The Rich and the Dead

by Liv Spector

  “You smell like vomit,” he said. “Just go.”

  “I’ll see you soon?” Lila asked. As much as she never wanted to see this man again, she knew that she needed to keep him close. “Next time, I’ll make it worth your while,” she added, smiling coquettishly.

  “You better,” he said, baring his teeth in a half smile, half growl. She could see in his eyes that he was buying her desire to see him again. His belief that she would come back for a second helping after he’d treated her so cruelly made Lila want to laugh out loud. But she refrained. Men like Alexei assumed all women wanted them, even if just for their money.

  Exhausted, she dragged herself toward the guesthouse as she heard Alexei’s boat roaring away. But then she stopped dead, all her senses on high alert. Someone was on the front porch.

  Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest as she slowly walked to the house.

  Then she heard Dylan’s voice. “Camilla?”

  She stopped in confusion. “Dylan? What are you doing here?”

  He stepped toward her, his eyes searching hers.

  “When I heard you were with Alexei, I couldn’t believe it. I said there was no way in hell.” He paused, as if choking on his words. “But now I see that I was wrong.”

  “I’m not with Alexei.”

  “That’s not what it looks like.”

  “You’ve never been fooled by appearances, Dylan. Please don’t start now.”

  “Explain it to me, then.” He reached out and grabbed both of Lila’s hands. An electric shock ran through her the moment they touched. “I need to understand this.”

  Lila wished more than anything that she could tell Dylan the truth—all of it. But it was impossible. Even if she could, even if it weren’t against all Teddy’s rules, he wouldn’t believe her.

  “I can’t tell you,” she said. “But I will, someday. Just trust me when I say I’m not with Alexei.”

  “How can I trust you? You’ve totally disappeared. And from where I stand, it looks like you’re having an affair with Alexei and you’re just too chickenshit to own up to it. If you’ve moved on, then tell me and you’ll never see me again.”

  Here it was. Her opportunity to let Dylan go. She inhaled, and just as she was about to say, Yes, please go, something reached up into her throat and snatched the words away. She stood there, her lips slightly parted, staring at Dylan, speechless. She couldn’t push him away, no more than she could force her heart to stop beating.

  Without stopping to think, to breathe, she rushed into his arms and kissed him, relishing the feeling of his body pressed against hers. Finally he pulled back and looked into her eyes with a combination of relief and confusion.

  “Camilla, I . . .”

  Lila couldn’t let him say any more, so she interrupted him with a kiss.

  Tonight, there would be no more talking. Words were too dangerous. She couldn’t tell him the truth, she couldn’t warn him about the future, and she couldn’t stand lying anymore. Instead, she took his hand in hers and led him into the guesthouse, up the stairs, and toward the bedroom.

  As she undressed Dylan, and he undressed her, in the soft blue light of early evening, she thought that this precious time with him was worth any and all pain it would bring either of them.

  And since she couldn’t let herself say it aloud, she said it the only way she could—with her lips, her hands, every fiber of her being whispering I love you as the tide of her feelings swept her under.

  CHAPTER 30

  DYLAN LEFT HER bed early in the morning, after which Lila couldn’t get back to sleep.

  The psychological toll of working undercover was getting to be too much to bear, especially now that she’d met someone with whom she wanted to share everything. Nothing was more exhausting than living a lie.

  To quiet her thoughts, she turned on the television and was surprised to see the face of Sam Logan on the screen. The image then changed to footage from that summer’s Wimbledon finals, of Logan and Pedro Bolivar battling it out.

  The TV anchor said, “Pedro Bolivar announced today that he would not be competing in the upcoming Australian Open. That’s good news for his number one rival, Sam Logan, who is expected to cruise through the tournament and pick up his fourth major title. Bolivar said he would return to the circuit in the spring.”

  Lila practically leaped up to grab her laptop. She opened a search engine and typed Pedro Bolivar and Frederic Sandoval, but she already knew what she would find.

  Sandoval was Bolivar’s estranged father. In order to grieve for him, Bolivar was taking some time off from tennis. This move would be good for Logan, of course. No one else in men’s tennis had any chance of beating him. But what did that have to do with Javier? And why was he having Sandoval followed?

  Teddy’s database had nothing on Bolivar or Sandoval. Was there a link between Sandoval and Alexei? Lila made furious notes, trying to see the connections, but she was distracted by the faint hint of Dylan’s smell still clinging to her sheets. She buried her face in the pillow and inhaled his scent as the sun rose slowly from its hiding spot beneath the azure horizon. Even though her mind was running in circles, she was overcome by a deep sleep.

  Hours later, Lila was awakened by a piece of clothing landing softly across her stomach. Blinding morning light hit her like a wall. She picked up the garment, blinking in confusion. A blood-orange silk dress. Effie stood across the room, her back to Lila, rooting around in her closet.

  “What time is it?” Lila asked. She couldn’t believe she had fallen back into such a deep and dreamless sleep.

  “Around eleven,” Effie said. “Here, put this on.” She balled up a strapless cream-colored dress and threw it to Lila. “I’ve got plans for us.” She crossed the room, snatching the orange dress up. “This one’s for me. You’ve got an hour to get ready. We’ll take the boat.”

  “And where are we going?” asked Lila. She had planned to spend the day looking into Alexei’s businesses to see if there were any economic motives connecting him to the Star Island murders. Now it seemed as if she was going to get roped into one of Effie’s vortexes of sun, alcohol, and oblivion. “Because I’ve already made plans.”

  “Then cancel them! I’m sure that hideous Russian has something else to do besides ruining your reputation.”

  “I wasn’t aware that I had a reputation, much less that it was being ruined.”

  “Well, it’s time you knew the truth.” Effie sat down on the bed next to Lila with an expression of grave seriousness on her face. “Everyone detests Alexei, and if you continue to hang out with him, I’m afraid that they’ll hate you, too.”

  “Who cares?” Lila asked, putting a pillow over her face to get some respite from the oppressive sunshine.

  “I care!” said Effie.

  “South Beach society is junior high with bank accounts,” Lila said.

  “Exactly!” Effie exclaimed triumphantly. “Isn’t it fun?”

  Leaping off the bed, Effie returned to Lila’s closet to pick out shoes to match her dress.

  “There are rules, Camilla, and you’re breaking every one of them,” Effie said in the measured tone one uses to address a naughty child. “Usually I approve of a little lawlessness, but not in this case. Your Alexei phase is nothing short of bananas.”

  “So how, may I ask, are you planning to rehabilitate my sullied name?”

  “There’s a little who’s who of all the fabulous people happening today at Fisher Island. I thought spending time in the fresh air with handsome men who aren’t psychopaths would help you see the light.”

  Effie’s phone vibrated. The moment she looked at it, her bright face went dark.

  “Who’s that?” Lila asked.

  “It’s nothing.” But judging from Effie’s changed demeanor, it was far from nothing. “Okay, be at the dock in an hour. Got it?” She quickly left the room.

  Effie was right. The party at the Fisher Island Club was a who’s who of Miami’s elite. It was thrown by Ocean
Drive magazine to celebrate their upcoming January issue. The country club was packed with perfectly toned women in high heels and bikinis swaying next to men outfitted in flip-flops, swim trunks, and tank tops. The club elders, not wanting their surgery scars to be seen in unfiltered daylight, stayed by the bar. A band made up of four men who all looked like the preppy villains in a John Hughes movie were playing their vaguely calypso music with the detached, superior air typically adopted by young men desperate to be rock stars.

  “You’re right, Ef. This certainly is the place to be,” Lila said to Effie, who was clutching her phone while nervously looking around the room. “Ef? . . . Earth to Effie!” Lila said, waving her hand in front of her friend’s face.

  “Oh, sorry. What?”

  “I was saying that—” Lila started, but then Effie’s phone vibrated again.

  “Got to take this,” Effie said as she answered her phone. “Hey,” Lila heard her say, before she once again went skittering away. Her curiosity piqued, Lila decided to follow.

  Lila stayed a few steps behind as Effie wove her way through the undulating crowd of swimsuit models, hairdressers, socialites, financiers, and self-described entrepreneurs. She watched as Effie ducked into an empty bathroom, closing the door behind her. But Lila was disappointed to find that she couldn’t hear anything, even standing in the hallway right outside the bathroom door.

  She jumped when someone grabbed her arm.

  “Whoa! Easy, girl,” Javier said from behind her. He was wearing white linen pants, a white wife beater, and a paisley scarf tied jauntily around his neck.

  “Javier!” Lila exclaimed.

  “Look at you.” Javier ran his hands along the sides of her hips. “You are absolutely delectable. I’ve been meaning to call you. Tell me what they say isn’t true.”

  “Tell me what the great ‘they’ are saying, and then I’ll tell you if it’s true.”

  “Well, when I saw you with Dylan those many ages ago, I was thrilled. I mean, really, rich, gorgeous guy falls for rich, gorgeous girl. It’s proper. Then I hear about you and Alexei Dortzovich. Are you serious?”

  “We’re just friendly. It’s nothing.”

  “It’s a lot more than nothing. Trust me. That man doesn’t do friendly.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “Enough to know that he’s someone to avoid.”

  It suddenly dawned on Lila that maybe Alexei wasn’t just at war with Chase. Could his conflict be with the entire Janus Society? She needed to find out more.

  “I have heard him bad-mouth Chase Haverford,” she admitted. “Has he ever done anything threatening to you?”

  “Please,” Javier said with a dismissive wave. “I’m a lot tougher than I look. No backwoods Russian hick is ever going to push around Javier Martinez.”

  Says the man who will be dead in two weeks, Lila thought. Suddenly, the bathroom door was flung open by a red-faced Effie, who looked shocked to see Lila and Javier huddled right there.

  “Christ,” Effie muttered under her breath. Her mottled skin and swollen, makeup-free eyes made it clear that she had been crying. Effie nodded curtly to Javier, who nodded back. Then she grabbed Lila’s hand. “I need a drink, or several. Let’s go to the bar.”

  “Effie,” Lila asked in concern, once they had arrived at the bar. “What’s wrong?”

  Effie shook her head, her eyes tearing up, but said nothing. They stood together in silence. When the bartender finally came their way, Effie ordered a vodka soda, downed it, then ordered another.

  “Please, Effie, talk to me,” Lila pleaded. She was really starting to worry about her friend.

  “Okay,” Effie said, “but not here. Let’s go down to the beach.” Drinks in hand, they walked away from the crowd toward the quiet of the water. When they were finally alone, Effie turned to Lila.

  “What I’m about to tell you can go no farther than you and me.”

  “Okay.”

  “You promise on your life?” Effie asked. “Because if this gets out, it’s all over.”

  “I promise.”

  “It’s my dad,” Effie said, collapsing into the sand. “He told me like two hours ago that he’s under investigation by the SEC. When we talked, he sounded hysterical. It was scary, hearing my dad like that,” Effie said, reaching up to Lila. “I’m worried that he’ll do something crazy like hurt himself. I mean, if any of this gets out, if even a whiff of this comes to light, he’s finished.”

  Lila was taken aback. This was not what she was expecting Effie to say. She sat down in the sand next to her friend and put her arm around her, her brain working on overdrive. Effie’s father, Winston Webster, was an international hedge-fund titan, a self-proclaimed soothsayer of the markets. But Lila knew for a fact that whatever investigation the SEC was conducting, it would not go far—because in all her years of investigating, she’d never heard anything about it.

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Lila said, but Effie wasn’t consoled.

  “Can you imagine if my dad is the next fucking Bernie Madoff?” With a groan, Effie lay back on the beach. “I asked him if there was anything to worry about, and he just kept telling me, over and over again, that he was innocent. And I guess I believe him, but why would he sound so crazy if he had nothing to hide?”

  “We all have something to hide,” Lila said quietly. “But if anything happens, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

  Effie nodded. Lila brushed away some of the mascara-tinged tears that were on her friend’s cheek.

  “Okay.” Effie sniffed. “Let’s go back.”

  Lila stood, pulling Effie up with her, and the two women walked back to the club hand in hand.

  When she entered the room, Lila immediately saw Dylan. “Effie,” she said, unable to take her eyes off him, “I’ll be right back.”

  Lila almost ran to him. She couldn’t help herself. She threw her arms around his shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She could feel all the eyes of South Beach on them. This was the first time they’d been affectionate in public.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Looking for you, of course.”

  Lila felt joy well up inside her. “Lucky me,” she whispered into his ear.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Effie and Chase cross the room together and disappear down a hallway. They both had very serious looks on their faces. Something was wrong.

  “Dylan,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Effie’s in a bit of a crisis at the moment.”

  “What else is new?” he said, exhaling loudly.

  “I know. But just humor me, all right? I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Lila left Dylan’s side to follow Effie and Chase. She went through an empty dining area and stopped when she heard shouting down the hall.

  As she tiptoed toward the commotion, the voices grew louder, but she couldn’t make out what was being said. Suddenly, Effie ran out of the room, with Chase behind her. They whooshed by, rushing out a back door that led to the tennis courts, not paying Lila any mind.

  Chase Haverford and Effie Webster? As far as Effie had let on, they barely knew each other. But Lila had already known that was a lie. Lies, it seemed, were crumbling all around her. Lila set out to find Effie and figure out exactly what was going on.

  It took a fair bit of searching, but she finally found her in her boat, which was moored to the dock. Effie was passed out, reeking of booze, and slumped over the steering wheel, with only one shoe on.

  Lila put her hand on Effie’s shoulder, and the girl roused slightly, lifting her swaying head. She saw Lila, then started crying again.

  “He’s going to ruin me,” she whispered.

  “Do you mean Chase?” Lila asked. Effie put her head back down and let out a big, shaky sigh. “How’s Chase going to ruin you? Does he know about your dad?”

  Effie was beyond talking. She was reduced to gasps, sighs, and sobs, a tiny, drunken, broken mess.
<
br />   CHAPTER 31

  IT WAS HARDER than Lila had thought to get Alexei to agree to see her again.

  “Are you going to vomit this time?” he asked over the phone, his voice dripping with disgust. She felt as if she could hear his lips curling into a sneer.

  “I’m not planning on it, but you never know,” Lila replied. Earlier that morning she had gone back over her notes, reviewing her files and compiling the information. In fifteen days, the Star Island killer would strike. More than ever, she was convinced that Alexei was the murderer, but everything remained unproven. She needed more evidence.

  “I’ll be at Club Madonna at ten tonight. If you want to see me, I’ll be there. If not, then all the better. I do not give a rat’s ass at this point.” With that, he hung up the phone.

  “And they say chivalry is dead,” Lila muttered to herself.

  At a quarter past ten, she pulled up to Club Madonna, Miami Beach’s only strip club, handing her car keys over to a Dominican boy who couldn’t have been older than fifteen. She figured there was at least a 50 percent chance she’d never see her car again. The marquee, with its tempting deals of two-for-one lap dances and BYOB, signaled that this was the place for sleazeballs on a budget.

  “Oh, God,” Lila said to herself with a sigh before paying the ten-dollar cover and entering the darkly lit, dismal club. House music blared as two bored girls lazily ground against each other on the stage.

  Alexei and his crew were in the back of the club, surrounded by many bottles of vodka and at least six completely naked strippers. As she walked toward him through the fog created by fake smoke and strobe lights, Lila could see him funneling vodka off a woman’s nipple and directly into his mouth. This should be a fun night, she thought. If Dylan could see her now, he’d think she was crazier than he already did.

  When Alexei spotted her, he put the stripper’s nipple deep into his mouth, staring directly into Lila’s eyes. Then he got up and reached for Lila, pressing his lips to hers. He tasted like booze and sickeningly sweet perfume. Lila tried to pull away, but he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against him. His eyes were droopy and drugged—by lust, vodka, madness, Lila didn’t know.