A Few Good Women (Lexi Graves Mysteries, 9)

by Camilla Chafer

  Garrett ducked too late. "What's that for?!"

  "You arrested my baby girl. I should ground you for life." Mom crossed her arms and fixed him with a death stare.

  "I didn't arrest Lexi; and I'm in my forties. You can't ground me for anything."

  "I told Traci," she said breaking out her secret weapon: his wife.

  "Shit!"

  Mom glared at him. "And now you're cursing? How did I raise you?"

  "I don't blame Garrett for questioning me," I told everyone loudly so they could not help hearing my statement over their own conversations. Garrett hadn't gone hard on me. He simply asked a a few questions, I clarified a few things, my lawyer told him the interview was a waste of everyone's time, and then Garrett told me he had other people to interrogate, which included tracking down Anthony's wife. I still couldn't get my head around the idea that Anthony was ever married. "I did say that I would kill Anthony but I didn't do it. I left the house and got in the car with Solomon and we drove away. We only went back because I forgot something. I couldn't have done it."

  "I know that," said Garrett, equally loudly. "I spoke with Taylor McDowell and she confirmed that you left and the house was empty when she left ten minutes later. No one knows how Anthony got in or who was with him. That's what we're working on now. We just needed to eliminate Lexi from our suspect list as fast as possible."

  "So it's over?" asked Serena. "We can move on?"

  "Not exactly. It's a murder case now so I have to follow any and all leads. Detectives Turner and Grant are working on it and I'll be overseeing the case, given that I have some knowledge of the deceased."

  "I don't want this to be the only topic of conversation at our engagement dinner," said Serena. "So, whatever you have to say, finish it all now. This is not going to ruin my night."

  Lily and I gave a mutual eye roll to each other behind Serena's back. "Where's Solomon?" I mouthed. Lily shrugged and pointed to the hallway I just traversed. Wherever he was, I wondered if it involved hiding from my family. Then I wondered if there were room for two as my mother began to complain about Anthony. Also, how did they all get here so fast? "I'm going to find him," I whispered, heading off to the living room.

  Solomon stood at the window, his back to me, and the phone in his ear. "No corpus delicti," he said and hung up.

  "Hey," I said, stepping forwards. He turned, and held out an arm. I crossed the room to him and slipped under it, leaning against him as he closed the embrace.

  "How much did you hear?" he asked.

  "Just the Latin bit." Not that I knew any Latin but I'd seen enough law dramas to know exactly what he said: the body was not found.

  "This whole thing has me puzzled," said Solomon. "I don't know what to make of it."

  "The murder?"

  "The murder I can understand. Steadman seems to piss people off and along with what I heard from his family, he doesn't seem to have changed from when you knew him. No, it's the murder scene."

  "That there wasn't a body found?"

  "Exactly. How can someone have bled out that much and disappeared?"

  "I thought the idea was someone took him? Moved the body?"

  "It's a possibility. How tall would you say he is?"

  "Five-eleven."

  "And weight? One-eighty?"

  "I guess."

  "Who could move a five-eleven man who weighed one-eighty? Not you. Not Taylor."

  "I would have to be really committed," I said. "So it's someone bigger than Steadman? Or someone who had help... maybe two people?"

  "Two people could work. Did you see anyone else as you left?"

  "No. Just Taylor. We showed the clients out. You?"

  "I only had a visual on the front of the house but I didn't see any vehicles after the other clients and Steadman left."

  "So someone arrived after we left," I surmised. "I didn't see anyone approach but they could have come from the other direction. We couldn't have seen anyone as soon as we rounded the bend."

  Solomon nodded, his face thoughtful. "That leaves a very small window of time for Taylor to leave, Steadman to enter, one or two other people to murder him, move his body and make their escape. You know what that tells me?"

  "What?"

  "This could have been premeditated."

  "Didn't his mom say someone was out to frame him?"

  "She did."

  "And he told me someone wanted to kill him. Perhaps someone really did. Perhaps they tracked him to Meadow View, and he returned for whatever reasons and broke in, they fought, and he was killed. They knew they had to move the body to get rid of evidence."

  "Then why move the body if they didn't plan on cleaning up after them? It's not just a body that has evidence. If it was spur of the moment, they could have left some trace behind. Fibers, hair, fingerprints, any manner of DNA evidence. Hiding the body is one thing, but leaving everything else behind feels off to me."

  " They didn't have time to clean up the crime scene because I arrived. Or perhaps it wasn't premeditated? Maybe they went to meet him there, then things quickly went sour, and he was killed. They panicked and moved his body. Perhaps they meant to clean up? Maybe someone was watching the road and saw us return?"

  "So far as we know, no one went back to the house after Taylor left but that doesn't rule out someone watching the house for her to leave and arriving shortly afterwards, when they thought no one would return for the night. Something else occurred to me. If you did disturb them while moving the body, why didn't I see them leave? I was right outside."

  "Good point."

  "Perhaps they intended to return once they dumped his body. It seems a little haphazard if that were the case."

  "We might never know." I paused, thinking about all the things we just said. Solomon was right: there was something very puzzling about the scene; but like him, I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was. "I do know that we've created more questions than we have answers to."

  "I hate that," said Solomon.

  "So what now?"

  "Now... we do nothing. I want to think on this some more and look into Taylor's claims too."

  "I'm really sorry."

  "For?"

  "For this..." I waved my hand around the room. "Okay, not this. But... this! I'm sorry Anthony Steadman's family came to the agency and I'm sorry he turned up in the middle of our case and I'm sorry..."

  Solomon pulled me against him, his hand winding through my hair as he kissed the top of my forehead. "You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your responsibility."

  "But the Steadmans came to you because of me."

  "That was their choice, not yours. None of this is your fault."

  "My brother interrogated me," I mumbled against his t-shirt.

  "Only to ensure that you were cleared first," countered Solomon. "No more apologies, okay? None of this — and I mean it, Lexi — none of this is your fault. Let's go back to the party your family is throwing in the kitchen and get something to eat now. We can work on this tomorrow."

  "Okay," I agreed, not feeling any better. Rationally, I knew he was right. None of this was my fault. Solomon was correct; I didn't ask the Steadmans to consult our agency, nor would I have. I had nothing personal against Cynthia Steadman, or her daughters, except that they stupidly blinded themselves to a man that didn't have any good in him. Anthony Steadman had damaged my life enough that I happily preferred to never see him again.

  There were times — and I say this without any pride in it — that I wished him dead; but they were at moments of anger and I genuinely didn't wish malice on anyone. While I couldn't say the news of his apparent fate did not devastate me, I wasn't happy about it either. I definitely was alarmed at being dragged into it because he was my ex-fiancé. It seemed to me that wherever and whenever Anthony turned up, it was always bad news for me. I had to brush those thoughts aside as my stomach grumbled. My family were here along with a lot of food that wouldn't last very long if I didn't reach for a plate soo
n.

  "This is all your fault," said Serena turning on me as soon as Solomon and I entered the kitchen.

  I paused, startled. "What? How?"

  "I'm trying to plan our engagement dinner and all anyone can talk about is Anthony."

  "We could talk about your ex-husband if you’d prefer?" I shot back. It was a mean retort but it wasn't my fault that Anthony was hot topic number one. He was also one of the few people who bested Ted Whitman when it came to being awful.

  "No, I don't want," Serena said smartly as Jord walked past and sniggered, carrying a full plate in each hand. He sped up his walk to Lily before Serena could turn on him. "Antonio deserves a wonderful engagement dinner. He's wonderful."

  "So give him one. I think it's great that you want him to enjoy it."

  Serena frowned. "Why wouldn't he? It will be fabulous."

  "Great! I'm happy for you and I, for one, don't want to talk about Anthony. So, let's talk about engagement dinners instead, okay?"

  "Well, sure, okay," Serena pouted, mollified that the conversation would put her at the center of attention.

  "So what do you have planned?" I asked before anyone else could twist the conversation back to hot-topic-number-no-thanks.

  "I managed to get a private dining room that will accommodate the whole family and Antonio's too. We're going to decorate the table with big bunches of ranunculus and roses. I've picked out the cutest, little dress for Victoria..."

  "It's adorable," interjected my mom. "The sash is so sweet."

  "And I had a matching silk bib made so she doesn't spill anything on it," said Serena. "It's so pretty. And exactly the same shade as the roses."

  "You matched your daughter to the flowers?"

  "I didn't want her to clash," said Serena without an ounce of embarrassment.

  "And it was the only date Alessandro's could do for the next three months," said Mom.

  I stopped, my spoon hovering over the lasagna. "Wait! What?"

  "Alessandro's, my favorite restaurant. I was so glad they managed to squeeze us in."

  "But I had the last date booked!"

  "No, I don't think so," said Serena. "I booked it three weeks ago and it’s already paid in full," she added with a finality that forbade any argument.

  "But I called them! They were holding that date for me!"

  "They didn't say that. They just said, yes, they still had it free so I booked it. Someone penciled it in and never called back, so they happily released the date to me."

  "You stole my party!" I wailed as heads turned.

  "Mom, Alexandra thinks I stole her party," said Serena, her lower lip wobbling. "She's so mean. I just want to be happy."

  "She did steal it! Mom, I provisionally booked Alessandro's," I explained. "They were holding that date for me!"

  "I'm sure it's just a big mistake. Let your sister have the party at Alessandro's," said Mom. She lowered her voice, adding, "It's so important to her. She had such an awful time when she was married to Ted and their engagement was such a let-down."

  "Only because they ran out of pink champagne and acted like it was the end of the world."

  "It was upsetting," said Serena, nodding gravely. "They gave everyone cava."

  "What? Don't I deserve a nice party? My ex-fiancé ran off with everyone and now he's dead."

  "Yes, he was a nuisance but at least you didn't marry him. Poor Serena. She's been through so much." Mom patted Serena's arm and Serena nodded more vehemently while glaring at me, daring me to defy her. I was pretty sure she was desperately trying to squeeze out a tear.

  "And I haven't? I helped Serena get out of that marriage."

  "And now we're all going to help her get into a new one that lasts."

  "But... but..." I trailed off, unable to enunciate how unfair it was. My sister had stolen not only my party date but also my venue. What next? Would she steal my wedding dress too? Not that I picked one out yet, but now I was sure I wouldn't let her within a mile of my fittings.

  "You'll find somewhere lovely and you're not nearly as fussy as Serena."

  I blinked. "I'm not?"

  "No, honey. What about the library? You could hold a wine and canapé thing there?"

  "The library looks like it was built from Legos by a blind six-year-old. It's ugly. I don't want a party there."

  "Libraries are chic. I read it in the newspaper. Or how about a picnic in the park?"

  I slumped, my head falling to my chest, tacitly admitting defeat. The only thing that saved me was the doorbell sounding. "I'll get it," I said to no one in particular since my mother and sister had already moved on to the menus and should the restaurant be a la carte or something more special and romantic?

  I didn't recognize the woman standing at the door when I opened it but I did recognize the signs of distress right away.

  "Can I help you?" I asked.

  "Are you Lexi Graves?" she asked, sniffing back tears. Her mascara was running in rivulets down her cheeks, giving the effect of long, spidery legs. Thick, curly, brown hair bounced around her face.

  "Yes, that's me."

  "My name's Chloe Alvarez. Cynthia Steadman told me you're looking into my boyfriend, Anthony's, case and now he's dead. I think I know who killed him!"

  Chapter Six

  I wasn't sure what to make of Chloe Alvarez in the hours following her surprise appearance on my doorstep. She was reluctant to leave those few square feet of space without answers, a situation made clear when she crossed her arms and stared me down. Through sniffling tears she asked me dozens of questions, none of which I could answer, even if she had given me the opportunity. The speed with which she spoke made me wonder if that was her natural state or a symptom of her distress. The only persuasion she needed to make her exit were the three cops that crowded the door behind me with their arms crossed and suspicious expressions on their faces. I have to say this, however, my outfit was significantly smarter, having always been the fashion forward one in the family.

  Unfortunately, when I arrived at the Solomon Agency the next day, I found Chloe sitting on the doorstep. I quickly drove past her toward the parking garage under the building, hoping she hadn't spotted me. Just in case she followed me underground, I darted across the parking lot as fast as my peep-toe heels would carry me. I was slightly relieved that the Booth Realty paperwork would consume all my attention; but when I looked out the office window two hours later, she was still sitting there.

  "Do you want me to get rid of her?" asked Solomon.

  I jumped and whirled around, my heart thudding. "How do you manage to move in so closely without making a sound?"

  "Talent," he said with a smile. "So?"

  I returned my gaze to the window. "I'm going to talk to her."

  "You don't have to. Steadman isn't our case."

  "It's fine. I doubt she'll leave if I don't speak to her."

  "Still doesn't mean you have to."

  "I know; but she says she knows who killed Anthony."

  "Highly unlikely."

  Despite Solomon's quick assessment, or the chances he was probably right, five minutes later, I approached Chloe, who looked up at me. "I have ten minutes," I told her, indicating I had no time to listen to any nonsense. Whatever was on her mind, she would have to spit it out now. If necessary, I could pass the information onto Garrett and then return to my less complicated life. A life that didn't involve Anthony Steadman or being grilled by cops.

  She got onto her feet, brushing off her skirt with her hands. Her outfit was nice, neatly pressed, and in pastel shades. She looked in her mid-twenties, and on the cute side of pretty. Cute button nose, cute lip gloss on rosebud lips, cute, wavy, bobbed hair, the thick curls tamed into submission. I could see why Anthony was attracted to her but I suspected it had more to do with the innocence she exuded than her prettiness. Much easier to manipulate, I thought.

  "Thanks for speaking to me. I wasn't sure who else to talk to and I'm sorry for turning up at your house," she started, appear
ing sincere.

  "How do you know where I live?"

  "Anthony told me."

  A cold, creepy feeling slithered down my spine. I barely lived full time with Solomon for two minutes and already my asshole ex knew where it was. What was he doing? Keeping tabs on me? And why would he even care after so long?

  "And how did he know where I live?" I pressed.

  "You didn't tell him?"

  "I haven't seen him in a decade."

  "Oh." She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. "Then I guess I don't know."

  "What did he tell you about me?"

  "Just that you're a PI and you work at this agency."

  "He didn't tell you he's my ex?"

  She frowned at me, as if it were incomprehensible somehow. "Really? You don't look his type."

  I had to raise my eyebrows, wishing for the umpteenth time that I could manage to raise just one. "His type is female."

  "Oh."

  "Why did you come to see me? You said you spoke to Cynthia."

  "I did. We talked on the phone and she said she planned to hire you to investigate the threats against Anthony."

  "And that's why you thought she hired me," I guessed. Leaning against the wall, I tried to ignore the corner jabbing between my shoulder blades. The office boardroom would have been a lot more comfortable but this woman wasn't a client. I was dubious about even speaking to her although I was pretty sure Solomon was overseeing our meeting from the office. If there were any problems, he would have been there in less than thirty seconds. "How do you know he's dead?" I asked.

  "It was on the news yesterday and the police have informed Cynthia."

  "Not you?"

  "No, I didn't know until Cynthia told me when I called her."

  "She didn't call you?" I asked, feeling intrigued. I was wondering how Anthony's girlfriend would even have the gall to talk to his mother when she must have known he was married. His marital status came as a surprise to me but I hadn't kept tabs on him in years. I assumed there was a whole lot about Anthony I didn't know. What kind of twisted relationship did his mother and mistress have with each other? The longer I thought about it, the less surprised I was. I presumed Cynthia still had her "boys will be boys" attitude, and turned a blind eye to any of Anthony's sexual pursuits.