*
KENDRA DROVE TO SANTA Monica, which took her only slightly more than ninety minutes despite some momentary confusion from her phone’s map app in the final blocks of her journey. It was close to dawn when she finally found herself on a pleasant, tree-lined stretch of Montana Avenue, just a couple of miles from the beach. The stores were small and charming, as was the art deco Aero Movie Theater, which seemed to specialize in classic films. Kendra walked around the theater to a side alley. She thought she was in the wrong place, until she saw a door with a small plaque that read MERCADO INVESTIGATIONS. Kendra pulled open the door and climbed a narrow staircase that ended in a tiny reception area. There was no one behind the receptionist’s desk, but a red-haired young woman in faded designer jeans and a black t-shirt was curled up, sleeping on a leather couch. She didn’t stir when Kendra came into the office.
“Hello?” Kendra asked.
The young woman finally opened her eyes. “Oh, hi.”
“Hi.”
“You’re here to see Jessie?”
“Yes. Is she in?”
“I think she ran into trouble on the freeway. She called me to see if I was here about a half hour ago and told me to tell you. I guess I must have fallen back asleep. Too much wine at that party…” The young woman sat up and scooted to the end of the couch. “Have a seat. Want something to drink? I think there’s water and juice in that fridge.”
Kendra didn’t sit down. “Uh, no. Thanks. Will Jessie be long?”
“No idea. I don’t even know how long I was asleep.”
Kendra studied her. She was even younger than she’d first thought, with a dewy complexion and gray-green eyes. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
“Don’t think so, but I get that a lot.” She extended her hand. “I’m Dee.”
Kendra shook her hand. “Kendra Michaels. How long have you worked for Jessie?”
“Oh, I don’t work for her.” Dee covered a yawn. “Actually, she used to work for me.”
At that moment, Jessie Mercado appeared in the doorway. “Good morning, Kendra.” She was wearing black leather pants and boots and was as lean and toned as she’d been when Kendra had last seen her. She was always a study in contrasts, with that shining dark hair worn in an urchin cut surrounding her delicate features and those enormous brown eyes that belied her sleek toughness. “Sorry I kept you waiting. Construction traffic.”
“No problem.”
“I made her feel welcome,” Dee said. “But you really need to get a receptionist.”
Jessie made a face. “Or maybe just a bouncer to keep you out. You have a gorgeous home, Dee. Go sleep there.”
“Too many people there. And what kind of talk is that?” Dee stood. “Admit it, you need me to give this place a little flair.”
“I really don’t.”
“Sure you do. I’ll convince you someday.” Dee nodded to Kendra. “Nice to meet you. Don’t believe the unpleasant things she’s about to tell you about me. She doesn’t really mean them.”
Jessie took Dee by the arm and steered her to the door. “Hard as it might be to believe, we may actually have things to discuss other than you.”
“As if.” Dee started down the long stairway. “See you tomorrow, Jessie.”
“No,” she said firmly. “Don’t count on it. I may not be here.”
“Then the next day!” she called up.
“Dee…”
“I’ll bring coffee!”
At the bottom of the stairs, the door opened and slammed shut.
Dee was gone.
“Is that who I think it was?” Kendra asked.
Jesse nodded. “My old boss. Delilah Winter, worldwide pop music phenomenon. Twenty years old, Grammy winner, rabid fans in every corner of the globe, and all she wants to do is hang out in these humble digs.”
“You used to be her head of security, right?”
“Yep.” Jesse looked down the stairway to make sure Dee had left. “The trippiest year and a half of my life. She tries to lure me back every time she comes here. One day she showed up with a knapsack stuffed with a million dollars in cash. All mine if I would agree to head up security for her year-long world tour.”
“You didn’t take it?”
“Nah. Not worth the aggravation. And besides, I had to teach her not to depend on me. She zoomed to the top when she was in her early teens and you can imagine the chaos of her life. She’s a nice kid, though. But vulnerable and kind of lonely. I think she likes coming here because it’s the one place she can go where no one wants anything from her. She kept dropping in on me at all times of the day and night, and I finally gave her a key.” She sighed. “Though if I’d known she was going to be here so often, I could have used that money she was offering to get a nicer office.”
Kendra glanced around their surroundings. “I like it. I’ve never known anybody with an office over a movie theater.”
“Well, you do now. It’s not a bad spot. Sometimes it gets a little noisy, especially when they’re playing an old war movie downstairs. And on the weekends they run the films twenty-four hours a day.” She cocked her head back toward the open door. “Come inside.”
Kendra followed her through the doorway to her office, which was only slightly larger than the cramped waiting room. There was a worn mahogany desk that was a perfect match for the built-in shelves that lined the front of the room. The crown and corner molding continued the art deco design from the theater fa?ade, and a side window offered a view of the street outside. The back wall of the room was covered with photographs depicting Jessie’s colorful background: her time as a soldier in Afghanistan, a stuntwoman on a cheesy superhero movie, a contestant on American Ninja, and her stint as Delilah Winter’s bodyguard and security chief. Kendra doubted if those photos depicted even a quarter of Jessie’s experiences. Jessie was a very private person who seldom spoke of any of those events of her past nor the people who had lived them with her. Kendra regarded Jessie as a good friend, but that friendship was based on the fact that they’d gone through a multiple amount of emotions and experiences in the short time they’d known each other. She had found Jessie honest and amusing and ready to go the extra mile if a friend needed her. It wasn’t often you happened on someone like that.
Jessie grimaced when she saw Kendra looking at the photos. “Sorry about those. Not very modest of me, but they’re good for business. Clients like the idea that I didn’t earn my detective license by taking a course on the Internet.”
“You’ve had a lot of amazing experiences. People should know that.”
“Oh, I just can’t make up my mind. I think about replacing them every day.” She motioned toward the two chairs in front of her desk. “But you didn’t come here to give me design tips. Have a seat.”