Lola blinked like she could not for the life of her think of something better to do than that. Because she couldn't.
She exhaled a moment later. Lola did not understand why people had to be so difficult. No matter. "I have other evidence," she said.
Lola produced a garment bag. "Here is my dress from the party. You will notice that it has not been dry-cleaned because I did not intend to wear it again. You will also notice that it has no actress blood." After her fight with Kennedy Mayfair, Lola had fully intended to toss the dress out anyway. She handed him another bag. "Here are the shoes." She pulled out her phone and brought up a picture. "This is a selfie I took with three men outside the hotel, Sunday morning. You will notice I am wearing the same dress. I will send it to you."
She handed him her hotel bill that included her room service charges and also a gas station receipt. Lola was not sure what good they would do if Moira was killed before, but she handed them over anyway. "More evidence," she said.
Last, she handed him a bag with ten very long, sharp, painted decorative claw nails. "These are the press-on nails that I wore to the party. I am wearing similar nails today." Lola called them her shredder nails because they were great at destroying fashion travesties on accident.
Lola clapped her hands and Ruby Mayweather entered, pushing a styrofoam mannequin wearing a cheap red bob wig. Once the fake Moira was in position, Lola stood. "Go get me a head whacker," she told her daughter. Ruby disappeared and then re-emerged carrying a piece of metal pipe about two inches around in diameter.
Lola took it from her daughter, squared up, gripped the pipe hard enough and hit fake!Moira in the head as hard as she could. The head rolled across the floor as Lola put the headwhacker down and showed her palm, which had started to bleed from some nasty purple fingernail marks where her nails had to dig into the skin of her palm to get a good enough grip to really WHACK somebody. "See! Marks!"
She pulled up her phone and brought up a picture of her hands that she'd taken for Instagram and posted on Sunday, and showed it to him. The skin of her palms on that photo were unbroken. "See! No marks!"
Lola gently whacked his shoulder with the phone. "I just did your job for you." She stood. "You can go now. Goodbye."