for him. She looked at the clock and quickly punched in her mother’s cell number.

  When there was no answer, she tried calling the beach house. When she still didn’t get an answer, she tried Sophie’s cell phone. No answer. She tried Ida’s and Mavis’s numbers, and they didn’t answer either. Something was going on, big-time.

  “Chester,” Abby called. “Let’s go.” She yanked her purse off the coffee table, then went back into the kitchen to turn off the coffeemaker and lock the back door. Grabbing her laptop, she didn’t bother putting it inside the case. In less than a minute, she was squealing out of her driveway. Early morning and neighbors be damned.

  The morning traffic in Los Angeles was horrific, more so than normal. Waiting for traffic to move, she searched for a radio station that offered news. When she located KABC, the sister station of her favorite local television station, she cranked up the volume.

  “Miss Leigh’s vehicle, a 2011 Barcelona Red Metallic Toyota Prius, license plate IMASTAR, has not been located. A spokesperson for the Los Angeles County Police Department said a search warrant for the vehicle was issued yesterday. Her apartment in Los Angeles was searched. The spokesperson reported there were no signs of a struggle, and it did not appear as if Miss Leigh had taken any belongings from her apartment. Police are searching for Christopher Clay, who was last seen with Miss Leigh. Mr. Clay is wanted for questioning. He is not considered a person of interest at this time.”

  Abby almost lost control of the car. A person of interest? She hated that terminology because she knew in the public’s mind that meant “suspect.” Knowing there was nothing she could do except focus her attention on the road, she flipped to another radio station, one that played classical music. She turned up the volume, then rolled down the driver’s side and passenger windows. Chester stuck his head out the window, his nose twitching in delight.

  Fearing something horrible had happened to her mother and godmothers, Abby drove eight miles over the speed limit, crossing her fingers that the California Highway Patrol wasn’t shooting their radar gun along that particular strip of the Pacific Coast Highway. Abby paid no attention to the scenic drive. When she had first moved to Los Angeles, she couldn’t get enough of the beach, but the novelty had quickly worn off. She was lucky if she made it to her mother’s beach house once a week.

  Her heart slowed a bit when she reached the turnoff to Malibu. It was so unlike her mother and the three Gs not to answer their phones. Abby was always in contact with them and knew for a fact they never went anywhere without their cell phones, especially her mother. So why weren’t they answering? She swerved to the right, making the final turn. In three minutes flat, she pulled into Toots’s driveway and flew out of the MINI Cooper, with Chester racing ahead of her. Knowing that Coco was on the other side of the door, Chester jumped on his back legs, his paws scratching at the door. “Down boy,” Abby whispered. She wasn’t sure what was going on behind the door, but knew enough to know she didn’t want to warn anyone of her presence. She fumbled with her key ring searching for the house key, and when she finally located it, she quietly inserted the key into the lock. Turning the knob, she slowly pushed the large door inward, preparing herself for what, she didn’t know, but her senses were on high alert.

  Knowing how all four women always gathered around the kitchen table, she went there first. Seeing four cups, napkins, and the sugar bowl and creamer, Abby knew they couldn’t be far away. She peered out to the deck, but there was no sign of them there. It was still early, just after eight o’clock, too early for the four of them to be out and about. Chester’s nails clicked on the hardwood floor, so if anyone was in the house and heard the sounds, Abby figured they would’ve made their presence known already. From her vantage point in the kitchen, she was able to see that the door to the dining room, the room reserved for Sophie’s séances, was closed. She headed over to the door and placed her ear against the wood. She heard Sophie asking the spirit world to guide her. Abby smiled, relieved and thinking she should have known. Where else would they be at this time of morning without their cell phones?

  Having solved that mystery, she went back to the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee. She knew their habits, and hadn’t had nearly enough caffeine herself. Chester continued to hang out by the door, knowing Coco was inside, most likely sitting on Mavis’s lap.

  Abby removed the cups from the table and replaced them with clean ones. She refilled the creamer and the sugar bowl. Her stomach growled even though she’d had bacon and eggs late last night. In the fridge, she saw the usual platter of Mavis’s fresh fruit and helped herself. When the coffee finished perking, she poured herself a cup and sat down at the table to drink it in peace. Since she knew better than to interrupt the séance, she made herself comfortable and waited. In the meantime, she used her mother’s house phone and tried to call Chris again. Still no answer. Abby was beginning to think he was spending the week with some unknown female. If he was, she was never going to speak to him again. And if he wasn’t? That simply didn’t bear thinking about.

  In the dining room, Sophie tried every trick she knew and was unable to make contact with any spirit, good or bad. She even tried her self-induced trance, and still nothing worked.

  “I give up,” she finally said. “Apparently my stars aren’t properly aligned, or the moon isn’t in the seventh house. We can try later; maybe Goebel will join us.”

  Mavis stood up, one arm clutching Coco, and walked around the room, blowing out the candles. Toots put the rocks glass in the box on the floor. Ida watched.

  At that moment, Coco started squirming, trying to jump out of Mavis’s arms. “Coco, settle down,” Mavis soothed. “I don’t know what is wrong with her.”

  “Listen,” Toots said, leaning against the heavy door.

  They gathered at the door, and the little Chihuahua went crazy.

  Toots opened the door. Chester stood there in all his glory, his bushy tail wagging ninety miles a minute. Coco practically sprang out of Mavis’s arms. Stepping out of the room, Toots bypassed the two lovebirds.

  “Abby Simpson, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  “Trust me, I tried. I called the house and all of your cell phones. I was afraid something had happened. Isn’t it a bit early for a séance? I thought you reserved those for evenings only.”

  Sophie came over to the table and kissed Abby’s cheek. “I can do this anytime. It’s the spirits that seem to be so damned finicky today.”

  Abby took a bite out of a strawberry. “Does this early-morning session have anything to do with Chris?”

  Toots poured a fresh cup of coffee for herself, and sat next to Abby. “I take it you haven’t heard from him either. I’ve tried his cell number and sent dozens of e-mails. I’m really starting to get worried.”

  “I know. I haven’t heard a single word. It’s just not like Chris to do this. Loans out his condo for a week, doesn’t mention a thing, then boom, he’s missing, along with one of his clients. I’ve got a reporter staking out Laura’s apartment, and tonight I’ll go back to Hot Wired and The Buzz, see what I can learn.”

  “Should we file a missing persons report?” Mavis asked. “I would hate to think we’re not doing everything we can to locate Chris.”

  Abby shook her head. “He’s not officially missing, or that’s what the police would tell us if we tried to file a report. He loaned his condo to a friend, said he had plans. The cops won’t waste their manpower, trust me.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Sophie said. “Your mother has called Goebel. He’s arriving this afternoon.” Sophie looked at Toots. “Oops. I hope it was okay to mention this?”

  “Yes, of course it is,” Toots answered. “Abby, I called Goebel last night. He’ll be here this afternoon. He can poke around, see if there is any connection between Chris and Laura Leigh. You know he was a detective for the New York City Police Department for over thirty years.”

  “Isn’t he the guy that solved Thomas’s murder?” Abby asked even though she knew full well that he was.

  “The one and only,” Ida said, joining in on the conversation. “I hate to be a party pooper, but I have a limo coming to take me to the salon, and it should be here any minute. Abby, you’ll call me the minute you hear any news?”

  “If you don’t hear it from me directly, then I’ll call Mom.”

  Ida sashayed to where Abby sat. She gave her goddaughter an air kiss, then grabbed her purse and left.

  “That’s the strangest woman,” Sophie said. “I’m going to smoke, Toots. You wanna join me?”

  “Yes, but I have a phone call to make first.” She winked at Sophie, then went upstairs to make her call in private.

  Mavis and Abby followed Sophie outside, where she lit up one of her Marlboro Lights.

  “I wish you and Mom would give up that nasty habit,” Abby said. “It’s almost a crime to smoke nowadays. Did you know that in New York City, they are talking about banning smoking outdoors in parks, on beaches, and in other outdoor areas? “

  “I know, kiddo, but we’ve cut down, haven’t we Mavis?”

  Mavis nodded. “They certainly haven’t been smoking as soon as they wake up. I’m going to continue to nag them until they give up their nasty habit and overcome their addiction. If I can give up all those potato chips and ice cream, I know they can do this if they set their minds to it.”

  “Set their minds to what?” Toots asked, stepping outside.

  “Abby wants us to stop smoking,” Sophie said, crushing her cigarette out.

  “I know, and I am going to give it serious thought. We aren’t smoking quite as much as we used to.” Toots conscientiously refrained from lighting up. If it bothered Abby that much, she wouldn’t smoke in front of her.

  “I’m glad,” Abby said.

  “Did you see the news?” Toots asked Abby. “If Chris is out there somewhere, I wish he would call one of us and at least let someone know he’s alive and not with that barely out of her teens starlet. Of course, I hope she isn’t in danger, either. This is just not right!”

  “I heard a report on the drive over. If he doesn’t show up soon, or call someone, and if Laura Leigh isn’t located, theories about Chris’s involvement are just going to garner more and more attention. And that is not something someone in Chris’s position needs.”

  Toots teared up again. “If he’s able to, Abby. For all we know, he could have been in a car accident. He could be lying unconscious somewhere, or, God forbid ... I won’t even say the words out loud. Are they looking for his vehicle, too?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m certainly going to find out. Or at least give it my best shot. My source at the police station should be on duty now. Give me a minute.”

  Abby reached for her cell phone. She punched in the number and walked to the edge of the deck, out of hearing distance. Protecting her source.