ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND PAGEANTS 4 страница
“I heard, actually,” I began as Sabrina held a pair of chandelier earrings up to my ears, “that you used to judge Miss Pretty Face?”
Sabrina glanced up to meet my eyes in the mirror. Her expression was unreadable. “Yes.”
“But you’re not doing it this year?” I prompted.
Sabrina’s eyes cut away. “No.”
“Is there any reason for that?” I asked. “Did you get tired of it or just, I don’t know, frustrated with the whole system?” I lowered my voice confidentially. “I want to know what I’m up against.”
Sabrina looked up again, frowning into the mirror, then sighed. “It is simple. I was asked not to judge again, because I made a mistake last time. A big mistake.”
My eyes widened. It impressed me that Sabrina just came out with her scandal like that; I’d been prepared for lots of follow-up questions. “I can’t imagine that,” I said. “What did you do?”
Sabrina sighed again. As we spoke, she never stopped fussing with my dress or holding up new accessories. That interested me because most people have to concentrate on an upsetting conversation; they stop all other activity. If she was able to carry on with the dress fitting, it seemed like the pageant scandal wasn’t that upsetting to her; maybe she’d made peace with it.
“I play cards with this woman. When we play, she talks about her daughters. How they are struggling for money, how they might not afford college. One of her daughters was a contestant. She was likable, bubbly. I wanted her to win, for her family. But truthfully, she was not the best Miss Pretty Face.”
Sabrina paused and met my eyes in the mirror. “I gave her the best scores, anyway. It was wrong of me. I told myself I was doing something nice for the family, but it was wrong. She didn’t win, and I told myself it was over, no big deal. But then the scandal happened. With the other girl, you know. And she was dethroned, and this other girl was about to become Miss Pretty Face — because of my scores. The scores which had nothing to do with whether or not she would make the right Miss Pretty Face.”
She shook her head. “I could not live with it. I called the pageant. They disqualified this girl and recalculated the scores. Now, another girl is Miss Pretty Face. And I am not invited back.”
I nodded slowly. “Wow,” I said. She had described Robin as “bubbly” — something I had trouble imagining, but maybe it was true, back then. Nothing about Sabrina’s manner made me think that she was lying.
“I feel awful about the girl who was disqualified because of me,” she told me. “But I felt I couldn’t let her win just because I lied. And I thought better of the other girls in the competition. I feel for all of them.” She paused, stepping back from the mirror and smiling at my spangled, sparkly reflection. “Now I only give dresses to pageant girls.”
I looked in the mirror. The dress reflected a thousand little glimmers of light, and glittery rhinestones dangled from my wrist and ears. I didn’t exactly look classy. But, I had to admit, I sort of lit up the room.
“Thanks,” I told Sabrina.
“How’d it go?” Bess asked when I returned to her with my borrowed dress and jewelry. She’d long since lost interest in the glittery clothing and had positioned herself near the door.
“Okay, I guess,” I whispered. “I think she’s telling the truth. Unfortunately.”
Bess looked curious. “Why unfortunately?”
“Because that leaves me with no leads at all,” I replied with a sigh. “Again.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Look.” Bess pointed to a small framed picture that hung on the wall. It was a photo of the River Heights High School Girls’ Cross-Country Team, signed by all the girls “with thanks to Glamore for being our sponsor.” I squinted at the faces in the photo. One stood out: a grinning, pink-cheeked Fallon Gregory.
“Okay,” I replied. “So Fallon Gregory runs cross-country.”
“Yes, but apparently she ran last year.” Bess paused, waiting for me to catch up. “Didn’t you say she dropped out of the pageant last year because she had mono?”
I thought for a second. Then it hit me! “And cross-country starts up at the same time of year as the pageant! Bess, you’re a genius! How could she have run cross-country with mono?”
Bess just grinned happily. “So I guess this wasn’t a wasted trip.”
My mind was spinning with this new information. “I guess not,” I agreed, squeezing her arm gratefully. “Thanks to you!”
LIAR LIAR
It’s true, Fallon lying about why she’d dropped out of last year’s pageant didn’t seem to directly relate to Portia’s dethroning. Still, if she had lied about this one point, who knew what else she was lying about? I was determined to get to the bottom of this. And, fortunately, I was pretty sure I had an in to the girls’ cross-country team.
“Hi, Emily!” I greeted a petite, dark-haired library assistant in the children’s section of the River Heights Public Library a couple days later. “Remember me?” Emily and I weren’t close friends, but we’ve known each other a long time, and she’s helped me with library research before.
“Of course, Nancy!” she replied with a smile. “What’ll it be this time? Traffic laws in Milan? The freezing point of Elmer’s glue?”
I laughed. “Nothing that involved, this time.” I leaned over the checkout counter. “I have a question for you. Did you run cross-country with the River Heights team last year?”
Emily looked a little surprised, but she nodded. “Sure,” she said. “I ran with them every year.”
“Did you have a teammate named Fallon Gregory?”
Emily’s eyes sparkled with recognition. “Sure,” she replied. “Fallon. She had kind of an attitude sometimes, but boy, could she run!”
“And she ran last year?” I asked.
Emily nodded. “Sure,” she replied. “She was a great competitor.”
“No health problems?” I pressed.
Emily wrinkled her nose, thinking. “Not that I could tell,” she replied finally. “She acted perfectly healthy. And she had a great season.”
I nodded slowly. “So you never heard of her having mono?”
Emily looked surprised. “Mono?” she asked. “That’s pretty debilitating, isn’t it? And it can last for months?”
I nodded. “It causes extreme fatigue. It would be almost impossible to compete in a sport.”
Emily frowned. “No, there’s no way,” she said finally. “But she did miss a bunch of school earlier that year, like three weeks, in February. I think she said her aunt died. But maybe it was mono?”
Hmmmm. Now that was a long time to be absent from school. I quickly wrote that down. “Thanks, Emily,” I said, looking up with a smile. “You’ve been a big help.”
Emily grinned, leaning back and pulling over a stack of newly returned novels. “I like to do whatever I can to aid the pursuit of justice, Nancy.”
Later that evening, Bess and I were sprawled on my bed while George clicked away on her tiny laptop computer on my desk, drinking (real) lemonade and eating a plate of Hannah’s amazing oatmeal-raisin cookies. I had asked George to hack into the River Heights High School attendance records, something she seemed to think would be no problem. George is amazing with anything electronic.
George half-smiled as she worked, biting into a cookie. “So how’s the pageant going, Nancy?” she asked. “I mean, aside from the humiliation, the scandals, the backstabbing, and that horror of a dress Bess told me about.”
Bess giggled into a pillow.
I sighed. “You’ve pretty much covered it all,” I said. “Except for a bunch of other embarrassments that have taught me I was really never meant to be Miss Anything.”
“Details, please,” Bess sang, flouncing off the bed to steal a cookie off George’s plate.
“Well, let’s see, there was the time I stepped on Deirdre’s foot during dance rehearsal,” I counted off with my fingers, “and the time I forgot my own name during interview rehearsals. And then, during my talent rehearsal, Cupcake pointed out that I seemed to have discovered a note only animals could hear.”
“Ouch,” George responded, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “Maybe we should have sent Bess undercover.”
I threw my pillow at George. “Don’t get smart with me,” I joked. “Or on my next beauty pageant case, I’m sending you undercover.”
“That,” Bess said, shoving the rest of the cookie in her mouth, “is something that I would love to see.”
George chuckled, then her face brightened as she brought up an Excel document. “I think I’m in!” she said cheerfully. “This looks like the attendance records, and if I just search for ‘Gregory’…”
Bess and I leaned over her shoulder. “Fallon was absent in February,” I reminded George.
George continued scrolling down, then over. “Bingo!” she said, gesturing to a line on the screen. There they were — a whole string of bright red A’s for “absent,” lined up with Fallon Gregory’s name.
“So she was out of school then,” I murmured, counting the A’s with my finger. “For… twelve school days! That’s almost three weeks.”
George nodded. “That’s a really long time.”
“Maybe her aunt really did die,” Bess murmured.
“I guess,” I said. “It just seems so coincidental. Between that, and her dropping out last year, and lying about mono… I feel like there’s something right in front of me and I just can’t see it.”
George started clicking around in the River Heights High School database. “Here — student records,” she said. Scrolling down, she located “Gregory, Fallon,” and clicked on the link.
“Ugh!” Bess cried in horror as a full-page photo came up on-screen. “Who knew they keep your freshman picture on file forever? I’m pretty sure Fallon wouldn’t want anyone to remember her this way.”
I looked at the screen. Sure enough, poor freshman Fallon stared back awkwardly. Clunky square glasses hid her pretty blue eyes, and her hair frizzed in an unflattering poofy cut around her ears. She looked like an entirely different person. In fact… was that even Fallon? I leaned closer, gently pushing George aside and taking the laptop in my own hands for a closer look. No, it was Fallon — those sparkly eyes didn’t lie. But even beyond the frizzy hair and thick glasses…
“It’s strange,” I said. “I know it’s her. But there’s something different about her, something I can’t put my finger on.”
“Hmmm.” George examined the photo with me, then motioned for me to give the laptop back so she could do some more searching. After clicking around for another couple minutes, George’s face lit up. “There,” she said, her eyes moving back and forth, I assumed between two different photos. Smiling, she handed the laptop to me. “Which of these things is not like the other?” she sang.
I looked at the screen as Bess looked on over my shoulder. On the left was a photo George had located of the Fallon I knew: gorgeous, blond, decked out in a sequined silver dress. It was probably a prom photo. On the right, poor freshman Fallon looked like she wanted to sink into the background. I looked back and forth, comparing. Back and forth…
“Her nose!” I cried, pointing to freshman Fallon’s nose, which, as Dad would say, had “character.” It was slightly crooked and pointed down at her pretty-but-shy smile. In the other photo Fallon’s nose had been whittled down to the cute-as-a-button nose I knew: dainty, straight, with a tiny upturn at the end. It actually reminded me of the nose of one of Bess’s favorite starlets.
Bess nodded. “Getting a nose job, between the surgery itself and recovery, can take a long time.”
“Like… three weeks, depending on where you got it done and how much damage they had to do?” George asked.
“They did a beautiful job,” Bess observed. “She looks great, but it’s subtle. Which is probably why no one at school noticed.”
I nodded. The gears in my brain were already whirring. Quickly, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Kelly’s number.
“What are you doing?” George asked, but I held up my finger for her to give me a minute.
“Hey, Nancy,” Kelly greeted me, pausing to take a slurpy sip of something. “I know it sounds like I’m being bad right now, but I promise you, it’s an all-fruit smoothie. What’s up?”
I cringed. It would be really great to be done with his pageant and get away from an atmosphere where drinking a milk shake made you “bad.” “Not much,” I lied. “I’m just recovering from that workout Cupcake assigned us for homework.”
Kelly groaned. “I know,” she replied. “Isn’t it awful? I didn’t think I’d get through it.”
I laughed, trying to sound light. “I’ve decided I’m not doing anymore,” I told Kelly. “Tomorrow, I’m scheduling an appointment for lipo! It sounds much easier, doesn’t it?”
Kelly laughed, but as she recovered, she sounded more serious. “Now, Nancy,” she cautioned. “You can’t do that. You know plastic surgery is grounds for disqualification. And you don’t want to mess up when you’ve come this far!”
I forced a chuckle. Just as I thought. “Okay, okay,” I said. “Oh, listen — I have to go. My dad just got home. Enjoy your smoothie.”
“See you tomorrow, Nancy.”
I clicked the End button and slowly turned back to George.
“So?” Bess asked. “What was that about?”
Bess raised an eyebrow at me “Lipo, Nancy?”
I shook my head. “I just made that up to bring up the topic,” I explained. “And it seems my hunch was right. Plastic surgery is grounds for disqualification from the Miss Pretty Face pageant.”
George’s eyes widened. “But Fallon’s competing now.”
“That’s because no one knows,” I explained, thinking it over. “Or actually, someone knows. The same someone who found out about it last year, and used that information to blackmail her into dropping out of the pageant.” I chewed my lip, still thinking. “It must have been part of their deal that she could compete this year. So whoever blackmailed her… probably isn’t one of this year’s contestants.”
Bess looked stunned. “Wow,” she said. “I knew pageant girls could be nasty sometimes, but wow. That is really underhanded.”
“It sure is,” I agreed. “And I’d better find out who’s behind it. Because he or she might be behind some other underhanded schemes — like getting Portia dethroned.”
A RELATIVE SURPRISE
With my twenty-pound sparkling pink pageant dress draped over me, I held my shoulders high, straightened my shoulders, and pasted a blinding smile across my face. One, two, one, two, I counted off, timing my steps to beats in the music. I could see Kelly winking and giving me the thumbs-up from her spot at the front of the stage, but I didn’t break my concentration. Trying to move swiftly and elegantly, I stepped up onto the tiny platform I was assigned for the evening gown number, and waved a slow, deliberate, pageant wave.
“Nancy!” cried Cupcake, as she had pretty much every time I’d graced the stage in every rehearsal. I was so used to it, I didn’t even tense up anymore. I just looked at her eagerly, waiting to hear her criticism.
“That was beautiful!” Cupcake beamed, looking as satisfied as if she’d just run the Boston Marathon. It took me a minute to register what she’d said. Beautiful? Wait, I did well?
“Thank you!” I cried, a wave of pride running through me. Finally!
“I’m so proud of you,” Cupcake continued, after moving her attention to all of us contestants. “You are twelve beautiful, elegant, and accomplished young women. For the first time, I think you’re all worthy of a reign as Miss Pretty Face.”
All of my competitors burst into smiles, and there was a smattering of polite applause. I couldn’t believe it — but for the first time I actually felt like a pageant girl. Not that I’d be rushing out to compete in more pageants as soon as this one ended. But for the first time, I saw the appeal. After all of our rehearsals, I did feel more poised, more confident — more beautiful.
Back at my dressing station, I wiped my makeup off with cold cream and carefully capped, covered, and put away all of the Pretty Face Cosmetics I’d been using. Immediately, I looked less glamorous — but it was almost a relief. Perfect Face, that “revitalizer” we were supposed to wear all the time, did make my face glow, but also left a funny tingle. When I wore it, my face felt tighter — something I guessed some girls might be looking for, but not me.
I quickly changed into jeans and a sweater, zipping my loaner pageant dress back into its garment bag and hoisting it over my shoulder. I’d left other outfits at my dressing station, but since the dress was very valuable (all that beadwork was expensive) and not mine, I kept it with me at all times.
“Nancy!” Kelly called, running up to me in the parking lot as I headed for my SUV. “You were amazing today. Really. You’ve improved so much!”
I realized Kelly was acknowledging that I’d been terrible before, but it didn’t bother me, coming from her. “Thanks,” I said sincerely. “You, on the other hand, have been amazing from day one. Are you going to keep competing in pageants once your reign ends?”
Kelly wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “I dunno,” she admitted. “I mean, this is the first one I entered and I kinda lucked into the crown.” She laughed. “Why mess up that winning streak?”
I chuckled, but then stopped abruptly when I noticed someone standing by my car. A creepy feeling washed over me, remembering those sounds in the woods when I’d visited the university the other night. But when I shifted to get a better look, I realized: It was my new buddy, Portia. And once again, she didn’t look happy. I groaned inwardly.
“Kelly, I think I have to go,” I said, apologetic. “It looks like someone’s waiting for me. See you tomorrow.”
Kelly nodded. “See you tomorrow.” But she followed my gaze over to my car, and her expression upon seeing Portia was not a happy one. Looking like she wanted to say something else, she shook her head and headed to her own car.
“Hello, Portia,” I said as I walked up to my car, fetching my keys from my purse and moving to hang the dress in the back window.
Portia frowned at me. “I see you’ve got a new dress. Look at you,” she observed, not warmly. “You’re quite the little pageant girl now.”
I opened the back door and hung the dress firmly on a hook. “When in Rome,” I said.
Portia’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe that’s why you haven’t been in touch lately, huh? Maybe you’ve been too busy chasing the crown to remember why you’re competing in the first place.”
I moved closer. “Portia, please keep your voice down,” I cautioned. “The girls I’m competing with think I’m just another contestant. I see you’re angry.” I paused. “The truth is, I do have some new leads. But let’s go somewhere else to discuss it.”
Portia nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. How about you treat me to lunch to make up for it?”
I sighed, thinking of the few bills I had in my wallet. “Sounds great,” I agreed, opening my door and swinging into the driver’s seat. “Hope you like burgers.”
A few minutes later Portia and I were seated outside the Burger Shack — me with a cheeseburger, and her with a small garden salad.
“I didn’t even know they had salad here,” I murmured.
Portia rolled her eyes at me. “Nancy, if you ask nicely and bat your eyelashes a lot,” she said, “you can usually get what you want.”
“Listen,” I said, pausing to sip my soda. “I’m still not sure how this relates to your dethroning, but I’ve learned something interesting about Fallon Gregory.”
Portia’s eyes lit up at the news of fresh gossip. “You did? What?”
I paused, wanting her to take this seriously. “Actually, I think she was being blackmailed.” I paused, waiting for a reaction, but Portia’s face didn’t change, so I continued. “She didn’t drop out of the competition because she had mono. I think she dropped out because someone found out she’d had plastic surgery and was threatening to tell the judges.”
I watched Portia carefully, expecting her to look pleased. I knew I hadn’t solved her case yet, but this was some pretty complicated info I’d put together. But she didn’t look pleased at all. If anything, she looked annoyed.
“Fallon was blackmailed?” she asked. “Fallon had to drop out of the competition? Nancy, I lost my crown and my scholarship! I may not be able to come back to school next semester! I was humiliated in front of the whole town!”
I leaned in, trying to put on my most soothing voice. “I know, Portia,” I said, reaching out to touch her arm. “I’m not saying what she went through compares to what you went through.”
“You can say that again,” Portia scoffed.
I took a breath. “I just think that if Fallon lied about the reason she dropped out last year… maybe there are other things she’s lying about.” Portia seemed to be thinking this over. “I just think… if lies and deception were part of last year’s competition, before you even won, then it’s possible those lies could lead me to the person behind your dethroning.”
Portia sighed and stuck her plastic fork in her salad, as though she were too distraught to eat any more. She seemed to be considering what I was saying, but she didn’t look at all happy.
Finally her eyes turned back to me. And they were shooting daggers. “Fine,” she said, the word coming out sharp and angry. “I really thought, Nancy, when I hired you that you would solve my case. Ned was so nice and he talked you up so much, I had total faith in what you were doing. Now, though…” She sighed again and shook her head. “Your theory about Kelly was total bunk. And now you’re researching some random lie a ridiculous girl told that’s totally unrelated to my problem.”
I cleared my throat. “I don’t think it’s totally unrelated.”
Portia shook her head again. “Fine,” she said, pushing back her chair and standing up. Standing, she slipped her sunglasses over her eyes and glared down at me. “Go solve Fallon’s problem, if you want to. Maybe someday you’ll get back on my case. If and when that happens, give me a call.”
“Wait,” I called, reaching out to grab Portia’s arm. She stopped short and jerked her arm away, like my hands were made of fire.
“What?” she demanded.
I looked up at Portia. I had no idea how I’d gotten myself into this mess, but I wasn’t giving up until I knew everything about this pageant that there was to know. If that made Portia unhappy, tough — she’d be a lot happier when this information helped me solve her case.
“Do you have any idea who might have blackmailed Fallon?” I asked. “Someone who was close to her, who had means to find out about the surgery.”
Portia frowned, then her lips curved into a mean smile. “Why don’t you ask your new friend Kelly?” she asked, digging in her purse for her keys. “Kelly and Fallon are cousins. And their parents are close.”
With that, she turned on her heel and stalked back to her car.
I was left dumbfounded.
BLACKMAILED
“We’re almost at the end now,” Kyle McMahon told us at pageant rehearsal the next day. This time, we had dress-rehearsed the entire pageant, ending with the “talent” competition, and we were all still lined up on the stage in our costumes. For my performance of “On My Own,” I wore a tattered black dress and smeared a little eyeliner on my face to look like dirt (Cupcake’s idea). And lately it seemed, if my singing wasn’t exactly good, at least it was getting a reaction.
“This is our last rehearsal, and I’m so proud of all you beautiful young ladies,” Kyle went on. He glanced at Kelly, who once again was standing in front (as the reigning Miss Pretty Face, she was always supposed to be in front), and his face broke into a proud smile. She smiled back, showing her dimples. “You’ve clearly improved by leaps and bounds since I last I watched you rehearse, back at the beginning. I truly can’t think of a better group of young ladies to represent our new Perfect Face Moisturizer and Face Revitalizer to River Heights. You all embody everything our company stands for: inner beauty, freshness, and poise. I can’t imagine anyone sitting in the audience Saturday night and not wanting to do everything she can to look as gorgeous as all of you.”
We all applauded politely. I caught Fallon’s eye — she was dressed in a pink floaty ballet costume for her talent performance — and she scowled at me.
Don’t take it personally, Nancy, I told myself. She’s been through a lot in this competition.
With Kyle’s speech, the rehearsal ended and we were free to change back into our street clothes and head out. After scrubbing my face (I still couldn’t get used to that tingly Perfect Face), I changed into khaki pants and a peasant blouse and headed over to Kelly’s dressing area.
“Nancy!” Piper stopped me, grabbing my arm as I passed by her station. Next to her, Deirdre gave me a tight smile as she reapplied a coat of crimson lip gloss. Fallon was on Piper’s other side, but seemed totally involved in applying perfume. In fact, it seemed like the better I got as a beauty contestant, the cooler Fallon behaved.
“Hi, Piper,” I greeted her. Piper had improved a lot during the rehearsal period too. She seemed to have improved her posture and she no longer fidgeted or seemed nervous onstage. She didn’t have Fallon’s impeccable Ice Princess style, but she was adorable and enthusiastic.
“Girl, I just wanted to tell you how great you look,” Piper told me, gesturing to the bottle of “lemonade” in my tote bag. I’d gotten so used to carrying it around and occasionally taking a swig, I’d completely forgotten that Piper still thought I was fasting with her.
“Um — thanks,” I replied, looking down at myself.
“How much weight have you lost?” Piper asked eagerly. Beside her, Deirdre turned in my direction with a raised eyebrow.
“Um,” I replied, trying to think. I’d weighed myself on our bathroom scale the morning before, and I weighed the same as I always did — precisely the same I’d weighed when we’d started rehearsals. Whatever improvements Piper was seeing, they were totally in her own head. “Four pounds,” I lied.
“Um,” Deirdre murmured, eyeing me skeptically. “Are you sure?”
“Wow!” Piper cried and squeezed my arm. “Congrats! I lost six.”
“You look great,” I replied, realizing that she was expecting it. Piper did look great these days — but it had more to do with posture and styling than not eating.
Piper grinned. “I’m so glad you did this with me,” she replied. “You were a little tubby before. And you totally didn’t look like a beauty queen. Now you have a chance.”
Now Deirdre was stifling a laugh. I forced a smile. “Thanks.”
Piper squeezed my arm again and walked away with Deirdre trailing behind.
Wow, I thought dazedly as I walked over to Kelly’s station. Piper’s really something else.
“Hey!” I called cheerfully, approaching from behind as Kelly applied new lip gloss in her mirror. “Want to grab lunch to celebrate the end of rehearsals?”
Kelly caught my eye in the mirror and smiled warmly, but then seemed to hesitate. “I’d love to,” she said, “but Nancy, before we go, I have to tell you something. You know I think you’re great, right? And I really hate to judge anyone or tell them what to do.”
My stomach dropped. Had Kelly found out why I was really competing in the pageant? Did she know that I was looking at her as a suspect?
Kelly turned and put her hands on my arms, looking up at me seriously. “I saw you talking to Portia Leoni in the parking lot yesterday afternoon,” she said in a low voice. “Nancy, I know we haven’t been friends long and I have no right to tell you who to be friends with. But I really think…” She looked around, as if she was worried that someone might be eavesdropping. “I think she’s bad news.”
I tilted my head. “How so?”
Portia had been dethroned in a public controversy, and most people in River Heights probably thought she was a shoplifter. But something about the urgency in Kelly’s tone made me think this was more personal.
Kelly sighed, glancing up at me. “Of course you know she was dethroned,” she said, not looking me in the eye. “But even before that, my dad thought she was trouble. She would stay out late, then show up late to scheduled events. She would be rude to event sponsors. Or she would ask to keep the clothes and jewelry she was loaned for promotional events.” She paused, meeting my eye. “None of it was punishable, enough to threaten the crown. It was just her attitude. It started when we were competing, but it got bad once she won.” Kelly bit her lip, then continued. “She always acted like she was entitled to something,” she said. “Like the world owed her. Like everyone else was there to serve her. You know?”
Oh, I know, I thought ruefully. I wondered what Kelly would think if she knew the truth, that I had been hired by Portia to investigate her dethroning and was hav- ing to deal with her on a regular basis. I nodded, thinking. Everything Kelly said, I could see being true. I could certainly imagine that Portia hadn’t been the sweetest and cuddliest Miss Pretty Face of all time. Still, I had a strange feeling that Kelly wasn’t telling me everything.