A Murder in Malibu

Gemma

"What did Pamela end up wanting from you?" Lily asked, slathering SPF 100 on her long arms and legs. She passed me the lotion.

I noticed with alarm that my limbs looked sickly thin and glanced over at Lily to see if my best friend noticed the change. Suddenly I looked like a praying mantis! That's what stress does to a person, I thought angrily, silently cursing whoever was behind the ransom note and scary phone calls.

Just this morning, my phone rang several times, but each time I answered, they abruptly hung up.

"Oh, where to start?" I sighed, pulling a wide-brimmed hat over my head. We agreed to sit outside for one hour and I tucked a can of pepper spray into my Tory Burch tote bag just in case.

Why be in Malibu if not to take advantage of the gorgeous scenery and perfect weather? From Sebastian's house next door, the percussion of rap bled out from inside so we knew our neighbor was home. We had yet to meet the neighbor on the other side, rumored to be an older film star with a case of agoraphobia. Fine by me.

"So we met for coffee," I began, adjusting my bikini top. "And Pamela is totally head over heels for this cop which, I admit, makes me nervous. What if he pokes around and asks questions about Taylor French and I mess up and blurt something out?"

Lily glanced up sharply. "You can't afford to make that mistake unless you're prepared to wear an orange jumpsuit and eat with a spork. I hear cans of Spam and beans are popular. Your stomach will be a mess."

"Super funny, Lily."

Pamela had been sitting at a table already when I arrived for a coffee, early for once. All I could do was shake my head when I saw her atrocious outfit, small white tee shirt, white cut-off shorts, and UGGS. Her blonde hair was pulled up on top of her head like she was a teenager.

She may have even been wearing a scrunchy, I tried to block that out of my memory. She had picked a trendy little coffee place for us to meet at, a shop where the entire decor was rustic and antiqued and the vegan pastries and gluten-free muffins were made on-site. It was totally Pamela's kind of atmosphere.

I hated this place because the iron tables with mason jars full of wildflowers were unstable and the iron chairs always hurt my butt.

"Hey, gorgeous bestie!" Pamela beamed, opening her arms for a hug. Since when had my mother begun to wear Love's Baby Soft? I sneezed twice and pulled away then dropped into a white iron chair with a stained cushion.

"Sit, sit, I'm dying to know...what did you think of Paul? Super cute, right? And did you check out his buns and the way his uniform hugged it?" She made a motion with her hands like she was grabbing melons.

I groaned. "God! No. Why would I do that, he's like so old!"

I ordered a cappuccino and quickly sent Jason a text. Realizing we hadn't spoken in a few days, I asked him to call me. I needed to hear the sound of his voice. Poor Jason, working so hard doing...lawyerly things, I guessed.

All he talked about was how difficult it was to memorize everything and he was clerking for a couple of lawyers doing all the grunt work in the office.

"Babe," he had said during our last phone conversation, his voice tinged with fatigue, "It's the thought of seeing you that keeps me going. I'm swamped here so if I don't call as much as you'd like, think of me buried underneath all of this legal paperwork, literally reading into the late night until my eyes go blurry. I'm going to need stronger reading glasses soon."