After an aborted rendition of “We’re in the Money,” she laughed. “We’ve got his money, and her money, even her father’s money.”
“Who is the her, in ‘her money’?” I asked.
“Saint Belle, the perfect.”
Belle? Isobel? I turned in my seat to look back at Lolique. “I thought your husband’s first wife was named Gwendolyn?”
“Gwen-do-lyn,” Lolique said with snark, like the drunk she was. “No wonder she hated her first name.”
My heart raced to the point that I had to hold my chest to keep it in there. Gwendolyn Isobel. G. I., the first two initials in the ring. Except that Lolique had said Belle, not Isobel.
Heck, I thought I might have spoken the name of the person whose dresses were cut into quilt squares. Isobel could have been Belle’s mother for all I knew. True, the man the woman spoke to in my vision had hair, which time could surely erase, but he’d seemed to dislike the woman so much, he’d never call her a saint.
According to the portrait at the dealership, the ring definitely belonged to McDowell’s wife, and since I found the ring in the quilt, that could have been the quilt that Gwendolyn Isobel and the man whose face I never saw were talking about. But the bones, who knew?
“Lolique, were those her clothes you gave me? Isobel’s, I mean?”
“Screw the goat!” Lolique said with a military raise of her fist. “He wanted them locked in the attic forever, but I picked the lock on the wardrobe and gave them to you. Expensive. Couldn’t bring myself to . . . burn—”
Silence.
“Did she pass out in the middle of a sentence?” Eve asked.
I looked in the back. “Yep.”
“With her legs in the air?”
That turned my attention. We burst into stifled laughter.
“Stop it,” she said, “or I’ll have to—”
“Pee your pants?” That was a long-standing joke of ours. I’d done exactly that once on Halloween when we’d sneaked out after dark, peeked in a window, and came face-to-face with a witch, Aunt Fiona to be exact.
“No, smarty. Pull over until I can drive again.”
“I’ll drive,” Lolique said, punctuating her offer with a snort and a snore.
Following her pre-coma directions, we found ourselves on a narrowing, sandy lane lined with bushes, ripe with rose hips. “We’re lost,” Eve said.
“No, look, there’s a house on the hill, lit up like a twenty-four-karat gold Christmas tree. The perfect castle for a greedy old goat.” I rubbed my arms against the chill the sight evoked. “It’s forbidding enough to house vampires.”
“Too much Buffy or too much Sookie?”
“Barnaby Collins on DVD, if you must know. And that’s who McDowell reminds me of, minus the hair. I wonder when he stopped wearing the rug.”
“Sweetie here probably burned his rug.”
I looked in the back. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”
As we pulled up the drive toward the house, Lolique had not changed positions. “I think rigor mortis has set in.”
“We’ll have to help her to the door.”
“Yay. I want to see if I recognize anything inside from my vision, you know to match it with McDowell and his dead wife. Take off the old goat’s sentimental old sweater first. I don’t want him to claim it.”
“Right.”
Carved of cold gray stone, the Gothic, towered mansion overlooked a steep cliff-side drop to the Mystic River.
“Should we take her to the front door or the back?” Eve asked as we drove closer.
I looked in the backseat. “Lolique?”
“You want a lap dance, honey?” She opened her eyes and looked surprised to see me.
“Uh, no, thanks. Where’s the old goat’s office? In the front or the back of the house?”
“Front.”
“Drive up to the front,” I told Eve.
She gave me a double take but said nothing and followed my directions.
It took both of us to get Lolique standing, more or less. “Man, she can snore,” Eve said.
I hit the doorbell. “You bet your French knickers she can.”
The councilman let us in. “I’ve got her.” He took Lolique in his arms. “Ms. Cutler?” he said, as if asking for an explanation.
“She invited us for drinks. She’s doing a story on my new shop, and we partied a bit.”
“But she partied heartier than both of you?”
I shrugged. “She ate the salty nuts. They made her thirsty.”
“How kind. Thank you for bringing her home.”
Eve and I got back into the car and Eve backed her Mini Cooper down the drive. It was so narrow I was glad I wasn’t driving my new Element.
“Why didn’t you turn around on the landing field up front?” I asked her.
“I wanted outta there. Fast.”
“Too bad. Turn the corner, back into the woods, and stop beneath that tree.”
“What?”
“I wanna look around a little bit.”
Eve hit the brakes and gave me a look of pure shock.
I took advantage of the moment, threw open my door, and ran.
“Madeira Cutler! You come back here.”
I turned to her, spotted a huge white owl watching me, and took his look for approving wisdom, so I crossed my lips toward Eve and turned to sprint through the woods. The underbrush was wild with bittersweet and Chinese Lanterns, which I might have appreciated at a different time.
It wasn’t long before I heard Eve’s door shut. She could run faster than me any day, but her Fendis should slow her down some. She was not used to running in heels. Still, she grabbed my arm sooner than I expected, and I screamed.
“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped.
“Shush. I’m going to peek into a few windows to see if I recognize anything.”
“Like the room from your vision?”
“No. That didn’t take place here. Aunt Fee said McDowell moved here from Groton after he lost his wife. I was hoping his office furniture might be the same, though.”
“You’d go to jail on a long shot? Besides, Councilman McDowell is hardly likely to have been in that vision.”
“Lolique said ‘Saint Belle,’ which could stand for ‘Iso bel.’ Her money referred to his first wife’s money and his money referred to the councilman’s. I need to look. If you don’t want to come, go home. I’ll walk.”
“If I go, I’ll call Werner is what I’ll do.”
“Go ahead. He might like a look around.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Well, duh. I knew that.”
She elbowed me.
We sneaked up beneath a lit window. Eve’s teeth began to chatter, though she stopped them quickly enough. “Déjà vu all over again,” she said. “Halloween at Fee’s, except that we could get arrested for peeking in these windows, and we won’t find a friendly witch staring back at us, either. Good thing you used the bathroom before we left the bar.”
“Brat. You’re more afraid than I am and you didn’t use the bathroom. This is the kitchen. Are we in the back or in the front of the house? We cut through the woods and I lost my bearings.”
“I think we’re on the side. This way,” Eve said, so I followed, but she got turned around, too, because we ended up in the backyard.
The estate had an ultramodern guest or pool house, on the opposite side of the pool, with walls of windows and light peeking out between the drapery panels. I wanted to check that out after the main house, but I wasn’t ready to give Eve my itinerary.
I peeked in a window of a parlor full of marble-topped tables, the kind I was looking for but none that matched my vision.
Eve grabbed my belt, yanked me to my knees, and pointed to Lolique running across the yard and around the pool, toward the guesthouse.
“She doesn’t look as drunk as she did a few minutes ago,” I whispered. “Let’s go.”
I followed Lolique, Eve two steps behind me
, mumbling her bald refusal to follow.
We crouched in the bushes outside the guesthouse and looked through one of the slits in the drapes. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The Goodwin cousin sat in his wheelchair, his back to us, facing the sofa.
In the kitchen area, open to the living room, Lolique took a beer from the refrigerator and drank from the bottle. Not quite as flamboyant as she pretends to be.
“How did it go?” Goodwin asked.
Lolique laughed and danced without a pole. “I did it, I did it. The dopes are dupes, and the old goat’s on his way up the river. No paddle.”
“Exactly what McDowell deserves,” Gary Goodwin said, “the way he blatantly manipulated a dying old man into leaving him the Goodwin dealership.”
Lolique shrugged. “Zachary Goodwin was the old goat’s father-in-law.”
Goodwin slammed his hand on the arm of his wheelchair. “Zachary was my uncle, dammit. Blood is thicker! That dealership should be mine.”
“And it will be,” Lolique said, though she fluffed her hair in the way she did when she said McDowell had prepped his fire speech before the fire. Was she lying this time, too? Did she want the dealership and McDowell’s money? I couldn’t believe Goodwin hadn’t caught on to the woman’s mean-spirited greed.
“What are you two up to?” asked a man standing in shadow, who surprised both Lolique and Goodwin.
“Stupid ass,” Lolique said. “You screwed me out of my inheritance with your spur-of-the-moment fix the other night. What are you doing here? You know the schlub doesn’t want you anywhere near here.”
“He doesn’t want him here, either.” Shadowman pointed to Goodwin. “Good thing you use this as your home office, Lol, or the light in here might make the old goat suspicious.” Shadowman chuckled.
Lol. The man knew Lolique well enough to use a nickname. “As for your inheritance,” he continued, still in shadow, “you’ve got more money than God. I did what I had to do to get the job done.”
“Except leave the schlub’s sweater behind,” Lolique snapped.
I saw the man’s hand as he snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah. Whatever happened to that thing?”
“You gave it to your twit of a girlfriend.”
“Hey, she’s no twit. She’s freakin’ brilliant. Hardest con I ever pulled, pretending to date her.”
I felt fury radiating off Eve in hot waves.
Lolique turned to Goodwin and pointed toward the guy in the shadows. “I thought you said he was out of this for good.”
“For good?” Shadowman said. “Nobody offs me. I’m too smart.”
Lolique laughed. “Why the hell are you here, then, Lazarus?”
“Sanctuary,” Shadowman wailed. “Sanctuary,” he moaned like a ghoul as he stepped into the light for a split second, but that was all we needed.
I looked at Eve and mouthed, “Vinney?” which she confirmed with a nod as he disappeared back into the shadows.
Lolique flopped down on the sofa and gave Goodwin the evil eye. “Sometimes I wonder whether you’re worth keeping around.”
“Don’t get smart with me,” Goodwin said. “I know who you really are.”
I turned to Eve to speculate on that one, but she must have moved to another window to get a visual on Vinney. “Hey?” I whispered, and she put her hand over my mouth, presumably to shut me up—except when I looked up at my silencer, Eve didn’t look down at me, Vinney did.
I’d lost sight of him inside. Now, he had me crushed in a headlock, one hand over my mouth, the other closing around my throat.
I saw stars, and beyond them, a cold-blooded look in my captor’s eyes.
Not only could he have murdered Sampson. He could have enjoyed it.
My killer’s face blurred and darkened.
Thirty-three
1972: The first woman falls off her cork sandals. Millions follow.
—VOGUE
As if through a tunnel, I heard a whomp, and then I was sucking air into my lungs in greedy gulps while my captor went down like cement shoes in deep water.
Eve grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the woods.
“My shoe,” I whispered. “I fell off my shoe.”
“Lose the other one.”
“They cost—”
She jerked on my arm so hard I fell off the other. “Ouch, ouch, ouch,” I whispered as she dragged me through the woods, me in bare feet, her walking like Peg-Leg Pete without the peg.
“My stockings are torn and my feet are cut,” I whined.
“You’re not the only one.”
“You are not wearing stockings.”
“Yeah, that’s the crucial point, here.”
I looked back. Vinney was still down. My throat hurt remembering. “Are you packing a sledgehammer? What did you hit him with?”
“The heel of a boot.”
“Thick and lethal.”
She scoffed. “I aimed at his head stitches. Pulled a con on me, did he? I don’t think so.”
Ouch. “Remind me not to cross you.”
She stopped and ducked, but she forgot to warn me, so I tripped over her and went flying. Now my hands were scraped, too. I understood her reasoning, however, when I saw Councilman McDowell heading for the guesthouse looking fit to kill. He growled when he saw Vinney’s prone body, stepped over him, and walked faster, if that were possible.
From the woods, we could hear McDowell shouting—the man had lungs, I’d give him that. He’d seen Eve’s car in the woods from an upstairs window, started to investigate, and found what he called “felon cars” in his garage. He didn’t want Gary or Vinney anywhere near his place and wanted to know what the hell was going on.
After a tirade and a half, McDowell came slamming out of the guesthouse, shouting for them to “Get out!” He grumbled about being mad as he hotfooted it up the hill and disappeared around the house. Two seconds later, he burned rubber as he sped down the drive. Man, he couldn’t get away fast enough. He truly did “not want to be connected to the law-breaking scum” in his guesthouse.
Because he too was guilty?
Vinney groaned and grabbed his head, and the sound seemed to alert Lolique. She and Goodwin came out, and when she got to Vinney, she straightened and looked around, as if she could smell the fear rolling off me and Eve.
We ducked neck-deep into the overgrowth.
Lolique pulled Vinney to his feet, none too gently, and shoulder-shoved him toward the big house, which she wouldn’t have gotten away with if Vinney wasn’t sporting a head bleed. Silently, she pushed Goodwin’s chair up behind Vinney. Along the way, she grabbed one of my shoes and stuck it in her pocket, her grin malevolent.
My gasp made Eve put her hand over my mouth. I jerked it away. I’d had enough of that for a lifetime.
The “felons,” all three, skirted the house, then one by one, three more cars sped down the drive, Goodwin’s bringing up the rear.
“That bimbette stole my shoe!”
“She called us duped dopes.” Eve took a twig out of my hair. “Mad, this is one time that acting first could have finished you. And I mean that literally.”
I grabbed my throat. “I’m thinking that at least one of them must be the killer.”
Eve shuddered. “Of Sampson or Isobel?”
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t we get the hell out of here?” Eve whispered furiously.
“I’m thinking about it.”
Eve sucked in a breath. “Those words always send prickles of fear down my spine.”
“I have to get my other shoe.”
“You are a nutcase.”
“You’ve known that since we were five when you jumped into the Mystic River to save me.”
“More fool me.”
“The guesthouse is wide open. Let’s go look around.”
“You are certifiable,” Eve said. “I’m leaving.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t leave fingerprints on anything, and after we’re finished, we’ll call Werner and tell him we saw
Vinney here.”
“I thought you wanted to look inside the main house.”
I snapped my fingers and changed directions. “Smart girl.”
“Dumb, dumb, dumb,” she said, smacking her temple with the flat of her hand while trying to keep up with me. “You’ve finally sucked the genius right out of me,” she said. “Though I must say, I’m proud that you left your other shoe behind.”
“Oy!” I ran back for it. “Thanks,” I said catching up to her. “Here, I got your boot, too. They must have cost you—”
“Three hundred and seventy-five dollars.”
“I am a bad influence on you. Is that why you deserted me?”
“Deserted? Vinney disappeared and I heard footsteps, so I hid in the bushes to unlace one of my lethal boots.”
“My hero.”
“Damned straight.”
The back door of the mansion stood ajar. We went in and tried to head straight for the front of the huge edifice, but the place was like a dark maze and we didn’t dare use lights. Bad enough we could hear a dog barking somewhere in the house.
Each room was a dead end. “Where the Hermès is the hallway?” I whispered, the barking coming closer.
“This place might be old enough to be laid out like your father’s house, Mad. You have to go through rooms to get to others. Wait. I found a bathroom. Too much beer.”
“Leave the door ajar,” I said, “in case they come back, so I can warn you.”
Eve the Bold whimpered, but she did as I asked.
“Don’t touch anything but the paper,” I said, “and flush with your elbow.”
“Wait for me.”
“Don’t worry. My turn next.”
“Mad,” Eve said a few minutes later, as I washed my hands. “The dog is here.”
“I can hear it growling,” I said, peeking out. “Wow. He sure is a big one.” The dog backed up to growl at both of us. “Hey, cutie,” I said to the miniature dachshund as I took kitty treats from my pocket and dropped some on the floor at my feet.
After he ate them, he wagged his tail, so I bent down to feed him a few from my hand. Then I picked him up. “What a good doggie.”
“Are you holding him for ransom?” Eve asked.
“No. Insurance. If he likes us, he’ll be quiet.”
Dog in hand, we backtracked to the back door, then we walked through the rooms and managed to reach the front hall.
Larcency and Lace Page 15
