I glanced at Daniel myself. “You work pretty hellacious hours, too, I bet.”
“Usually. I’ll probably go back to the office after we eat. But I love it. It’s just hard because I’m trying to compete—I mean, keep up with the rest of the group and they don’t have the obligations I have. And once we start a family …” She trailed off, glancing over at Daniel. I expected it to be one of those longing looks of love that make single women gnash their teeth, but it was a look of pained sadness.
I’ve seen that look before, so I stepped carefully into delicate territory. “Are you hoping to start soon?”
Lindsay looked back at me quickly, smiling with effort. “Hoping. Trying. Praying. The whole range.”
I nodded sympathetically, having watched friends struggle with doctor’s appointments and ovulation predictors and cruel calendars. “Does it qualify as irony,” Cassady asked once, “that all our single friends are praying not to get pregnant while all our married friends are praying to conceive?”
Lindsay took a deep breath. “So where are the two of you on the whole range?”
I laughed in surprise. “I’m not sure we can even see the range from here.”
“Really? You truly have that ‘great couple’ vibe.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to figure out how to get the conversation back to her and the Harem and as far away from my romantic future as possible. “You guys do, too,” I said, desperate for a segue, then pressed on before she could respond. “So at work, you’re the only one who’s married, but aren’t any of the rest of them in relationships?”
She shrugged. “Some of them are, but the job always comes first. My father used to tell me, ‘Never work for a man who doesn’t want to go home at night.’ Women who aren’t anxious to get home are even worse.” She smiled, but there was a startling edge to her pronouncement and I could imagine more than a few testy exchanges between her and some of her cohorts. She seemed to catch the edge herself because her smile and voice both lightened as she said, “I think the real reason Tessa hasn’t gotten her bracelet back is because she had such a rough time drinking for her charm.”
“Drinking for it?”
“It was this bizarre game Garth had us play at the party. When we unwrapped our bracelets, the charms were separate. He dropped each charm in a champagne glass and we had to drain it and come up with the charm in our teeth without spilling anything. If you didn’t get it all in one move, you had to do it again and again.”
“And, like any good drinking game, it gets harder the more you try because you’re getting blitzed.”
“Tessa wasn’t just blitzed, she got sick. In front of everybody. Garth picked on her about it for days afterward and she didn’t take it well. Things were kind of prickly between them for a while.”
“I can imagine.” And I did imagine. I pictured Tessa making a mess out of herself, trying to excel at yet another task from the boss, and failing at this one to the point of embarrassment. And then I remembered Tricia getting hit with the champagne glass to her mouth and wondered what might have happened to her front teeth had she had a sterling silver charm between them at the time. Then I imagined Tessa again, this time exacting revenge on a man who had humiliated her by hitting him in the face while he tried to drink for his charm. Which would be exceptionally hard to do with someone pointing a gun at his head or his crotch.
The urge to leave the table was overwhelming, but I didn’t know where to go. Could I come up with a reason to track Tessa down? Could I enlist Lindsay’s help to do that? Should I compare notes with Detective Donovan? Should I tell Kyle I had a headache and ask him to take me home? Or should I sit there and pretend that this was no more interesting or shocking than anything else Lindsay had said, lest she get suspicious and somehow alert Tessa?
I decided to stay put, let the idea percolate, and see what else I could get Lindsay to divulge.
“Had Tessa and Garth made up when he died?” I asked, trying to sound not much more than politely interested.
“I think so, but still—I’d bet that when she looks at the bracelet now, it brings back the negative as much as the positive. That would be hard.” She rubbed her own charm between her fingers, an automatic gesture I’m not sure she was aware of. She frowned suddenly. “You won’t put any of this in your article about Gwen, will you?”
“No,” I said, figuring it was the truth because if I was right, the article wasn’t going to be about Gwen anymore. “Do you think you’ll all stay together once Gwen and Ronnie have things running smoothly?”
She thought about that for a moment and my ears drifted over to check on the guys, who were discussing music. “I really don’t know. I think some of them are hoping things will be different, that we’ll be less equal, you know?” Lindsay said after a moment.
“More personal recognition?” I asked, thinking of Wendy’s Borg comment.
“I think the team’s more important, but that’s not a very popular point of view. Especially with Gwen and Ronnie coming in, everyone’s jockeying for position.” She cut herself off, tucking her bracelet into her sleeve, then folding her hands on the table.
“Tessa seemed to be setting the tone this morning,” I said, trying to ease the conversation back to her again.
Lindsay paused again, fingers slipping up her sleeve to adjust the bracelet again, and smiled. “Can’t hold her champagne, but otherwise, Tessa’s strong. She got us all focused again after Garth died, helped Gwen make the transition. She’s still a step ahead of everyone. We’ll just have to catch up.”
Kyle threw his arm over the back of my chair, startling me. “Can you believe this?” For a split second, I had the absurd notion that Kyle and Daniel had been talking about the murder, too, and Kyle had reached the same conclusion I had. But I knew better. Still, what could the problem be?
“What’s wrong?” Lindsay asked, taking Daniel’s hand.
Kyle sighed for effect. “Daniel says Dave Matthews is better than Tom Petty. Molly, you gonna let him get away with that?”
I looked Kyle in the eye and got the nonverbal message loud and clear: He wasn’t enjoying his conversation with Daniel anywhere nearly as much as I was enjoying mine with Lindsay and he very much wanted me to abandon mine to bail him out of his. Of course, I was piecing together a mystery and he was trying to be polite to a guy he’d just met, who struck me as a bit of a cold fish. So since Lindsay’d already given me a great deal to chew on and I owed Kyle big time, I frowned at Daniel in mock horror and said, “Sacrilege!”
Daniel laughed. “Prove me wrong.”
I smiled back and committed to finishing the meal without betraying what I was really thinking about. I gave an impassioned defense of my favorite rock star and Daniel countered for his. The four of us laughed and joked, and the rest of the meal passed in that pleasant, gentle group banter Tricia calls Cocktail Party 101—discussions of favorite movies, bands, TV shows, and books but never politics or religion.
The most interesting aspect of the evening was the feeling that we were gliding across the surface of everything. It was more than my being distracted by the new information on Tessa. It was the dynamics of the four of us. Some people you connect with immediately. I’d felt that Lindsay and I had done that in the office but now here, with the guys with us, I felt as if we were backing up. Maybe I was just tired—it had been quite a day.
Kyle declined coffee and dessert with no nudge from me, telling them that I got very cranky if I didn’t get my fourteen hours, and we parted company in front of the restaurant with us heading for a cab and them saying they wanted to stroll a while before they headed home. I told Lindsay I was sure I’d be talking to her again, maybe even drop by the office in the morning with follow-up questions for the article. And for Tessa, but Lindsay didn’t need to know that.
I tried to keep my excitement under wraps, but once we were in the cab, it sort of leaked out. “That was amazing.”
Kyle groaned, dropping his head back against
the seat. “It was excruciating. That guy has the personality of a dial tone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“If you’d resisted the Tom Petty challenge, I would’ve gotten up, thrown you over my shoulder, and carried you outta there.”
“As exciting as that sounds, I’m very glad you resisted.”
Kyle rolled his head to look at me. “What’d you figure out?”
“I think Detective Donovan is on the wrong track.”
“I told you that already.”
“And I think I’m on the right one.”
Kyle watched me patiently, waiting for me to continue, but I wasn’t sure I should. “And … ?” he prompted.
“Do you really want to know? Isn’t this the conflict of interest we’ve been trying to avoid?”
“The conflict of interest is me helping you work on another cop’s case. I’m not helping you. I’m listening to your theory. Maybe.”
“And that won’t cause a problem?”
“Knowing you, yes, it will, but a kind I probably haven’t even thought of yet.”
I wanted to take offense, but that’s hard to do when it’s the truth that’s being flung in your face. So I took a deep breath and laid out my theory about Tessa killing Garth, including the charm bracelets, the champagne glass, the perfume, and the party humiliation. Kyle’s head rocked up and down on the edge of the seat as he listened, staying with me right up until the party. “I don’t buy it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not a motive for murder. Now, if it’s the tip of the iceberg, you may be on to something. But I don’t think you’ve got it yet.”
“So what do I do?”
Kyle sighed. “Keep … working on your article.”
“Do I have to tell Detective Donovan any of this?”
I could see the amusement in Kyle’s eyes, even though he was gazing at the ceiling of the cab. “I like the spirit of cooperation in that question.”
“I’m not trying to be difficult.”
“Yeah, it’s effortless for you and it’s one of the sexiest things about you.” He swung his body across mine suddenly, hungry kisses roaming over my face and neck as he pulled me against him. It was a delicious, dizzying moment until he started chuckling in my ear. I thought about biting him, but he moved away too quickly.
“Are you picking on me?”
“Sweetheart,” he soothed, rolling back into his original position, “I was just trying to get you to stop thinking for a minute. But I know how hard that is when I’m limited by our surroundings and our audience.”
“Don’t mind me,” our cabbie urged.
“You’re not trying to get me to stop thinking,” I protested, “you’re trying to get out of answering the question.”
“She’s got you there,” our cabbie said.
“Does she tip you extra for the help or do I tip you extra to stop?” Kyle asked him.
“Should both try it and see what happens,” the cabbie answered.
Kyle pinched his bottom lip. “Molly, I don’t ever want you to withhold evidence. But you don’t really have evidence. You have conjecture.”
“Which I tried to share with him and he wouldn’t listen.”
“Because you’re really wasting his time until you have more to go on.”
“And should I?”
“Should you what?”
“Go on.”
“Like there’s another option.”
Now I was the one who sprawled across him. The cabbie hummed happily until we arrived at my building and we both tipped him generously.
In the morning, my theory held up to the toughest test: I was still as excited about it as I had been the night before. Even with Kyle challenging me on every conceivable point as he bolted down breakfast and headed out the door. His parting request was a simple one: that I call and warn him if I was going to come see Detective Donovan. I agreed, knowing I needed to plan my “casual follow-up” with Garth’s Girls.
But first, a different follow-up with other girls. I had to call Tricia and Cassady and fill them in on the interesting developments of last night—and discover I’d missed the most interesting one of the bunch.
“He’s very sweet,” Tricia said in a way that made “sweet” a thing to be cherished, not demeaning or condescending at all.
“You met Aaron and I missed it?”
“You had more pressing matters to attend to.”
“Still. I feel like I’m the only one who couldn’t stay awake long enough to see Santa Claus.”
“Trust me, Molly, he does exist and he’s very charming. I really don’t see why she was so skittish.”
“Because they’ve only known each other for a few days. This is whirlwind, even for her.”
“All the better to meet him early then.”
“Before the gala?”
“You’ll have to discuss that with her.”
Which I arranged to do by having Cassady meet me for coffee on her way to a client meeting. Cassady’s idea of a big breakfast is having real milk in her coffee, but I was able to tempt her with a piece of my cream-cheese-and-carrot muffin. “It’s vegetables,” I told her. “And calcium.”
“I’d be more persuaded if I hadn’t heard you give similar speeches in defense of chocolate cake.”
“Eggs, flour, milk. And chocolate promotes serotonin production and we all need more of that. Would you like me to get you a chocolate muffin?”
“No, thank you. Just tell me what Tricia said about Aaron.”
“‘Sweet.’” She wrinkled her nose, but I hurried to assure her, “In a really good way. So I want to meet him now.”
“You and Kyle free for dinner?”
I did owe Kyle a pleasant dinner after he’d gotten stuck with Daniel for such a long time the night before. I told Cassady I’d check with Kyle, then filled her in on my new thoughts about Garth’s death. She nodded excitedly, actually eating another piece of muffin as she listened. “What a great idea.”
“Tessa?”
“No, making him choke on his own pride, as it were. I have a few former bosses I’d like to see swallow more than that, believe me. My question is, was she sleeping with him, too, or is this strictly some sort of thwarted ambition thing?”
“I’m thinking both, which explains the two shots.”
“Very creative. No wonder it’s such a good agency.”
“I don’t think they’ll be adding it to their list of credits.”
Cassady’s business meeting was only a few buildings past mine, so we brushed off the muffin crumbs and headed toward work. The air was muggy, so we both walked with that anti-sweat posture where the elbows are turned out slightly to keep the underarms as well-ventilated as possible while still keeping the shoulders square enough not to lose the handbag. As long as I didn’t have to answer my phone, I could stay cool.
Or unless I saw someone I wasn’t prepared to see. Peter Mulcahey was pacing the plaza in front of my building and while he didn’t seem to have worked up a sweat, I felt droplets on the back of my neck at the sight of him. I thought I’d dealt with him and dismissed him and couldn’t imagine what had brought him back to me. Of course, I work in a very large building and there was always the hope that he hadn’t come to see me at all, that this was all an unhappy coincidence. But that hope wilted in the heat as Peter strode up to me, barely taking time to acknowledge Cassady as he did so.
“What’s going on?”
“Hello, Peter,” Cassady said before I could.
“Cassady, excuse me, I’m not trying to be rude—”
“Just happens, right?”
“And sometimes even without provocation.”
They were never fond of each other and this was not the ideal situation for them to catch up. “There something I can do for you, Peter?” I asked.
“Tell me why Detective Donovan won’t take my phone calls.”
“Maybe he ran out of free minutes.”
“I’m serious, Molly.”
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I tried to remember anything I’d done or said that Peter could point to as proof of my complicity in Detective Donovan shunning him. “I talked to him last night, but I didn’t say anything that would make him cut you off.”
“Other than the fact that he was wrong,” Cassady pointed out.
“You were there?” Peter asked.
“But we didn’t talk about you. Much,” Cassady said charitably. “Molly just offered a different point of view.”
“He wants you to write the book, doesn’t he? Let’s write the book together,” Peter said suddenly.
I wasn’t feeling as charitable as Cassady. “That’s a bad idea for so many reasons, Peter.”
“We’d be a great team.”
“I think we’ve already proven the fallacy in that. Besides, he told me you weren’t interested.”
“Lying bastard.”
A wonderful thing to hear about a detective who’s provided you with crucial information. But I wasn’t going to let Peter shake me up, I knew I was on the right track. “I don’t care about the book, Peter.”
It would have been a more persuasive statement had Cassady not looked at me like I was losing my mind even before Peter did. Peter’s smile hardened. “I don’t know what you and Donovan are up to—”
“Nothing!”
“—but I’m going to figure this out before either one of you. And then I’ll write the damn book myself.” He took a moment to remember his manners. “Nice to see you, Cassady.”
“Always a pleasure to see your true colors, Peter,” Cassady said, waving in farewell.
Peter stalked off and I tried to remember if I’d ever seen him genuinely angry. One of my problems with Peter had always been that his emotions were contained to the point of not being sincere. Maybe we’d just never dealt with anything that was sufficiently important to him.
“Why is it never the pleasant ones who come back to haunt you?” Cassady asked.
Killer Deal Page 16
