They were interrupted at that moment by the honk of a horn outside, so she hugged him goodbye and left, meeting up with her mother in the hallway.
Doreen walked Kelsey to the door, asking if they could go to Gloria’s visitation together. “You don’t have to come all the way back up here. We could meet up outside the funeral home if you want.”
Kelsey hesitated, not wanting to tell her mother the truth, that she would be racing in and out of the wake as quickly as possible in order to meet up with a couple of guys to break into her own office. Instead, she just said that she was busy tonight so she was only going to make a brief appearance, right at six o’clock on the dot, and probably wouldn’t stay longer than fifteen or twenty minutes.
Doreen’s eyebrows lifted a bit, but rather than scolding her daughter for giving short shrift to the woman who had been so important in her life, she said simply that she would have Matt take her instead.
The long cab ride home ended up costing a small fortune, but Kelsey didn’t care. It was worth every penny for comfort’s sake. The building was quiet when she got there, which wasn’t unusual for this time of day. In the lobby, she stopped to grab her mail and then flipped through it as she rode the elevator up to the tenth floor. She spotted the envelope just as the car was slowing to a stop. There, between a bill and a mail-order catalog, was the letter she’d been dreading.
Kelsey waited until she was safely inside her own apartment before she opened it up and took a look. Hands trembling, she unfolded the single page slowly, noting the elegant, gold-embossed header across the top. She skimmed through the words once and then read them again more slowly.
It was official. As a stockholder of the firm Brennan & Tate, she was being given the opportunity to sell her shares of stock to Queen’s Fleet Management Group. There would be a meeting of the stockholders on April thirteenth—exactly one week—at which time a vote would be taken and the majority would rule as to whether or not the company would be sold.
Worse than that was the dollar amount being offered per share. Surely, even a character assassination against Adele Tate and the in-office death of one of the company’s top executives could not have driven the price this low. How dare Pamela and her cronies do this? Kelsey was so furious, she tried to throw the letter across the room. It fell to the floor without drama, so she kicked at the coffee table next, gratified by the crash and clink as it tipped over onto the ground.
Heart pounding, Kelsey stomped down the hall to the bedroom to get ready for tonight. With the amount of adrenaline rushing through her veins at the moment, she felt there was nothing she couldn’t do.
If they were able to find a hidden safe, she told herself as she flung open the closet and began choosing her clothes, even if they had no combination for it, she had no doubt she would be able to rip it open with her bare hands.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Kelsey arrived at the funeral home at six o’clock on the dot. Fortunately, not many people were there yet, which meant a faster in and out for her. The fewer the people, the fewer the conversations she would be obligated to have.
It wasn’t until she walked into the lobby and saw a placard with an arrow and the words “Visitation for Poole” that it struck her what she was really doing there. This was a wake, of all things, for one of the most important people in her life. This was goodbye to a woman who had guided her, advised her, and cared about her for years. This was the final send-off for a person Kelsey had thought she’d known intimately, one of her nearest and dearest friends.
Or so she’d thought.
Now she knew differently. Given the many disturbing truths that had come to light in the past few days, what was she to make of this event? How was she to process this tragedy?
Hovering in the entryway, she thought about Wednesday morning, when her mother had talked about the shell of a person she had allowed herself to become. Though Kelsey had been sincere in her desire to change, she decided that tonight that hardness would serve her well. Once she had some answers, once she knew the whole truth, maybe then she would permit herself to mourn. For now, she dared not try to process the fact that Gloria was dead. There was still too much to do, too many facts to unearth, too many questions to answer.
Steeling herself with resolve, Kelsey smoothed her hair away from her face and followed the arrow to the large room on the left. A young woman in a conservative black suit, an employee of the funeral home, was standing near the doorway to receive guests. With a practiced nod, she welcomed Kelsey in a soft voice and gestured toward the guestbook lying open on a nearby podium.
Using the pen provided, she signed her name on the sixth line, taking note of the first five guests who had already arrived. As most of them had the last name of Poole, she realized that family members must have been allowed to come a little early. Setting down the pen, Kelsey turned her attention to the other end of the room, where those five people—plus Vern—were congregating a few feet away from the open casket.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she started up the aisle. Let others give Gloria her goodbye. Kelsey refused to do that until she understood exactly who she was saying goodbye to.
As she neared the front of the room, Kelsey got a quick glimpse of Gloria’s body, laid out in a mahogany casket with burnished silver-tone accents, surrounded by a riot of colorful floral arrangements. Ignoring all of that, she stepped forward to take Vern’s hand.
His eyes swam with tears, and his charcoal gray suit and silver tie made his skin look colorless. At least he was impeccably groomed, as always.
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “How are you doing, Vern?”
“Hanging in there. Thanks for coming.”
“Of course.”
They made small talk for a moment, but half of Kelsey’s mind was on her feet. Despite being in high heels, she was grateful she was no longer feeling much pain. Between a foot soak, some numbing cream, and a handful of well-placed Band-Aids, she’d managed to get the problem under control, thank goodness.
Kelsey heard soft voices behind her, and she realized that more people had arrived and were coming up the aisle. As Vern turned his attention toward them, she stepped closer to the casket, trying to look everywhere but at the dead body of her friend.
A spray of pink roses and white lilies spread over the lower half of the casket lid and flower arrangements of all kinds flanked each side. Walking along to take a closer look, Kelsey realized there had to be at least thirty arrangements. She glanced at a couple of the cards. Of course. Business contacts. Many of the companies Gloria had financed probably sent flowers. They had most likely sent representatives out tonight too.
She found her family’s arrangement near the end of the row, a gorgeous pastel-colored display of gladiolas and carnations and at least two dozen roses. Doreen had outdone herself, Kelsey thought proudly. The card read, Forever in our hearts, Nolan, Doreen, Kelsey, and Matthew Tate. Very nice.
Even if it turned out not to be true.
Finally, Kelsey forced herself to return to the casket. As she went, she tried to concentrate on the good times she and Gloria had shared, but her mind simply wouldn’t go there. It was stuck on all she had learned about this woman in the past few days.
She stood and gazed down at Gloria’s lovely face, which was no longer purple and red as it had been the last time Kelsey had seen her, thank goodness. Even at fifty-four, with wrinkles beginning to show, Gloria had been a striking woman, and they had done a pretty good job with her. Her hair was perfectly coifed as always, and they had done a nice job with the application of subtle brown eye shadow and mascara. Something didn’t look quite right, however, and after a moment Kelsey realized that there were two problems. The lipstick had obviously been chosen to coordinate with the purples in the scarf at her neck, but that lipstick was definitely not Gloria’s shade. More importantly, the woman had never, ever, in Kelsey’s memory, worn a scarf.
“She looks so natural
, doesn’t she?”
Kelsey jumped and turned to see Yanni standing beside her.
“I was just thinking about that scarf,” Kelsey replied. “It ought to come off. Gloria was not a scarf person at all.”
Even as she said it, Kelsey realized that Yanni was a scarf person. She wore them all the time. Maybe she really had chosen the outfit, as Vern had said. Then again, if her visit to his place had been as innocent as that, why had she lied about it?
For a moment, Kelsey considered saying something blunt and provocative, such as, “Amazing how you managed to pick out these clothes while getting your hair done at the same time.” But she held her tongue. At least the girl had chosen the rest of the outfit well. Except for the scarf and those too-dark lips, Gloria looked as if she could hop up from the casket and get back to work.
“Actually, I helped choose the clothing. I wanted her to be wearing the diamond necklace she got from her sister, the one who owns the jewelry store,” Yanni said softly. “But the funeral home gave it back and requested a scarf instead.”
Kelsey looked at Yanni as she processed that thought. She didn’t understand until the young woman motioned toward her own neck and whispered, “Some things they couldn’t cover with makeup.”
A surge of nausea rose up in Kelsey’s throat at the memory of Gloria’s dead body. Of course. She had died by hanging. Her neck had been a mess.
“Excuse me,” Kelsey said, and then she turned and made her way through the crowd, praying she could get to the bathroom before she was sick. She managed to make it, but by the time she got there, the urge had passed. In its stead she just felt shaky and weak, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.
How could this have happened? How could Gloria be dead—and in such a violent manner?
Kelsey stayed where she was, leaning her back against the wall of the handicapped stall for a good five minutes, until she felt normal again. Just as she was about to emerge, she heard voices—familiar voices—coming into the room and decided to wait.
“He told me they were kissing in the elevator, no lie,” one of them said softly. “He saw it himself on the security camera.”
“No way! In the past few days? Or before it happened?”
“Like, a month ago.”
“No way! And he never told—” She stopped short, clearing her throat, and then they both fell silent. Kelsey realized they must have come around the corner and spotted feet under the stall.
“Don’t stop on my account,” she said as she swung open the door to face exactly whom she expected to see: one of her female coworkers and her executive assistant.
“Kelsey!” Sharon cried, throwing her arms open for a hug.
In response, Kelsey took a big step backward, folding her arms across her chest.
“What is it?” Sharon said, looking genuinely hurt. “How are you? We miss you.”
Kelsey studied the girl’s face, wondering how she could be so obtuse. Just yesterday she had promised to assemble the team and have them meet with Kelsey at their usual restaurant. Instead, Walter had shown up, and Sharon hadn’t even had the decency to text her a warning, much less give her a call.
So much for being her eyes and ears.
“You’re upset. I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be gossiping.”
With a soft “Oh, please,” the coworker slipped into the nearest stall, but Kelsey and Sharon stayed where they were.
“It’s not the gossip, Sharon. What happened last night? You couldn’t warn me that Walter had canceled my team meeting? Couldn’t even send me a text?”
The girl’s face colored. “I’m so sorry about that. But to answer your question, no, I couldn’t. Walter specifically said that I was not to communicate with you in any way until further notice or else. What was I supposed to do? Risk my job?”
Kelsey felt a renewed surge of nausea. Why on earth would Walter prohibit communication between them? That was pushing the whole separate-the-company-from-the-Tate-name thing way too far.
Exhaling slowly, she felt the energy draining from her body. Earlier, she had been filled with righteous anger. Now she was just tired of the struggle.
“I understand,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”
“Thanks, Kelsey.”
They shared that hug, and as they pulled apart, Sharon began to volunteer the gossip she’d been discussing when she first came in. Unfortunately, just as she said the words, “Guess who’s been having an affair?” Yanni strode into the room.
She stopped short, staring at the two women, her face growing ashen.
“K-Kelsey,” Yanni uttered in her lilting accent. “I was just coming to check on you. I thought you might need some help.”
Cheeks burning, Kelsey stepped to the sink and began washing her hands as Sharon ducked wordlessly into a stall.
“Thanks for your concern, Yanni. I thought I was going to be sick for a minute there, but the feeling passed.”
Yanni nodded, and then slowly she turned and walked out. As quickly as possible, Kelsey rinsed and dried her hands and then followed along, terribly embarrassed. Affair or not, unless it was relevant to Gloria’s death, whatever was going on between Vern and Yanni was none of her business.
She caught up with the black-haired beauty in the hallway, took her by the elbow, and apologized. In response, a flicker of gratitude flashed in Yanni’s eyes, and then they filled with tears.
“For what it’s worth, Kelsey, she didn’t…” Yanni’s voice trailed off as she blinked away her tears.
Kelsey waited, unsure what the girl was trying to say. Yanni cleared her throat and tried again.
“Gloria knew,” she whispered. “She knew and she didn’t even care.”
With that she turned and walked away, leaving Kelsey to stare after her. Behind her, Sharon and the other woman emerged from the restroom and tried to sweep her up with them to head back into the wake. When they reached the lobby, however, Kelsey declined, saying that she had to be going. Sharon gave her another hug and then turned to continue on into the room, which was now full of people. Looking at all of the activity inside, Kelsey noticed that Yanni had taken her place up front beside Vern, shaking hands with well-wishers and acting as if she had every right to be there. Not ten feet behind her lay the dead body of the man’s wife.
The queen is dead. Long live the queen.
With a sigh, Kelsey crossed the lobby and moved past a man who was standing off to one side, leaning a shoulder against the wall and chewing on a toothpick.
“Leaving so soon, Miss Tate?”
Kelsey paused to look at him, knowing the face was familiar but not quite able to place him. Then he shifted to stand up straight, and with the glint of a silver badge clipped at his waist she remembered who it was. Detective Hargrove.
“Oh, hi, Detective,” she said, stepping closer. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
He shrugged. “Never know what you might pick up on at a thing like this.”
He was staring off toward the crowd milling about in the large room, and she turned to watch with him.
“Actually, I’m glad I ran into you,” she said. “I never did hear the final conclusion about Gloria’s death. Has it been ruled a suicide, or…?”
Again, he shrugged. “Still undetermined at this time.”
She nodded, thinking about that. “So the investigation is still open.”
“Yep.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
At that he returned his attention to her. “A question, actually. Gloria Poole received a phone call on her cell Monday night around ten thirty. Did you make that call?”
Kelsey gaped at him. “No, but I’ve been wondering the same thing since I heard about it from Vern.”
“Any idea what it might have been about, or why she went back to the office afterward and worked all night?”
Kelsey shook her head. “I wish I could tell you, but I don’t have a clue.”
He nodded, popping the toothpick back in his mo
uth. “All right. Well, thanks anyway.”
She started to go but then turned back toward him. “Wait a minute. Don’t you have her cell phone, or at least her cell phone records? What number did it say?”
“Call came from a pay phone.”
“A pay phone? Do those things even exist anymore?”
He smiled. “Yeah, here and there.”
“Where was this one located?”
“Over near Times Square.”
Times Square. Kelsey thought for a long moment.
Rupert and Rhonda Brennan.
Their hotel was very near Times Square.
She expressed that thought to the detective, who thanked her, nodding.
“Already looked into it. At the time, the two of them were at a Broadway show.”
Kelsey shrugged. “It’s not hard to slip out, maybe during intermission, make a call, and then come back in.”
“Yeah, but intermission for that show ended at nine forty-five, and from what I’ve been able to ascertain, the two were never seen missing from their seats. They had fifth row center, so it’s not like they could have slipped out and slipped back in unnoticed.”
“Fifth row center?” She asked incredulously. “Did they get them from a discount booth or something?”
Hargrove shook his head. “Bought separately for full price. Four fifty per.”
Their eyes met. Rupert and Rhonda Brennan went to the theater their first night in town and sat in $450 seats? Each?
“Did they pay for that themselves?”
“Nope. They claim the tickets were waiting for them at the front desk when they checked into their hotel, a fun surprise from their anonymous benefactor. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to trace the original purchaser. They were bought from a VIP ticket broker two weeks ago, with cash.”
“Cash,” she echoed. The calling card of the anonymous.
Kelsey was thinking about that when she noticed a taxi pulling up out front and discharging a group of passengers. How much easier and faster it would be at this hour to grab that cab rather than using the subway. Noting her interest, Detective Hargrove shook her hand and said he didn’t mean to hold her up. Smiling gratefully, she told him to give her a call if she could help any further.
Echoes of Titanic Page 28
