Mug Shot

by Caroline Fardig

  I couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  As he turned to leave, I noticed his glance fall on my Christmas tree and a pained expression cross his face. It took me a moment to compose myself before I was ready to head to my car.

  After everything that had happened lately, I felt guilty about going out to a party. I had been considering skipping tonight, but decided my spirits needed lifting and resolved to attend the party come hell or high water. Granted, I was already in hell, and as for the high water, I was battling that, too. It was pouring rain as I drove, creating enormous puddles on the sides of the road. If I didn’t keep my speed down and stop hydroplaning, I wouldn’t have a car left for the court to seize.

  When I got to Savannah and Carl’s house in Brentwood, the party was already in full swing. I found a parking spot several houses away and had to jump over numerous puddles on my trek down the practically flooded street. The rain had mercifully slowed to a drizzle, but the damage had already been done. At the door, a man dressed in a tuxedo greeted me, taking my coat and umbrella. This was a ridiculously huge, snooty party if the Worthingtons couldn’t even be bothered to answer the door themselves. I’d never been to a private party with a doorman before.

  Once inside, I was blown away by Savannah’s stunning décor. The whole place was done in red, gold, and green. It looked like Santa had thrown up in here. I spied Carl over by the bar and headed his way.

  “Hey, Carl. Great party,” I said, having to force my smile a little bit. I felt so bad that he and Savannah were having problems. I couldn’t let on that I knew, though.

  “Oh, thank you, Juliet, although I can’t take any of the credit. This was all Savannah’s doing,” he replied jovially.

  “Where is she, by the way?”

  “I think she’s in the kitchen.” He leaned closer to me and murmured, “If you don’t mind, keep an eye on her tonight. She’s been beside herself all day, and very much unlike herself. It seemed like everything that could go wrong went wrong today. She said she even got into a huge argument with the landscaper this afternoon. I’ve never seen her so tightly wound. I had to give her a Valium to get her in any state to entertain guests.”

  I got a weird feeling. “Her landscaper? Do you know his name?”

  Carl shook his head. “She takes care of the decorating and such around here. All I know is that he’s from South America.”

  “Oh…”

  I was starting to feel uneasy about what Savannah had gotten herself into lately. First Kent and now Bastidas? She couldn’t stand either of them, as far as I knew. Now she was nearly jumping into bed with one of them and doing business with the other? I needed to find her and talk some sense into her.

  I smiled, trying to put Carl at ease. “You know, I’m sure she’s just got the jitters over the party, plus the crazy week, of course. I’ll be happy to help in any way I can.”

  I headed for the kitchen, eager to assess Savannah’s emotional state for myself. She was standing at the sink, drinking a glass of water.

  “Savannah?” I called.

  She whirled around, nearly dropping the glass. A few drops of water spilled onto her gorgeous red dress, and she took one look at it and dissolved into tears. “Everything is ruined,” she sobbed.

  I went over and put my arms around her. “It’s okay,” I said soothingly. “Nothing is ruined. Your dress is fine. The party is fantastic. You’ve worked hard—now enjoy the fun part.”

  She lifted her head, her makeup miraculously still flawless. How she had pulled that off was beyond me. One little sniffle and I looked like someone had been beating on me. “Ooh, Juliet. What happened to your face? And your finger?”

  “Oh, that.” Speaking of someone beating on me. I had done another crappy makeup job today, so I must have looked awful. “Kent and I had a little difference of opinion.”

  Her eyes widened. “No! Are you okay, sweetie? Do you need me to get you a lawyer?” Even with her own problems to fight, she was truly a good friend.

  “I’m fine, but we need to talk about some things. Specifically Kent…and Alejandro Bastidas. Savannah, what the hell are you doing mixed up with either of those fools? Each one is dangerous in his own way. And don’t we think either of them could have killed Cecilia?”

  She bit her lip. “I know,” she whispered, fighting tears and starting to get a wild look in her eyes.

  “You told me that you and Bastidas are basically enemies. Why would you hire him to work for you? Please tell me he isn’t giving you any of his extra services.”

  Looking away, she didn’t answer.

  “Oh, come on!” Lowering my voice, I said, “You made a big deal about how you couldn’t go through with it with Kent. But you’re sleeping with Bastidas?”

  “Are you of all people trying to give me relationship advice?” she snapped.

  Damn. That was cold. Carl was right—she was definitely not herself today. “Someone obviously needs to.”

  “You couldn’t possibly understand. My life has gone to hell in a handbasket.” Savannah was another one who never cursed, so she was definitely distraught.

  “What do you mean I couldn’t understand? My life has never been as screwed up as it is now, and that’s really saying something.”

  She laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, poor, downtrodden Juliet. The tortured heroine. Your life is always worse than everyone else’s.”

  Savannah never said hateful things like that. And besides, my life was worse—at least worse than hers. I worked in food service. I didn’t have truckloads of disposable income to spend on landscaping and sex. I didn’t live in a freaking mansion. And there was still the possibility I would have to move back in with my parents if the police couldn’t link someone else to Cecilia’s murder and exonerate Pete.

  “I’m not saying that. And don’t try to change the subject. I’m worried about you. Carl said you and Bastidas had an argument this afternoon. He didn’t try to hurt you or anything, did he?”

  “I know what you’re trying to insinuate about him, but no, he didn’t try to shove a thermometer into my neck. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  She was losing it. Time to back off. “Savannah, I don’t want to fight, okay? I’m sorry. We can discuss this some other time. Let’s just go back to the party. I’m sure your guests are looking for you.”

  “Fine,” she said, allowing me to steer her out of the kitchen.

  As we weaved through the crowd of merrymaking guests in her great room, the last thing she said replayed through my mind. The police hadn’t released the gory details of Cecilia’s murder to anyone yet, including her family. Pete and I were the only other people who knew about the thermometer, and neither of us had told her. The official story was only that Cecilia had been stabbed. Savannah should not know any more information than that. An icy cold chill ripped up my spine.

  What I was thinking was totally crazy, but looking back, several other things didn’t add up as well. Savannah could have found out Cecilia’s baby daddy’s name with one phone call to a chatty friend, but she kept putting it off, insisting she couldn’t just call someone up and ask such a probing question. She would never have had a problem doing that normally. Secondly, she absolutely lost her shit when we got caught in Cecilia’s house by Ryder. Then, the whole thing with having to beg her to help me meet Bastidas and making sure I didn’t mention her name to him, supposedly because of all the bad business blood between them. It obviously wasn’t too bad if she’d hired him to do a job for her and he was also doing her on the side. I thought she was trying to support me by helping me when we were investigating other suspects, but now I was beginning to think that maybe she was merely trying to take the heat off herself.

  But I knew Savannah, and I didn’t see her being able to kill Cecilia. However, considering everything I’d learned about her in the last twenty-four hours, I obviously didn’t know her nearly as well as I thought. Even so, I still di
dn’t want to go accusing one of my closest friends without some kind of proof. I was already in her house, so it would be the perfect opportunity to poke around a little and see if there was anything here that could either prove her innocence or (hopefully not) tie her to Cecilia’s murder. Either way, I needed Savannah occupied so I could do my snooping. I also needed some help.

  Over by the buffet table, I noticed Stan with Jenny Vaughn draped over his arm. I said to Savannah, “You know, Jenny Vaughn was looking for you. She wanted to say hello.” I dragged her over to where Stan and Jenny were standing.

  “Hey, guys,” I said, getting a death look from Jenny.

  “Hello, Savannah,” said Jenny, like I wasn’t there. “Great party.”

  “Isn’t it? I’ll let the two of you catch up,” I said, giving Savannah a shove toward Jenny. I snagged Stan by the arm and dragged him through the crowd with me.

  “Your poor face,” Stan said. “Juliet, again, I’m so sorry—”

  I waved my hand, interrupting him. “It’s fine. I need you.” I pulled him down the hallway and through a closed door.

  It was the bathroom. Stan chuckled. “I thought you said you weren’t into me like this.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Really? Now you decide to be funny?”

  He regarded me quizzically.

  I continued, “Never mind. This is going to sound crazy, but I think there’s a possibility Savannah may have killed your sister.”

  He looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head. “You’re right. It’s crazy. Did Kent hit you harder than we thought?”

  It figured that Stan would start showing a little comedic talent after we had broken up. “Look, it’s a stretch, but she knows some information she shouldn’t know unless she saw the crime scene.”

  “Maybe she has a loose-lipped cop on her payroll.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Also, she made a big deal about how she barely knows Alejandro Bastidas and that they’re basically business enemies. But then I found out she contracted him to do a landscaping job for her.”

  “So?”

  “So we all know how he treats his clients. Maybe Savannah fell in love with him and saw Cecilia as an obstacle in her way.”

  “I’m still not connecting the dots,” he replied.

  “What if Savannah decided she wanted Bastidas all to herself?”

  “In that case, she’d have a lot of murdering to do.”

  I squinted at him. “Have you been drinking?”

  He gave me a lopsided grin. “Just a smidge.”

  I should have gotten Stan drunk a long time ago. I liked Drunk Stan. “Are you sober enough to be my lookout?”

  “I am. I’ll grab a cup of coffee, and I’ll be good to go.”

  “Perfect. Now I’m going upstairs to snoop, so you need to keep an eye on Savannah and Carl to make sure they don’t catch me. I want you to call me if someone starts coming my way, okay?”

  Stan nodded. “No problem.”

  Grabbing his hands, I said sincerely, “Thanks, Stan. You’re a good guy.”

  He sighed. “I wish you would have figured that out a week ago.”

  —

  I sneaked through the party and back into the kitchen. There was another set of stairs just off the kitchen, so I took those instead of the grand staircase in the foyer, where I would have been noticed for sure. Upstairs was a maze of bedrooms, all decorated to the hilt but obviously unused since Savannah and Carl had no children. Finally I came upon a set of French doors leading to the biggest master suite on earth.

  This bedroom rivaled any I had ever seen in a magazine. The bedding, walls, carpet, and furniture were all different shades of cream. It was all I could do to restrain myself from jumping into the middle of the marshmallowy, pillow-laden king bed, but I had a job to do. I started with opening the drawers of the bedside tables. There was a sleep apnea machine and an unopened box of expired condoms on one side (interesting). In the other table I found several fancy sleep masks and a ton of designer body lotions. I hit the chest of drawers next. It was full of men’s clothing, so I moved on to the dresser. This one housed Savannah’s stuff, but it was all normal and uninteresting—modest underwear, sweaters, and neatly folded summer shorts. The room had his and hers closets, so I headed to hers.

  Savannah had a stunning wardrobe. She must have bought out an entire department store. As I was drooling over her designer shoe collection, my phone rang and nearly scared me to death. It was Stan. Uh-oh.

  I whispered, “Is someone coming?”

  “Carl is on his way up there.”

  Shit! “Okay, thanks.”

  I hung up and panicked for a moment, wondering where to hide. Thinking he probably wasn’t coming up here in the middle of a party to rummage through Savannah’s closet (like I was), I would be safe in my current spot. I quickly shut the closet door and killed the lights, pressing myself against the wall behind Savannah’s full-length gown collection. I heard light footsteps on the carpet, a door closing, and then more footsteps. A moment later, I heard another door close. He must have either gone into his closet or the bathroom. Listening carefully, I heard another sound. Yep, he was in the bathroom, all right. I sighed. This could take a while.

  With nothing to do but wait quietly, I texted Stan to let him know I didn’t get caught, and that Carl was up here taking a crap so I’d be stuck for a while. Bored, I checked my email and browsed Facebook for several minutes. When I finally heard the toilet flush, I tensed. As long as Carl went straight back to the party, I was home free. I heard water running, then a door opening. After a few quiet footsteps, another door opened and closed, and then there was silence. I waited another minute, just in case, and then flipped the light back on and resumed my task. I opened drawer after drawer in Savannah’s custom closet, but no dice. When I was almost ready to give it up, I spied several flowered hatboxes way at the back of the closet. Probably they only housed Savannah’s stunning hat collection, but I decided to look anyway.

  When I removed the lid of the first one, I nearly fell over. That was no hat. That was a big pink dildo. I did not expect this. Plus, there were a few smaller dildos underneath it. I shuddered and shut the box. The next box was full of vibrators of different shapes and sizes. I opened the third box, and it housed several sets of naughty, naughty undergarments—crotchless panties, see-through lace bras, leather bustiers, G-strings, you name it. The fourth box held some serious S&M latex gear. She even had a riding crop and one of those red ball–gag things. Oh, snap—Savannah was a freak.

  Almost afraid of what I’d find in the last box, I very gingerly lifted the lid. Freaking jackpot. I pulled out a stack of photos of Bastidas and Savannah. Some were of the two of them cuddled up together, and some were frightening. They obviously knew how to use all of the gear I’d found. Yikes. I’d be lucky if I didn’t need therapy after what I’d seen here, but I kept on digging. I found a flip phone, likely a pre-paid cell, with only one number in the call log—Bastidas’s. The last gem I found was a contract between Savannah and Bastidas Enterprises for a landscaping job totaling ninety thousand dollars. It included an eight-foot-deep koi pond, a Japanese water garden, and a footbridge. Wow.

  While all of this stuff was interesting, it wasn’t exactly damning. Maybe she had a home office or other hiding place I could also poke around in. I was about ready to pack the box back up when I noticed something I missed on the bottom. It was a pair of cream-colored women’s leather gloves in a ziplock bag. A bloodstained pair of gloves. Holy shit, I seriously had just found a bloody glove. What if the blood was Cecilia’s? And what if Savannah had been wearing these gloves when she killed her? That would explain why there were no other fingerprints or DNA on the frothing thermometer/murder weapon besides Pete’s. And it could be enough reasonable doubt to get Pete off the hook!

  The thought of Pete being set free had me shaking with excitement, but suddenly the image of Savannah being put in prison filled my head. Now I really felt ill. Findin
g her treasure trove of sex stuff had been amusing, but the thought of my friend spending the rest of her life in jail horrified me. I didn’t want her to go down for this. Maybe the blood was her own, or not even blood at all. This could have simply been yet another dead end.

  As I stewed about what to do with my newfound discovery, a tiny sliver of anger crept into my heart. Whether or not she had something to do with Cecilia’s death, Savannah had still been inside that tent at some point between the time Cecilia was killed and when I found her the next morning, and she had said nothing. She had stood by silently and watched as Pete went down for a crime he didn’t commit, which made me absolutely livid. Just as bad, under the guise of being my friend and supposedly “helping” me, she had tried to throw some blame onto two other innocent men—well, innocent at least of murder. I didn’t know what to think, but I wanted to know why she didn’t come forward with anything she knew to help Pete.

  With shaking hands, I laid all of the stuff out and snapped a picture. I quickly put the items back in the box as they had been and stacked the hatboxes neatly in their original places. Before I put my phone away, I also emailed the picture to myself, just in case something happened and I needed a backup copy. I was really getting the hang of this detective thing.

  After making sure the bedroom was exactly as it had been when I came in, I made my way back downstairs. Stan spotted me when I entered the great room and hurried over.

  “Well, did you find anything?” he asked.

  My emotions were wreaking havoc on me, but I managed to say, “I think I may have found something useful. Now all I have to do is figure out how to get the police to come over here and discover it for themselves.”

  Growing concerned, Stan said, “If you found evidence to support that crazy claim of yours, I think we both need to get out of here now.” He was a good lookout, but as for backup, he was not my first choice. Stan the Man ran when he sensed even possible danger. He lowered his voice. “Savannah could be dangerous.”