by Harper Lin
“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.” This was a new bit of information. It was nowhere on Spencer’s social media, but whatever.
“Sure, we had some troubles. But what couple doesn’t?”
Amelia waited.
“He was a bit younger than me, and you know how men are. They feel they have to sow their wild oats or else they aren’t real men.”
“Yes. I do know how men are.” Amelia sighed. That was probably the only truthful thing she had said so far to Florence.
“I was okay with that. See, Spencer and I had a rare relationship. It was the kind of thing that some people just didn’t get. But when I proposed to him, he…”
“I’m sorry, did you say you proposed to him?”
“I did.” Florence leaned back, smiling as if this brazen display of authority was something to be proud of. It was weird and went against nature in Amelia’s eyes. What kind of glutton for punishment was she? “I gave him a Rolex. It was a beautiful thing with rubies. A limited edition. I was sure that no one else would have that watch. He wore it all the time.”
Tears started to fill Florence’s eyes, but Amelia couldn’t tell if they were really for Spencer or for herself.
“When I proposed to him and presented him with the watch, he cried. Can you actually believe that? A man like Spencer crying.” She sniffled but pulled herself together quickly. “We made love all day that day. He only left for a short while to go to the gym and pick up some food.”
Going to the gym after making love all day? Who does that? Amelia thought.
“Things had been going perfectly until Candace heard about our engagement.” Florence narrowed her eyes. “At the last gala I attended, she was practically throwing herself at him. Of course, she’d thrown herself at every other man in the place, why would Spencer be any different?”
“But Spencer told her he was engaged to you, right? Nothing happened between them?” Amelia wasn’t sure what to think about all that she was hearing.
“Amelia, let me tell you something. A man can’t control himself. If a woman serves it up to him on a platter, he’s going to go for it. I don’t blame Spencer. I blame Candace. And all the others who treated him like nothing more than a piece of meat. She’s the one who should be dead. Not Spencer.”
The way those words came out of Florence’s mouth made Amelia’s blood run cold.
“You don’t hold him even a little responsible for his own behavior?” Amelia should have stopped those words and just said Yes, Florence, you are right, Florence. Anything you say, girl. But she didn’t.
“I don’t know who you think you are, coming into my house to talk about my fiancé this way!” Florence shouted, making Amelia jump. “He loved me the most! He proved it by…” She didn’t finish that sentence, but Amelia wondered if her last words to that sentence weren’t dying for me.
When Florence stood up, Amelia instantly went into defensive mode. Sure, it was obvious the fifty-something cougar worked very hard to keep her figure. But Amelia was prepared to fight dirty. She hadn’t trimmed her nails in a few days. Scratching was an acceptable form of self-defense. Just like running and hiding and screaming.
Thankfully, she only stomped to the door and pulled it open.
“I won’t be using you for Senator Walker’s event,” she cried as Amelia quickly hurried to her car. Once she was behind the steering wheel, she locked all the doors. “Don’t you ever come near me again, or I’ll kill you! Do you hear me? I’ll make sure you never sell another cookie again! I know people. You can’t bad-mouth my fiancé and get away with it!”
She continued shouting from her open door as Amelia got her car started and pulled away as quickly as possible. She said a quick prayer that Florence opened the gate, or else she was sure she’d crash through it if she had to. Thankfully, the gate opened automatically.
“Senator Walker is a crook anyway.” Amelia shook her head as she quickly got off the Carmichael property and headed home.
But one thing played over and over in her head. The bathroom was being redone, and there were several pipes lying around just waiting for a hot-tempered woman to lose her cool and put one to good use upside a cheating boyfriend’s head.
It wasn’t that long ago that Amelia had felt the same way Florence did. Had she thought she could get away with it in this life and the next, she would have snuffed John’s candle out without giving it a second thought. Leaving the children without their father was a small price to pay. She hated him for what he had done. But that was natural.
Betrayal was cruel because it usually involved one party taking complete advantage of the trusting nature of the other party.
But unlike Florence, Amelia wasn’t going to hitch her wagon to a man who didn’t want to stay faithful. What good could possibly come out of that? How lonely Florence must have been to settle.
“She might have been tired of settling,” Amelia said to the steering wheel as she drove home. “She might not even realize what she did.”
Chapter Nine
With the kids still at school and the Pink Cupcake under the happy supervision of Lila and Beatrice, Amelia took the quiet time to look up Candace and Florence on their social media accounts.
“I thought Spencer’s was shocking. What in the world is wrong with people?”
Starting with Candace Rosenbaum, Amelia was shocked to see there were so many risqué photos of her posted all over the Internet. In addition to being at every posh event in the city in the past thirty days, there were images of her posing nearly nude in black-and-white photos, intense close-ups that were perfectly airbrushed. It was as if she went to a professional photo shoot every couple of days.
One thing that stood out was that Florence had commented on almost every photo. They slung insults at each other and anyone else who didn’t click the “like” button on the page.
“These are wealthy grown women, and this is how they act?” She shook her head. As she scanned the comments, Amelia was surprised to see the vulgar, almost obscene comments they made at each other. And then there was a third party joining in.
“Who is this?”
The name on the account was Jasmine Peterson. From the looks of it, she couldn’t have been too far over the legal age of consent, and Amelia felt it safe to assume she wasn’t.
“She insults like a girl that age would, but Florence and Candace aren’t any better, so I can’t say it’s because she is young.” She went to Jasmine’s page and saw several images of her in a string bikini hanging on the arm of Amelia’s old classmate Spencer Randall.
She was another one who posed as if she were on one long, continual photo shoot. Who had the time to do this?
A typical social media diva, Jasmine posted about a vacation in Bali, a trip to Mexico, hitting Palm Beach for spring break, skiing in Aspen, and in half of these were captions like “Ran into Spencer in Honolulu! My honey. My sweetie. Love Spencer.”
“Ugh, I’m getting a cavity.”
As she scrolled down and read Jasmine’s childish comments and insults to all the people commenting on her posts, something struck a chord, with Amelia making her very angry.
A picture of Jasmine kissing Spencer with the caption: “Mom and Dad say STAY AWAY. Ha ha ha” was plastered on the page. There were more with her kissing him, sitting on his lap, holding him around the neck. She wore a white blouse and sweater with an insignia on the lapel. That wasn’t just a private-school emblem. She probably went to some highfalutin prep school. All of these snapshots had been added to her page one week ago. Since then, there had been a few posts about Spencer, but then nothing. Not a mention of him being dead. Not a blip about him not contacting her. Not even a sad emoji. Just an update on the status of her manicure.
Without hesitating, Amelia picked up her cell phone and dialed Dan’s number.
“I was just thinking about you,” Dan grumbled into the phone. Amelia always liked how he spoke to her quietly yet sounded like he was commanding a ship. He and Meg
had watched Rio Lobo with John Wayne the other day.
“John Wayne sure is tough. He reminds me of you, Dan,” Meg had chirped.
“You think so?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’ve got more gray hair. But I wouldn’t want to double-cross you, if you know what I mean.”
“I think I know what you mean.” He’d chuckled when he looked at Amelia.
She smiled at his low voice over the phone but wasted no time telling him what she’d learned over the course of her day. Finally, she got to the Facebook and Instagram messages from Jasmine Peterson.
“Really?” Dan said. Amelia was sure he was writing everything down.
“Yeah. I know there’s no way I could talk to anyone’s kid, especially if she’s attending some prep school. They won’t let just anyone in there to talk to the kids without parents being notified.” Amelia sounded sad.
“No. But they’ll let the police in,” Dan said cockily. “Want to ride along?”
“You know I do!” Amelia clapped.
Chapter Ten
“I’m sorry, Officer Walishovski.” The receptionist at Heritage Mountain School for Girls looked at us through a thick pane of glass with a small circle cut into the center. “Jasmine Peterson isn’t in today. Her mother called to inform us she was feeling ill.”
“Is that so.” It was obvious to Amelia that Dan didn’t believe that story. He believed Jasmine wasn’t in school. He just didn’t believe it was her mother who had called, nor did he believe she was feeling ill. “Is the principal available?”
The receptionist looked insulted that Dan didn’t believe what she was telling him.
“I’d like to ask a few questions about Miss Peterson’s school habits. That’s all,” Dan said.
“I understand, Detective.” In a hushed voice, the receptionist spoke on the phone, whispering and acting as professional as possible while girls came bopping through the office asking for Band-Aids, scheduling meetings with counselors, and dropping off classroom paperwork. They all looked Dan up and down and stared as if they’d never seen a man before. Amelia found it creepy.
“Detective Walishovski.” A portly woman with glasses and short hair emerged from a large office behind the receptionist’s desk. “I’m Principal Harris.”
Dan looked at Amelia, who nodded and hung back with the receptionist as he went to the principal’s office.
“You know, it never gets better,” Amelia said, trying to put the receptionist at ease. “No matter how old I get, going into the principal’s office is always a scary ordeal.”
“How do you think I feel?” The receptionist giggled. “And Miss Harris is tough.”
“Is she really?”
“She has to be. Some of the girls who attend this school…” She shook her head.
“Bad?”
“Worse than bad. The things they say and do to each other are criminal. Okay, maybe not criminal but certainly immoral. I just don’t understand what parents are teaching their kids these days.”
“I hear you,” Amelia encouraged. “Do you ever have any problems with Jasmine Peterson?”
The receptionist looked behind her before she spoke then looked at Amelia.
“If you repeat this, I’ll deny I said it.” Amelia nodded that she understood. “But that girl is trouble. Not just for the other girls but for anyone out in the world. I don’t know what it is, but she is cruel for sport. She just loves attention. Especially male attention, and some males are too dumb to realize.”
“Really? She’s got a lot of boyfriends?”
“No. She’s got a lot of MAN-friends. They come to the school on their lunch breaks from work to drop off roses or candy or whatever. We tell them they can’t see her since they aren’t on the parents’ list. That doesn’t stop them from loitering around like alley cats.”
“What do her parents say?”
“Not much. I think they have one of those open relationships. It’s cheaper than getting a divorce.”
“Wow. That poor girl. She doesn’t realize what she’s doing to herself.”
“Nope. And you can’t tell these kids anything. They know it all. I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I miss the good old days at the public school.”
Amelia chuckled and looked at her watch.
It didn’t take long for Dan to emerge from the principal’s office, shake hands with Ms. Harris, and leave the building. Amelia waved good-bye to the receptionist, who smiled pleasantly and waved back.
“What did she tell you?” Amelia asked excitedly.
“Not too much. She wanted to know what this was all about and why I wanted to see Jasmine. I gave her the skinny on the murder and watched all the color fall from her face.”
“She didn’t know about it?”
“She didn’t know the details or that one of her students was fraternizing with the deceased, according to post after post on Instagram and Facebook,” Dan muttered. “I just never understood the attraction of putting all my business up on those things. I never hung my underwear on the line outside to dry in the summertime. Some things you just don’t need people seeing.”
Amelia laughed.
Their adventure for the day wasn’t over yet. Principal Harris had given Dan Jasmine’s home address.
“If the little darling is feeling poorly, then I think we should pay her a visit,” Dan said. “You don’t think she’s actually home with the sniffles, do you?”
Amelia shrugged.
“I’ll bet you dollars to donuts that she’s not there, and the hired hands won’t know where she is either unless they have something to gain out of it.” As he drove the car with one hand, Dan reached into his back pants pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Count how much I have in there.”
Amelia let out a whistle. “Two hundred and seven dollars.”
“That might be enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“It’s illegal to bribe a cop. It’s not illegal to bribe an informant.” He snickered.
“What kind of topsy-turvy world do we live in?” Amelia rubbed Dan’s shoulder as he shrugged and gave her that sexy smirk she couldn’t get enough of.
Jasmine Peterson’s home was a beautiful place with white pillars, black shutters, and a bright-red front door. The lawn was impeccably manicured. The driveway was perfectly smooth, without so much as a single blade of grass growing up through a crack. As Amelia approached the door with Dan after he parked the car, she didn’t see a single cobweb or smudge of dirt anywhere.
“This place is spotless,” she muttered, deciding that this weekend, she and the kids were going to have quite a bit of lawn work to do.
“It gives me the creeps,” Dan said as he rang the doorbell. “Places this clean always have something dirty to hide.”
A burly woman with a long face and black hair streaked with gray answered the door. Dan launched right into his introduction and flashed his badge. Amelia was surprised he introduced her as his associate. That left a lot of room for interpretation, but she knew he could be in trouble if he called her a detective or even just a cop. Associate was fine.
“We’d like to speak to Jasmine.”
“Jasmine isn’t at home,” the woman said with an accent that sounded British. “She’s at school. May I ask what this is in regard to?”
“Yes, ma’am. Are you Mrs. Peterson?” Dan asked. Amelia didn’t plan on opening her mouth at all.
“Mrs. Peterson is at the spa for the day. I’m her personal assistant, Eloise Furton. Can I give her a message?”
“Well, we were hoping to talk to Jasmine in regard to a murder. We went to the school, and they said her mother called in sick for her. Do you know anything about that?”
Eloise gasped then rolled her eyes. Amelia knew that look. It was the look all mothers, fathers, and teachers used when their kid did something stupid.
“Not again,” Eloise muttered. “I have to call her mother, not that that will do any good. I’m sorry. If you’ll excuse me
, I…”
Dan slipped his foot in the door. “I’m just wondering if I could have five minutes of your time,” Dan said.
“I’m sorry, Detective, I don’t think Mrs. Peterson would be very happy with me talking to you. Regardless of her daughter’s behavior, I need this job.”
“Sounds like the girl is quite a handful,” Dan said.
“To say the least.” She folded her arms in front of her. “But I’m just the assistant. I have no control over what Jasmine does. I’m just to alert her mother if there is an issue.”
“I understand. Mrs. Peterson doesn’t need to know. Can you just answer me a question?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.
Eloise snatched it out of Dan’s fingers, looked over her shoulder, and then quickly leaned in toward Dan.
“What do you want to know?”
“Who does Jasmine hang out with?” Dan asked quickly.
“The real question might be who doesn’t the little tart hang out with,” Eloise said. “She has no real girlfriends to speak of, but there’s a new bloke climbing up the ivy or parking at the end of the drive every other night.”
“Did she ever mention someone by the name of Spencer Randall?”
“Old Randy Randall? I know all about him. Nothing but a pervert in my opinion. Can’t manage a woman his own age, so he’s got to scope out the high schools.” Eloise was on a roll. “You’d be wise to get that predator off the streets.”
“Someone beat us to it. He’s dead,” Dan said.
Eloise stood there shocked. Her brown eyes went wide, and she put her hand up to cover her gaping mouth.
“Really?” She chuckled, but it wasn’t an indication of happiness. She was in shock. “That’s an interesting turn of events. And you think the little princess might have had something to do with it?”
“According to her social media, she was seeing Spencer against her parents’ wishes. Is her father a big man?”
“Yes.” Eloise did laugh this time. “He’s a big man who hasn’t seen his feet in over a decade.” She laughed again then looked behind her, suddenly remembering she was talking about her employer. “But Mr. Peterson has been out of the country for about two weeks. He’s due back in another week, maybe ten days.”
