Not So Model Home

CHAPTER 28


A Pair Of Well-Fitted Trousers Can Be Very Revealing

We filmed all afternoon and into the evening. You could cut the excitement with a knife. The guys were all abuzz with the idea that the long ordeal of the show was about to end and one of them would be rich beyond belief. I had to admit that I was no longer sure who was going to be declared the winner. Viewers were confounded, too, as Jeremy had allowed the conflicts to die down and permitted the guys to get all warm and fuzzy—all part of his plan, or arc, as I should say. Jeremy was now looking for the awww factor. The fights and drama of the beginning episodes were there to get viewers to tune in. Now was the time to show “the strength of the characters.” And it was working. The guys, turning from just plain disgusting to almost cuddly, whipsawed viewers’ emotions, keeping them glued to their TVs or computers. People started asking themselves whether they judged the guys too harshly. After all, they now seemed like perfect gentlemen, well, after two deaths and Darryn’s arrival. And then I understood why Jeremy had Darryn join the show out of the blue: The time was ready for the guys to undergo transformations. And change they did. You liked these characters now. You saw a soft, caring, vulnerable side that wasn’t there before. The arc, again. Jeremy was playing us all like a Stradivarius. I had a newfound respect for him. He couldn’t tell us about the change that was going to occur. It had to happen naturally, with Darryn as the catalyst in order to be real. Funny, in all this fakery, there was some reality.

This was all fine and dandy for the guys, but this change of plot had left me stranded. I could no longer be the wisecracking fag hag, firing zingers from the safety of my bunker that I often occupied with Aurora. I now had to like these guys and, worse, show it. But lo and behold, I started to. I did see that underneath all the forced reality of the beginning of the series, there really were human beings there.

So why this big change of heart? Simple. I saw what the show had made me become . . . No, what I allowed myself to become. The show didn’t actually make me do anything. I did it to myself. Celebrity went to my head. But I got over myself in the nick of time before I became a real a*shole. So it was feelings of guilt, pride, and remorse that made me change course. Well, that and almost getting caught having an affair with Ken’s best friend, and also taking a look in the mirror after months of barhopping and seeing Courtney Love staring back at me. If that’s not enough to scare some sense into you, I don’t know what will. We wrapped for the day at 8:30 P.M. I was dead tired. But I still wanted to take photos of the homeless man’s suit and send them to Anderson & Sheppard before I went to bed. Jerry then could contact them in the middle of the night before they closed on Saturday afternoon their time. There was a lot of work to do tomorrow.



I met Jerry for breakfast to discuss our game plan for the day and weekend. We had to strike in a matter of days, so we had a lot of people to talk to, a lot of leads to investigate.

“I called Anderson & Sheppard at one A.M. and gave them a list of the guys on the show, including Ian and Lance Greenly, just to make sure.”

“Lance spends some big bucks on clothes. It could have been him.”

“They said they would look through their list of clients and would get back to me today. Do you know that besides suiting Fred Astaire and Gary Cooper, they made suits for Marlene Dietrich?”

“I knew that. That’s why when I saw the label in the suit, I knew we’d have no trouble finding the owner. They’re very, very high end, so very few men would be clients of theirs. Plus, they keep detailed records of their customers, besides their measurements.”

“Oh, they said they got the pictures of the suit when they got in this morning. They wanted to impress upon you that they can replace the pants since they still have some cloth from that pattern left over. Isn’t it wonderful that your attacker was wearing well-tailored pants?”

“My neighborhood has a very strict dress code for muggers, Jerry.”

“Oh, I got the Chief of Police to put a rush on our DNA samples. We should have the results early Monday. And I talked to Jeremy last night on the phone.”

“Did he reveal anything?”

“Certainly not the contest winner.”

“I tried that already with Aurora. She’s staying mum on that matter. So Jeremy wasn’t able to shed any light on the murders?”

“No, he’s ecstatic that the show is doing so well. And that it’s about over.

“What about the footprint, Jerry. Of my mugger?”

“We weren’t able to match it with any of the shoes belonging to the guys in the show. Ian and Lance Greenly included.”

“But the suit showed up.”

“But no shoes. I checked with the Hyatt. The Dumpster is emptied twice a week. If they were dumped in there with the suit, they’re long gone. So the homeless guy didn’t have nice shoes on when you got the suit?”

“No, he wasn’t wearing any shoes. Oh well, it doesn’t matter, Jerry. The suit ties one of the cast members to my attack. It’s proof.”

Jerry’s phone rang. “I better get this. It’s from overseas from the look of the phone number,” he said, hitting the Answer button and putting the phone to his ear. “Detective Jerry Hallander here. Oh yes, thank you so much for calling back. You did? Noooooooo! Are you sure? . . . Yes, I’m sure you keep very detailed ledgers. Now, you’re sure? Okay, I thank you for getting the answer to me so quickly and on such short notice. Thank you very much.”

Jerry hung up the phone and stared at me.

“Yes? Jerry?” I said, snapping my fingers in front of his face to wake him from his trance.

“You’re not going to believe this, Amanda.”

“What?!” I asked, dying for the answer. “Who do the pants belong to?”

“What?” he asked, still in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Jerry. That was grammatically incorrect. To whom do the pants belong?”

“Darryn Novolo.”



By the time the shock wore off Jerry’s face, I was smiling from ear to ear.

“I just can’t believe it. I just can’t,” he repeated over and over.

“And why is that, Jerry?”

“First of all, he’s seems like such a really nice guy. Not capable of harming a fly.”

“And what’s your second objection?”

“He wasn’t even in town when Keith was murdered. I checked. He was just finishing a show for Prada in Paris. Hundreds of people saw him walk down the runway.”

“I know that.”

“So how do you explain it, then?”

Still smiling from ear to ear, I told him, “He had help.”

“Who?”

“I’m not going to say quite yet. There are a few things I need to prove yet.”

“But, Amanda, another innocent person could be killed while you’re sleuthing around. This isn’t Agatha Christie. This is real life. Someone could be in very serious danger!”

“I’m the only one in danger anymore, Jerry. The guys are fine now.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because the threat to Ian’s inheritance and the only witness who saw something he shouldn’t have seen have been eliminated. And the odds are better now, with two contestants gone.”

“I get Keith’s death. Someone was worried that he might somehow have a stake in Ian’s fortune, or at least that Ian might change his mind once he knew he had a son.”

“Correct.”

“And Aleksei’s death?”

“Because of something he said.”

“And you’re not going to tell me that right now, are you?”

“No, but trust me. Just help me chase down some leads. When Aurora announces the winner of the contest, we’ll have our own announcement to make.”


The weekend sped by. Jerry dutifully made a lot of calls and hustled things along. Me, I made three important calls. One to Brian Hopper, celebrity gossip Web reporter. I had a simple question: Who does supermodel Darryn Novolo spend his time with when he’s in Los Angeles? The answer didn’t stun me, but it was unexpected nonetheless. I mean, I just couldn’t picture the two of them together, but it bolstered my theory, making it bulletproof.

The second call was to Ken in Ohio. I filled him in on everything. He listened patiently, and after spilling everything I knew, he congratulated me on solving the case. I mean, he was really impressed and excited by what I had accomplished. And, oh, he missed me desperately. I told him I felt the same way. And he confessed he was horny. Me too, I said. Then Ken told me the best news of all: that he’d be back in two weeks. His mother was back home and getting around fine.

The third call was to Alex. In all the excitement, I realized I hadn’t talked to him in a few days. He had summited Thunderbolt Peak and descended safely. Tomorrow afternoon, he would be heading back to Palm Springs.

Great, it was only Saturday afternoon and I had the rest of the weekend free. Free to nap and then plan on setting my trap.