Walking around inside with a bunch of pool towels on her shoulder would attract more attention than just trying pass as another guest. So she dumped them on an expensive-looking sideboard near the wall and veered immediately to the right, heading along the route she knew would take her to West House and the residential wing. She wasnt entirely sure what she was looking for but got the distinct impression whatever secrets needed uncovering would be discovered in the same part of the estate where Milly had died.

As she walked, she typed the names of the senator, actor, and Omar the Sultan into her phone so she wouldnt forget. It sounded like they might not have even attended the party, but it was worth checking into.

It also made Jessie wonder what other titans of politics, entertainment, and industry used the Otis Estate as their personal boys club. And though she knew drawing too many conclusions was a risky proposition, the thought did occur to her that a sultan buddy of Otiss from a foreign country might speak a different language, as Marla had mentioned. There was no evidence to support the connections she was making, but that had never stopped her before.

As Jessie rounded the corner and headed down the hall that connected South House and West House, a slight, bespectacled male staffer with intrusive eyes passed by, give her a twice-over. She knew even before she reached the door to the residential corridor that she was busted.

She pretended to be oblivious, pulling open the doors and walking confidently, even as she heard a staticky hiss, followed by the guys voice whispering into what she was sure was a walkie-talkie. The second she heard the doors close, she broke into a half-jog, bypassing the stairs that led to Otiss private wing.

She was more curious about the residential wing at the end of the corridor. The plastic tarps that had been set up for the mold remediation were still in place but she couldnt help wondering if there was a part of the residence that was still livable. Maybe a quick look around could reveal whod stayed there recently.

She was almost to the end of the corridor when a booming voice called out from the other end.

I wouldnt go in there. Black mold can have some nasty side effects.

Jessie stopped in her tracks and sighed. She recognized the voice. It was Nancy Salter. There was no way she could go any farther. Up until now, she could maintain the fiction that she was simply an LAPD consultant investigating a case and hadnt heard about the judicial stay, and that she just didnt want to bother anyone while she looked around to get some background for her investigation.