Maribeth glanced from one man to the other then agreed. "Yes, Greggy. Do go find someone to amuse yourself with. You've been quite good at that lately."
"Now, Mari..." Gregory began to protest, but stopped as she gave him the look. He'd learned early on not to argue with her when she stared at him with just that gleam in her eyes, unless he wanted a scene. Adjusting his mask, which refused to stay in place, he muttered, "Excuse me, I'll get some drinks," and stalked off.
"Has my son been mistreating you, my dear? He can be quite unthinking at times." Gray reached out and patted her shoulder. Deftly, he then let his hand linger to stroke the soft, golden-toned skin.
Tingles radiated through her at his touch. The lower part of his face, visible beneath the black feathered mask, didn't appear to be that of an old man. Maybe middle-aged, but far from old. Maribeth cleared her throat and shifted away from his disturbing touch, for propriety's sake.
"Well, yes, he's been a jerk. I came here tonight with the intention of feeding him his own..."
"Mari, here's your drink. A Shirley Temple and a Scotch for dear, old dad," Gregory told them and passed each a glass. He launched into a tale of an old friend he'd run into at the bar and their college antics.
Gray's eyes behind the mask were a deep, bold blue when Maribeth's gaze met them. Gregory's voice faded away while Gray held her attention. Finally, she jerked her eyes from his and stood. "I... I think we should join the others, don't you, Gregory?" She took his arm and practically dragged him away.
Behind them Gray chuckled as he watched the sway of Maribeth's petite figure beneath the silky gown. His son certainly did find a beautiful little morsel in that one. Gray wondered what any of his women ever saw in Gregory. Catching sight of Erica across the room, he knew the time had come to make this Halloween special.
Chapter Three
"Don't touch me," Maribeth snapped as Gregory tried to slip his arm around her shoulders. He looked so handsome in his dark British tailored dinner jacket. She noted how he drew the attention of several other women as they walked. Seeing him return their interest, Maribeth's anger only increased.
"What the bloody blazes is wrong with you, Maribeth?" Gregory demanded, drawing questioning looks from guests milling around them.
Maribeth took a deep breath. "Is there somewhere we can talk about this in private? I don't think you want to do this here, but I'm up for it if you do." She gestured to the roomful of people with one hand.
"Dad's study. No one should be in there. Come on." He grabbed her hand and led her to a room in the left wing of the house. Closing the door behind them, he switched on a desk lamp then turned to face her.
Maribeth immediately demanded, "Who is she, Gregory?"
"I'm not sure who you mean..."
"Oh, don't give me that! You kissed her in front of Stacks Restaurant, before you both got into a cab. You were all over each other. The very same evening you told me you would be out of town on business and had to break our date. Who is she? And is she the only one?" She stepped nearer and crossed her arms, staring up into his masked face.
Gregory reached up to rub his lower jaw, considering; Lie or come clean? He sighed and moved around the desk to drop into his father's chair. He slid off the aggravating mask, tossing it onto the desktop.
"I saw you myself, so don't try to lie to me. Now, who is she?" she loudly demanded as he stalled.
"All right, if you really want to know. Her name is Erica Venture. I called her because we were lovers before— Well, before I met you. You wouldn't sleep with me after that first time and—" He held his hand out toward her, but then swiped it over his face when she stepped away. "She was only about the sex. You have to understand, I'm a man and I have needs..." Close to admitting his addiction, he changed tactics and went on the offensive. "What do you mean checking up on me, anyway? We aren't even officially engaged because you won't give me an answer."
Maribeth whipped off her own mask. "Don't you dare try to make this about me, you womanizing louse," she exploded and threw it at him. "Two days after you asked me to marry you, you cheat on me. You didn't even have the decency to wait for my answer before you were off making it with some bimbo. I ought to chop out your heart!" She started around the desk as if to attack him bare-handed.
A knock interrupted them, and then a woman dressed as Cleopatra opened the door. "Excuse me, Gregory. Gray said you should rejoin the guests. The lieutenant governor is asking for you."
"Tell him to—" Greg broke off. He rose to his feet. "Never mind. Tell him I'll be there as soon as we're finished here."
Maribeth stared at the shapely brunette. Then she coldly told him, "Go to your father, Greggy. I think we are well and truly finished." Maribeth hid her tears as she swept past the taller woman still standing in the open doorway.
Chapter Four
"Erica, what are you doing here?" Gregory stared at the elegant woman wearing a golden dress and a band fashioned like an Asp around her forehead.
The woman strolled to the desk. "Looks like I saved your butt, sugar. Wonder what she would have done to you if I hadn't shown up? She sure was fired up. You can thank your dear daddy for inviting me. Wasn't it sweet of him?" Erica gently pushed him into the chair, dropped onto his lap, and twirled a finger around his ear. "You know I'm much better for you than that little prude. Ask me to marry you and you can have my answer right now."
Gregory sat still, refusing to wrap his arms around her or respond. Quietly he told her, "But I love Maribeth, Erica. It really was just sex with us and a big mistake. I won't be calling you again."
Erica jumped up and shoved the office chair hard. It flipped over backwards. Gregory hit the floor with a satisfying thump. "You had me convinced you loved me. I hope you get just what you deserve, you lying polecat. And you're right—you won't be calling me again." She stomped from the room, cursing beneath her breath.
Gregory slowly rolled to his feet, brushed off his jacket, and righted the chair. Wonder who else I can infuriate tonight? He needed a good stiff drink. And he mustn't forget dear old dad waited for him to come glad-hand the schmucks he'd invited, including the lieutenant governor. The things Gregory knew about that man might just pave the way for his own political career. And he'd found them out from the man's beautiful red-headed daughter. Amazing what a little pillow talk often revealed.
He heard thunder rumble overhead then saw lightning flash through the window. The storm had definitely blown in, inside and out. A few seconds later the lights went out, throwing the room into total darkness.
Gregory heard a door open and close. Footsteps came toward him. No one spoke, but a familiar scent reached him.
"Who's there? Maribeth? Wait a second, I'll light the candles." He wouldn't give up hope. Maybe Maribeth had returned for them to patch up their differences. For her, he might actually try to give up other women. But Greg knew himself too well. No babe, I'll just have to find a way around that problem...
Gregory took a cautious step toward the desk to find matches.
"Don't bother. You won't need any light," a voice huskily whispered.
As a streak of lightning arced across the night sky, an agonizing pain between Gregory's shoulder blades stopped him in his tracks. He reached back, gasping for air, trying to call out for help as he fell to the floor. The footsteps moving away were the last thing he heard while struggling for a breath. He lay on the floor, alone—Oh God, so all alone—growing numb and cold.
"Maribeth," he whispered. "Mari... Mari..." With a gurgle, his life ended.
Chapter Five
The great ballroom of Weeping Willow flickered with the light of candles and kerosene lamps. Guests carried emergency tapers in holders fashioned of aluminum foil with a few flashlights sprinkled among them. Most thought the power outage added to the atmosphere of the Halloween party. No one wanted to brave the downpour to head for home. Not as long as the champagne punch and food held out, anyway.
Shrieks and laughter rang out as those
in costume took the opportunity to jump from the shadows to frighten the unsuspecting. Games of hide-and-seek and catch-a-kiss broke out among other guests. The party continued, more raucous than before, as the storm raged outside.
A shrill, piercing scream rent the air, heard above every other noise. Everyone froze at the terrifying sound. Gray appeared out of the darkness and tried to calm his guests.
"A maid probably saw a ghost," he soothed with a forced chuckle. "Ladies, please remain here. I need a few men with lights." He rushed off toward the source of the scream, several men accompanying him.
As they reached the left wing and neared the door of the study, the young maid in the French outfit rushed toward them. One hand covered her mouth, tears streamed down her pale face.
Gray caught her by the shoulders forcing her to look at him. "Ally, what is it? What's wrong?"
"It's Greg...in there. I think—" She shuddered. "I think he's dead—" She waved toward the study door with one hand. Ally clutched Gray's lapel with her other hand, leaving a bloody smear. She stared at the blood in the flashlight glow and whimpered. Her knees gave way and she sagged against Gray.
"John, take care of her." Gray passed the maid off to the man behind him and hurried into the study. "Men, we need those lights in here," he insisted.
Several flashlights and flickering candles moved forward to reveal a grisly scene. Gregory lay on his stomach on the hardwood floor, his head turned toward the door, eyes open and staring. His right arm, awkwardly bent, reached behind him toward the silver-handled knife sticking from his back. Blood pooled beside him. A huge splotch colored a section of his white shirt a vivid scarlet, revealed by his skewed tuxedo jacket.
A hand stayed Gray's movement toward his son. "You can't help him anymore, Gray. Don't touch anything. This is a crime scene. I'll call the local authorities." The lieutenant governor ushered the men from the room and chose two of them to stand guard at the study door until the police arrived.
Chapter Six
The power came on immediately after the arrival of the first group of policemen. Rather than having been caused by the storm, a tripped circuit proved to be the problem. The control box would be fingerprinted when the forensics team arrived. Instead of a crime of opportunity, the murder now seemed premeditated, and the power outage contrived to hide the actions of the criminal.
A quiet, somber crowd talked in small groups scattered about the ballroom as the detectives inspected the body and the study. No one would be allowed to leave before being questioned, they'd been told. Uniformed officers waited at the front and rear doors while others watched the parked cars to be sure no one slipped away without permission.
Lieutenant Governor Samuel Stevenson, Gray, Maribeth, Erica, Ally, and the group of five men who entered the study waited together in the front parlor. Tears flowed freely from the women while Gray appeared to be in shock. He sat still and quiet, neither speaking nor responding. The other men stood about, talking in hushed voices, several chain-smoking.
An officer waited outside the door, allegedly to prevent anyone from entering. Sam knew his actual purpose was to keep them in one place, separated from the other guests. They were the primary suspects. Relatives, lovers, and the first to discover the body always provided the best suspects in a premeditated murder. Sam hoped he would be questioned soon about his brief part in the drama and allowed to leave. His mission finished here, he needed to catch a plane.
Chapter Seven
Homicide Detectives, Sergeant Gabriel Sands and his partner, Isobel White, waited for the photographer and the fingerprint team to finish before moving closer to the body. They carefully avoided the gelling blood pool and the smeared handprint marring the floor near the crime scene. They tugged on their surgical gloves.
Isobel pointed with her pen. "Think that belongs to the killer? This will be a slam dunk if it does."
"When are you going to learn fate ain't that kind and stop being so optimistic? My guess—it belongs to the maid who found him. But we'll sort it out. Write down anything you see that looks out of place. Never know what might be important."
The sergeant and Isobel split up and canvassed the room taking notes as they walked. They would compare them later. Isobel made small detailed sketches in her pad. Gabe jotted down notes in a short hand only he understood. They looked up as the county coroner and a couple of members of the state forensic team entered the room.
"Okay, Isobel, time for the fun part. We get to go talk to the family and friends."
"Oh joy, Sergeant. You really know how to show a woman a good time." Isobel followed Gabriel from the room and down the long hallway. She respected this man and his dedication to the job. She'd learned more in her first three months on the job with him than while earning her Criminal Justice Degree. When his last partner retired with a bad heart, she'd jumped at the chance to work with him. That had been three years ago and they had turned into quite a team. Now, this murder of the son of the richest, most connected man in the state just might be the biggest case of her career.
Samuel Stevenson met Detective Sands at the parlor door. He extended his hand. "Hello, Gabriel. Glad you pulled this case." Then in a low voice he continued, "How about taking my statement and let me out of here? I've got a plane to catch. They're holding it for me, but I don't know for how much longer."
Gabriel patted the lieutenant governor on the shoulder. "Sorry, Sam, but this is going to take a while unless you want to confess right up front. Why don't you reschedule your flight until tomorrow and let us get all this taken care of?"
Stevenson stared into the sergeant's eyes, but saw not so much as a flicker of him relenting. Muttering a few curses, Sam stomped off to make a phone call.
The sergeant introduced himself and his partner to the group. Then he began to explain some of the procedures they would be following.
"I can tell you who did this, right now," Erica interrupted, her tone shrill and whiny. "It was her." She pointed toward Maribeth with a trembling finger. "I heard her threaten him. Now he...he's—" The woman broke off with a sob and covered her face with her hands.
Maribeth jumped up, outraged at the accusation. "What about you? You were going in as I left. You saw him after I did—"
"Ladies, please!" Gabriel stepped between them. "This isn't helping. Now, since you're so eager to talk, we'll take your statements first. Ms. Venture, won't you come with me? Isobel..." Gabe indicated Maribeth before attempting to lead the brunette from the room.
Erica refused. "I know my rights, sugar. I don't have to go anywhere alone with you. You got something to say to me, we do it here or you arrest me. Then my attorney will slap you silly with a false arrest charge." She crossed her arms and waited.
"Look, lady, I don't have time for games," Gabe snapped, his patience nonexistent with contrary women. He had a murder to solve. "You don't want to talk to me, fine. Call your attorney and sit over there out of the way to wait for him. Then you will answer my questions or we will go downtown." Gabe turned his attention to the men who first saw the body to begin his questioning.
Chapter Eight
Maribeth went with Isobel to a small sitting room a few doors down from the parlor. She dreaded what was to come. Her intentions for coming to the party and the subsequent argument... It would all come out. And poor Gregory... She just hoped she could hold it all together and remember what to say. Sniffling into her tissue, Mari attempted to pay attention to the detective.
Once they were seated on either side of a small table, Isobel began, "What was your relationship to the deceased?"
"I... Uhm..." She cleared her throat then whispered hoarsely, "He asked me to marry him."
"So you were his fiancé?" Isobel made a note on her pad.
"Not exactly. You see... I never gave him my answer."
"Why not?" Straight to the point, Isobel hoped to make some headway.
Maribeth sniffled again and shrugged. "I saw him with another woman. I had planned to give him my answ
er tonight, but..." Maribeth took a deep breath and went on in a rush, "After I found out he was seeing someone else, I came to break it off with him."
The detective waited a moment as the young woman cried into her tissue. Then she asked, "So you were angry with him? Did you threaten him?"
"Oh, I was so mad I could chew nails. And I'm not sure exactly what I said. But I would never have hurt him. I love—loved him too much."
"What happened after Ms. Venture interrupted your argument?"
"I couldn't believe... When she came to the study door, I couldn't believe that the woman he had been with... She was here, right here in this house." Maribeth stabbed her finger on the table, emphasizing her words. "I ran out and went to the powder room."
"Where were you when the power went out?" Isobel felt she might be getting somewhere.
"Still in the powder room. I was so upset I became sick to my stomach. I can't believe this is happening..." The blond dropped her head onto her arms resting on the small table and sobbed.
Isobel patted the distraught almost fiancé on the shoulder and asked very softly, "Maribeth, did you kill Gregory?"
Maribeth made an effort to pull herself together. She sat up then dabbed at her eyes. She placed one hand on her stomach and met the detective's gaze without flinching. "I would never harm the father of my baby. Never."
Chapter Nine
Gabriel finished questioning the last of the men and let them leave the room. They didn't know anything beyond what they'd already told him. They all described pretty much the same details of finding the body. And all were accounted for when the lights went out. But he had learned Gray was not in the ballroom at that time. He'd soon find out where he'd been.
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