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9

Cedars-Sinai is a large hospital, and the next morning it took Archie and Mason a while to find Becky Sharp. As they approached, however, the cop outside the room was a dead giveaway.

Once Archie explained who they were (Mason was temporarily appointed his paralegal), they were allowed in. The room looked like every other in the hospital. Pale beige walls, windows you couldn’t open, curtains with a pattern you find calming and a variety of machines whose beeping and whirring went in and out of phase with irritating irregularity.

Becky Sharp was tiny. She looked like a child lying in bed, and even Mason—who was probably the least maternal person in the hospital—felt a pang of sympathy for her. Every line of her body expressed exhaustion and sorrow.

“Ms. Sharp?” Archie’s voice was gentle.

Becky turned her head a little to look. She was, as her brother had said, very pretty.

“Yes?” Becky’s voice matched the rest of her. High, gentle, young.

“I’m Archie Jacobson. Julia Mann sent me. She’s taken on your case.”

“Julia Mann? My mom’s friend? From jail?” An expression crossed her face that was hard to read. Hope? If it was, it was only brief. Her face slipped back into despair.

Archie smiled. “Yes. Your brother came to LA and asked her for help.”

“Ben’s here? In Los Angeles?” Mason couldn’t tell what Becky was thinking, and also realized the younger woman had either not noticed she was there or was completely ignoring her. She decided to make her presence felt.

“Yes.” She stepped forward, next to Archie, so Becky couldn’t fail to see her. “He came to Julia’s house.”

Becky said, “I don’t want to see him.” She turned her head away again and closed her eyes, shifting her legs restlessly. “I don’t need a lawyer.”

“Julia Mann’s not charging you.” Mason found herself a little needled by the younger woman. Maybe Becky Sharp was a really sick girl. Or maybe she was a murderer. “She’s keeping a promise to your mom, and besides, you’re in deep shit here and there’s every chance you’re going to prison for a long time.”

Becky wasn’t buying it. “It’s not the money. I just want to die.” She didn’t sound like she was joking, and Mason looked at all the needles and fluid and wires and realized she was being kept alive by the hospital. At that moment, a nurse came in carrying a tray.

“Hi, Becky, time to eat something, honey.” She was efficient and sweet, but firm. She pressed buttons and raised Becky to a sitting position, pulling the bed table over and lifting the lids from the dishes on the tray. “Come on now, how about something small? Jell-O? A little fruit, maybe?”

Becky shook her head. “I don’t want anything.”

The nurse shook her head. “Hey, listen. There are girls your age and younger dying from terrible things all over this hospital. They’d give anything to be you, even if you have gotten yourself into a little trouble. There’s nothing wrong with you a good meal wouldn’t fix.” She held up a spoon of Jell-O. “Come on…it’s strawberry.” The Jell-O wobbled on the spoon, just like an ad. Mason started salivating. She’d gone to a meeting early and eaten breakfast on the way. Toaster Strudel. No frosting, which now felt like an error on her part. She could have used the extra calories.

Becky turned her head into the pillow. “Can you make those people go away?”

The nurse looked at them for the first time; she’d been so focused on Becky. “Would you mind…?”

Archie pulled a business card from his wallet and laid it on the table. “Ms. Sharp, Julia Mann is your lawyer, and I’m helping, too. If and when you need us, just call.”

“And,” added Mason, trying to build on what the nurse had said, “you’re being kind of an asshole. Your brother drove all the way from Portland. Julia Mann, who hasn’t even met you, sent both of us to help you. Get your shit together, lady. Unless, of course, you killed that stripper, in which case I guess pulling a dying swan is better than ending up behind bars.”

For the first time, Becky Sharp seemed to hear and turned her gaze to Mason. Her eyes were the same gray as her brother’s, her eyelashes long and dark against her skin. The nurse and Archie, meanwhile, were staring at Mason as if she were a monster.

“She wasn’t a stripper,” said Becky, clearly. “She was an artist, a filmmaker, a beautiful person. She was dead when I woke up. But if Sam’s dead, I want to be dead, too.”

“You were friends?” Mason ignored the frowning nurse and the reproving muttering of Archie Jacobson.

“We were in love. She was everything to me.”

Mason raised her voice a little. “Well then why are you letting whoever killed her get away with it? Would she just roll over if someone hurt you?”

“Look, miss, I don’t know who you are, but you have to leave. My patient is very weak. I don’t want her upset.” The nurse was small, but apparently made of steel, because the grip on Mason’s arm was bruising. Archie took her other arm, and together he and the nurse started ushering her out. Mason turned to look at Becky one last time.

“If you really give a shit about your girlfriend, help us find out who killed her. We’ll help you, but not if you’re going to be a dick about it.”

The cop had now opened the door and was stepping into the room. Mason pushed back against the nurse, who simply tightened her grip.

“Eat the goddamned Jell-O, you tiny little chickenshit!” shouted Mason, her boot heels leaving marks on the linoleum. Then she shook off the cop, the lawyer and the nurse, like the punch line of a very bad joke, and raised her palms in surrender.

Becky stared at her, then relented. “Alright, I’ll eat the Jell-O if you promise to listen to what I have to say about Sam.”

The nurse smiled at Becky. “That’s great. Maybe later you can try something with protein.” She shot Mason a glare that made it clear Mason hadn’t made a friend, then bustled out. The cop followed her, and Archie pulled the visitor’s chair closer to Becky’s bed. Mason, as was her habit, leaned against the wall.

Archie voice was soft. “I’m going to ask you questions, alright? Some of them might be unpleasant, even rude, but you’ll need to answer them truthfully.”

Becky nodded, spooning Jell-O with increasing enthusiasm. Apparently, her appetite had returned. “I don’t have any secrets.”

“Everyone has secrets,” said Mason.

“Not everyone,” replied Becky, looking at her and shrugging. “Maybe you’re hanging out with the wrong people.”

Mason opened her mouth but caught Archie’s eye and closed it. Whatever .

Archie leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Firstly, I’m sorry about Sam. For your loss.” He smiled sadly, and Mason realized he genuinely meant it. He had an air of solidity about him she found appealing, like nothing would faze him. She thought of him in the car, tenting Julia’s dress, at the funeral, dealing with the crowd…then she realized she needed to pay attention.

Becky nodded. “I loved her. We were going to move in together. Maybe. Once she got a better job than Galliano’s. Not that there was anything wrong with working there. It was fun and Mrs. G is lovely. But Sam had dreams.”

“How did you get the job at Galliano’s?”

“My boyfriend took me there. He knew Mrs. G.”

“And she offered you a job on the spot?”

Becky shook her head. “No, we just talked. I told her I was looking for acting opportunities, and she said to call her if I needed work in the meantime.” Becky looked at Archie carefully. “She was very nice, you know, not sleazy like everyone else.” She smoothed the hospital sheet across her lap like a skirt at a church social.

“Everyone else?” Archie’s tone was neutral.

Becky paused. “My ex-boyfriend took me all around, you know. He knew lots of people…like that. He said he knew Hollywood people, but most of his friends owned clubs, or places where girls, you know, worked.” She looked uncomfortable, suddenly.

“As sex workers, is that what you mean?” Again, that neutral tone. No judgment, just gathering facts.

Becky relaxed a little. “I don’t know, but clubs and bars, mostly. Sometimes they had rooms upstairs, you know.”

“I do, but assume I don’t.” Archie was making her comfortable, gentling her like a horse.

Becky frowned a little. “Well, there would be a bar downstairs, and, like, a restaurant or something, maybe, and then if you met someone who liked you, you could go upstairs and be more private.”

“And did you work at those places?”

Becky shook her head. “No. One night my ex wanted me to ‘try it out,’ like, just one time, with a friend of his, but I didn’t like him.”

“The friend?”

“Yeah. I let him kiss me, and feel me up, you know, to be friendly and because I didn’t want my boyfriend to get mad, but that was it. And, like, by that point I wasn’t really having any fun with my boyfriend, either; he just kept trying to make me do stuff I didn’t want to do, and he didn’t know any real modeling places, either. Just weird photographers who wanted me to take my clothes off.”

“And did you?” Archie’s tone and body language were making it easy for Becky to open up, and Mason wondered if it was an act, if he was actually biting his tongue to stop himself from saying Jesus wept, kid, it’s lucky you didn’t end up in some serial killer’s trunk …and then she realized those were her thoughts. Whoops.

Becky was nodding. “Sure, why not. I got some nice pictures.” She frowned again. “They weren’t posted or anything; they were private.” She paused. “And I had sex with another girl on the Internet, but that wasn’t for money.”

“OK,” said Archie, still unflappable. “Your boyfriend asked you to do that?”

“Yeah. The other girl was really nice; we smoked a lot of pot, drank some champagne and, you know, got into each other. It was cool. But then afterward, I realized my boyfriend had been live streaming the whole thing.” Suddenly, she shrugged. “I don’t think he was a very nice person, actually. Sam told me you shouldn’t publish content of people without their permission, but I didn’t know that.”

“What’s your boyfriend’s name?” Archie had pulled out his phone and opened the notes app.

“Rufus.”

Archie looked up. “Last name?”

“I don’t know.”

Mason just managed to stop her jaw from dropping, then looked at Archie. Nothing. No reaction.

Becky explained. “He did tell me, but I, like, forgot, and after a week or so it was too embarrassing to ask again, you know?”

“Yes, of course, I understand.”

Becky nodded, glad to have found someone sympathetic. “Anyway, he and I broke up and I went back to Galliano’s. I told Mrs. G the whole story, and she was very nice and said I could work for her, no private rooms or anything like that. I started on the floor, and after a few weeks I met Sam and we started dating.” She looked earnestly at Archie. “You would have liked her. Everyone did. She was really creative. She always had loads of ideas.” She sniffed. “She never did drugs. Said it dulled her creativity. There is no way, no way , she took an overdose.”

“But someone thought a drug overdose would seem plausible,” Archie said.

“Someone underestimated her,” replied Becky. “People did that a lot.”

Archie thought for a moment. “Were drugs common at the club, generally?”

Becky shook her head. “Not at all. Mrs. G and Danny are very anti, you know? Wanted the girls to stay sharp.”

“Who’s Danny?” asked Mason.

“Danny Agosti, he’s the money.”

“Mrs. Galliano’s business partner,” said Archie, then asked, “Did you and Sam fight a lot?”

“No.” Becky shook her head. “I mean, sometimes, but not a lot.”

“Did she fight with anyone else at the club? Ever mention anything like that?”

More headshaking. “No, like I said, most everyone liked her. She was very alive, do you know what I mean? Lots of energy.”

“Where was she from?”

Becky looked surprised. “Here, I guess. I never asked her.”

“Did she have family?”

“She never mentioned anyone.”

“What did you do when you weren’t at the club?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean did you have another job, did you go to school, did you go to the gym, anything?”

“I went to the library with Sam sometimes. They have free Internet. She worked on her stuff, you know.”

Archie appeared to think for a moment. “What kind of stuff?”

Becky’s face lit up. “My goodness, she always had so much stuff! Plans for this and that, ideas for businesses, projects, things she wanted to create…” She looked sad. “I miss her so much.”

Mason, watching her, felt the first twinge of positive feeling. If she cared so much about another human being, maybe she wasn’t a complete loss.

Archie nodded and reached over to pat her hand. “You’re OK now.” He got to his feet. “Keep eating, and I’ll arrange bail when you’re ready to be released from the hospital. Julia Mann wants you to come to her house, stay with her while we work on your case. Your brother’s already there.”

Becky nodded, the color fading from her face. She put the empty Jell-O container on the tray and lay back, turning her face to the pillow. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I’m glad you’re going to find Sam’s killer, but it’s not going to bring her back.” A tear slid down her cheek and blotted itself on the pillowcase. “Nothing’s going to bring her back.”

Outside the room, Archie sighed. “Thanks for helping get that started, Mason,” he said. “I was worried she wasn’t going to talk to us.”

Mason shrugged. “You’re welcome,” she said, airily. “Although thanks to my persuasiveness, you now have two clients who proclaim their innocence in the face of means, motive and opportunity, which means two investigations and defenses ahead of you you’re not even supposed to be doing because you’re an agent, not really even a lawyer.”

“Hey, I am too a lawyer…”

“And I am so hungry right now I can barely think straight, so I’m not going to be any help at all.” Suddenly, Mason was exhausted. The last thirty-six hours had been a lot. A new job, a new boss who immediately got arrested. A fainting stranger, a funeral with a fake mustache and a fake bird, a whiny potential murderer, a sexy lawyer…lots of feelings, lots of neurochemicals. It was all a bit much.

Archie looked at her and made a decision. “Look, we both got press-ganged into this a little bit, right? Julia has a way of making things happen.”

Mason nodded. Her blood sugar gauge was on empty. She was about to go supercritical.

“So we’re a team. Together we’ll just have to do our best. And our best means we need to immediately go and eat two very large burgers, a mountain of fries and at least one chocolate milk shake each, right?”

Mason nodded again. She might be hallucinating. Had he just said “milk shake”? Milk shakes were her jam .

Archie took her arm. “Come on, Natasha. Let’s go find some food.”

“No one calls me Natasha unless they’re mad at me.”

“Well, something tells me I might need that in the future, so I’ll go back to Mason for now.”

That was the moment, Mason realized later; the moment she started getting a serious crush on Archie Jacobson. Sadly, it was also the moment things started to go downhill in every other conceivable way.