Homicide in High Heels by Gemma Halliday Page B

about
your whereabouts on the day Lacey Desta was killed." Hardy pulled
out a small, spiral notebook. I'd bet my favorite Via Spigas it was
a blank prop.
    He elbowed Laurel. "Your line," he
whispered.
    "Right!" Laurel cleared her throat loudly,
her forehead starting to shine again despite the copious powdering.
"Uh, where. Were you. On the day. Of the murder." Her words came
out in a painful staccato like a stage-frightened kid at her first
grade spelling bee.
    But again, Liz answered like a pro, almost
sounding like she was genuinely surprised at the questions. "Well,
I started the morning here at my boutique." She waved her arms
around her.
    "And what time would that be?" Hardy jumped
in.
    "It was early. I was preparing for the
semiannual clearance sale we have scheduled for Labor Day. All of
our jewelry and apparel is buy-one, get-one-half-off. We expect a
very large crowd, so if you're in the market for a new look,
Detective McMartin, I would suggest you come in early." Liz sent a
wink in Laurel's direction.
    The mousey detective's cheeks pinked.
    "The time we're most interested in is
between ten AM and eleven-thirty, Mrs. DeCicco," Hardy said, still
booming in a theater voice.
    "I was filming. We all were. My fellow
Baseball Wives and I were doing a promotional piece for the
Network. I only have the entire cast and crew of the show to alibi
me out." She did another knowing wink at Laurel. "If you were
implying I needed one, Detective."
    "Just routine questions, Ma'am," Hardy
assured her, sounding laughingly like a Dragnet character.
    I looked around the set. People were milling
in every dark nook and cranny of the sound stage. PA's, makeup
artists, hairstylists, directors, catering, and, of course, the
wives themselves. How anyone could tell where everyone was at any
particular moment was beyond me. Fernando's salon was only fifteen
minutes from the studios, give or take for traffic. I wondered how
hard it would be for someone to slip away unnoticed for a half
hour?
    But Hardy seemed perfectly satisfied with
Liz's response. "I'm sure your alibi—needless as it may be—is
sound," he assured her.
    "Can you think. Of anyone who would. Want
Lacey dead?" Laurel asked in her unnatural staccato again
    Liz's eyes went big and round. "Why I can't
imagine. Lacey was such a sweet—"
    "Cut," yelled the director behind the
monitors. "You're blocking Liz's light!" He pointed at Hardy
    Hardy glanced around at the lighting techs.
"Oh, sorry. I just thought you'd want to have my good side to the
camera. Should I be standing more over here?" He shuffled a couple
of steps to his left. "Maybe I need one of those spotlight things
of my own."
    "Take it again from Laurel's last line," the
director said, ignoring the prima donna detective.
    Laurel licked her lips and nodded, looking
like a deer in the spotlights.
    "And…action!" the director said, pointing at
Laurel.
    She blinked and took a deep breath. "Can you
think of anyone who would want Lacey dead?" she asked again
    Again Liz did the big, innocent eyes. "Why I
can't imagine. Lacey was such a sweet girl. I can't imagine anyone
wanting to harm her."
    "Thank you very much for your time," Hardy
said shutting his notebook.
    "And…cut," yelled the director.
    If I rolled my eyes any farther I'd be
staring at my roots. This was Laurel and Hardy's idea of
questioning a suspect? Ramirez was right. There was zero chance of
these two figuring out what really happened to Lacey.
    Dana and I hung back while the cameraman and
lighting crew dispersed. Liz called again for hair and makeup, and
I spied Kendra and Beth come onto set, presumably to take their
turn under the rain of Laurel and Hardy's hard-hitting
questions.
    I nudged Dana. "Let's talk to Kendra before
the dorknamic duo gets to her."
    Dana nodded, leading the way to where to the
craft services table was set up. Kendra grabbed a bottle of water,
and Beth looked longingly at the plate of glazed donuts.
    "Dana?" Kendra said, a note of