I knocked on Marica’s reception-room door. Soon, it opened to reveal an extremely smoking-hot Jeremy in a black tuxedo and white shirt. Despite not wanting to give him any fuel to fan the fires of arrogance, I couldn't help swallowing. Even though I’d never cheat on anyone, let alone Will, I was only human.
Jeremy grinned, probably noticing my reaction. Gah. “Welcome to Gran’s eightieth-birthday dinner. Come in.” He stepped aside and swept his arm in a grand gesture of “come this way.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
He closed the door and cleared his throat. “Ah, Lily.”
I turned around. “Yes?”
His expression was earnest, apologetic. “I’m so sorry about this morning. The last person I expected to see here was my stalker. I also wanted to apologise for all the family drama you had to witness. I just hope you can….” He spread his arms out, palms upwards.
“Not tell anyone or show anyone the photos?”
He nodded. “Yes. Thanks for understanding. I figured you wouldn’t say anything, and I didn’t want to offend you by asking, but with my job, the smallest thing can derail a career.”
I totally understood, and I wasn’t a gossip. Except, could a murder investigation ruin a career? But, as everyone said, any attention was good attention, although I didn’t subscribe to that theory. Hmm, the Kardashians were an exception. Who knew that if your sister made a sex tape, the whole family would be milking it for years, raking in the dosh? I’m sure people made a living out of worse things, but that still boggled my mind. How they were anybody’s role models was beyond me. Our world was lacking something, and it clearly wasn’t idiots.
“Any time. Plus, I would never break a client’s confidence. What happens inside Marcia’s home, stays inside Marcia’s home.”
“Thanks, Lily. You’re amazing. I feel so much better now.” He smiled. “Now, let’s join the festivities. Gran’s threatened my mother into her best behaviour, and I magicked a camera into the reception room after you left so we can see who’s there. If they’re not welcome, we won’t answer it.”
“Good plan.”
He led the way towards soft background music and loud chatter. We walked through the family room, where a few people stood around talking, champagne glasses in hand, to the conservatory. I stopped at the door to the timber-framed glass structure and drew a quick breath. “Wow.”
Two long tables sat side by side with enough space in the middle for someone to walk through. The crisp white tablecloths draped over them were weighed down by silver three-pronged candelabras and the white plates nestled between shiny silverware. The long-stemmed wine glasses at each setting reflected the pretty fairy lights strewn about the conservatory and the flickering candle flames.
Magical.
Marcia walked over to me. She was radiant in a shimmering black ankle-length gown, the three-quarter sleeves sleek on her slim arms. All dressed up, she didn’t look a day over sixty-five. “Lovely to see you back here, Lily. Sorry again about this morning.”
“That’s okay. These things happen. Jeremy apologised too, but there’s no need. It wasn’t your fault, or his.”
She smiled. “I appreciate you saying that. So, is it okay if you get started?”
“I would love to.” My grin was genuine. Everyone was dressed elegantly, and the enchanting backdrop would make for some stunning shots. Plus, there wasn’t an argument in sight. Jeremy was laughing about something with his brother while holding a two-year-old. His fair hair shone in the muted light, and when he turned, his gaze met mine, his blue eyes all but engulfed by dark irises. Way too sexy for my liking. I quickly turned away. I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. It was just that, well, how could he be a killer, and how could I not assess the likelihood of that while I was here? I felt sneaky, as if I was lying to everyone. There was no way I’d ever make a good spy.
I ducked back into the family room and set my bag and tripod on the floor in an out-of-the-way corner. I changed the settings on my camera for lower light and hung it around my neck before picking up the tripod. I turned and stood face-to-face with Jeremy. Surprise!
“Oops, sorry to scare you. I just wanted to see if you needed help carrying anything.” Argh, how could I get angry at him when he was being so polite.
“Um, no. It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting you to be there, and I’ve got this. I’m just going to set up my tripod over there to start with.” I nodded towards fairyland, where one of the teenage girls was juggling three fireballs. What the hell?
Jeremy laughed. “Magic fireballs. They’re not hot. Neat party trick, don’t you think?”
“Ha! Very neat party trick, and good for giving people a heart attack. Crazy witches.”
“Yep. We learnt from the best.” He nodded towards his grandmother. “Anyway, let me know if you need anything… even a drink.” He winked and went back to the party. He was so smooth. Since the display this morning when he met me at my car, he hadn’t been sleazy or arrogant. Maybe he had a persona he used when meeting someone for the first time? Was his motto “do what they expect”?
I entered fairyland and placed my tripod between two chairs. I’d start by getting photos of the set-up. I was slowing my shutter speed slightly, so I’d need the added stability of the tripod to make sure my shots weren’t blurry. I clicked my camera into the plate screwed onto the tripod and took my lens cap off. I spent a few minutes taking some gorgeous photos of sparkling silverware and opulence.
I raised the tripod and took some candid shots of Marcia and her guests. I knew some of the pics wouldn’t come out well, as sometimes the subject was moving, which was never a good idea when you had a slower shutter speed. I’d get some clearer ones later when I could ask people to stay still.
In between snapping photos, I kept an eye on Jeremy as he socialised. Dinner came and went. Jeremy sat between his brother and Marcia, who was at the head of one table. They laughed throughout the meal and downed quite a bit of red wine, and who could blame them after the morning they’d had? I quietly moved around the table, taking photos as I went.
After doing the subtle thing, I asked diners to pose and smile. Once all that was done, I let Marcia know I was taking a toilet break before cake time. She silly-grinned at me, glassy-eyed. Her lovely English accent was crippled slightly by the effects of alcohol. “Thank you, sweet Lily. You don’t know where the bathroom is, do you?”
“Actually, no.”
“Well”—she looked around as if making sure no one was listening—“I’m not going to tell you.” She laughed at her own joke before continuing. “My handshome grandson can show you.” She waved her arm around above her head. Someone was going to have a hangover tomorrow.
I suppressed a giggle. “Ah, that’s okay. If you tell me where it is, I’m happy to find it myself.”
She waggled her finger in front of her face. “No, no, no. I’ve seen the way you’ve been watching him, and I know he likes you. I can tell.” She gave an exaggerated wink.
My stupid cheeks heated—not because I liked him, but because everyone was going to think so. I was definitely not another groupie who crushed on famous men. Bloody James and Angelica. If it weren’t for them asking me to observe Jeremy, I wouldn’t be in this situation. And by the expression on Jeremy’s face, he was of the opinion I was keen on him too. I suppressed an annoyed groan.
I gave Marcia an awkward grimace. “I’ve actually got a boyfriend.” I was pretty sure it wasn’t my imagination that Jeremy’s face fell—he recovered with the speed of a squirrel running up a tree trunk, so maybe I’d been wrong. Who knew what my ego was capable of making me believe?
“Oh, that’s a shhhhame.” She frowned and stared at her empty wine glass, then picked it up and waved it around. She shouted, “Refill!”
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. Marcia was a funny drunk. I snapped a couple of shots of her enjoying herself before I lowered the camera and walked around the table to find the bathroom. Footste
ps sounded behind me.
“Hey, Lily. I’ll show you where it is, and don’t worry about Gran. She’s about as subtle as a sledgehammer.”
I shrugged and smiled. I kept my voice light and as non-flirty as I could. “It’s okay. I’m flattered she thinks I’m good enough for her grandson. Besides, I’m sure you don’t need help finding someone.”
“Ha, if only that were true.” His smile resettled into a frown.
“How could it not be true? I say this without any intent, but you’re attractive and successful, so surely you’re beating them off with a stick. Jurors, I give you Exhibit A: this afternoon.”
He sighed as we crossed the family room. Then he turned right, down a hallway. “But that’s the problem. Because I’m famous, everyone thinks they know me. They don’t know me. Like you said earlier today: I have no idea if people want me for me, or because they think I’m someone I’m not, or for the fame. You have no idea what it’s like to disappoint people because you’re not what they imagined. Most people I meet recognise me. They have a preconceived idea of who I am, and it’s usually some fantasy they’ve built up in their own minds, their idea of the perfect man. And I’m not it. I’m not perfect, Lily.” We stopped, and he gestured to a white door. “Here it is. Sorry for dumping that on you.” He turned and strode back the way we’d come.
“It’s okay,” I called after him, but he didn’t turn around. That hadn’t gone well. What did he mean by he’s not perfect? Did he mean regular not perfect, or I’m a serial killer not perfect? If I hadn’t seen that body this morning, I wouldn’t even be questioning what he meant. This whole thing was giving me a headache. And I felt sorry for him. Gah. He was rich, famous, good-looking, had family who cared about him, yet I pitied him. The world wasn’t an authentic place for him. He was rarely seen for who he wanted to be seen as: himself. Seemed like a high price for him to pay. But it really was a first-world problem and one he should have seen coming. Still… he was just a person who needed to connect on a real level with other people.
As I sat on the loo, I figured out my next move. I had my phone in my back pocket. Did I dare sneak around the house and try and find evidence? If someone caught me, I could always say I was lost, but then how would I explain holding my phone out as if I was taking photos? Was it worth the risk? My heart thudded harder as I contemplated it. I wasn’t one for confrontation, plus I didn’t want Marcia to think ill of me. I rolled my eyes. I was such a scaredy-cat. Think of the dead women, Lily. Fine! You win. And it was totally normal for me to be arguing with myself. Surely everyone did it.
So, I would risk it, but I had to stay on the ground floor—even I couldn’t explain going upstairs away by saying I was lost. Or maybe I could pretend I really did have a crush on Jeremy, and I wanted to see where he slept. Gross. That was so bad. I couldn’t live with people thinking I really would do that. Now my ego was getting in the way of gathering evidence. Please don’t talk yourself into going upstairs. I waited for myself to answer. Phew, I had nothing to say.
I finished in the bathroom—yes, I definitely washed my hands with soap—and took my phone out as I walked into the hall. Still no text from Will. My heart constricted painfully. We’d hardly spoken since our lunch date and the bombshell I’d dropped on him about Dana. I tried to pretend his silence didn’t matter, but it did. Even if he didn’t want her anymore, he was going through something and shutting me out. Like I was a stranger.
Maybe I was. Maybe I didn’t really know him at all.
I pushed the spreading pain into a ball and shoved it down deep where I could almost ignore it. Tonight was about my client and trying to find clues.
I listened, but there were no footsteps, just the soft distant sounds of the party. We’d passed one doorway on the way to the toilet, and further along, there was one more. I readied the photo app.
“Hey, you. What are you doing skulking about the hall?”
I jumped, flinging my phone into the air. I juggled it, batting it with one hand, then the other before I managed to curl my fingers around it. Phew!
Jeremy’s mother strode towards me, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.
“Just checking for messages from my boyfriend before I came back and took more photos. I hope that’s okay.” I hated being meek in front of bullies, but guilt needled me—I had been doing something underhanded. At least, from their point of view it was. I bet the dead women were on my side, though.
“My mother isn’t paying you to slack off. Get back in there.”
I blinked. Wow, she was rude. So damn rude. I hated that I couldn't tell her how horrible she was and storm out. How could the lovely Marcia have spawned this horrible woman? And in turn, how had this cranky bovine created Jeremy? Or was her contribution to him the serial-killer gene? Psychopaths were good at hiding who they really were, which meant Jeremy’s mother was just a plain, mean cow. I sent a sorry to all the cows I had just insulted.
I bit my tongue and gave her my best death stare. I wouldn’t say anything, but I wanted her to know I wasn’t a pushover. As I walked past her, I held my head high. Maybe I should flirt with Jeremy, just to irritate her. But then that wouldn’t be right—I had no intention of following through, plus I would hate it if Will was out there flirting with someone. Not cool. Why was revenge so damn difficult?
Maybe I could ask my magic to show me something when I took the legitimate photos. It was worth a try.
I grabbed my camera and got back to work. The cake had been set up on a small round table, which was also draped with stiff, white linen. The three-tiered work of art was like a wedding cake, consisting of round, white-iced layers. Red, pink, mauve, yellow, and blue icing flowers that looked almost real cascaded down the front of the cake and carpeted the base of the cake tray. Stunning. I took wide shots and close-ups.
I detached my camera from the tripod and wandered around, getting candid shots of people, but I also whispered my request to the river of magic. I should really ask James if I leached any power when I did this. How stupid of me that I hadn’t already. I crossed my toes—my fingers were busy—as I whispered, “Show me the murdered girl from this morning.” That was as good a place to start as any.
I angled my camera to look past everyone and into the family room.
And there she was.
She and Jeremy stood hand in hand chatting to Marcia by the kitchen bench, but it was an older kitchen to what was there now—70s style, if my assumption was correct. Orange benchtops and brown cupboard doors had been the height of fashion back then. What had they been thinking?
There was no way to tell what the date was, but it was daytime. I snapped a couple of shots, then turned around to face outside. The light wasn’t bright. Cloudy, and maybe mid-afternoon? I snapped a shot of outside too—there might be a clue as to the time of year at least. The grass was greener than what it was at the moment, so maybe it was spring, maybe early autumn? There might also be clues in the clothes they were wearing and how old they looked. Pretty young. It was definitely a few years ago, and considering she’d been murdered ten years ago, that made sense.
I turned back to face the kitchen. That young woman was gorgeous. Her long hair was up in a ponytail, her pale skin was blemish free, and her smile revealed straight, white teeth. His hair was dark brown—much darker than it was now. Was that his natural colour, or had he dyed it? I filed that question away for later.
In and of itself, the scene wasn’t unusual and didn’t prove anything, except that he had dated the woman I’d seen at the stream.
“Lily, we’re going to cut the cake now.” Marcia tapped my shoulder.
I started and lowered my camera. “Oh, great. I have to say, I love what you’ve done with this room. It’s gorgeous.” I smiled.
“I wanted it to be magical.” She winked and smiled.
“Oh, and happy birthday.” I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten. That was the whole reason I was here. Dur.
She laughed. “Thank you! Now it’s time to get
this done so I can toast with another glass of champers.” She turned around and held her hand up. My scalp tingled a fraction of a second before a large black-handled knife flew from the cake table to her hand, and a glass of champagne appeared in her other hand. Um… okay. A few of the family laughed. They must be used to drunken displays of magic. I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea. Did the PIB have rules for using magic when over the limit? I mean, it made sense to have some kind of legal boundaries. I would definitely put “making knives fly through the air” on the list of offences.
She stumbled on her way to the other side of the table, and her brother grabbed her arm, steadying her. “We want you to make it to your eighty-first birthday, love.” He laughed, and she giggled. Oh brother.
Jeremy met my gaze from the other side of the dining table. He smirked and shook his head. I’m glad someone else thought Marcia was a tad out of control. I returned his smirk in kind. Was I being duped? Was he actually a nice guy, incapable of serial murder, or any murder, for that matter? Why couldn’t James just call him in for an interview and get Beren to read his mind?
Everyone sang “Happy Birthday,” and I snapped away as Marcia managed to blow out her candles—it took four goes—and cut the cake without maiming anyone. We all cheered, and I took some pics of Marcia laughing while one of her older granddaughters cut the cake into pieces and placed them on plates. Mmm, cake. The icing may have been white, but the inside was all chocolate. My stomach grumbled. Shhhh. Don’t embarrass me. It’s not our party.
Jeremy stepped up to the table to get some cake. He took two pieces, turned, and smiled. “Would you like some cake, Lily?”
“Oh, ah… but I’m working.”
“Gran will be upset if you don’t have any. You’re practically family now you’ve seen most of our dirty laundry.” He laughed and held the cake out to me.
Gah, there was no way I could refuse the sweet tendrils of chocolatey goodness wafting up my nose. Saliva burst into my mouth. “If you insist. It’s too hard to say no to chocolate cake.” I let my camera hang around my neck, took the plate, and spooned spongy cake into my mouth. “Mmm, this is so good.”
Killer Witch in Westerham Page 5
