I winced at the thought of Cali hurting herself. ‘That’s awful. Poor girl.’ Sounded like even if she wasn’t the one who killed Michael, she really needed professional help. What did her and M.J. fight about?
‘Selene sure has her hands full with family troubles.’ Violet shook her head and rubbed Ghost’s ear after he nudged her hand. ‘And you all wonder why I’ll never get married and have kids.’
‘There’s good parts, too.’ Beth Anne shifted Shakespeare in her arms. I noticed she was unconsciously rocking him. Did she have kids? I didn’t think so. She never mentioned any. I suddenly wanted to know more about her. I knew Whitley had a design business that specialized in hotels and restaurants and that her and her husband owned a dozen restaurants in NY and California and various other real estate. And of course, Violet had her makeup line, but I had no idea how Beth Anne had become part of the uber-rich club. She seemed so down to earth I didn’t think she’d come from family money, but I could be wrong.
‘There’s one good part,’ Violet grinned, ‘and I can get that without the bad parts, thank you very much.’
Beth Anne rolled her eyes and turned toward me. ‘So, have you found out anything yet?’
Should I tell her? Why not? I suddenly wanted to confide in her. ‘Well, Selene is sticking to her story that Cali was with her during the time of Michael’s death but I don’t know. There’s about a ten-minute window where she would’ve had opportunity. And we know she had motive. But, we also have a new suspect. Apparently that creepy neighbor, Oliver White, and Michael had this ongoing feud over an expensive African mask. They would steal it from each other and M.J. said it’s now missing from Michael’s art room. I saw a man wearing a wooden mask the night of the party, so we think he used the costume party as a cover to sneak in and steal the mask back, which would put him in the house when Michael was killed.’
Beth Anne gasped and her hand flew to her chest. Then, after a moment, her eyes narrowed. ‘You know what? This is perfect. Oliver is having a local art show and auction at his house Friday night. He’s invited Carl to enter a sculpture. It’s perfect. You and Devon can come as our guests and we can search his house for the mask.’
‘Beth Anne,’ Violet groaned, ‘snooping around a possible murder suspect’s house is only a good idea in movies. And even then it usually turns out poorly for the snooper.’
‘Yeah.’ I shook my head. ‘Violet’s right, Beth Anne. That could be really dangerous. And besides, Detective Vargas is getting a warrant as we speak to search his house for the mask. So it’ll be done the right way, legally.’
Her surgically plumped bottom lip stuck out. It always fascinated me how these women got their lipstick to stay put through class. ‘You two are no fun.’
Between classes, I grabbed my bike out of the storage closet where I’d stashed it. ‘Come on, Buddha. Time for some aerobic exercise.’ Buddha followed me reluctantly outside and eyed the bike with suspicion as I swung my leg over. ‘You’ll just have to trust me. It’s not that bad.’ I held his leash in one hand and started off at his walking pace. We worked up to a slow jog.
I breathed in the fresh, salty air. It was such a gorgeous day with baby blue skies stuffed with white cotton clouds so fluffy they looked like you could pluck a piece off, pop it in your mouth and let it melt on your tongue like sugar.
I guess I should’ve been paying more attention to the road than the sky. I caught the black car out of the corner of my eye and swerved just in time to avoid getting my leg crushed. As it was, the bumper skimmed my wheel, stopping it dead, and sent me flying over the handlebars. I’d instinctively let go of Buddha’s leash so he could jump out of the way.
I hit the perfectly cut grass with an oof! then lay there, dazed, staring up at the same white fluffy clouds I’d been admiring before my brush with death disguised as a big hunk of metal on wheels.
Then I felt Buddha’s wet nose sniffing my face. ‘I’m OK.’ Was I OK? I ran a mental check over my body, moving my toes and fingers then lifting my feet to rest them on the grass. It tickled my soles. I must have lost my flip-flops mid-flight.
‘Oh my heavens, are you all right?’ A face suddenly blocked out the fluffy clouds. ‘Dear, are you OK? Can you move?’ Sissy Berry was leaning over me. Her abandoned golf cart, little white dog and husband sat on the side of the road.
‘I think so.’ I moaned and tried to sit up. A sharp pain in my right arm immediately let me know putting pressure on it wasn’t the smartest move. ‘Ouch.’ I grabbed my elbow.
‘Oh, dear. We should get you to the clinic.’
‘No. I’ll be fine. I just need some ice.’ I used my left arm this time to push myself up. ‘Did you see who ran me off the road?’
‘Well, some kind of big black car. Dime a dozen around here, I’m afraid.’ The lines around her eyes and mouth deepened with worry as she helped me to my feet. ‘It sure did look like they were aiming right for you, though.’
I glanced at her and then scanned the area for my shoes. ‘I’m sure they were probably just on their cell phone or something,’ I said, distracted by the pain and my missing shoes. Though I wasn’t sure at all. My gut was telling me it was a warning.
‘I suppose,’ she said, not looking convinced either. ‘Can we give you a ride at least?’
I glanced back at her golf cart and then down at my bike. ‘I appreciate it, Mrs Berry, but I think I’m OK now. I just need to find my shoes.’ Truth was, I was feeling really shaken up and just wanted to get off the street and out of the view of curious onlookers. Bending down, I ran my hands over Buddha to check for any cuts or signs of pain and then, feeling dizzy, straightened back up. ‘He’s not hurt,’ I reassured myself.
‘Here they are,’ Mrs Berry called from a few yards away, holding up my dollar store flip-flops in her manicured and diamond-studded hand.
Her husband had climbed out of the cart by this time, his yellow-checkered golf shorts hiked up past his belly button, and was lifting up my bike. He looked so frail. I ignored my arm’s protest and went over to take it from him.
‘Thank you, Mr Berry. I’ve got it from here,’ I said. Buddha had come over to sniff Bruno at the end of his leash. The little white dog rolled over in submission. I hoped he wouldn’t pee.
‘That was some somersault, young lady,’ he chuckled.
‘Yeah, well, when you’re as clumsy as I am, you learn how to fall well.’ I picked a leaf out of my hair.
He bent down and rubbed Buddha’s head with a shaky hand. ‘You should report that car to security.’ He straightened up and his expression grew serious. ‘Black Cadillac, first few letters on the plate were TR6. Sorry, I didn’t catch the whole thing.’
‘I will, thank you,’ I said. Sissy Berry joined us and put my shoes on the ground so I could step back into them. I was now fighting back tears. ‘Thank you for …’ I wanted to say ‘caring’ but that might sound too personal, so I said, ‘stopping.’
For the remainder of the short ride, I kept pressure off my right arm and let the tears fall.
That evening, after making sure the doors were locked, I lay in Devon’s bed with the dogs and an ice pack on my elbow. I had the TV on for company but my mind was still trying to figure out who would’ve run me off the road. Did it have something to do with Michael’s case? Did someone overhear me talking about it? I had really tried to be careful. Or … what if it had to do with Devon’s parents’ case? What if someone was trying to warn him by hurting me? What if I was still cursed and the prayer Flavia said hadn’t worked? Now I was being ridiculous. But still … I reached over and grabbed the little white velvet bag Madame Dutrey had given Devon off the nightstand and tucked it under my pillow.
Buddha and Petey watched me, their ears twitching. Probably wondering if I’d just stashed a delicious treat under my head and not really judging me. ‘What? A girl can’t be too careful.’ Urg. This is exactly why I didn’t want to get involved in helping Breezy. Laying here wondering if someone had just tried to run
me over on purpose was not my idea of fun.
My phone vibrated on the nightstand. I grabbed it and looked at the number. ‘It’s your daddy,’ I said, resting a hand on Petey’s side. He rolled over and stretched out his back legs so I could get at his belly. ‘Hey,’ I answered, still distracted by my near-death experience with the Cadillac. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Not good.’ He sounded drained. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got a bit of bad news.’
EIGHTEEN
‘What do you mean she didn’t get the warrant?’ I stammered. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Judge Stasio denied it. She thinks he’s crooked, gave Oliver White a heads-up on the warrant request and took payment to deny it. She can’t prove it but it’s happened before with this judge when it comes to Moon Key residents. Money over justice would appear to be his motto. She’s not giving up, though. It just may take a bit longer.’
I grabbed Buddha’s squeaky shark, which he always decided was appropriate to chew when one of us got on the phone, and tossed it off the bed. ‘But if Oliver was warned, he could just hide the mask now. Make it disappear and that’s it. We have nothing that puts him in the Beckley home that evening.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
That’s it. Now, I was just plain mad. ‘Want to go to an art show Friday night?’
Oliver White’s mansion was every bit as impressive as the Beckleys’, only with an air of unapologetic pretentiousness. We’d arrived fashionably late with Beth Anne and Carl, who’d picked us up in their limo – apparently we were the only couple who didn’t utilize a limo service regularly – so the party was already in full swing when we were escorted into the grand room. If you could call it a party. It was a pretty subdued atmosphere. Piano music was being played live and there was an underlying drone of quiet conversations going on.
‘Carl!’ A woman waved with the tips of her fingers and then came over and wrapped herself around Beth Anne’s husband like a tiny python in leopard print heels. ‘The new sculpture is stunning. I may just bid on it for our own gardens.’
Carl seemed to be keeping very still. His hands stayed in his pockets. He’d apparently had more than one experience of being prey to powerful women. ‘I’m afraid it’s too tall for our association to approve but thank you for the sentiment.’
Beth Anne cleared her throat. Loudly. It actually startled me. ‘Eloise, may I introduce you to our friends and fellow art lovers.’ Her tone held a quality of steel I’d never heard from sweet little southern belle Beth Anne before. Was it jealousy? Well, if so it was nice to know even the uber-rich have to deal with basic human emotions.
‘Oh, hello, Beth Anne.’ Eloise slid her slender, lightly freckled arm off Carl, her red velvet lips imitating a smile as she surveyed us. I was glad I was wearing Hope’s cocktail dress because I’m sure the woman could tell it was Christian Dior with one flick of her narrowed hazel eyes. ‘Of course,’ she sniffed.
‘This is Elle Pressley and Devon Burke. They were hoping to get a large wall piece for their beach bungalow.’
‘We are.’ I nodded sagely, grabbing Devon’s arm when I felt myself tipping over in Hope’s jewel-encrusted Valentino heels. Who invented these torture devices anyway? I would never get used to them. Or understand why women spent more on them than my car was worth. No, that wasn’t entirely true. I’d kind of figured out the answer to that question in the last ten months of working on Moon Key: because they could.
‘Fabulous.’ She straightened her back and looked bored suddenly. ‘Well, the pieces are set up for previewing so,’ she waved, ‘smaller pieces are in the living room and larger pieces are out back – go have a look. Auction starts by the pool promptly at eight.’
I glanced at Beth Anne as I wobbled toward the various art pieces. Her small jaw was clenched. I’d have to get the scoop from her on Eloise later.
There was a buffet table set up against the left wall filled with large silver trays of fruits and cheeses and covered buffet servers lined up like giant silver beetles. My stomach growled. I noticed everyone was avoiding the table like it had the plague. Was all that food going to go to waste? I looked at it longingly. No, I had to fit in tonight, act like I belonged here. Even if that meant starving.
I dragged my gaze from the food with a whimper. That’s when I noticed the huge oil painting hanging above the marble fireplace. It was of a thin blond man standing in front of the same fireplace with one elbow leaning on the mantle. It was the most self-serving display I’d ever seen. This had to be Oliver White. At first my mouth just twitched, but the more I stared at it the more ridiculous it became. Who has a life-sized painting of themselves in their own living room? I began to giggle. Beth Anne glanced at me from the conversation she was having with a questioning head tilt.
‘Elle?’ Devon moved to stand in front of me. ‘Do we need to get some air?’
I pressed my lips together, holding in a burst of manic giggling and nodded vigorously.
‘We’ll be outside,’ Devon said to Carl with a smirk. ‘We’ll be sure to find your sculpture.’ He took my hand and led me swiftly through the room and out of the opened sliding glass doors … where we ran smack into the real-life version of the painting.
Oliver White, live and in color, dressed fashionably in a pinstripe suit with a pink tie, blond hair swept off his forehead and a chemically whitened smile. ‘Welcome,’ he said warmly, holding his hand out. ‘Oliver White. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.’
Devon shook his hand without hesitation, though I felt his grip tighten on my fingers. ‘Devon Burke, and this is Elle Pressley. We were just heading out to take a look at Carl Wilkins’ sculpture.’
‘Sure, I’d be delighted to show you where it is.’ As I endured his dead-fish handshake, he stared at me with bulgy hazel eyes, weirdly the same color as his girlfriend’s. I couldn’t shake the notion that he was dating himself. ‘Have we met before? You look so familiar.’
I began to squirm. ‘I … I don’t think so,’ I choked out through a forced smile.
His eyelids clenched for just an instant, a brief crack in his otherwise charming, easy-going manner. It was like watching a venomous snake peek its head out of a hole and take notice of you. It left me chilled as we followed him through backyard to stand in front of an eight- or nine-foot white stone sculpture.
He motioned to the tall piece. ‘Here she is. Isn’t she a beauty? One of my favorites that Carl’s done. My girlfriend, Eloise, really wants to bid on this one, and I’m tempted to let her.’
‘Yes, it is remarkable,’ I said, having no idea what the two intertwining figures were supposed to represent. Reproduction, maybe? I’d keep my mouth shut in case it was like that Rorschach inkblot test where how you interpreted it told something about you. ‘What do you think, honey?’ I don’t know why I called Devon ‘honey’ when I was being fake.
Devon shifted his feet. ‘Yes. I do like the interplay of the figures and the wave nature. It invokes a certain sense of freedom but at the same time makes a statement about the impermanence of existence. Lovely.’
I nodded, though I felt a giggling spell coming on again. I squeezed his hand. He got the hint. ‘I do think it’s too large for the association to approve here, though,’ he added quickly, repeating Carl’s words. ‘I think we’ll take a look at some smaller pieces. Thank you.’
‘Of course. I’ll leave you to browse.’ He pivoted to leave and then snapped his fingers and turned back, his eyes finding mine. ‘I know, didn’t I see you at the Beckleys’ Halloween party?’
My mind whirled as my mouth dropped open. Did he just admit he was at the party? Out loud? My heart pounded in my ears. My throat dried up. ‘I … I was there, yes,’ I managed.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips but his eyes darkened. ‘Thought so. I never forget a pretty face.’ He sighed dramatically. ‘Shame about Michael’s death.’
What was he doing? Was he playing some game with me, like cat and mouse? Taunting me? Does he remember I bump
ed into him in the hallway while he was wearing the stolen mask? He must. Why else would he just admit being there that night when he wasn’t invited? It was a warning. A threat. I crossed my arms protectively over my vulnerable stomach in case he suddenly lunged at me with a butcher knife. ‘Yes. A shame.’
He did smile then. It was a slow spread of his mouth that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Well, what’s done is done. Enjoy yourself tonight, Miss Pressley.’ He nodded. ‘Mr Burke.’ He left us then. I glanced up at Devon. His jaw clenched as he watched Oliver leave.
What’s done is done? Did he mean murdering Michael? ‘Is it just me or was that a warning?’ I whispered. The hairs on my arms stood up.
He nodded once. ‘Safe bet he remembers you and knows you saw him with the mask. Otherwise why risk telling anyone he was there that night?’
‘Should we leave?’ I asked, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable and exposed. Asking questions was one thing, being in the sights of a possible killer was another.
‘No. We’re here now and we’ll not get a second chance to be in this house. We’re going to have to see if he still has the mask. Him admitting he was at the party that night means he may just consider himself bulletproof enough to have kept it around. And it’d be an ego boost for him, a reminder of how smart he is and what he got away with.’
I clutched my stomach harder. ‘Do you really think he’s capable of killing Michael?’
‘No doubt.’ Devon ran his hands over my arms and pressed his lips against my forehead. ‘We’ll have to be very careful.’ He checked his phone. ‘We have twenty minutes until the auction starts and we need to be back out here. M.J. said there are two rooms where Oliver would most likely have the mask on display. The house is set up like the Beckleys’ with two wings. There’s a large library near the theater over there.’ He pointed to the left of where we were. ‘That’s one possible place. In the interest of time we’ll have to split up, but I want you to get Beth Anne to go with you. You two check the library and then come right back here. I’ll check the room in the right wing.’
High Jinx Page 14
