He snorted and took a sip of his whiskey straight. “We didn’t have a relationship. We had a fling, and when she found out I wasn’t going to marry her, she ended it. End of story. There’s really nothing more to it than that.”
Well, that was a surprise. “She wanted to marry you?”
He leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee, the smooth blend of the material of his trousers shimmering in the sunlight. “She wanted to leave Agnar, but Suzanne doesn’t do things without a soft place to fall. She was setting up her next paycheck by vetting me, but I’m not, nor will I ever be, interested in marriage, and certainly not to Suzanne.”
My next question wasn’t going to go over well, but I had to ask. “Forgive me for saying so, but you seem to feel nothing but contempt for Suzanne. Why would you have an affair with her and ruin a longtime friendship with Agnar if you didn’t even like her?”
He barked a sarcastic laugh, rolling his glass of whiskey in his hand, the amber liquid sloshing. “No one likes Suzanne, Miss Lavender. She’s a dreadful person. As to the affair? She came to me one night in distress over her relationship with Agnar—it was turning into a total mess. Our encounter became physical, as some do when one person is distraught. It really does work the way they say it does. It just happened. Anyway, like I said, Suzanne doesn’t do anything that isn’t calculated to within an inch of its life, and she knew if Agnar divorced her, she’d lose everything. She needed a backup plan. But she was sorely mistaken if she thought I would be that backup.”
Phew, that was ice cold. I didn’t understand these people. Not at all. What motivates the rich isn’t the same as what motivates the rest of us.
“But she’d lose everything if she was unfaithful, too.”
“Which is likely why she used every charm she possesses to woo me,” he said dryly. So dryly it was as if he were talking about a financial transaction, not a human being.
“So why didn’t you tell the police or even me about the affair? Why hide it?”
“Listen, Miss Lavender. I don’t want to ruin her. She’s a horrible person, but then I’m no better, am I? I indulged in her charms behind my friend’s back, and what fine charms they were,” he said in a hushed, almost creepy tone, as though he weren’t recollecting in broad daylight. “I don’t want to see her destitute, is what I mean. I didn’t want anyone to find out because infidelity is part of her prenup. Why shouldn’t she get Agnar’s money? And now that he’s dead, where else would it go? If his lawyers found out she’d been unfaithful, she wouldn’t get a dime from his estate. I just didn’t want her for my wife—or for anything more than I already had, for that matter. So I didn’t tell you out of courtesy to her. If it meant she could keep Agnar’s money; it’s no skin off my nose.”
How generous. This guy was some piece of work. Yet, his words, so distant and removed, sent a chill skittering along my arms and spine.
“So you had no idea Agnar had hired a private investigator? He didn’t confront you or say anything to you about your affair with Suzanne?”
For the first time since we’d sat down, he actually looked remorseful. “Now that is unfortunate. No. I had no idea, but who can blame the man? His wife’s a leech. He wanted out, and he was smart enough to know when the jig was up, but smarter still for protecting himself. Suzanne’s the fool here. She signed the bloody prenup, knowing full well she’d never be faithful.”
You know, as much as I didn’t like Suzanne, I think Grady was a close runner up to my disgust. He’d cheated with his dearest friend’s wife. These two people deserved each other.
I swallowed my distaste, forced my face to remain expressionless (thanks, Coop!) and asked, “When did the affair start?”
He gave me a bored look and tipped the last of his whiskey into his mouth. “In Brazil. We were all there for Myer’s restaurant opening and of course, as you know, Suzanne was filming some vile movie or another where she pretended to be an actress of worth. It was right after we’d visited the set—in the jungle, mind you. Hotter than Hades, it was. Dreadful place full of all sorts of deadly plants and snakes. Couldn’t wait to get out of there.”
“So it didn’t last long then?”
“Not terribly, no. I’m a loner, Miss Lavender. I don’t like messy entanglements or lengthy interactions. I have plenty of those with my clients as an investment banker. They’re trying enough. Forgive my brutal honesty, but I got what I wanted from Suzanne, and that’s really all there is to tell you.”
He began to rise, but I placed a hand on his arm. “One more thing, Mr. Hanson. Any idea who the private detective Agnar hired is? A name? Anything? Maybe someone he might have used because one of you used their services?”
“Not a clue, but I can tell you this, whoever he was, kudos to him for being so slick, because I never once suspected.” And then he chuckled, appearing quite pleased with himself.
I thought all sorts of horrible thoughts about Grady Hanson, said some horrible words in my mind, too, and then I decided it was time to talk to the source.
Suzanne.
She probably wouldn’t like it, and neither would Knuckles, but they’d just have to get over that. Now more than ever, I wanted these people to go back to where they came from.
* * * *
“I told you, darling, I think I’m going to stay here with Donald—at least until I have to be on set, and maybe even afterward. He’s not my usual victim, but if we’re being brutally frank, the pickings are getting slimmer at my age. I’m big enough to admit that. Donald has enough money to satisfy me until I can find a more suitable situation. His house isn’t the style to which I’m accustomed, but it will suffice for now. Though, I’d like his frumpy nun to find somewhere else to live, and her strange friend. They’re nothing but a nuisance, always lurking around here. Not to mention that filthy owl they have for a pet who almost took my arm off. But I’ll find a way to get rid of them. I always do.” She paused and sighed. “Oh, I could just kill Agnar for leaving me with nothing!” Then she giggled. “Forget I said that, he’s already dead, isn’t he?”
My jaw literally dropped to the floor, unhinging at the words I was hearing, coming out of this woman’s mouth. I’d left the despicable Grady Hanson and decided to come back to Knuckles’s and pin Suzanne down and make her answer my questions. I’d have to find a way around Knuckles, but I figured I’d deal with that when it happened.
For now, my laser focus was on Suzanne, who happened to be sitting out in the sun on Knuckles’s gorgeous deck lined with pots of hydrangeas, peonies and a mix of impatiens and marigolds, in her festive pink bikini, sipping a cocktail and chatting on the phone with heaven only knows who.
Knuckles had left a note on the fridge for Suzanne that read he was going off for a ride to clear his head, but he’d be back to cook her dinner—which only made me angrier.
Maybe it was the idea that he still wanted to cook for this lying, cheating, money-hungry gold digger and she didn’t deserve him, coupled with her words on the phone, but I’m going to admit, I plum lost my mind. Right out on the deck in broad daylight.
Coop, on her lunch hour, was off in the guesthouse kitchen with Livingston, who I desperately wanted to talk to about Suzanne’s day, but not before I got my hands on this infernal woman.
As I approached her, she all but rolled her eyes, as though I were nothing more than a nuisance rather than the person who was trying to find out who’d killed her husband.
I don’t like admitting it, but I snatched the phone out of her hand and threw it on the patio chair’s teal-blue cushion. I’m sure there was some steam coming out of my ears at this point, but I’d lost myself in my ire.
Suzanne cupped her hand over her eyes, her gorgeous skin glowing with the beginnings of a light tan, and frowned her outrage with as much over exaggeration as her face could display. “Who do you think you are? How dare you!”
Looking down at her, I narrowed my gaze until she was a tiny pinpoint of my fury. “I’ll tell you who I am, Suza
nne. I’m Donald’s friend, and not a chance in this lifetime I’m going to let you take advantage of him. Understood?”
Her gaze was coy, almost sickly playful. “I don’t know what you mean, dear.”
Oh, she knew what I meant. She knew exactly what I meant, but I made peace with saying it out loud.
Clenching my fists, I fought the urge to gather her up by her teeny-tiny bikini strings and shake her but good.
Sitting on my haunches, I leaned in close to her, my eyes narrowed. “I heard what you said on the phone. Every. Word. Just so we’re clear, Suzanne. I don’t know what you’re up to. I don’t know if you’re involved in this mess or you’re just playing another one of your parts, but if you toy with Knuckles, you’ll have me to deal with. Understood?”
Wow. Look at me go all gangster. But I couldn’t help it. I’d watched Knuckles fall for this woman’s “poor me” act, tripping over his own feet to keep her and her demands happy, and it was beginning to wear thin. So thin. I wouldn’t have this dreadful excuse for a human being, who used people up for the sheer pleasure of using them, hurt my friend—especially not after what I’d just heard.
He deserved better. Maybe he was in a bad place emotionally, missing Candice and all, or maybe Suzanne brought back memories he was too blind to see weren’t as great as he’d like to remember them being, but by heck, he wasn’t going to get sucked into her baloney on my watch. Not if I could prevent it from happening.
Her eyes narrowed to tiny blue slivers as she pushed her untamed hair over her shoulder. “Are you threatening me, Sister Tipsy?”
I stared her down, my eyes glued to her beautiful face. “Yep. You bet I am. And it’s Trixie. Sister Trixie Lavender, thank you very much. Try and keep that straight, and while you do, make it your business to finish up whatever needs finishing and go home the moment the police say you’re all clear.”
Her smile was sly, her sharp jaw held high. “But Donald already invited me to stay.”
My right eye began to twitch, the muscles in my arms and legs flexing with tension. “And I’m uninviting you. I don’t suppose you’d like me to pass on that phone call I just heard, would you?”
She dismissed me with a wave of her hand, making me even angrier. “He’d never believe you. Never in a million years,” she drawled.
Listen, I don’t get red-hot angry often, but this cruel, ugly-on-the-inside creature was making me see all shades of red. “Really? You don’t suppose he’d believe an ex-nun over a has-been actress who cheated on her husband with one of his closest friends and once broke his heart? Wanna give it a shot and see who comes out on top?”
I knew after my conversation with Knuckles, he was still firmly in Suzanne’s camp, but I had to bluff her in order to smoke her out.
And then she did it. She one-upped me. Played her trump card with a flourish.
Sighing wistfully, she threw her legs over the side of the lounger and rose to her dainty feet. “Oh, I think after tonight, he won’t be able to resist me, Trixie. Because I have plans for my sweet Donald this evening. The kind of night that involves only adults, if you know what I mean…”
Then she winked and turned on her heel, pushing her way through the French doors to head toward the living room, essentially dismissing me.
Okay, look. I know I’m a nun, and nuns are supposed to be patient and kind and not lose their tempers.
But please be fair if you chose to judge me. Nuns are as human as you or anyone else and, if we’re honest, Suzanne is a walking nightmare. She’s probably one of the most horrible people I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a lot of self-proclaimed sinners.
Maybe that’s what triggered what happened next. Maybe even Hell and all its inhabitants are too good for Suzanne Rothschild-Andrews-Stigsson, because whatever lives inside me went straight for her slender throat.
Or at least that’s what Coop tells me. I remember vaguely hopping over the back of Knuckles’s couch, the one we sat on so many nights, watching TV and eating popcorn, propped up on fluffy pillows.
I remember skin-to-skin contact, my breathing growing ragged, the crack of the beautiful hardwood floor on my knees, and then I don’t remember anything else until Coop was on top of my back, prying my fingers from Suzanne’s luscious hair.
“Trixie Lavender, let go or I’ll be forced to do something drastic!” Coop ordered in my ear, her arm around my neck in a grip of steel.
The second I heard Coop’s voice was the second I let my fingers release, shaking them out with wild abandon as though it would ward off the harm I’d surely done.
Livingston flew around the living room, flapping his wings and hooting, sending Suzanne scurrying in a crab-like walk to a corner where, I saw through my red haze of rage, she huddled, shivering violently.
Coop threw me to the floor on my back and straddled my hips, gripping my face so hard I thought my jaw would break and my teeth would crumble in my mouth. “Trixie Lavender! Look at me this instant!”
I fought to focus, every muscle in my body tight, cinching up along my arms and thighs until they quivered. Slowly, her face became clearer as she hauled me up and wrapped her arms around my body, rocking me back and forth until I was coherent enough to ask, “Is she dead?”
Coop inhaled and pressed her cheek to the top of my head. “No. Though, I can see why you wished her so.”
Then I remembered why I had such residual anger. Usually after a possession, I’m wiped out, but not this time—not entirely. “Did you hear what she said on the phone?”
Coop continued to rock me back and forth, to and fro, slowly easing the tension in my body. “I heard what you said, and it was enough for me to understand your wrath.”
My throat was raw and my voice raspy. “Was there screaming?”
“From who? You or her?”
I cringed. “Either-or.”
“Then both. You were calling her a wicked-wicked little pig and she was begging for her life and then you squeezed her throat.”
I gasped, and it hurt my throat to do so, but I suppose it’s nothing less than what I deserve for my outburst. “Did my eyes roll to the back of my head?” Sometimes, that was a side-effect of being a demon.
I felt Coop nod her head. “They did. It’s very intimidating. I think Suzanne especially found it intimidating.”
Oh, Heaven and the Pearly Gates. “How will we explain?”
“We’ll call it a seizure. I’ve been reading up on some of the behaviors of demonic possession, and some who don’t believe it exists dismiss the rage you experience as seizures. I think that will work nicely for the time being. Now breathe, please. Deeply. You’re stiff as a corpse.”
I don’t even want to know why she knows that, but I inhaled deeply. “Do seizures make you try to choke someone?”
“They do if we tell them they do.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “But that’s a lie. You’re staunchly against lying. I don’t want you to lie for me, Coop.”
“You lie for me every day, Trixie. Besides, I’m willing to stretch the truth in favor of being carted off to the place where they examine your head.”
“The psych ward,” I provided.
“Yes. That’s the place. It isn’t pleasant from the pictures I’ve seen, Trixie Lavender. I don’t want you to end up in one of those jackets. They’re ugly. Alexis Carrington would not approve.”
Laughter bubbled up in my throat and spilled out of my dry mouth. “Good point. How do we fix this, Coop?”
She sighed, pulling me closer while rubbing awkward circles on my back. I must remember to mention I like the new perfume she bought. Maybe she’d let me borrow it for my coffee date with Oz.
“You don’t fix this, Trixie. I will. You go to the guesthouse and take a shower. You’ve perspired quite heavily and for lack of a better turn of a phrase, you smell like a New Jersey dump. I’ll take care of Suzanne.”
That made me fearful. “You won’t hurt her?”
“I don’t have to. You’ve already ta
ken care of that today.”
I cringed again and leaned back. “Did I hurt her-hurt her, or will she live?”
“She’ll need Band-Aids and a therapy session or two.”
“But no permanent damage?” I hoped. I prayed.
Coop shook her head, her green eyes intense. “No. Only the lingering mental scars.”
I closed my eyes because I couldn’t even glance at Suzanne. “Are you sure you can handle this? You won’t let her leave before you’re sure she’s all right?”
I know Suzanne’s the worst, but she doesn’t deserve to be beaten to within an inch of her life by a demonically possessed ex-nun.
“I won’t, and yes, Trixie. I’m sure I can handle this. Go shower and have a warm cup of tea. I made a kettle just before you tried to kill Suzanne. It should still be warm, and please take Livingston with you—he makes Suzanne Rothschild-Andrews-Stigsson very nervous.”
“Coop?”
“Yes, Trixie?”
I popped my eyes open and looked up at her beautiful face, as always a blank canvass. “You’re the best friend a girl could have. Thank you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “And you smell.”
I laughed as she helped me up off Knuckles’s living room floor and over to the French doors, calling Livingston, who landed on my shoulder with ease.
As we made our way across the lawn to the guesthouse, I shivered, even as warm as the end of the day was. I hated what I’d done. When Knuckles found out what I’d done, he was going to throttle me.
That made my eyes sting with tears again. I didn’t want to lose my friend, but I was all about living in my truth, and truth be told, he might choose to stay with Suzanne no matter what I said.
As I opened our back door to the guesthouse, Livingston said, “Trixie, lass, when you’ve caught your breath, I have a little nugget to share with ya.”
Stepping into the cool interior of the guesthouse, a house I’d come to love and consider myself crazy fortunate to have landed in, I asked, “Is it about Suzanne?”
“Is it ever, dumplin’. Is it ever.”
Hit and Nun (Nun of Your Business Mysteries Book 2) Page 16
