Modern Girls Page 7

  “Then, one day, Hank noticed something fishy with his seafood entrée; the price had risen by 50%. And, the man that managed billions of dollars and thousands of employees and a whole global enterprise noticed that his cod and scrod now cost him $9 day instead of the $6 he had paid the week before! This was unacceptable! Something had to be done!

  “This is where I came in, Andi. At that moment, I was working as an investigator in the internal audit department for that insurance giant. Hank complained. Hank sent his Chief Auditor a memo asking him to investigate this problem with his fish. The Chief Auditor, Byron Dyson, read the memo, shook his head and called me.

  “I laughed when I read the memo, but stopped when I saw Byron looking at me silently and seriously. That’s when I knew I would be investigating why Hank was paying $15 more a week for his fish.

  “Byron had a plan. He also arranged for me to meet the head chef, Giuseppe Verde, in the executive dining room at 9:45 that morning. Byron’s plan was simple. He wanted me to buy the fish that day at the market. Then, he wanted me to find out what happened.

  “I made my way to the company dining room, walked through the tables and chairs and entered a world of food and pots and pans and ovens and grills. I asked and was pointed towards Verde’s office. Verde was a big, rotund man with a friendly manner, but he had a serious bearing regarding his job. He was dressed in a white chef’s coat and black slacks. Through his deep, accented voice, Chef Verde explained that he didn’t know about the increase in the cost of the fish. He said it was Mr. Big that noticed. He got the bill. All Verde did was pick the fish from the display case.

  “I asked if there was any change in the fish he bought. Verde said that there was never any change. Mr. Big liked his cod and his scrod, and that’s what Verde bought every day, just cod and scrod.

  “I didn’t get any clues from Verde about what caused this rise in the cost of the fish. I then told Verde that I wanted to buy the fish that day. Maybe I’d see something. Verde looked surprised, then shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Why not?’

  “I asked him when he went to the market to pick out the fish. Verde looked at the clock, saw it was 10:20 and answered, ‘About now. The market doesn’t open until ten a.m.’

  “I changed out of my suit coat, tie and shirt in a kitchen bathroom. I put on a clean, white chef’s shirt. Verde coached me on how to find fresh fish. Verde told me, ‘Don’t buy the biggest fish in the case. They aren’t good to eat. Pick your own fish. Show those guys you’re a real chef.’

  “So, off I went walking through the canyons of downtown Manhattan. It was a brisk April day; with the west wind pushing on my back and making me wish I had worn a coat. The Fulton Fish Market is on the East River at the edge of the downtown business district. When I arrived, I took a minute to get oriented as I slowly strolled to the largest fish seller, Quality Seafood.

  “I spotted the tray of cod. Their gray bodies and black eyes stared blindly up at me. I took my time selecting the one for Hank. I had no idea which one in this small school of fish was best. As I was staring and coming to the conclusion any one was as good as another, I noticed that the filet price was $2.99 a pound. Picking the cod on top, I watched the clerk grab it and flip it on the scale; one and a half pounds. I saw the clerk write something on a white sheet of paper; I guessed it was the cod’s weight.

  “The clerk said, ‘Anything else, Captain?’

  “My eyes had landed on the tray of halibut next to the cod. This flatter, paler fish would be the scrod, the other fresh, white fish of the day. The halibut were lying on their tray the opposite way, so that the scrod faced the cod. The halibut also cost $2.99 a pound. I was similarly baffled looking at the halibut. I had no idea which was the finest. So, I once again chose the one sitting on top of the tray.

  “The clerk again picked up the fish and tossed it on the scale. It too weighed close to one and a half pounds. As the clerk started writing again on the white sheet of paper the solution to this mystery came to me, clearing away all the confusion.

  “I asked the clerk, ‘What are you writing down?’

  “He answered, ‘The weight of the halibut, Captain.’

  “’What do you do with that sheet?’

  “The clerk answered, ‘We send it to your company, to bill you for the fish, Captain. You don’t get it for free, you know.’

  “The clerk was getting annoyed. I persisted. ‘Isn’t that the pre-cleaned weight?’

  “For a second the clerk looked surprised. I couldn’t tell if the clerk’s mistake was innocent or a deception, but I could tell the clerk knew he had been called out.

  “The clerk said, ‘Yes.’

  “’But, this fish and the cod are sold as filets, after they’re cleaned, right?’

  “The clerk didn’t answer. Instead, he took a step backwards, shook his head and raised his hands up. At that moment, the store manager walked over to this scene and said to me, ‘Are you having a problem here?’

  “I answered, ‘Yes, I am. I’m having a problem with what your clerk is doing.’

  “Within a few minutes the problem became crystal clear. The solution was simple. The fish should be weighed after it’s cleaned. Within hours my findings were relayed up the chain of command, all the way to Hank. The fish seller made a refund of $90 for the overcharged fish. It was the last transaction between that vendor and the insurance giant. The accolades were given to the audit department, and much to my surprise, I received a $1,000 bonus.

  “Within days Verde was now buying his fish at Brighton’s, the fish seller across the floor from Quality Seafood. And, the “fish audit” became a part of Hank’s growing legend.”

  Andi said, “God, you were so smart, Stevie.”

  I looked at Andi, shook my head a little and said, “No, I wasn’t. I was under the gun. It’s amazing what you can discover when you’re a bit scared.”

  slowing down

  At 7:45pm that busy day, we were seated in a quiet booth at Tony’s Fish Market on top of Fisherman’s Wharf. About forty feet away, Shayna and the band were setting up.

  Andi continued to tantalize all with her wardrobe. She wore a tight, short, white t-shirt dress, a white g-string, and white heels that completely revealed her feet and her pretty lavender pedicure. Like all the men in the restaurant, I couldn’t keep my eyes off this temptress. Thank goodness, once we were seated in our booth, her body was not visible to anyone but me and our fifty-something waitress in her blue sailor-styled uniform.

  We sipped our first cocktail, Kir Royales, Andi’s favorite. As the smooth cocktail of champagne and black currant liqueur went down, I took a long, close look at Andi as she chattered away about the day she planned for us tomorrow. She wanted us to spend Sunday on the beach as the weather was to be sunny and hot. My first thought was this, “What is it about models? They are different people from the rest of us.”

  One long look at this striking beauty and it was clear she was still in the super-model class. She moved with quiet grace. Her body was striking; five feet eight inches tall, long legs, a sexy roundness in her hips and behind, slim waist, the new extra-big chest, lovely incredibly long blonde hair, almost to her waist - even if it was too platinum in color for my liking, and a gorgeous face with long dark brown lashes and thinned eyebrows revealing large violet blue eyes. Kissing immediately came to mind as I looked at her full lips. I knew she was 28 years old, but she looked no older than 20.

  I did notice the very few imperfections; a half-inch of dark brown roots were showing in the part of her hair, her teeth were slightly crooked and her face had a frozen look from what I guessed was a bit of work. But, I was more than captivated by Andi Anderson.

  My second thought was that this was a very hurt and confused woman who needed help. I didn’t completely understand her behavior so far, but she had to be affected by the murder. I made a mental note to watch her closely. Right now, she was acting so care-free and young, almost like an adolescent.

  We ordered di
nner; salads for our appetizer, tuna steak for Andi and glazed salmon for me, and a bottle of buttery California chardonnay.

  I told Andi that our mutual friend, Cyndie Myst, had shared everything they discussed before I left Philadelphia. After a few moments, I asked Andi my first question, “What can I do to help?”

  Andi sighed and blurted out quickly, “Oh, I don’t know why anyone would want to kill Sid. Yes, he was a jerk at times and horny and hit on every pretty girl he met and a lousy agent, but he was an easy going guy. I can believe Sid had some enemies as he promised the world but didn’t deliver much – at least he didn’t for me and probably not a lot for others too! But, still, why kill him – just fire the guy and get a new agent. I just can’t believe he’s dead. I’m so lucky I’m not dead too. I didn’t shoot him, you got to believe me.”

  “Sure, I do.”

  Andi was so wired. I wanted to get her to relax, and trust me. I decided to go real slow.

  I continued, “Andi, I want you to tell me what happened, in your own words.”

  She didn’t hear or understand what I said. “We have to find out what happened. It’s the only way to clear my name.” She grabbed my hand and said, “Oh, Stevie, I can’t go to prison. I couldn’t survive there. Please help me.”

  “Andi, you won’t go to prison if I can prove you didn’t do it. But, I need your complete help.”

  “Stevie, the police told me I can’t leave town. They said I need to call them every day. It’s all so unfair!”

  She was getting frantic and not listening to me. It was time for some strong, direct language. I grabbed both of her hands. “Andi, the police don’t believe your story. They believe you killed Sid. You’re lucky that they set bail low enough that your mother was able to mortgage her home to get you out - for now. You are their prime suspect. Sid was shot by your gun. Cyndie told me that it all seems very clear to the police who did it. People know that you hated Sid because your movie career was going nowhere, because he got you only sleazy x-rated auditions and he ruined your modeling career. To the police that’s enough of a motive. They have charged you with murder. You will have a trial. If you’re found guilty, you could spend the rest of your life in prison. This is very, very serious. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. Yet, she still looked frantic.

  “I need to speak to your lawyer. Who is it?”

  “Her name is Sarah Brownstein. She’s a public defender.”

  Andi pulled out a business card with her name and a downtown Los Angeles office address.

  “Why did you hire a public defender?”

  “I don’t have the money to hire an expensive lawyer. But, I like Sarah and she seems to be working hard for me. She did get me out of jail, so, that’s something.”

  I nodded in agreement. She had a point. Maybe this Sarah was doing a good job; maybe.

  “Do you know if Sarah has hired any other investigator to try to find out what happened?”

  “She hasn’t. I told her you were coming to LA to help me.”

  “OK.” I paused a second thinking that I was likely still at square one.

  “Andi, she’s the first person I need to meet. Can you call her tomorrow and make an appointment for Monday morning?”

  “Sure, but why?”

  “I need to know what she knows, and what she doesn’t know. OK?”

  “OK.”

  I could see she was spacing out, as if this kind of talk bored her and she just wanted me to make things better for her.

  Before she completely zoned, I needed more information. “Andi, give me the name and number of the police detective and I’ll talk to him to confirm what’s going on. OK?”

  She looked in her purse and handed me the business card of a L.A. police detective, Peter Lomita. She told me to keep it as she had two of them. I put the card in my wallet.

  “Oh, thank you Stevie.”

  “But, listen. Before I speak to Lomita and your lawyer, Sarah, you must tell me everything. You can’t keep anything to yourself.”

  I looked straight into her eyes. “Do you understand me, Andi?”

  She sobbed. “Yes, Stevie.”

  “Promise me you’ll share everything. I’ll keep it confidential.”

  “I swear, Stevie.”

  “Then, I’ll take your case.”

  This created a full smile on Andi’s face and I wanted that smile to stay there as it was the most beautiful face I’ve ever laid my eyes on. She reached over and gave me another kiss and a whispered, “Oh thank you.”

  I held her hand tight and answered, “Andi, we’ll solve this.”

  Andi quietly asked, “Stevie, how much do you charge for your work?”

  I instantly made a decision that, I realize now, deepened our relationship. I told her, “Andi, I’m helping you because I want to. I’m not doing this as a private eye from Center City Investigators. You can pay my expenses once you’re able to. If I’m able to help you, then, we’ll talk about this further.”

  Andi fought to control her emotions, “Oh, this is the first good news I’ve had. Are you sure?”

  “Yes. That’s it, so don’t worry about the money now. I’ll try to find the answers. Because you’re still in danger, until we find out who did this.”

  I went on to say, “I want to ask you a few questions tonight. I know the basics about your life, Andi. But, I don’t know why you moved to Los Angeles. Why don’t we start there?”

  As we ate our Caesar salads and savored our scrumptious fresh catches and sipped our wine, I sat back and listened as Andi backed up more than I asked and told me some of her life story. It was an amazing, but sad tale of a stunning young woman.

  Andi began “Stevie, when we met, I was ending my eight-year run of good times. I went through too many boyfriends to remember and did too many drugs, some for partying, but most was to stay thin. But, I’m clean today. I only saw my Mom occasionally, but tried to make up for my guilt and loneliness by giving her money and buying her a beautiful little beach house in Rehoboth, Delaware, which she loves. She’s 74, retired and is doing well.

  “Anyway, my modeling career was a wild ten-year ride. Then, over a year ago, two things happened. First, I started to lose jobs - I was getting older and the offers began to dry up. It was subtle at first. I’d be sent to all the usual places for shoots, but I’d get fewer photos in the spread. Then, I’d be down to one or two only and those photos would be in back. Finally, I realized it had been over a year since I had a cover photo.

  “Plus, my body changed. All of a sudden, I noticed all the lines growing on my face. I realized my tummy was getting loose, my butt was spreading and getting cellulite, and my little boobs were starting to sag.

  “I had to do something before I spent all my nest egg. I woke up last year on my 28th birthday and called my agent complaining. That was the day that shocked me into reality. He told me that the only offer he got in the last six months was for a clothing catalogue for mature women. As he said, ‘Honey, you’re not a girl any more. Do you want the shoot or not?’

  “I said no, then, I hung up and cried the rest of the day. It was a very unhappy birthday. It didn’t help that I was without a boyfriend and hadn’t dated anyone seriously in over two years.

  “The next day I called my agent back and fired him. He was such a jerk! I had to do something different. So, I made a fast decision to move to L.A. and try an acting career. I knew some friends out here, like Shayna, and they encouraged me to come.”

  Andi stopped talking, broke eye contact, looked down and began to cry.

  I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight. I said, “Andi, hey, things will be OK…”

  She wiped her eyes, leaned close, and kissed me.

  Then, the band began playing and Shayna started singing. These lyrics stuck in my head, “Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me, because it’s you and me against the world.”

  sizing her up

  We had left the restaurant just as Shay
na and the band started their third and final set. We were seated on Andi’s couch, having a glass of iced tea. Andi took two Tylenol as her head hurt and she still had a headache. She had me feel the bump on the top right of her head very gently. It felt like a small egg just under her hair.

  We sat in front of a floor fan that blew Andi’s long hair off her face. Andi had changed into a short baby-doll night gown with a vented front. The breeze blew open the little top, revealing her tummy and a g-string panty. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt as the temperature in her non-air-conditioned apartment was still very warm, even at 10:30 at night.

  I asked Andi, “So, how did you meet Sid?”

  Andi began her story. “I met Sidney Gabriel on a bad day. I was posing at a beach house photo shoot when I first saw him…”

  Over the next ten minutes Andi told me of their meeting, subsequent dinner together, and Sid’s invitation to come to his estate.

  She then said, “The night was great. We had sex and then fell asleep, totally spent.”

  Andi paused and I thought she was done with her story. She said she wanted to tell me a little more, and I said, “OK, but, I need to use the bathroom for a minute.”

  After I finished and was back on the couch, Andi continued. “Early the next morning, I woke to a touch on my behind and the gasp of a woman’s voice. I came to and turned and covered myself with the sheet and took in the sight of a cute, petite young woman with long black hair and a smile on her face. This little woman had her hands on her hips. She was wearing only a black slip. I learned that this was Edie McCall, Sid’s sometime-lover who lived in his pool house. She told me all about Sid and how I wasn’t the first woman who got the mansion tour before having sex with Sid.

  “I started crying. Edie sat on the bed and put her hand on my side. She explained that Sid was addicted to this life of finding women, wining and dining them, getting them a few movie roles, and having sex with them. She said Sid got all screwed up as a kid of Hollywood and rich, successful parents. Plus, Lana, his ex, really hurt him in the divorce and took a lot. Edie said we should blame Lana as she made it impossible for the rest of his girls. Sid would never make a commitment to us as he couldn’t afford to lose anything more.