Murder Unmentionable

by Meg London

  “Probably the Beau. That’s the Beauchamp Hotel and Spa,” Liz explained, obviously noticing the confused look on Emma’s face. “It’s brand-new. And very swanky. Just the type of place a model would want to stay.”

  “I think it’s time someone had a chat with this Nikki St. Clair,” Emma said.

  “I’ll go with you,” Brian said quickly.

  “I’ll—” Liz began at almost the same time, but she bit off what she was about to say, and Emma noticed her exchange a knowing glance with Arabella.

  “Why don’t you call the hotel and see if Miss St. Clair is registered, and I’ll go get cleaned up.” Brian brushed at his jeans.

  “Sure.” Emma pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

  “And tomorrow I’ll start chatting with some of the other shopkeepers.” Arabella piped up. “Maybe someone saw something last night.” She folded the garment she’d been working on and turned off the lamp. “I know Angel lives over her shop, although how she can stand it with the smell of all those hair chemicals, I don’t know, but perhaps she just happened to be looking out the window.”

  “Or someone might have been working late taking inventory,” Brian added.

  Emma felt a flicker of hope. Maybe they could find some other suspects for Chuck to chase, and maybe then he’d leave her alone.

  THEY got a later start than anticipated. Brian’s father needed help creating a new window display. While Emma waited, she made herself her favorite dinner, one that she hadn’t had since departing for New York—grilled cheese and tomato soup. She’d called the Beauchamp Hotel earlier and discovered that a Nikki St. Clair was, indeed, registered there.

  Since Brian was going to be late, she ran through her evening yoga series. A few downward facing dogs, cobras and forward folds took the kinks out of her muscles and back, and five minutes in child’s pose helped restore her equilibrium. She felt almost cheerful when Brian knocked on her door. He led the way down the stairs and out to the parking lot, where he gestured apologetically toward the red pickup truck waiting in one of the spots. “I hope you don’t mind riding in the truck. It’s perfectly clean,” he reassured her, glancing at her dress.

  “You forget. I’m used to riding the subway. Having your own wheels is a real luxury.” Emma smiled. She stood for a moment, taking in the warm Tennessee night. Stars sparkled in the midnight blue sky, and the air was perfumed with the scent of honeysuckle and pine. She paused by the truck and took a deep breath. Brian reached for the door handle, and his fingers accidentally brushed hers. Emma blushed and moved her hand away.

  Brian held the door open, and Emma hesitated. The seat was a lot higher than she was used to.

  “Put your foot here.” Brian indicated the running board.

  Emma did as he suggested, and Brian put a hand under her elbow, giving her a boost. She slid onto the seat and her dress rose up. She tugged it down to her knees, conscious of Brian’s gaze on her legs.

  As they headed away from town, the inky darkness of the night intensified. Emma thought she saw the occasional luminescent glow of an animal’s eyes as they sped through the countryside. She shivered and gave a sigh of relief when they spotted the entrance to the Beauchamp Hotel and Spa. It was a low-lying building, modern, with lots of wood and glass. An island in the center of the circular drive was thick with striped ornamental grasses.

  The interior matched the outside, with soothing sage green walls, polished light-wood floors and scattered Oriental rugs. The reception desk was a slab of polished concrete mounted in a rock wall. Water trickled over the wall and pooled in a small trough lit with dozens of pinpoint lights. The air was gently perfumed with the aromas of lavender, vanilla and mint.

  Emma inhaled the delicious scent and looked around. A room in this place must cost a fortune, but she supposed supermodels made plenty of money. She recalled one of them saying once that she didn’t even get out of bed for less than ten thousand dollars.

  “May I help you?” The woman behind the counter wore a pair of black yoga pants and a white tunic, and had her hair pulled into a low bun at the nape of her neck.

  “We’re here to see Ms. St. Clair.” Brian glanced at the piece of paper. “Room 251.”

  “Let me see if she’s in.” She picked up the telephone, but before she put it to her ear, she glanced inquiringly at Brian and Emma. “Who may I say is calling?”

  Brian hesitated, and Emma spoke up quickly. “Guy. Guy Richards.”

  “And you are?” The woman tilted her head in Emma’s direction.

  Emma shook her head. “Just an assistant. It isn’t important.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow but proceeded to dial the telephone. She spoke briefly and listened even more briefly. She put the telephone receiver back in its cradle. “You may go up now.” She pointed across the lobby. “Take the elevator to the second floor and turn left.”

  “I think Ms. St. Clair is going to be quite surprised when she opens her door and sees us,” Brian said as the elevator whisked them silently toward the second floor.

  “I’ll be curious to see just how surprised she is.”

  “Do you think she had something to do with it?”

  “She was the only other person around who already knew him. Except for me.”

  The elevator doors opened with a gentle ping, and Emma and Brian stepped into the silent, softly lit corridor.

  They turned left and found room 251 halfway down the hall.

  “Here goes nothing.” Brian smiled at Emma and knocked once.

  He was about to knock again when the door was flung open.

  “Oh.” Nikki stood in the doorway wrapped in a short silk robe that bared the better part of her long, colt-like legs. She tried to look around Emma and Brian but then realized that no one else was there. Her hair was messy, as if she’d been lying down, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup, but she was still striking.

  The look she gave Emma made her suddenly feel tatty in the dress and sandals that had seemed so perfect when she put them on earlier.

  Nikki bestowed a glittering smile on Brian. She hooked her arm through his, her robe parting to show a little more skin than Emma was comfortable with. “Why don’t you…and your assistant,” she hissed the word through narrowed lips, “come in and tell me what you’re doing here and why you pretended to be Guy Richard.”

  Emma couldn’t tell if Nikki was mocking her for the lie she’d told the receptionist or if she really didn’t recognize Emma despite their having worked together on several occasions. Emma sighed. It was probably the latter. People like her were invisible to people like Nikki.

  Nikki’s suite was cavernous, and Emma wondered if all the rooms were this big. The walls were the same soothing sage green as the lobby, and the sofa and chairs in the main area were sleek and cream colored. An irregularly shaped coffee table with a thick glass top stood between them. Cream-colored drapes were pulled against what looked to be a wall of windows. In front of them was a freestanding spa tub big enough for several people. Emma could see into the bedroom beyond, where a huge platform bed dominated the room. The sheets were rumpled, and Emma wondered if they had woken Nikki.

  “Well?” Nikki rounded on Emma. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

  “It’s bad news, actually.” Emma decided to opt for boldness. “Guy is dead. He’s been murdered.”

  Nikki’s professionally plucked eyebrows rose as one. “What?”

  “It’s true.” Brian followed her into the room. “I’m very sorry to say that Guy Richard is dead.”

  “Why should I believe you?” Nikki stalked over to the corner and grabbed a pack of Marlboro Lights off the teak end table. She shook out a cigarette, oblivious to the no smoking sign plastered on the door to the room. She pulled a pack of matches from the pocket of her white silk robe, struck one and held it to the cigarette at her lips.

  “Well?” She inhaled deeply and blew out a stream of smoke. “What makes you think Guy is dead?” She got so close to
Brian their noses were almost touching. Brian stuttered and took a step backward. Nikki took another step forward, as if they were locked in a bizarre tango. “Well?”

  Emma grabbed the telephone receiver and waved it at Nikki. “Call the police. They’ll tell you. Ask for Chuck Reilly.” She shuddered thinking about how obnoxious Chuck would be if he had the opportunity to talk to Nikki. She could imagine his eyes undressing her from head to toe. Of course her modeling assignments didn’t leave much to anyone’s imagination, even Chuck’s overactive one.

  Nikki stuck out her lower lip in a pout and heaved her thin shoulders. “All right. So I believe you. Guy is dead.” She stabbed her cigarette at the ornamental glass bowl she was using as an ashtray.

  Nikki glared at Emma and turned toward Brian. She tossed her hair back and let her robe slip open a little farther. “So. What happened?” She shook another cigarette from the pack, handed the matches to Brian and leaned in close as he held the flame to her cigarette.

  Emma began a slow burn. Was Guy nothing more to Nikki than her latest conquest? Had she ever cared for him at all, or was it just a game to her to see whose boyfriend she could steal next? Emma started to open her mouth, but bit her lip and stopped herself. It wouldn’t do any good to antagonize Nikki.

  “No one really knows what happened.” Emma watched Nikki carefully. “Do you know where he went after leaving L’Etoile last night?”

  Nikki perched on the arm of the sofa and pulled her hair over her shoulder. She began raking her fingers through the long, honey-colored strands. “I have no idea. We had a fight.” Her lower lip trembled slightly. “I tried to get him to stay, but he refused. He wanted to go after you.” She threw the words at Emma as if they were poisoned darts.

  “You don’t know where he went?” Brian said.

  Nikki shook her head.

  “How about you? What did you do after leaving L’Etoile?”

  “Me?” Nikki looked startled. “Nothing. I came back here.” She glanced around the room. “I was…waiting for someone.” She looked down and away from Emma and Brian.

  “What time was it?”

  “I don’t know.” Nikki’s tone was petulant. She fiddled with a loose string on her bathrobe tie.

  Emma thought back to the previous evening. It seemed a million years away all of a sudden. She’d arrived at the restaurant shortly after eight o’clock. Had Guy stayed behind to try to calm Nikki down?

  “Was it nine o’clock? Ten o’clock?” Emma said

  “I told you. I don’t know.” Nikki stared at her feet. She shrugged. “Nine o’clock, maybe?”

  “And you came back here?”

  “Yeah.” She jumped up, tossing her hair back. “What is this all about? Why are you asking me all these questions?”

  “Sorry,” Brian said. “We don’t mean to upset you. It’s just that we’re trying to figure out what happened.”

  “It sounds to me like you’re trying to say I had something to do with it.” Nikki stalked toward the small kitchenette that formed an L off the main room. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water.

  Emma recognized the blue and white label and the unique shape. It might only be water, but it sold for almost five dollars a bottle.

  Nikki twisted off the top and took a long swallow.

  “How did you get back here?” Brian stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Well I didn’t walk,” Nikki sneered. “I have a rental car.” She perched on the edge of the sofa again, swinging one bare foot. Her toes were painted a deep midnight blue.

  “Did anyone see you?” Emma tried to keep her tone light.

  “Look. I don’t know who you think you are, but you have no right barging in here like this asking me all these questions.” She glared at Emma then turned to Brian with a smile. “Why don’t you get rid of your ‘assistant’? Then you can ask me all the questions you want.” Her voice dropped to a low purr.

  Brian took a step back. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” He paused. “Did anyone see you after you got back here?”

  Nikki scowled. “I don’t know. Maybe. The lobby was pretty empty, and I can’t remember if there was anyone behind the desk.” She picked up a throw pillow and held it to her chest. “Now will you please leave me alone?”

  Emma and Brian obligingly headed toward the door. They heard the soft thud of the pillow hitting the door as it closed behind them.

  THE night was even blacker as they drove back toward downtown Paris. Emma’s head was swirling with all the information they’d gleaned. Nikki was definitely not telling them everything she knew. That didn’t necessarily make her the murderer, but there was certainly a lot more than met the eye where Nikki was concerned.

  “Do you think Nikki’s telling the truth?” Emma turned to Brian.

  He glanced back briefly. “Some of it, at least. But certainly not all. I got the impression she’s trying to hide something.”

  “Me, too.”

  BRIAN insisted on waiting until Emma was safe and sound behind her closed and locked apartment door. It wasn’t as if a serial killer was on the loose in Paris, Tennessee—she was pretty sure Guy had been singled out to be killed—but she was still grateful for Brian’s chivalry. In spite of herself, she made a cursory inspection of the apartment—no one under the beds or hiding in the closet—before she kicked off her shoes and poured herself a glass of sweet tea.

  Her cell phone rang as she was about to sink into the large comfy chair and ottoman drawn up in front of the television. Emma rummaged through her purse trying to find it, finally dumping the contents out onto the rug. She grabbed her cell and pressed the button.

  “Hello?”

  “Emma. It’s Kate.”

  Emma gave a silent groan. Kate! She’d forgotten all about her! How was she going to tell her Guy was dead? Although Kate denied it, Emma was quite certain Kate was in love with Guy. She pictured Kate’s open and honest face. She wasn’t good at hiding her emotions or her thoughts. This was going to break her heart.

  “Hi, Kate.” Emma debated putting off telling Kate until tomorrow, but by then reporters might have picked up on the story. She didn’t want her friend opening the paper over breakfast to learn of Guy’s death.

  “You sound…upset.”

  Emma took a deep breath. “I am. Kate, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Guy’s dead. He’s been murdered.”

  Kate was silent for so long, Emma wondered if the connection had been lost. Finally she heard a sound like a kitten mewling.

  “I’m so sorry, Kate. I know this must be very difficult for you.”

  “What happened?”

  Emma gave Kate an abbreviated version of the story. No need to upset her with all the gory details. She wished she hadn’t had to witness them herself. The memory still made her feel slightly queasy.

  “Did you say Nikki was there?” Kate gave a loud sniff, and Emma heard her blowing her nose.

  “Yes. She came down with Guy.” Emma felt disappointment wash over her again.

  “Be careful, Emma.”

  “What do you mean?” Emma stretched her legs out on the ottoman and leaned against the chair cushions. She rubbed the back of her neck where the muscles were tangled up in knots.

  “Nikki St. Clair is trouble. One time she—well, I don’t like telling stories about other people. Let’s just say you need to watch your back.”

  “Don’t worry, I will.” Emma could picture Kate’s earnest face, her eyebrows drawn together in concern, her glasses half-slipping down her nose. “I just have to convince the police that I didn’t have anything to do with the murder.” Emma felt a dark cloud settle around her at the thought.

  “Why don’t I come down there and help?” Kate’s voice brightened slightly.

  Emma didn’t want to disappoint her, but she couldn’t imagine what Kate would be able to do. “That’s really not necessary. I know how busy you are…”

  “It’s no problem. Really. I’l
l check on flights and let you know when I’m arriving. It’ll be better for me than sitting here twiddling my thumbs and wondering what’s going on. Is there somewhere I can stay?”

  Emma glanced around her small apartment. “You could stay here with me. I don’t mind bunking on the couch.”

  “You’re sweet, but I don’t want to put you out of your own bed.”

  “I think there are a few bed-and-breakfasts within walking distance of downtown. I’ll check with Aunt Arabella and make the arrangements.”

  “It’ll be good to see you again, Emma.”

  “You, too,” Emma answered and hung up. Her spirits perked up at the thought of seeing Kate’s familiar face again.

  WHEN Emma arrived at Sweet Nothings the next morning, the lights were already on and the front door was unlocked. She was about to push it open when she noticed the newspaper lying on the mat. She bent down, picked it up and tucked it under her arm.

  Brian was already at work and he looked up and smiled when Emma entered. He’d transformed the wall of particleboard cupboards into white, floor-to-ceiling, glass-fronted cabinets. Emma would be able to hang stock in them without having to fold it. Arabella had hired someone to iron all the vintage negligees and peignoirs so they would be perfect when Sweet Nothings opened again.

  Perhaps the armoires would come today, Emma thought. She planned on having one in each corner of the store, with their doors propped open and enticing bits of silk and lace spilling out.

  “Morning,” Brian called above the noise of the electric screwdriver as he fastened the last knob on the last cabinet door.

  Emma gave a brief wave. She couldn’t help but notice how attractive Brian looked with his sleeves rolled up for work and his hair slightly tousled. He turned around and she looked away quickly.

  “The cabinets look fantastic.”

  “They did turn out well.” Brian stood back to admire his handiwork.

  There was the sound of scratching at the door followed by excited yelps. Arabella pushed open the door, and Pierre shot into the room, tail wagging furiously. He greeted Emma, then Brian, then, after turning around three times, settled on his toile dog bed, panting happily.