Page 77 of The 24th Hour
“We share many friends, have attended many red-carpet events together, countless parties and after-parties.”
Moira told me that she wrote a column for theTribuneand also had a podcast that was offered by invitation only and not available at any app stores.
There was no way to say it modestly, so Moira smiled broadly as she told me that she had the inside track with the rich and famous. I hoped that was true. I didn’t know enough about Rae Bergen to keep her name on the persons-of-interest list or cross her off. And doing that was my number one goal.
Moira had no questions about me and our investigation, and I was relieved. I wanted information from her, but I wouldn’t be able to tell her anything.
When the main course came to our table, Moira left a space between words. I grabbed it.
“Moira, what can you tell me about Rae and Jamie Fricke?”
“I thought Rae told you. She utterly loved Jamie and he loved her, too. Since the day they met. It was complicated, of course. Rae got together with Jamie whenever it was possible. He sent her to the moon and drove her back to the airport. She is devastated that some mofo blew him away.”
I said, “Yes, I know. But did Rae’s love affair with Jamie cause trouble in her relationship with Holly?”
“Oh,” said Moira. “I get it. You’re asking, was Rae so jealous of Holly that she killed her? No, no, no way. Not ever in this world.” She pushed her chair back a few inches from the table.
“Moira, don’t judge the question. I’m a cop trying to solvea very bloody puzzle and the longer it takes, the less chance we have of finding out who killed Holly and Jamie Fricke.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get that. But you don’t know Rae. She and Holly were so close, they were like twins.”
“Please go on,” I said and meant it.
Moira said, “Well, do you know about Christophe and Holly?”
“I don’t know about that. Please fill me in,” I said as I typed “Chris + Holly” on my phone notepad.
Moira put down her fork and leaned in toward me.
“It’s not a secret,” she said. “Not anymore. May I call you Lindsay?”
“Sure.”
“Well, Lindsay. Once, a couple of years ago, Christophe and Holly ran off together for a week to an absolutely amazing hotel in the South of France. Cannes, I think. Rae showed me the pictures. Frisky ones. I had to look at those images over and over because Rae and Holly look so much alike. But it was Holly, confirmed by Rae.”
That was a bombshell—and news to me.
I said, “Did Jamie know?”
“Sure, he did.”
“That must’ve ticked him off.”
“He wasn’t that way. Neither was Holly and neither is Rae. I, too, thought there would be ramifications. I’d forgotten how the Bergens, the Frickes, and their social peers played around and how they were raised. It was all allowed.”
I could imagine rampant promiscuity, maybe. But had I learned anything germane to cold-blooded murder?
“How long did the Holly and Chris, Rae and Jamiecrossover last?” I asked, even using my hands to do a crisscross pattern.
Moira said, “In Rae’s case, she was with Jamie off and on for twenty years. Before Holly and Jamie were married, and during, and after she and Chris were divorced. But those two, Chris and Rae, are still the best of friends and Brock loves them both.”
I followed Moira’s comments onto a track of my own and when I tuned back in, she was saying, “Brock’s a complicated kid. Smart and clueless at the same time. He was smoking, drinking, failing classes. Rae got him into rehab, and then back into school.”
“That’s why Rae lives in Malibu.”
“Exactly. And Chris is very devoted to his son. What a wonderful man he is.”
CHAPTER 102