Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books!

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  “I wondered if you were trying to beautify or kill me. But I sure can’t argue with the results. You knew exactly what I needed. I won’t ever be able to thank you enough.”

  A cloud passed over her face, but she held my gaze. At that precise moment, I wished we knew each other better. Perhaps if we did, I could have translated her expression. Was it concern? Fear? Remorse for how she’d treated me in the past?

  “Rabbi Sarah pointed out to me that your best interest is my best interest. At least most of the time.”

  On that note, we touched flutes and drank. Good champagne tastes different than cheap stuff. The golden liquid dissipates as it touches your palate, leaves no aftertaste, and departs a lovely buzz. The intoxicating shock went immediately to my head. Everything—my dress, the other partygoers, the décor, the ambience—made this a fantasy-come-true evening, and the bubbly put the world in a soft romantic focus.

  If only, I sighed to myself, if only Detweiler were here.

  45

  Sheila craned her neck, searching the crowd. “We must find Police Chief Holmes and tell him what we’ve learned from Serena. But first, we should find our table.”

  Our heads nearly bumped as we walked along conferring. We compared the numbers on our cards to the ones on the tables. The noise level rose as alcohol loosened everyone’s tongues and inhibitions. I was the first to spot where we’d be sitting for the evening. The only other people at “our” table were ancient women, who reminded me of centenarian land tortoises. Their stiff brocade evening jackets cocooned them like elaborate carapaces from which their withered necks rotated this way and that slowly. As we drew closer, I realized the ladies took turns shouting at each other. One woman’s lipstick ran around her lips and up toward her left ear as though she’d slipped mid-application. It gave her a ghoulish grin the Joker would have envied.

  “I cannot believe this,” said Sheila, “They put the Ryman sisters at my table. I told them they could fill the two vacancies at my table if necessary, but I certainly expected the organizer to use her head. Next year I’ll have to be more specific. No one over eighty-five need apply. I do hope they have a defibrillator on hand. You never know with these old coots when they’ll hop the great divide. Even more annoying, you have to scream to converse with them. I can’t imagine why they even bother to come. Someone must clean them up, stuff them in their party clothes, and send them on their way because neither sister is sentient enough to know where she is or why!”

  Actually, I thought the sisters were pretty cute.

  “Sheila? Who’s with you? Who? Sister, did you hear that?” They took turns yelling to each other. Sheila did her best to introduce me. After repeating my name and my connection several times, she gave up and sank down into her seat, gesturing for me to do the same. Once the sisters were on the other side of the table, they quit trying to figure out who I was. Maybe they couldn’t even see me.

  Sheila leaned close to me and whispered, “Annabell left all her teeth at home and Marybell is only wearing a partial. The waiter will have to puree their meals and serve the food to them in a sippee cup.”

  I never knew Sheila had such a wicked sense of humor, and I told her so.

  “You’ve also never seen me in my element,” she retorted. “Or drunk.”

  I couldn’t imagine Sheila getting drunk. Sure, she always liked her wine, but she never acted tipsy. At least not in my presence. To my way of thinking, Sheila enjoyed being in control too much to get plastered.

  But sitting at the table soon proved too boring for my mother-in-law. Grabbing me by the hand, she began another trek through the crowd. As we moseyed along, Sheila passed flutes of champagne to me and drained an equal number herself. Soon, I was sipping while she was guzzling. Man, she could knock the stuff back. I was starting to sway a little on my feet, but I felt darn good.

  “Don’t worry. Expensive champagne rarely makes one ill the next day,” said Sheila. I was about to turn down my fourth glass. “That’s why rich people make successful lushes. They can tie one on tonight and make multimillion-dollar decisions tomorrow. Usually based on the financial news they learned from their friends the night before. See? It’s all to the good.”

  We came to a grinding halt when Sheila spotted a familiar face in the crowd. “Ben! Ben Novak! I promised to introduce you to my daughter-in-law, and here she is.”

  Two rotund men stood between me and Sheila. I steadied myself for being introduced to Tweedle Dee or Tweedle Dum. But Sheila surprised me by pushing the big boys out of the way and giving me a gentle shove. I nearly stumbled into the arms of a gorgeous man. Ben Novak was at least six foot two. His dark-blond hair was shot through with the lighter streaks. His eyes were a smoky bronze, his chin strong and masculine, and his overall face a masterpiece of strong planes. Ralph Lauren was missing a model, and I’d found him.

  A rush of hormones powered by alcohol brought a light sheen to my skin. I couldn’t believe I was feasting my eyes on the second highly desirable man of the day. Whatever cosmic alignment caused this surfeit of male pulchritude, I thanked God for it. And I blessed Sheila for getting me in the kind of shape that let me hold my head high as Ben and I stared at each other.

  Sheila said softly, “I thought you two might have a lot in common.”

  We both colored. The corner of Ben’s mouth twitched in an effort to fight a smile.

  Yeah, I thought, what we have in common is lust.

  Sheila continued, “Kiki likes to be creative with colors and shapes when she scrapbooks, and Ben has always loved to draw as well as write. His father publishes The Muddy Waters Review. Surely, you’ve seen it around, Kiki.”

  “Yes.” All that time spent with Barbara Walters hadn’t done me a bit of good. She’d offered up a wealth of great suggestions and all I’d managed was one civil word.

  Ben suddenly realized he was staring—as was I. He gave my mother-in-law a small nod and added, “I’m Dad’s chief lackey. Not a glamorous title, but an accurate one. Mrs. Lowenstein has told me a lot about you, Kiki. But her descriptions didn’t do you justice.”

  No, I thought, I imagine not. After all, until today, neither of us knew how good I could look with a little polish. (Okay, make that a lot of polish and a tight pair of Spanx.) I forced myself to smile, which was hard because nervousness made my mouth dry. “That’s very kind.”

  “Ben, how is your father? I’ve been meaning to invite your family over for dinner. Does he still eat brisket? Or more precisely, will your mother let him eat it?” Turning to me, Sheila explained, “Ben’s mother, Leah, is quite the Tartar when it comes to her husband’s health. I wish I’d been as smart as she. Harry might still be alive.”

  Ben nodded and tore his eyes away from me to address Sheila’s question. “Dad would be happy for an evening’s respite from his diet. I’m sure we can slip this past Mother. We’d be delighted to come, Mrs. Lowenstein.” A small smile warmed his eyes as he stared at me. “It would be a pleasure.”

  The way he drew out that last word caused heat to flood my newly deforested lower half. Wowee. I needed a splash of cold water and fast.

  “Consider it done,” Sheila said. “I’ll make arrangements with your parents.”

  “Mrs. Lowenstein, if memory serves me, you have a granddaughter, right? Is that your child, Kiki?”

  Sheila didn’t give me the chance to answer. “You have an excellent memory, Ben. Anya is the daughter of Kiki and my late son, George. Don’t get me started about how wonderful that child is, or we’ll be here all night.”

  Ben nodded to me, not to her. I caught a whiff of an expensive designer cologne, a spicy scent with masculine undertones. “That’s no surprise though, is it? Good looks obviously run on both sides of the family.”

  A man’s hand tapped Sheila on the shoulder, and she turned away, leaving Ben and me to stare at each other.

  “I hope I’m not being forward, but Sheila told us how you refused to accept the fact your husband died of natural causes. To hea
r her tell it, you risked your life to bring his killer to justice. You are a remarkable woman.” With that, he reached for my hand.

  His touch was warm and strong, but kind. He linked a forefinger gently through mine, almost playing with my fingers but not quite. I had a quick vision of how much fun this guy would be, uh, alone. Ben Novak knew exactly how to excite a woman—and his expertise came across loud and clear.

  “George was a good man. I just followed my heart and my instincts.”

  Ben gave my fingers a light squeeze and dropped my hand. “I hope you’ll tell me more about what you did when we get to know each other better.”

  “Of course.” I smiled at Ben, hoping I didn’t betray my mixed emotions. He was attractive and interesting, but I already had a beau. Detweiler might be moving slowly, but he had kissed me—and we had a history. He’d stood by me as I snooped around, trying to find my husband’s killer. Plus, my daughter worshiped the detective.

  I just wish I knew where I stood with Detweiler.

  Sheila finished her conversation and turned back in time to see Ben give me a nod of farewell. After he left, she ushered me in the opposite direction. “Well, that was successful,” she summarized while brushing her hands together in a workman-like manner. “I had a hunch that you and Ben would like each other. Look! There’s Robbie Holmes.”

  Even from the back, I recognized the man who’d come to my rescue when a nasty neighbor threatened me. Police Chief Robbie Holmes was a commanding presence, even in a crowd like this one. Sheila and I walked up behind the police chief. She tapped the big man on the arm, and he turned to greet her, his face breaking into a big goofy smile and his arms opening. To my surprise, Sheila stepped into his embrace. The police chief gazed down at her with misty eyes. When they stepped apart, my mother-in-law colored. Ah. I’d wondered where she had been spending some of her Saturday nights, and what had put the spring in her step. Their body language gave their secret away. Sheila and Police Chief Holmes were more than friends. I watched the woman I’d thought stiff and cold flutter her lashes like a shy schoolgirl when Robbie slipped a proprietary arm around her waist.

  Robbie Holmes had a face full of character, the visage of a man who’d been through the mill and out the other side. But his eyes softened as he stared at Sheila. “Sheila, my, my. Sheila, you always are so lovely, and tonight especially so.”

  He gave her a hasty peck on the cheek. Clearly, he was unaccustomed to expressing his feelings. Clearing his throat, he said to me, “Kiki? How are you? I haven’t seen you in years. How is that beautiful daughter of yours?”

  “Growing up fast, Police Chief Holmes.”

  “Yes, I imagine she is.” His eyes twinkled in a friendly way. “Why don’t you call me Robbie?”

  Sheila told him what we’d learned about Perry Gaynor’s girlfriend, emphasizing that Detweiler should be informed as well.

  Before my eyes, Robbie Holmes transitioned from smitten schoolboy to seasoned law enforcement professional. Robbie asked us both a few questions and then paused, looking somewhere over my shoulder. I followed his gaze.

  “Speak of the devil,” Sheila said.

  I turned around and found myself face to face with Detweiler. I started toward him, a wholly involuntarily motion. But Sheila’s hand snaked out and grabbed my arm so hard that I winced in pain.

  “Wait,” she warned me.

  “Detweiler,” I said, trying to pull away from her grasp.

  Over the tops of other people’s heads, the cop just stared at me.

  “Here they are,” said Robbie as the crowd parted.

  A painfully thin woman stepped closer to us. She was clinging to the arm of the handsome detective, holding onto him in a proprietary way.

  The police chief cleared his throat. “Sheila? Kiki? I want you to meet Detective Chad Detweiler and his wife, Brenda.”

  46

  There was a roaring in my head that had nothing to do with the alcohol I’d consumed. The sound was the noise of my dreams being flushed down the toilet. Robbie must have flagged down a waiter and proposed a toast, but I didn’t hear him.

  Sheila handed me a glass of champagne. “Kiki, take this.” Her voice cut through my self-pity. I held the glass stem with a strangled grip, staring into the bubbles and planning to get totally plastered. ASAP. Tootie. Sweetie. Starting now.

  Sheila gave my upper arm a little pinch. “Yes, Robbie, you know Detective Detweiler is working the death of that scrap-booker.”

  Robbie gave her a curious sidewise look, as if to ask why she was repeating information all of us knew. All of us except Brenda Detweiler, I guess.

  My mother-in-law was not deterred. “I’m sure Kiki’s inside knowledge of the industry will be very helpful to you, Detective Detweiler.”

  I didn’t deserve so much credit when it came to helping Detweiler with his investigation, but no way was I about to correct her. In fact, I didn’t trust myself to speak at all. What was there to say? You tricked me. You’ve used me. You’ve led me on. You broke my heart, you jerk.

  Yeah, I wanted to say all that, but I didn’t. My lips were sealed while I listened to the voice in my head telling me how stupid I had been. I never seemed to get it right when it came to men.

  Detweiler acted as though he was frozen in place.

  “Yes, that’s a great idea.” Police Chief Holmes came to Sheila’s rescue. “Kiki? I’d like to talk with you sometime about what you can tell from photographs. I was impressed by what Sheila told me about your forensic scrapbooking. Using photos to understand relationships between people. I would like to know more about it actually.”

  I gave him what I hoped was a radiant smile. “I’d be delighted to talk with you. Actually, it’s amazing what you can learn from photos. Our body language often gives us away, and candid pictures can capture all sorts of emotions—love, anger, trust, and deception to name a few. We can’t always trust what people say or do, can we?”

  Detweiler visibly winced.

  Sheila gave the detective a look so intense, it hurt to watch. “Well, Detective, doesn’t my daughter-in-law look ravishing tonight?”

  Throughout this entire exchange, Brenda Detweiler had not said a word. She didn’t even try to pretend that she wasn’t staring at me. In fact, she gave me a malicious glare as her lip curled in a sneer.

  Although good manners would have suggested that I include her, or remark positively about her appearance, or try to make small talk, I couldn’t bring myself to do so. Every bit of my energy was focused on fighting the impulse to cry.

  “You look lovely tonight, Brenda.” Robbie’s comment smacked of dry politeness, devoid of all sincerity. Since his remark opened the door, it was all right for me to look my rival over. Everyone turned to Brenda. Everyone except Detweiler.

  “Thanks,” she said, but she didn’t sound like she meant it.

  Sadly, Brenda did not look lovely. She didn’t even look appropriately dressed, and all of us knew it. Brenda wore what looked like an old prom dress. The ruffled hem, the sweetheart neckline, the pink taffeta shouted immaturity. That particular shade did nothing for her coloring. Her brown hair had been coaxed into a ponytail, a style anything but flattering.

  “Two lovely young women,” Sheila murmured, but Brenda didn’t respond. Instead she examined me the way a boy does a fly before he rips the wings off. One edge of her lip curled in a bit of a sneer. “So, you’re Kiki.”

  “Yes,” I said, meeting her gaze with a ferocity I’d never felt before. “Yes, I am.”

  Detweiler cleared his throat. “Kiki, uh, you are … Uh, you look wonderful.”

  I lifted my chin and skewered him with my eyes. “Why, thank you. That’s so very kind of you.”

  I had no reason to be embarrassed. Detweiler was the one who should be hanging his head in shame.

  If I hadn’t been holding the glass flute, I would have reached over and dope-slapped him. Instead, I smiled at Brenda and lied through my teeth. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve h
eard so much about you.”

  Detweiler ran a finger under his collar.

  I hope it feels tight, buddy, I thought. Think of it as a noose, you idiot.

  He seemed to be signaling me with a roll of his eyes, a plea to meet later and talk, but I didn’t care what he had to say. Or what weird contortions he could achieve by twisting his facial features.

  At the same time, I could feel my face turning red with anger. I could also sense my hands balling up into fists.

  As far as I was concerned, if Detweiler dropped dead, right there and then, I’d step over his body to get more bubbly. Scratch that. I’d have stepped on his body to get more bubbly. I would have relished grinding my high heels into certain vulnerable parts on my way to the drinks.

  Sheila tapped Robbie Holmes on the shoulder. He leaned down so close that her lips nearly touched his face. She gazed up at him, saying worlds of lovely things with her expression. “And now, dear Robbie, Kiki and I must powder our noses. Please share what we’ve learned about Perry Gaynor with your subordinate.”

  Subordinate? Trust Sheila to put Detweiler in his place.

  The detective caught the inference. He jerked his head sharply backward as if he’d been smacked up the side of the face. Those amazing green eyes turned the color of bitter apples in anger.

  Good. He deserved it. I allowed myself a smirk of approval. Sheila put a hand on my waist. “We must be running along. There are so many men here that I want my daughter-in-law to meet. This is quite the gathering of socially affluent and wealthy bachelors, isn’t it? We really need to keep moving.”

  Detweiler blinked fast and hard. He took a step toward me. “Mrs. Lowenstein, I need to talk with you later about the threats you’ve been receiving.”

  Sheila lightly pinched my side, signaling me to keep my mouth shut. “You must be mistaken, Detective Detweiler. No one threatens me. Or my family. No one.”

  “I meant the other Mrs. Lowenstein,” Detweiler said weakly.