by Laura Durham
I poured sparkling wine into the two glasses Richard held up, waiting for the fizz to settle before filling them up the rest of the way. Hermes sniffed the tops of the glasses and wrinkled his nose. He retreated to the other end of the couch. Richard handed me a glass, and I sat down next to him.
“I don’t know if Antonio had anything to do with the murders, but he was at both scenes, so maybe he saw something.” I took a small sip, the bubbles effervescing in my mouth.
Richard gave me a pointed look as he held up his glass to mine. “Shouldn’t we toast to something?”
“To no more murders?” I suggested.
“How about to not having you implicate any more employees?”
“Ha ha,” I said. “How about to Cher Noble and Blanche Davidian?”
Richard pressed his lips together and gave a quick bob of his head. “Gone too soon.”
We clinked glasses and drank. I put my glass down on the coffee table and flopped back on the couch cushions as there was a knock on my door.
Richard glanced at his Gucci watch. “Who are you expecting? I’m sure Kate is out on a date by now. She could even be on date number two by this point.”
I was going to scold him for making fun of my assistant’s active social life, but I knew he wasn’t too far off.
He sat up straight, his eyes widening. “Do you have a date tonight?”
I shook my head. Reese and I had made no plans to get together, and I thought he was probably busy tracking down the new lead I’d given him. He hadn’t been too happy when I’d called him about it, clearly having a hard time believing these clues were falling into my lap.
I cracked the door and felt a little relieved it wasn’t him. My relief was short-lived when Leatrice pushed past me, and I heard Richard’s groan behind me. I coughed as the unmistakable scent of mothballs followed her inside.
“What are we celebrating?” she asked, spotting the bottle on the table.
I took in her outfit—double-knit plaid bell-bottoms and a rust-colored sweater vest with a brown-patterned scarf tied around her neck—and decided not to ask questions. “Nothing really. We were toasting the two murder victims.”
“What in the name of all that’s holy are you wearing?” Richard asked, holding a hand over his nose.
I shot him a look, but Leatrice giggled. “Fern went through my closet earlier and said I wasn’t taking advantage of all the vintage fashions I have. He said if I was going to have the hair, I might as well complete the look.”
Fern had returned Leatrice’s hair to the nearly black Mary Tyler Moore flip she’d worn up until last year when she went burgundy and then blond. I understood what he meant. With the hair and the clothes, she really could have stepped right out of the 1970s. I wasn’t sure if I thought that was a good thing or not.
Richard reached out and touched the thick fabric of the pants. “These haven’t seen the light of day since the Carter administration.”
Hermes scurried over, hopping up on the arm of the couch so he could smell Leatrice’s clothes. He sneezed twice and ran back to Richard.
Leatrice glanced down at herself. “They might be a bit musty.”
Richard gave her an arch look. “You think?”
“Why don’t I get you a glass?” I headed for the kitchen, partly to get a glass and partly to escape the mothball cloud.
I opened my fridge, sticking my head inside as I searched for anything decent to serve my guests. I scolded myself for not being better prepared as I scanned the empty shelves. The only time my kitchen was ever stocked was when Richard took pity on me and cooked. I wondered how I could finesse him into invading with bags of groceries again. Finding nothing worth eating, I closed the door, grabbed another champagne flute from the cabinet, and rejoined Richard and Leatrice.
I nearly dropped the glass when I saw Reese standing in the room. “What are you . . .? I didn’t know you were coming . . . I mean, I didn’t hear you knock.”
Reese gave me a half grin. “Leatrice let me in.”
He wore jeans and a white T-shirt with a weathered brown leather jacket. A single dark curl fell over one eyebrow. The look was so James Dean I had to remind myself to breathe.
“I heard his footsteps on the stairs.” She looked proud of herself as she beamed at the detective.
I continued to be amazed by her hearing. She may have started to forget a few things here and there, but no one walked past her apartment without her knowing. It was the reason I usually took off my shoes when leaving the building.
Leatrice rocked back on her heels. “It looks like this is turning into quite the party.”
Richard looked less thrilled as he and Hermes glared at Reese from the couch. I really needed to have a talk with Richard about hiding his feelings better and not turning his dog into such a diva.
I handed Leatrice her glass and jerked a thumb in the direction of my kitchen. “Let me get another champagne flute.”
“I’ll help you,” Reese said, following me as Leatrice and Richard watched, one looking like she’d won the lottery, and the other looking like he’d been forced to wear white after Labor Day.
We stepped into the kitchen, and he spun me around to face him, his hands on my hips. “I wanted to apologize for last night.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t your fault. I . . .”
“I shouldn’t have talked about work, and I never should have told you about Fern.” He lifted one hand to my face and traced his thumb over my bottom lip. “I know how important your friends are to you. I never should have freaked you out.”
I would have told him he was forgiven if I’d had the power to speak, but as it was, it took all my energy not to melt to the floor.
Reese leaned over and unfolded one half of the wooden shutters across the divide with the living room so Leatrice and Richard couldn’t see us. I heard Richard’s sharp intake of breath, and I didn’t need to see him to imagine his facial expression. I tried to put Richard out of my mind as Reese bent over and brushed his lips over mine.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he whispered. “I loved hearing your voice when you called me, even if it was about the murder case.”
I raised my arms to his neck as he kissed me again, my heart pounding. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” I said, lightheaded when he finally pulled away. “I thought you’d be too busy with the new suspect.”
He hoisted me up onto the kitchen counter, and my back bumped against the wooden shutters.
Hermes barked and Richard muttered something I was glad I couldn’t decipher.
Reese turned my head and began kissing from my ear down my neck. “I let the guys from District Three take the questioning once we located the suspect doing a setup at The Wharf.”
I moaned softly as his words trickled into my brain. I put a hand on his chest. “The Wharf Intercontinental Hotel? What was he doing there?”
Reese kissed down to the hollow of my throat. “Setting up some fancy table to photograph. One of the blondes in charge nearly had a fit when we took him in. Told us we were ruining her shoot and she’d have our badges for it.”
“Two blondes?” I asked. “Were their names Brianna and Tina?”
“Sounds right,” Reese murmured.
I tried to focus on the hot man kissing my neck, but I couldn’t help the irritation I felt about Tina Pink doing another styled shoot at another brand new hotel. And this time with Brianna. I was starting to get the feeling this blonde wasn’t as ditzy as she looked.
Chapter 23
“I could kill her!” Kate said, shaking one of the bottles of Fiji water with a customized pink-and-white label surrounding us on the floor of my office. “Tina Pink is trying to move in on all the new venues and steal our business.”
“Don’t forget Brianna was with her last night.” I took the bottle from her hand and placed it inside one of the pink boxes I’d already filled with iridescent gold shred.
“I already have plenty of reasons to
want to kill Brianna. Now Tina is catching up with her.”
Most of the floor around where we both sat Indian style was covered with open boxes for us to fill with baby shower-themed treats. Even though Debbie’s shower wasn’t a wedding, there were still guests coming from out of town and staying in hotels, so Darla had insisted we do welcome boxes for them.
“Technically we shouldn’t be mad at her for hustling.” I tried to sound more reasonable than I had felt the night before when Reese had let the information slip. “There’s no law against doing lots of styled shoots.”
Kate adjusted the spaghetti strap of her black-and-white polka dot shorts romper. “Well there should be. Don’t fraud laws cover people pretending they have business when they don’t?”
“I’m pretty sure not.” I gently laid one of the cellophane-covered pink cake pops with the pink-and-gold-striped stick next to the bottled water.
Kate added a clear plastic box of pink champagne gummy bears to the box. “Too bad. I’d love to see those bottle-blondes get dragged off in handcuffs. Can we get Reese on that?”
I picked a stray piece of gold shred off my jeans. “I think he has his hands full right now.”
I thought back to him leaving last night. He’d said he had an early morning today, but I knew Leatrice and Richard making alternating delighted and scandalized noises hadn’t made him want to stay.
“So did they arrest Antonio?” Kate asked, reaching for the two mochas she’d brought and handing me one.
“From what little Reese told me, they took him in for questioning.” I breathed in the scent of my coffee before I took a sip. I much preferred the aroma of coffee to the actual taste.
Kate raised an eyebrow. “Is he holding out on you?”
I felt my cheeks warm as I flashed back to kissing him in my kitchen. “No comment.”
Kate grinned. “You should never play poker, Annabelle.”
“Enough about me.” I reached up to put my coffee on the glass surface of my white sawhorse desk so it wouldn’t tip over on the rug. “How was your date last night?”
She twitched one shoulder up and down. “I’m not so sure about the sous chef. He seems a little young.”
“I thought he was around your age.” I placed the pink top on our finished box and passed it to Kate so she could tie the white silk ribbon around it. Kate was much better at bows than me.
She stretched the ribbon across the top of the box, ran it underneath, twisted it, and brought it up back around the top. “Exactly. I’m starting to think guys my age are too young for me. I think I need an older man.”
I eyed her. “How much older?”
Kate tied a perfect bow and fluffed up the two loops. “How old is Reese’s brother?”
“Daniel? You’re still hung up on him after one kiss in Bali?”
Kate winked. “It was a really good kiss. Anyway, he seems more stable than the guys I usually date.”
“Since when do you like stable?” I asked. I’d never heard her mention stability as one of the things she looked for in a man. Loaded and built were high up on the list, but stable had never made the top hundred as far as I’d known.
“My tastes are changing.” Kate handed the box back to me. “It’s not like Daniel doesn’t check off a lot of the other boxes. He’s definitely hot and has a great body, and I think a few gray hairs at the temples are sexy.”
I tied on a calligraphed name tag and set the completed box to the side. “Who are you and what have you done with my assistant?”
“Yoo hoo!” Leatrice’s voice drifted down the hall from my front door.
“Doesn’t your door lock?” Kate asked.
“It doesn’t matter. She made herself a key, remember?”
“Right. The do-it-yourself secret agent kit. She sure got her money’s worth.”
Leatrice had copied my key, fingerprinted most of the building, and used the rearview spy glasses almost every time she went outside.
Her head poked around the doorframe, her coral-pink lips a stark contrast to her nearly black hair. “That looks like a fun project.”
“If you consider filling boxes and tying bows fun, it’s a real hoot,” Kate said, stretching one of her long bare legs out in front of her.
“Do you have a pink wedding this weekend?” Leatrice asked as she stepped into the room and scanned the pink-and-white objects covering the floor.
Kate looked startled as she took in Leatrice’s paisley blouse with high-waisted flare-bottomed pants. She slipped her sunglasses down from the top of her head, no doubt to block some of the glare from the shiny fabric of Leatrice’s top.
I shook my head. “A baby shower for a former bride.”
Leatrice’s eyes opened wide. “Goodness. Baby showers certainly have changed since my day.”
Before I could explain this wasn’t your typical baby shower or mother-to-be, my cell phone began trilling from where I’d set it on my black office chair. I picked it up and swiped it to answer.
“Hey, babe,” Reese said.
“Hey,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d hear from you this morning. I thought you had a crazy day.”
He sighed. “It got a lot crazier when I found out our suspect managed to evade custody last night.”
“What? Antonio got away?” I tried to keep my voice calm. “How did that happen?”
Kate and Leatrice both gaped at me, and I motioned for them to keep quiet. If Reese knew they were in the room, he might clam up.
“The car he was being transported in was hit on the way to the station. Right outside the hotel, actually. In all the confusion, it seems he walked off.”
“How do you walk off from the back of a detective’s car?” I asked.
“Good question. The District Three guys are in pretty deep . . .” His voice dropped. “I need to go. I wanted to tell you so you could keep your eyes open.”
“Me? Why?”
“You were the one to finger him as a suspect.”
“Does he know that?” Now my voice was less than calm.
“He shouldn’t. But after what happened last night, I don’t have a lot of faith in the District Three detectives. I want you to be on your guard. I’ll call you later.”
Before I could ask any more questions, he’d disconnected.
“Did I hear correctly?” Kate asked. “Antonio isn’t in police custody?”
“Who’s Antonio?” Leatrice asked.
“A suspect in the murder case,” I said. “I figured out he was at both crime scenes, and the cops went to pick him up yesterday.”
“But he got away?” Leatrice tapped her chin. “That does make him seem more guilty.”
“Reese wants me to keep an eye out for him.”
“Why? You don’t even know him?” Kate asked.
“In case the other detectives let my name slip.”
Kate shook her head. “Great. A potential killer might know you gave the police his name?”
“Probably not.” I concentrated on my eyelid not twitching. “Reese called me as an extra precaution.”
“I don’t get it.” Kate took a big gulp of coffee. “Why would he run? The police only wanted to talk to him. As far as we know, he didn’t even have a motive.”
“Maybe he had a motive we don’t know about,” I said.
“True,” Kate said. “We haven’t really analyzed the case.”
Leatrice clapped her hands together. “Say no more.” She turned on her heel, the fabric of her pants flapping around her ankles, and disappeared down the hall, my front door slamming shut behind her.
“What did we say to make her leave so quickly?” Kate asked. “I want to remember so we can say it the next time.”
“Who knows? But I don’t think she’s gone for good.” I arranged a water bottle, cake pop, and box of gummy bears in a box and handed it to Kate. “And we still need to finish a dozen of these and get them to The Willard hotel.”
I heard my front door open and exchanged a look with Kate.
“She’s back,” Kate said in a singsong voice.
A large white board with bell-bottom legs appeared in the doorway. “I brought this so we could brainstorm about the case.”
Leatrice propped the board against the wall, and I realized it was almost as tall as her. She uncapped a black dry erase marker. “Let’s list out the victims first.”
“Might as well,” I said to Kate as she handed me back a box with a bow. “At least it will kill the time.”
“If you say so.” Kate slipped her sunglasses back onto the top of her head. “The first victim was Cher Noble.”
“Strangled at the wedding,” Leatrice added as she wrote Cher’s name on one side of the board.
“Blanche Davidian was strangled at the memorial reception for Cher,” I said, tying on a name tag and reaching for an empty box.
Leatrice wrote the word ‘strangled’ under each of their names. “And they knew each other, correct?”
“Yes, they were rivals in the annual Halloween drag races. We thought Blanche might have killed Cher, until she was murdered.” I handed Kate a filled box. “Both Blanche and Cher were at our wedding on Saturday, but Blanche claimed to have left early. Other than that, I don’t know of any other connections.”
Leatrice tapped the end of the marker on her chin, leaving a series of black dots. “So this could be someone out to kill drag queens.”
“Cher did think someone was following her the week before the wedding, and she told Fern her car tires had been slashed.”
“So Fern had a connection to one of the victims?” Leatrice wrote Fern’s name under Cher’s.
“But only to Cher,” Kate said, inspecting a finished bow before handing the box to me. “And Blanche never said anything about being in danger.”
Leatrice gave her head an abrupt shake. “If someone wanted to kill random drag queens, why start with one at your wedding? Wouldn’t there be places with more drag queens?”
“Sure,” Kate said. “Drag queen brunch at Perry’s on Sundays where we found Cher. Also Hotel Rouge once a month on Thursdays, although that’s for cross-dressers at all levels.”