“Furious,” Marty said. “But they’ll get over it.”
“Now, was that so hard?” Mel asked.
“Yes!” they answered together.
“All right, I am packed up and ready to ride to the Westons’ house,” Oz said.
“The Westons?” Mel asked. “That’s the sweet sixteen party, right?”
“Yeah,” Oz said. He looked pained. “My plan is to set up, get paid, and get out of there before the girls arrive.”
“Good plan,” Marty said.
“The Westons. Don’t they live over in the Palms?” Mel asked. Both Marty and Oz swiveled their heads in her direction. “What?”
“Why do you ask?” Oz said.
“Just remembering the details of a client,” she said. “No biggie. But this is an awful large party, so I’ll go with you.”
“No!” Marty and Oz spoke together.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Angie and Tate made us promise to keep an eye on you and make sure you didn’t do anything that might put you in harm’s way,” Oz said.
“And we promised,” Marty said. “So you can’t go.”
“How is setting up for a sixteen-year-old’s birthday party going to put me in harm’s way?” Mel asked. “I just want to check out the neighborhood. It’s not like I’m going to go door to door looking for trouble.”
Marty and Oz exchanged a look. “Yeah, right.”
Mel plopped her hands on her hips. “Well, I’m the boss, so guess what? I’m going.”
Twenty-one
“Thank you so much,” Mrs. Weston said as she led them through her enormous mansion towards the backyard, which was covered in balloon arches of the same pink and black as the cupcakes. Several extra-large pink Mylar balloons of the number sixteen were anchored all around the pool area.
“It has just been the craziest day, but anything for baby girl, right?” It was clearly a rhetorical question as she kept walking while Oz rolled their cart of cupcakes behind her, following her out to the patio, where a table had been set aside to display the cupcakes.
Mrs. Weston was dressed in an adorable short sundress that showed off her toned legs and her very high heels. Her blond hair was highlighted and styled in tousled waves. She had on a chunky coral necklace and matching earrings, and her makeup was flawless, making her forty-five years look more like thirty-five.
When they reached the table, Oz started to unload the boxes and Mel took one and lifted the lid so Mrs. Weston could see the cupcakes in all their sugary goodness. She clapped her hands together and let loose a squeal.
“Oh, they are just darling,” she said. “Cameron is going to love, love, love them.”
Mel smiled. It was always gratifying to have a satisfied customer, but she was on information recon.
“So, have you lived in the Palms long?” she asked. Oz snorted and she coughed, covering up his noise.
“Yes, ever since my girls were born,” Mrs. Weston said. “We wanted a quality neighborhood for them to grow up in.”
“I can understand that, but isn’t there an awful lot of scandal in this neighborhood?” Mel asked. She tried to make her face a mask of innocent concern.
Mrs. Weston made a sour expression and she gave Mel an impatient look. “Are you asking about what that book said? It wasn’t true. None of it. I am very good friends with Mallory Cavendish and it’s all lies. Sordid lies made up by that awful woman Elise—”
“The woman who was murdered?”
Mrs. Weston huffed out a breath. “Yes, well, I am sorry that happened, but when you go around lying about people and making an entire neighborhood seem like trash when really it’s quite exclusive—only the best of the best get to live in the Palms, you know—bad things will happen.”
“So, you think one of your neighbors murdered Elise as revenge?” Mel asked. She blinked, hoping to appear naïve and not snarky.
“No, that’s not what I said,” Mrs. Weston protested.
“Actually, Mother, that’s exactly what you said.”
A young woman with the same tousled blond hair and lithe figure stepped out onto the patio. She looked very much like her mother, but while Mrs. Weston was working hard to fake her youth, Cameron had the glowing skin and robust health of an actual teen. Mel wondered how much this annoyed her mother.
“I did not, Cammie,” Mrs. Weston said. She frowned. “Aren’t you going to change into the cute little dress I bought you? It shows off your figure and is totes adorbs.”
Mel noticed then that Cammie was wearing baggy jeans, combat boots, and an oversized men’s shirt, all of which she suspected were chosen specifically to piss off her mother. Huh.
Cammie shrugged and said, “I like what I’m wearing now.”
Mrs. Weston closed her eyes for a moment, as if praying for patience. Cameron watched her and then wound her long hair into a knot that she deftly fastened on her head with a hairband she had around her wrist. Without makeup, she was still lovely but not the bombshell Mel was pretty sure her mother would have preferred.
“You are not greeting your guests like this,” Mrs. Weston hissed through her teeth.
“They’re not my guests,” Cameron said. “They’re yours.”
Oz kept his head down and continued loading the cupcakes as if there weren’t a mother-daughter squabble happening right in front of him. Mel took the box she was holding and joined him.
“Cammie, darling, we talked about this,” Mrs. Weston said.
“No, you talked, I tuned you out, and you did exactly what you wanted to do anyway,” Cameron said. “I’m not coming to this party.”
As if to taunt her mother further, she picked up a cupcake from the tower that Oz had filled and then bit into it, coating her lips with the pink-and-black icing. Mel saw Mrs. Weston’s fingers clench into fists. Her back was arched, her nostrils flared, and her lips were pressed into a tight line. Mel suspected it was taking every ounce of self-control she possessed not to lose her temper.
“Tina, I’d like a word with you.”
They all glanced at the door to the house to see a middle-aged woman, dressed more like a typical mom in capri pants and a plaid sleeveless blouse, striding towards them. It was clear from the way the heels of her sneakers battered the flagstone beneath her feet that she was furious.
“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Cameron said. She continued eating her cupcake, looking as if she was gearing up to enjoy the show.
“I’m sorry, Miranda, but I am very busy setting up for Cameron’s party,” Mrs. Weston said.
“Yes, Cameron’s party.” The woman called Miranda gestured at the decorations surrounding them. “About that, how could you not invite Rhiannon?”
“I don’t feel like this is the time to discuss this,” Tina said.
“Sure it is, Mom,” Cameron said. She licked a dollop of frosting off of her lips. “Do explain why Rhia, who is my oldest friend, wasn’t invited. I’m sure we’re all fascinated to hear the answer.”
Tina sent her daughter a killing glance. Then she cleared her throat and ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it in a practiced gesture.
“Fine,” she said. “Miranda, I am sure that you are aware that there is a certain social hierarchy at the school the girls attend and, frankly, Cammie is in one group and Rhia is in another. It didn’t seem appropriate to invite Rhia to the party. She’d just feel out of place. I was doing it for her, you know.”
“What she’s trying to say is that she’s spent a lot of time and energy and money making sure I hang out with the cool kids, but Rhia isn’t one of them, so Mom didn’t invite her. She doesn’t think Rhia’s up to scratch, and Mom couldn’t let her damage my cred with the popular girls. Isn’t that right, Mom?”
“That is not what I said,” Tina argued.
“Yes, actually, it is,” Miranda said. She turned to look at Cameron
and her face softened. “Rhia misses you.” She pulled a small package out of her handbag and handed it to the girl. “She wanted me to give you this. Happy birthday, sweetie.”
With that, Miranda turned on her heel and headed back to the door. She paused in the doorway and turned back to face them. “Oh, and, Tina? Go to hell.”
They heard a door slam shortly thereafter.
“Well, that was completely uncalled-for,” Tina said. “I mean, honestly.”
Cameron opened her present. Inside was half of a heart. A sound like a hiccup burst out of her throat and she reached beneath the collar of her shirt and pulled out a pendant. Mel didn’t need to look any closer to see it was the other half of the heart. Put together, they read Best Friends.
She didn’t need to look because she and Angie had had the same ones growing up. The look of heartbreak on Cammie’s face made Mel want to hug her, but she suspected that would be weird given that she didn’t know the girl at all.
Cameron glanced up at her mother and her eyes burned. “Now I’ve lost my best friend. I will never forgive you for this. Never!”
She ran from the patio and again the sound of a door being slammed echoed in the quiet.
“Unbelievable,” Tina Weston snapped. “I have done everything for that girl. I took her to the best stylist, the best personal shopper; I had her join all the right clubs and activities; I volunteered to work on committees just so I could get in with the parents of the popular kids so that she could be a part of the popular crowd, and this is the thanks I get?”
She snatched a cupcake off of the tower and shoved it into her face. Mel got the feeling she wasn’t tasting the cupcake so much as keeping herself from primal screaming. That was cool; whatever worked.
Tina crossed to the beverage station, where a stack of papers sat. She fished through them and returned, slapping their check onto the table.
“The cupcakes are great. Thanks,” she said. Then she disappeared inside the house. In moments, they heard her calling, with obvious fake cheer, “Cammie, come on, baby girl. Let’s get you all pretty for your party.”
The tower was done. Oz looked at Mel and said, “I say we make a run for it.”
“And how,” Mel agreed.
Oz grabbed the handles of the empty cart and led the way through the mansion back to the driveway, where he had parked their vehicle.
They climbed into the big pink cupcake truck and Oz fired up the engine and shot down the street. He drove like he was fleeing the scene of a crime, not slowing down until they were four streets away.
“That made me feel icky,” Mel said.
Oz nodded. His hair flopped out of his eyes and Mel could see he was frowning. She suspected he felt yucky, too.
“Can you imagine how the poor girl who got left out is feeling?” he asked. “That wasn’t right, it just wasn’t right.”
“People can be pretty awful,” Mel said. She thought about Elise’s book and how the whole thing was just one horrific example of people behaving badly, one after another.
“But to exclude someone just because you decide that they’re not worthy, that’s just nasty.” Oz shook his head.
Mel studied him. She remembered being excluded quite a lot as a teen. She was heavyset, painfully shy, and the epitome of awkward. If it hadn’t been for Tate and Angie, she’d have had no friends at all. She suspected Oz, with his goth look and love of baking, wasn’t exactly a mainstream “in crowd” type of guy, either.
“I can’t really blame the other mom for being so upset,” she said. “She was just trying to look out for her daughter.”
“Being left out can be devastating,” Oz said. “Especially if it’s done out of thoughtlessness, like you didn’t even warrant a spiteful snub.”
“It might even make you murderous,” Mel said.
Her heart beat hard in her chest. It hit her then that she’d been looking at this thing all wrong.
Mel snatched her phone out of her handbag. She called Uncle Stan’s number at the station.
“Martinez,” his partner answered.
“Hi, Tara, it’s Mel. I’m looking for Uncle Stan. Is he around?
“Would I be answering his phone if he was?”
Mel sighed and said nothing. She did not want to get into it with Tara today.
“He’s over at your mom’s house,” Tara said.
“Thanks.” Mel went to end the call.
“Hey!” Tara said, stopping her. “Is this about the case?”
“Nah,” Mel lied. She was not sharing with Tara before she shared with Stan.
She ended the call and turned to Oz. “We need to make a quick detour.”
Oz parked in her mother’s driveway. Mel hopped out and Oz came with her since Joyce was known to always have a hot pot of coffee and a snack for anyone who happened by.
“Mom!” Mel shouted as she unlocked the door and pushed her way inside.
Two people were standing entwined in front of her. Mel froze and Oz, unprepared for the abrupt stop, slammed into her back, sending her staggering forward with a grunt.
The couple broke apart and Mel felt her jaw hit the ground. “Mom? Uncle Stan? What?”
“Hoo boy, didn’t see that coming,” Oz said from behind her.
“I don’t understand,” Mel said. “Uncle Stan is the guy you’re seeing?”
“Now, Mel, before you get all—” Uncle Stan began, but Mel cut him off.
“You hush,” she said. “Is he?”
Joyce’s hands fluttered in the air like little birds, and then she smoothed down the front of her shirt in an obvious effort to compose herself.
She met Mel’s gaze and said, “Yes.”
“And Charlie knows?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You told my little brother before me?” Mel asked. “Why?”
“Because we knew you’d get like this,” Uncle Stan said. He twirled his hands at her.
“Like this?” Mel asked, mimicking his hand gesture. “What do you mean? Concerned? Wary? Invested? What?”
“That, all of that,” Joyce said. “We didn’t want to tell you until we were sure ourselves because we didn’t want you to get overwrought by it.”
“Overwrought? I am not overwrought.”
“Not to be argumentative, boss,” Oz said, “but you are yelling, which makes it appear that you are a tad high-strung about the situation.”
“You hush, too,” Mel said. She turned back to her mother. “Were you ever planning on telling me?”
“Of course we were. Don’t be like that,” Joyce said.
“Like what?” Mel demanded. “Angry that I’ve been left out? Of course I’m angry.”
The word lingered in the air and Mel and Oz gasped at the same time and turned to face each other.
“See? It’s true. Being left out does make a person angry,” he said. “You need to tell him.”
“You’re right.” Mel waved her hand between Uncle Stan and her mom and said, “This, whatever this is, is fine. Well, mostly it’s fine. We’ll talk about it later. But right now, Oz and I think we’ve made a break in the case.”
Uncle Stan narrowed his eyes as he studied her. “And how did that come about?”
“By doing our jobs and delivering cupcakes,” Mel said. “Hear me out.”
She went on to explain about Tina and Miranda and the big scene at the birthday party. Uncle Stan listened, but with a little wrinkle in between his eyes as he tried to figure out how a sixteen-year-old’s birthday party had anything to do with his investigation.
“I’m not following,” he said when she finished. “Do you think this Tina or Miranda or whoever had something to do with it?”
“No,” Mel said. “They’re just the ones who made me realize how being ignored could cause a person to be filled with rage just as
much as being maligned could.”
“Enraged enough to kill four people?” Uncle Stan asked.
Mel shrugged. “It’s a theory.”
“I think it’s a pretty good one,” Joyce said.
“So, now I do what?” Uncle Stan asked. “Cross-check residents of the Palms against people who are not in the book?”
“Exactly!” Mel said. “I think the killer is someone who is angry about the book not because they were in it, but because they weren’t.”
Twenty-two
Uncle Stan conceded that it was a solid angle to work the case from. He offered to stay and talk if Mel felt that was needed, but she waved him off and told him to go back to work.
On his way out the door, Uncle Stan paused to give her one of his crusher hugs.
“So, we’re okay?” he asked.
“That depends,” Mel said. “Did Joe know?”
“He might have walked in on your mom and me,” Uncle Stan said.
Mel’s eyes bugged.
“Just hugging and stuff!” Uncle Stan said as his face turned a deep shade of red. “And I asked him to keep it to himself for now.”
“Then you and I are good,” Mel said. “But Joe is in for an earful.”
“How about me?” Joyce asked. “Am I in trouble?”
“Nope.” Mel shook her head. “You, I’m happy for.”
Joyce hugged her close and Mel heard Uncle Stan give a relieved chuckle as he headed out the door. As soon as it shut, Mel leaned back and gave her mother a minor blast of stink eye.
“But just so you know, you could have told me,” she said.
“I know,” Joyce said. “I do. But I didn’t want to take away from Angie’s wedding, and then that horrible stabbing with Elise happened. It just didn’t feel like the right time.”
“Fair enough,” Mel said.
“Can we have coffee now?” Oz asked. “I’m dying.”
“Yes, and I have fresh-made date nut bread, too,” Joyce said.
Oz spun back around and bent down to kiss Joyce’s cheek. “And that’s why I love you, Mrs. Cooper.”
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