The Dead and the Beautiful by Cheryl Crane

will give us an approximate time of death, once he does the autopsy, but I think Mr. Melton was killed less than an hour before the 911 call was placed by the guy servicing the fish tank.”
    â€œIf the fish-tank guy and the dog walker had access, who knows who else could have walked in the back or the front doors?” She looked at him, thinking out loud. “What kind of security is on the gates, front and rear? The front gate was wide open when I got there, but that might have been because of all the emergency vehicles.”
    He looked at her for a long moment, then lifted the coffee cup, holding it short of touching his lips. “I came here to let you know what was going on, not to pick your brain on the evidence. Obviously, this is a police matter.” He took a sip.
    â€œObviously.”
    â€œWhich means I don’t want real-estate agents—”
    â€œBroker,” she interrupted.
    â€œ Brokers interfering with my investigation.”
    â€œThe way brokers have interfered in investigations before?” she said, referring to the murder of her mother’s next-door neighbor the previous fall. Nikki was the one who had figured out who actually killed him, and even called Dombrowski to hand the murderer to him on a silver platter.
    â€œStay out of this, Nikki. Please,” he beseeched with one hand. “I’m saying please.”
    She scrutinized him. “So why did you come here to tell me about Alison’s arrest?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know. Because I thought you’d want to know. Your boyfriend will want—with Ms. Sahira having a teenage daughter and all. Someone might want to pick her up from school before it hits the news. Or maybe I came because it was an excuse to see you.”
    Nikki shot out of her chair, his last comment barely sinking in. “I have to go.” She pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk and grabbed her ancient, beloved Prada shoulder bag. It was supple tan leather, shaped more like a feed sack than a handbag, with a long strap and only a few pen marks and water stains. “I don’t want Jeremy to hear from someone else that his sister’s been arrested.” She came around her desk. “Has she already been picked up?”
    He checked his watch. “Should have been. I told them to wait until the daughter had left for school, but get there before Ms. Sahira left Dr. Fitzpatrick’s house for the morning.”
    Nikki crossed her office.
    Dombrowski opened the door for her.
    She halted in the doorway and looked up at him. “Thanks, Tom. I appreciate this.”
    He nodded and she was out the door.
    Â 
    Jeremy had a high-end office in a high-end building not far from Windsor Real Estate, on Wilshire in Beverly Hills. He practiced general dentistry, but his star past made him popular with celebrities. They appreciated the confidentiality he and his staff offered and the spa-like atmosphere of the office itself. That had been his wife Marissa’s idea.
    Nikki entered his waiting room. It was plush and decadent, decorated in gold and red as if Jeremy’s patients were royalty. Which in a way, many were. She walked past Brad Pitt and one of his kids. At the front desk, Jolene, a cute blonde, smiled. She was wearing khaki pants and a tight, low-cut, green T-shirt. The two additional receptionists behind the counter were wearing identical T-shirts. Monday, they would be wearing the same T-shirts in teal. But Fridays, Fridays were green tee day. Jeremy liked order. He didn’t mind that his staff wore different colors on different days, as long as they wore the same color, the same day every week.
    â€œMs. Harper, nice to see you.”
    â€œYou, too, Jolene,” Nikki said, subdued. “Is Dr. Fitzpatrick busy? I mean, I know he’s busy, but I need to speak with him.”
    â€œHe’s just finishing up with a patient.”
    â€œI’ll wait in his office. Can you tell him