“Of course, then half of the women would be drooling all over themselves.”
Both Lance and Jules laughed.
“Well, I think you both look great,” I said, trying hard not to think about muscular Lance dressed up in a tight little swimsuit.
“Thank you,” Jules said. He produced a pipe from his robe, stuck it in his mouth, and blew a bubble. “As nice as this place is, I don’t think we really fit in.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, watching as the bubble floated over to a tall, round woman, only to pop in her hair. She didn’t notice. “I fit in even less than you two.”
“Why do you say that?” Jules asked, sounding genuinely perplexed. “You look fantastic.”
I touched my deerstalker hat and blushed. “Almost everyone here is dressed so nicely.” My gaze flickered over to Darrin’s and Carl’s wives. “I look like a slob by comparison. I imagine half the women here feel better about themselves just by my mere presence.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Lance said. “Even if you came dressed as Queen Elizabeth, you’d get sneered at. That’s just how these people are. As long as you are happy, then who cares what anyone else thinks of you.”
“I guess.” I scuffed my tennis shoe on the hardwood floor.
Jules frowned at me, eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked. “It sounds like there’s more to it than you being worried by what a few snobs think of you.”
“It’s nothing.” I glanced at Lance in the hopes of changing the subject. “Thanks, by the way. I thought that guy was going to get away back there.”
“My pleasure.” He beamed. “I played football in high school, and did a little wresting as well. I’m surprised I can still stick it to them after all these years.”
I wasn’t. Lance was built. I mean, really, really built. He was the sort of guy any woman in her right mind would fawn over if given the chance. Jules was a very lucky man.
“Did that man kill that girl?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. He stole some of Mrs. Yarborough’s jewelry and didn’t want to get caught with it on him. When he saw Paul coming, he panicked, as anyone would, I guess. It wasn’t smart, but I understand why he did it.”
“And you’re sure he couldn’t have killed her?” Jules sounded worried, which was understandable. If he wasn’t the killer, then that meant we still had a murderer on the loose.
“Pretty sure,” I said, sounding as disappointed as I felt. “He doesn’t have a great alibi, so Paul’s locking him up just in case. We’re going to keep looking.”
A strange look came into Jules’s eye then. “Is that why you look so upset?”
“Because he’s locking the guy up?”
That earned me a flat look. “No, because your old flame is here with someone else.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” I looked away as I said it.
“Uh-huh.”
Lance put an arm around me and squeezed. “You can tell us, you know?” he said. “We aren’t here to judge. You look like you need to get something off your chest and we are the perfect pair of listeners, aren’t we, Jules?”
“We are,” Jules confirmed. “And we won’t go blabbing it all over town like some other people we know.”
I wasn’t sure if he was talking about Eleanor Winthrow or Rita Jablonski. I doubted it really mattered; both were fond of poking their noses into other people’s business and then spreading it all over town.
“Well . . .” My eyes strayed to where Will was still standing. Could I really talk about it? What if someone overheard and told both Paul and Will?
Don’t be stupid, Krissy. No one in this place cared a whit about what I had to say.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, too,” Jules said hurriedly, as if he was afraid their questions were too prying.
“It’s just, I think I’m screwing things up with Will. I would have been okay, but then Paul showed up and then there was the murder, which made everything crazy. I’ve been helping Paul out with the investigation, which means I’m not hanging out with Will, which means he’s off talking to his friends, and who knows who else. And as far as I know, he thinks I’m running off to the bedroom with Paul every time we leave the room. I’m not, of course, but with how my life is going, I just can’t bear the thought of it all falling apart because I don’t know how to handle . . .” I trailed off, out of breath, unsure how to go on.
“I’m sure Will thinks no such thing of you,” Lance said. “In fact, from what I can tell, he seems pretty darn proud of you.”
I snorted a laugh. “Not likely.”
“Oh, no, Lance is right,” Jules put in. “He might not like you running off and leaving him alone every few minutes, but you don’t see how he smiles after you while you are gone.”
“Or he’s smiling because I am gone.”
“Now, Krissy,” Jules said. “Don’t start putting yourself down because you’re insecure. You’re a far better person than you give yourself credit for, and these two men know it. We all do. I mean, in less than a year you’ve made all kinds of friends, helped put killers behind bars, and have significantly impacted the community with your service, and we’re talking in a good way.”
“If you say so. . . .”
“I do.”
Lance was nodding right along. “Maybe Will Foster is jealous of the time Paul gets to spend with you,” he said. “But that’s okay. We all get jealous some of the time. And if he is jealous of what you and Paul still have, no matter what that might be, then that means he cares. Just as long as you tell him what he means to you, and he doesn’t get obsessive to the point of violence, a little jealousy can be a good thing in a relationship.”
I raised my eyebrows at that. I’d never been too appreciative of any sort of jealousy, even my own. I guess it has never turned out all that great on my end, though it did feel pretty good that Will cared enough to be jealous. Bright side, I suppose.
“Just talk to him,” Jules said. “Put his mind at ease. I promise you it will all work out in the end.”
They were right. Moping wasn’t going to get me anywhere. In fact, if I kept it up, I would surely lose him. What guy wanted a girl who constantly talked about how unworthy she was? I’m not weak; I can handle myself. It was time I showed it.
“Thanks, guys,” I said, feeling monumentally better than I had been. “I’ll go talk to him now.”
“You do that,” Jules said.
“And remember to smile,” Lance added.
I gave them both my best smile and then turned to go set not just Will’s mind at ease, but my own as well.
He was standing where I last saw him, so I started that way, despite the fact his friends were still there. I’d spill my guts to him in front of them if I had to, though I was hoping he might take me aside so we could talk somewhere privately.
I was halfway across the room when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I almost ignored it, but then common sense took over. It very well might be an emergency, or Paul could be calling to ask for my help again. I pulled out the phone and answered it without checking the screen, eyes firmly planted on Will, who had just turned and was watching me approach.
“Oh, Lordy Lou!”
I groaned and almost hung up. I so didn’t need this right now, but I wasn’t willing to be rude to one of the few people who seemed to truly like me for some reason. “Hi, Rita,” I said. “I’m at a party right now, so I can’t talk long.”
“I know!” She was shouting as if excited. “I heard there was a murder there!”
“How . . . ?” I trailed off, not bothering to finish the question. How else? Someone here was probably friends with her or one of her gossip buddies. Once word got to Rita, rumors of murder and mayhem would be all over town.
“I heard it through the grapevine that Jessica Fairweather was murdered at the party! Is it true?”
I really didn’t want rumors flying around, especially with my name attached t
o them, so I answered with a noncommittal, “I can’t talk about it right now.”
Rita didn’t seem put out by my refusal to answer. “Well, if it is true, I can’t say it is much of a shame.”
I held up a finger to the waiting Will and veered off into a hallway where it was quieter. “Why’s that?” I asked, interested despite myself. If there was one thing Rita was good for, it was rumors, many of which turned out to be true.
“She wasn’t a very nice girl, now was she?” She huffed as if she’d met the sharp side of Miss Fairweather’s tongue more than once. “I’m sure there were countless men who would want to kill her, so I’m not surprised her current boyfriend gave in to the impulse.”
“No one said he killed her.” I wanted to be clear on that so she didn’t go around saying I told her he’d done it. “And by current boyfriend, I’m assuming that means she went through a lot of them?”
“Oh my, yes.” I could almost feel Rita shake her head in disapproval. “That girl was a floozy of the first grade. I swear she kept more than one man on a leash at any given time. With her money and looks, these poor saps kept throwing themselves at her, like they thought she would suddenly change.” Another huff. “As if.”
I wasn’t a big fan of dishing on the dead, but if it was true, then that meant Quentin Pebbles had a pretty good motive for killing her, not to mention the other guys she’d strung along. I wondered if Paul knew about Jessica’s past, or if Rita was giving me unsubstantiated rumors? I’d have to find a way to ask around without seeming like I was prying.
“Do you know the names of any of these boyfriends?” I asked.
“Well, why would I?” Rita asked, sounding as if I’d just asked her if she knew the color of the deceased’s underwear. “I’m not one to get involved in other people’s personal lives.”
I rolled my eyes and found myself looking at Will. He was standing a respectable distance away, mask turned in my direction. He was leaning against the wall, cane resting on one shoulder, looking absolutely dreamy.
“I, uh, got to go,” I said, suddenly not quite as interested in Jessica Fairweather’s love life as I was a moment ago.
“Oh, well, I—”
I clicked off, knowing that if I let her, Rita would continue talking. “Will,” I said, stuffing the phone back into my pocket.
“You could have finished,” he said with a smile. “I’m a patient man.”
“You’d have to be with me,” I said.
He strode down the hall to join me, still smiling. Our hallway was deserted, and all of the doors were closed, so there was no one around to watch us. My heart picked up speed as I thought about that, and it didn’t help matters any that he was wearing that yummy suit. He looked like he’d come straight out of the movies.
“Krissy . . .” he started.
“Wait.” I held up a hand. “Let me go first.”
Will paused, opened his mouth as if he might speak anyway, and then, like a gentleman, he nodded for me to go ahead.
“I’m sorry for running off on you so much,” I said. “I’m acting like a jerk. We came to the party together, so we should spend some actual time together. I really do like you, and before you ask, Paul is just a friend. We might have gone on a date once, but it didn’t end all that great and we haven’t been out together since. The only time I ever see him anymore is when someone gets killed.” Which was happening far too regularly for my liking.
Will held his smile during my entire speech. “I don’t blame you for what you’re doing,” he said. “I was going to tell you that I’m proud of you. I think you should keep doing it for as long as it takes to get to the bottom of this thing.”
“Even if it means we don’t get to spend any time together tonight?”
He shrugged. “I won’t lie and say I’m okay with you putting yourself at risk, but it makes you happy. What you are doing is important. You don’t have to worry about what I think. I have friends here; I can hang out with them until you’re done.” His smile widened. “I sometimes forget myself and act like a fool. I should be the one apologizing to you for acting as if I don’t understand. I do.”
I suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy. “I’ve been an idiot.”
Will took a step forward and wrapped me in a big hug. He smelled good. Very good. It was all I could do to keep from melting into him.
“That makes two of us.”
I started to smile, but just then, something thumped behind me.
I flew out of Will’s arms like he’d burst into flames. Heart hammering, I spun and scoured the hallway, trying to determine where the sound had come from. Fake cobwebs hung from the ceiling, concealing fake spiders, and probably a few real ones to boot.
“Did you hear that?” I asked, voice shaking a little. The empty hallway that had been a blessing a moment ago suddenly felt oppressive and frightening. We were close enough to the ballroom that I doubted we were in any real danger, but then again, if the killer was here and had found a gun, we’d be on our own.
The thump came again, and I was able to pinpoint it as coming from the second door on the right. The door was made of heavy wood and a gargoyle face had been carved into it. Red rubies were inset as eyes. When the next thump came, the face shook.
“Let me,” Will said, taking a step forward, cane clenched in his fist.
I really should have let him go first, but my stubborn streak kicked in then. I didn’t need saving or protecting, darn it! I snatched the cane out of his hand and stepped up to the door. I didn’t know if the person inside was the killer, a victim, or maybe not even a person at all. As far as I knew, Margaret Yarborough kept a pair of pit bulls locked away.
“We should wait for Paul,” Will said from just behind me. “Just in case.”
“You can go find him,” I said at a whisper. “But I’m going to check this out.” The murderer might have dragged someone into the room and could be killing them even now. I didn’t want another Monroe’s death to weigh on my conscience if I could have prevented it.
I pressed my face close to the door, listening for other sounds. I thought I heard what sounded like a heavy glass clunking up against the floor, but it was hard to tell since it was quickly followed by another thump.
“Hello?” I said, causing Will to hiss in a nervous breath. “Is everything okay in there?”
There was a snorted laugh, but otherwise, no answer.
I looked at Will, who looked back at me, eyes pleading with me to back away and let someone else handle it. It made me feel good that he was concerned about me, but not so much that I was going to give in.
My hand tightened on the cane as I reached for the doorknob. “Hello?” I asked again, this time louder. “Are you hurt?”
No answer.
“I’m coming in.”
“Don’t tell them that!” Will hissed.
I tried the door, fully expecting it to be locked. It clicked open halfway before smacking up against something and coming to an abrupt halt. I peered inside the room, terrified I’d find someone bleeding out, laughing madly as their life bled away onto the floor.
Instead, Quentin Pebbles sat on the bathroom floor, legs spread out in front of him, blocking the door. He held a mostly empty bottle of wine in his hands. His nose was red and his eyes were puffy from both crying and a little too much drink. His costume was open at the chest, exposing a sweaty white T-shirt beneath. His red bow tie lay on the floor next to him. He sniffed, wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, and said, “She doesn’t love me.”
And then he broke down into big, blubbery tears.
9
Quentin sat at the table in the room that was quickly becoming Paul’s makeshift interrogation room, rubbing his head. Paul had managed to scrounge up a cup of coffee somewhere, though it was black and cookie free. Every few moments, Quentin would take a sip and grimace before going back to massaging his temples.
“I was stupid to think I could tame her.” He spoke without any provocation. “I sh
ould have seen the signs.”
Paul glanced at me and we both sat down. I didn’t have to beg him to be allowed to sit in on the questioning this time. I think he would have even let Will come in if he’d wanted to. Instead, Will decided to go back to the ballroom, and had asked me to go.
I, of course, declined. There was no way I was going to miss this.
“What can you tell us about tonight?” Paul asked, keeping his voice low and soothing. No sense agitating a man who appeared willing to talk, especially if he was going to confess.
“We came to the party together,” Quentin said without looking up. “I’ve been planning to propose to Jessica all week. I thought about doing it before we came, or perhaps when we were heading back home, but decided to do it here.” He snorted a laugh. “What a plan that turned out to be, right?” He sighed and shook his head, slowly as not to jar his already throbbing skull. “I think she knew what I was planning from the start. She’d been acting funny lately.”
“Funny how?” I asked, earning me a warning look from Paul. Apparently, the same rules applied here as they had when Reggie Clements had sat in Quentin’s chair. I mimed zipping my lips closed.
He shrugged and then winced as if the gesture had hurt. “Secretive, I guess. Pushing me away. Stuff like that. I think she was preparing to move on from me and when she realized what I was going to do, accelerated the process.” A faint smile lit his lips. “She does that a lot. When we first met, she was already dating a couple of other guys. She said she broke up with them, but I knew she didn’t do it right away.”
Paul and I shared another look. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be dragged along like that. I guess Rita’s rumor of Jessica having a lot of boyfriends was true. It didn’t make things any easier, though it did help us with a possible motive.
Quentin looked a lot less like Pee-wee Herman now that he wasn’t wearing the red bow tie. Now, he simply looked sad and defeated. He continued to rub his head, which was likely throbbing from all the wine he’d drunk. On the way to Paul, he’d told me the bottle had been full when he’d found it.
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