After She's Gone (West Coast #3)

After She's Gone (West Coast #3) Page 69

As soon as she discovered the invitation she tried to RSVP by phone, but that didn’t work. She decided her first chance to talk to Arnette would probably be at the party and that was only if she could get him alone for a few minutes.

It was weird to think that the party would be held despite the fact that the status of the star was unknown. Cassie tossed the envelope aside and focused on the front entrance to the gym again.

Two long hours later, she was rewarded when Ineesha’s classic Karmann Ghia pulled into the circular drive, and Ineesha, toting a gym bag, unfolded herself from behind the wheel of the red convertible. She dropped her keys into the hands of a waiting valet before disappearing through the front door.

Cassie considered her options. Should she wait for Ineesha to exit in a few hours, or should she accost her during her workout? She opted for the latter.

Climbing from her car, she then lingered until a group of three women were walking inside just as two couples exited through the wide doors. Fortunately only one desk clerk had been on duty and while the eighteen-year-old was distracted by someone with a problem with their key to the exclusive locker room, Cassie slipped past the desk and walked briskly inside. The interior was familiar, as she’d come here often when she’d been a member.

She hurried past the entry to the pool, spa, and the locker room, then through a wide corridor flanked by glass walls and smaller rooms. One of the spaces housed a spinning class and another was filled with yoga mats and members attempting downward-facing dog poses.

She didn’t spy Ineesha in any of the classes, which was good, but Cassie silently prayed that the prop manager wasn’t involved in a session with her private trainer. No. She needed to find Ineesha alone.

She walked through an open area filled with exercise equipment. Muscle men were working out on the weights and various machines that looked as if they’d been designed for human torture. A group of women were clustered together in a private Pilates class while cyclists spun to the beat of frantic music.

Cassie checked out all of the rowing machines and treadmills, eyeing earnest personal trainers working with clients and thinking she’d made a big mistake until she caught sight of her target. Ineesha Sallinger was sweating profusely on an elliptical machine. Perfect. Or as good as it could get.

Hopping onto the machine next to her, Cassie caught the older woman’s eye and said, “Hi.”

Ineesha glared at her. Lips pinched, eyes narrowed suspiciously, she said loudly, “I’m not talking to you.” Attached to her cell phone, thin, white cords hung from her ears as she pumped with her arms and legs. Her skin glistened and her hair, pulled into a ponytail, was separating from perspiration, her carefully matched yoga pants and T-shirt dripping. “I don’t know anything. How did you get in here anyway? This is a private club.”

And one to which both she and Allie had once belonged. “I used to be a member.”

“Used to be doesn’t cut it. Leave me alone or I’ll have you thrown out.” She focused on her monitor, which showed a steep hill. Gritting her teeth, she poked her earbud deeeper into the shell of her ear and turned her attention away from Cassie. “I’m not kidding. I’ll call security.”

“I just want to know about the prop gun.”

“You and the whole damned world. Including me.” Rather than keep shouting, Ineesha yanked out one of her ear buds.

“Somehow it was exchanged.”

Ineesha, struggling on the elliptical, shot her a no-shit-Sherlock look. “Duh.”

“But you were in charge—”

“Of the prop closet. Yeah, I know.” She kept on pumping. “God, don’t I know. But I have no idea how it happened, okay? I followed protocol. The cupboard was locked. I double checked. I always double check.”

But she didn’t seem to be as sure.

“Who else has a key?”

“To the cupboard? No one . . . unless I specifically loan it to an assistant, but no, I didn’t that day.”

“What about to the room?”

“Several people in the department and the producers,” she said, thinking aloud and then caught herself up short. “Oh for the love of Jesus, why am I talking to you?” Her eyes were fierce. “My lawyer told me to say nothing to anyone without him, so this interview is O-V-E-R! I wasn’t kidding about calling security. I mean it, Cassie, leave me the hell alone!”