Her Sister's Secrets

by V. J. Chambers

  There were several tiers of porches that overlooked the water. On the lowest, there was a sparkling pool, surrounded by minimalistic lounge chairs. Directly in front of me, on the ground floor, was the back entrance to the kitchens. I headed there.

  I had an invitation to the party, so I could have gone in the main entrance, but I wanted to go into the kitchen, because I wanted to talk to the people who worked here at the Wainwright house. From what I remembered, if there was gossip to know, they knew it, so if there was anything that I needed to know about my sister, I should start asking around there. From what they told me, I’d be able to direct my next move.

  I eased myself inside the door, not bothering to knock. There wouldn’t be any reason to do so, since people brought in to work the party would be coming and going through this door.

  Just as I thought, no one so much as looked up when I came inside.

  The Wainwright kitchen was massive, like something created for a restaurant. There was an eight-burner stove and two industrial-sized convection ovens. There were acres of counter space, and a set of deep, stainless steel sinks.

  This wasn’t the only kitchen in the house. There was one upstairs, too, a smaller, more typical sort of kitchen. It was the original kitchen to the house, as I understood it. Hazel Wainwright had this larger one built on to the house so that she could have an easier time entertaining. When I’d been a little girl, this house had been quite the social hub. There were parties nearly every weekend.

  Roman Wainwright came from money. His father was an oil tycoon or something, I didn’t know. But Roman himself had added to his fortune in the music business. He’d bought out a record label in the 1980s, and that was what had led him to buy real estate in this area. Sarasota had the reputation of being a haven for creative types. It was the place where the Ringling Circus still wintered, and there was a big artsy college here. There were lots of writers and musicians and actors who owned houses out here, and they were the sorts of people that came to Roman’s parties.

  Now that he was growing older, I wasn’t sure if the parties were the same kind of outrageous, libertine sort of gatherings that they used to be. Things had changed in the area in the ensuing time. While creative types still came here, there were also your typical wealthy people—real estate tycoons, CEOs, and venture capitalists.

  I didn’t keep up with this sort of thing, but I understood that an invitation to a Wainwright party was a bit of a who’s who of Sarasota’s wealthy set. If you had the cash, you’d want to be here, to see and be seen.

  However, I imagined this party would be a bit subdued if only for the fact that it was being held in September, which was when the area tended to clear out. People who came for the summer had all gone back home and people who waited out the cold northern winters wouldn’t be here for a month or two.

  But it certainly looked like a decent-sized party from the number of people working in the kitchen. The place was full of women and men—most dressed in either simple, calf-length black dresses or black shirts with black vests—who were running to and fro around platters and platters of appetizers and drinks, all of which were set out on the acres of counter space I had mentioned.

  I smoothed my hair, even though I wasn’t worried about flyaways. I was trying for aloof and whimsical. Flyaways were intentional.

  “Well, as I live and breathe,” said a voice to my right.

  I turned and there was Liza Beekman, who I hadn’t seen since I was a little girl. Back then, I had realized she was short, but I hadn’t realized how short, because I had been shorter still. Now, the woman barely made it to my shoulder. She had her hands on her hips and grinned up at me.

  “Liza,” I said.

  She opened her arms to me. “Emilia. You’re so grown up.”

  I hugged her, which was a little awkward, considering I had to bend down. But she had a strong grip, and she probably could have picked me up off my feet if she wanted.

  She released me. “I never expected to see you here.”

  “Well, it was a bit of an impulsive decision,” I said. “But I had an invite, and I thought it might be a good idea to stop in.”

  “It is good to see you,” she said. “How have you been?”

  “Oh, fine,” I said, smiling.

  “Now, I shouldn’t have asked,” she said. “Of course you’ve been awful, what with what happened to Violet.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s true.” I nodded. Answering fine was just a knee jerk reaction, I supposed. “Did you see her often? She worked for the Wainwrights.”

  “Oh, she wasn’t full staff like me,” said Liza.

  “Oh, are you?” I said.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “Been the cook here ever since your mother left.”

  “I see,” I said. “Well, that makes sense.” Liza had come in to help out when my mother needed an extra hand in the kitchen, but she hadn’t been a full-time employee back then.

  “But I did see Violet some,” said Liza. “Mostly if she would come down to see me about whatever event she was planning. She’d want to know if I thought I could handle it, or if I’d want to hire staff, or if she should bring some catering. This time we did catering.” She gestured. “So, I’m just here tonight to make sure no one breaks anything is all.” She laughed a little.

  “Right,” I said.

  “She’d come down here with Drew a lot,” said Liza.

  “Violet would?” I said.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Liza. “At first, when she got the job, it was her and Drew and that Newman girl. Tania? You remember her.”

  “I do,” I said. As part of my mother’s salary, the Wainwrights had pulled strings to get us into a prestigious private school, which we attended with the other wealthy children of Sarasota. Tania had been one of those girls. I’d never liked her much.

  “Well, Drew and Tania were engaged, and she was always here. I think she thought of herself as the de facto woman of the house with Hazel gone. But then there was trouble with her and Drew, and they broke up.”

  “Oh,” I said. Huh. See, this was the reason to come here. I got all the good gossip from the kitchen staff.

  “So, then it was just Violet and Drew all the time,” said Liza.

  “Interesting,” I said. “You wouldn’t think Drew would care much about the parties.”

  “He didn’t.” Liza laughed. “He would never have an opinion. Violet would say, ‘What do you think?’ and he’d say she probably knew best. I don’t even know why he came down. At first I thought Tania was just dragging him along, but then he kept showing up after she stopped coming around.” Liza shrugged. “But listen to me gabbing on about this. You couldn’t care less, I’m sure.”

  “No, I’m interested,” I said. “I’m here because I want to know more about what Violet’s life was like. We hadn’t been close, before she, um, passed.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Liza hugged me again.

  I hugged her too, briefly, and then I straightened. “Was everything okay for Violet? Was there anyone who didn’t like her? Anyone who she had conflict with?” Anyone who might have killed her?

  “Everyone loved Violet,” said Liza, patting my arm. “Don’t you worry. She was happy. I think she loved her job. She would get so excited about each and every party, and she brought something special to each one. This one here will be the last one she did any work on. I know she’d be pleased to know you were here to see the fruits of her labor.”

  And that made me want to cry. I had to fight back tears, swallowing hard and biting the inside of my cheek.

  “Oh, wait,” said Liza, but not to me, to someone on the other side of the kitchen. “Be careful with that serving spoon. What are you doing with it?”

  A woman in a black dress halted, across the room, holding the serving spoon aloft. “We need it for the lobster dip.”

  “Well, you’re not to use the silver,” said Liza. She turned to me. “Nice to see you, dear.” She turned back, raising her voice again. “Th
ere’s a whole section of stainless steel in the drawer to your right. Use those, please.” She was making her way over to show the woman.

  I scanned the kitchen again, looking for anyone else I knew, or anyone who looked approachable.

  But everyone seemed so busy. Anyway, most of them were hired in for the night. They likely didn’t know Violet well.

  So, I made my way around the perimeter of the room and out of the kitchen door.

  I emerged into a quieter room, a pantry full of canned foods and bags of flour. I moved through that and into a short, narrow hallway that led to a set of stairs.

  I stopped cold.

  These were the stairs from my nightmare.

  My heart started to pound.

  I walked around the stairs to look for the door to the closet beneath the steps. I found it, painted white to match the stairs, with a metal black handle. I tugged gently on the handle and the door opened.

  Inside, it was dark and small. I would have to duck inside now. I was so much taller.

  There were a few cobwebs in the corners, but the shelves were still stocked, now with boxes of pasta and jars of peanut butter. But, mostly, it looked the same. A shiver traveled up my spine.

  At once, I didn’t want to be in there. I backed out, pulled the door closed behind me.

  It slapped shut with a bang.

  I jumped, even though I’d made the noise myself. I backed away from the closet and started up the steps. I took them as quickly as I could. I wanted away from that place.

  CHAPTER SIX

  At the top of the steps, I came out into a hallway in the back of the house. I could hear the noise of conversation and music. I hurried through the house to the main room, where the party was being held.

  The main room was big, spacious, and open. The entire oceanside wall of the house was constructed of glass. We looked out onto the bottom deck with its large pool, and then at the beach and the water beyond that. The floor was polished marble. For the party, the furniture had been cleared out except for a few clusters of plush gray easy chairs. People were perched on the chairs, but were also standing around in groups talking. Most of them had drinks in their hands.

  I scanned the room until I located the bar. Then I made a beeline there and ordered a vodka cranberry. I needed a drink to do this. I needed it to be liquor. Liquor is quicker, said a singsong voice in my head.

  I didn’t know if it was the closet under the steps or what, but I was a bundle of nerves now. I wasn’t sure what had made me think I could do this. I was out of my element. I didn’t know these people. I wasn’t a wealthy person. And I was neither whimsical nor aloof, and I wasn’t going to be able to blend.

  I stood by myself near the bar, clutching my drink and taking big gulps whenever I didn’t think anyone was watching me.

  When they did, I searched their expressions for some sign that they could see that I didn’t belong, that I was an outsider. But they all that those careless masks for faces that people always seemed to have at parties like this, as if they were perpetually bored, or just too sophisticated to be bothered with emotions.

  I took another swig of my drink, and the vodka and the tart juice burned my throat on the way down.

  But the burning seemed to galvanize me. I drew in a breath, and I found it within myself. I might not actually feel perpetually bored, but I could pretend to be that. I could be whatever it was that I needed to be.

  This was for Violet.

  I knocked back the rest of the drink.

  And then I saw Drew Wainwright. He was across the room, and he was alone, too. He was gazing down into a glass that seemed to only have a few ice cubes in it, all the drink gone.

  Seizing my opportunity, I headed straight for him. I didn’t walk too quickly, because that would mean that I cared about something. And I, like these people, was too sophisticated to care. About anything.

  He didn’t look up at my approach. He seemed lost in thought over something.

  Drew had been a bit of a bratty kid when I knew him. He would chase Violet and me around the house sometimes and pull our hair or douse us with squirt guns. Sometimes, he’d laugh a very nasty laugh at our discomfort, and in those moments, I had hated him.

  But I also remembered that he had a different side. He was very giving and open with his toys and possessions. He never had a problem sharing with us. When he wasn’t terrorizing us, he’d even invite us up to play in his massive toy room and give us things without any qualm about it.

  I remember that my mother used to try to give back these gifts, sure that Drew would have changed his mind. But the entire Wainwright clan was very laissez-faire about the entire thing. Oh, no, Hazel Wainwright would say. If he gave them to the girls, then they should keep them. Don’t be silly.

  I wondered if he would even remember me.

  I stopped next to him.

  He was still peering into his drink.

  I wasn’t sure what to do. Then I decided to channel my whimsical, aloof side. “Drew, that is you,” I said in a loud, breezy voice. “I thought it was, but I couldn’t be sure.”

  He raised his gaze at me and looked at me blankly.

  I tittered. “You probably don’t remember me. It’s been ages. I’m—”

  “Emilia Farrow,” he said.

  “You do remember,” I said.

  “Of course I do.” He smiled. “How are you?”

  “I, um…” I looked down into my own empty drink. “Well, you know, my sister—”

  “Yeah.” His voice was soft. “It’s just unreal, you know? I can’t… Every morning I wake up, and I don’t even believe it.”

  “Exactly,” I murmured. It was strange hearing something so similar to what I was feeling come from Drew Wainwright. “You, um, worked with her? I heard that you helped with the parties she planned here.”

  “Yeah, I saw her a lot. She was here all the time, and now—without her—the place seems empty.”

  “I wonder if I could ask you some questions.”

  “About Violet?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s only that it’s so confusing, what happened to her. And I’m not sure it’s as cut and dry as an accident.”

  He gave me an odd look. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just strange, right? She was a strong swimmer, and—”

  “You think that… what? Someone did that to her?”

  I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t want to come out and say that I was actually trying to investigate a murder like some sort of amateur detective. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing. Was Drew acting strangely about this? Ought I be suspicious of that? I turned my empty glass around in my hands. “Did you notice if anyone was angry with her? If she had any enemies?”

  “No.” He was adamant. “Everyone loved Violet. You can’t be serious. If this is true, why aren’t the police—”

  “I went to the police,” I said. “They didn’t think there was anything there.”

  “But you do.”

  “I…” I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  He sucked in a breath, his nostrils flaring. His face twisted, and for a moment, I thought he might start crying or something, which threw me. I wasn’t sure if I should comfort him or not. Why was he so upset? Violet had only been an employee. Did he get choked up about everyone who’d worked here? But before I could do anything, his expression cleared, and he nodded. “Okay, look, we need to talk about this. But not here. Not now.”

  “No?” I said.

  “No,” he said. “Meet me. Tomorrow. Here at the house around eleven. Can you do that?”

  “I… Sure, I can do that.”

  He winced. “You probably have a job or—”

  “No,” I said. “I mean, I do, but I work for myself. My hours are flexible. I can meet you.”

  “Great,” he said. And then, without another word, he walked away from me, into the party, melting into the rest of the bodies.

  I watched him go. This all kept getting we
irder and weirder.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  After Drew left me, I stood around looking like an idiot for several minutes, trying to get my bearings. I scanned the rest of the party goers for people I knew. I saw some familiar faces, but only because there were musicians and actors in attendance. I certainly couldn’t approach them.

  I wondered why I’d been given this invitation to this party. Was something meant to happen here? Or was I supposed to use my own resourcefulness to get to the bottom of everything with Violet? If so, I needed to interact with people who had known her, and I didn’t see how I was going to be able to do that at this party. Maybe I needed to go back to the kitchens, talk to Liza, see if there were any other full-time staff who spent time with Violet.

  I took a deep breath and decided that was a good plan.

  But I hadn’t made it two steps before someone shoved an empty champagne flute in my hand. “And do you think you could bring me a refill?” said a female voice.

  My mouth dropped open. For several long moments, I couldn’t speak. I foundered and stared into the face of Tania Newman, Drew Wainwright’s apparent ex. Finally, I managed to sputter, “I’m not a servant.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking me over. “Well, sorry. You’re wearing black.”

  My dress was nothing like the servants’ outfits. At all. I glared at her. I never liked her when we were kids either.

  She squinted. “Hey, you look familiar.”

  “I actually…” I sighed. “My mother did used to work here. But I don’t, so, here.” I handed the champagne flute back.

  “Right.” She nodded. “You’re Violet’s sister. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks,” I said, eyeing her. She actually didn’t sound that sorry.

  “I mean, why should I be surprised that you’re here?” she said. “You and your sister are just alike, aren’t you? Can’t stick to your own place, always trying to take things that aren’t yours.”