Sweet Taffy and the Millionaire's Murder

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Sweet Taffy and the Millionaire's Murder Page 21

by Dana Moss


  “Ronald….” She scrolled through her photos. “Did you happen to rent a car to a woman named Veronica Reese a few days ago? She was just in town for a day, I think.”

  “Not that I remember.”

  Taffy found the photo and blew up the image she’d taken the day she’d seen Veronica in front of the coffee shop. “But this is your logo, right?” She handed her phone to Ronald. He peered at the blurred image.

  “It looks like it. But she could have rented it from another office.”

  “Near here?”

  “No. Portland or Salem, maybe. One of the bigger centers.”

  Those would have been out of Veronica’s way.

  “What about out of state?”

  “Sure. We have offices up and down the West Coast.”

  Ronald handed her a set of keys and winked. “Don’t drive too fast.”

  Of course she did. Because that helped her think. And Ronald had upgraded her to a Lexus.

  * * *

  Taffy got home to an empty house. And an extremely messy one. The girls must still be out with Ellie. She hadn’t been able to reach them either. Though they weren’t expecting her home for at least another day.

  She dropped her suitcase in the foyer and found her way to the kitchen. A cluster of liquor bottles stood on the counter. She mixed herself a martini. Fingering olives from a jar, she told herself it was too early to be drinking, and she really should cook up some food and fill her empty stomach, but she didn’t have the energy. She wandered upstairs and into the guest room, where she saw an explosion of Macy’s and Cher’s clothes and cosmetics. Why had she brought even more stuff for them from New York? They didn’t need anything more. She frowned at the disarray.

  She found the diamond tiara on the dresser beside the hair dryer and curling iron. She put the tiara on her head and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked tired, worn out. She slugged back the remains of her martini and picked up a lipstick from Cher’s toiletry bag. Makeup was strewn everywhere as if they’d been doing makeovers ever since she’d left.

  Taffy needed a makeover. She needed a complete overhaul of her life.

  She swiped the tube across her lips and pinched her cheeks to bring back some color. Disappointed with the results, she headed downstairs to mix another martini. On the way down, a sleek black shadow made its way up.

  “Midnight!” He scooted past her and padded toward the guest room. She should probably go chase him down again, take him back to Ethan’s… But no, she couldn’t face Ethan right now. And if he was unwilling to answer her calls, she was certain he would not want to see her or her cat.

  But how did Midnight keep sneaking back in? And why? Duh, she’d left the front door open when she’d brought in her luggage, which included the extra suitcase of paraphernalia for the girls. She kicked it when she walked past. She was tired of them being around. Sick of them wreaking havoc with her relationship with Ethan—ruining it. Messing up her house. Using up her makeup. Generally being unwilling to grow up, because they had no need to. Maybe she’d once been like that. But she’d changed, hadn’t she? She wondered now if that was a good thing. Maybe she should change back. Maybe it was the easier option.

  She poured herself a second martini.

  Then she went back upstairs, toting her drink, to see if she could find Midnight, to see if she could pet him. She’d missed him. She didn’t like that he’d been exiled for the sake of her friends. A cat made a house a home. And it did feel like her home. Not New York with its materialistic distractions and shallow friends. Its sparkle and bling without substance. Its society page spreads and entitled ex-boyfriends. She swallowed half her drink in one gulp.

  She found Midnight in the guest room. He seemed irresistibly drawn to Cher’s things. Taffy had to get him out of her room before Cher freaked out and died of her allergies. Midnight was sniffing around her shoes now. When he saw Taffy, he jumped into Cher’s open suitcase and started pawing around. Taffy panicked and thought he was treating the suitcase a litter box, and then the thought made Taffy laugh. Wouldn’t that knock Cher’s nose out of joint? But Midnight just kept pawing until he dug something up, which he picked up in his mouth. Taffy couldn’t see what it was. He hopped from the suitcase and trotted over to the bedside. First he rubbed against it, and then he jumped up and walked across the pillow. Taffy tried to catch him to see what was in his mouth, but he eluded her, and she wasn’t feeling too steady on her feet now. Midnight hopped off the other side of the bed, scooted under it, and slipped out the door. Taffy couldn’t find him after that, which made her feel inexplicably lonely. So she poured herself another drink.

  When would Ellie bring the girls home? She wasn’t answering texts. They were probably out having fun. Without Taffy. Well, so what? She was happy being on her own. It was time she got used to it. Taffy set her phone down in the kitchen and left it there.

  More than half drunk now, she wandered into the parlor and saw a big white box on the couch. It was partially open. A box addressed to her. Her friends and gone ahead and opened it? Wasn’t that illegal? She smirked. Forget murder, they could go away on felony charge for “obstruction of correspondence.”

  A piece of white lace peeked out from the box. The unwanted wedding dress. Taffy wobbled over to it and pushed the lid off. It looked like a trapped cloud. She freed it from its tissue paper and ran her fingers over the pearl-lined bodice. It was beautiful. She set her nearly empty glass down and held the dress up. Maria would look like a dream if she wore it. Why wouldn’t she? In the corner of the parlor stood the full-length antique mirror, the one Macy and Cher and dragged down from upstairs that first night when they’d had their drunken sleepover fashion show. Taffy stood in front of the mirror holding the dress up in front of her. She still had the tiara on her head. Also a remaining smudge of red lipstick. Most of it was on the edge of her martini glass, which she reached for again. She downed the last sip. That was only the second one, right?

  She looked so different in the mirror’s reflection. Innocently pretty, full of hope and possibility, but she felt entirely opposite on the inside. Why was it so hard to make insides match outsides? Maybe she looked prettier to herself because her vision was slightly blurry. She started to take off her clothes. Her fingers fumbled and she nearly lost her balance, but eventually she was down to bra and panties. She opened the dress from the back and stepped into it. Someone should at least try it on before it went back to the store… She got it partially zipped up at the back and then turned to face the mirror again. She felt a surge of emotion. She looked like a bride. She looked like a version of herself she’d never met before. She blinked at her reflection while attempting a hazy assessment of her situation: Tipsy ex-girlfriend dressing up in ex-friend’s wedding gown only to end up feeling ex-ceptionally pathetic.

  She started to cry. Her mascara began to run. She rubbed her tears away, smudging mascara lines across her cheek. As she cried harder, her nose started running. She sniffed and rubbed again, this time smearing the lipstick beyond the lines of her lips. She was making herself uglier. She would go upstairs and get more makeup, do herself up right. She gathered the full skirts and went upstairs again, struggling a bit on the steps.

  She wanted to call Ethan. A part of her wanted him to see her looking so dressed up. If he did, he might not toss her aside so recklessly. She touched the pearly bodice. She could be a bride. Couldn’t she? Luke wanted to marry her, but she didn’t want to marry him. Did she want to marry Ethan? But he didn’t want to marry her. Not unless she was ready to call Abandon home for good… But what if she’d always feel drawn back to New York? Luke said he could give her the life she wanted in New York… But she couldn’t be in two places at once. No one could. She had to choose. Or had that time passed? Ethan had walked away from her. Should she call him one last time? She looked around for her phone. Where had she left it? Somewhere downstairs. She left the guest room, stumbling once over one of Cher’s shoes. She grabbed onto the doorframe to rega
in her balance. Maybe her phone was in the kitchen. She’d go look there and that would give her a chance to make another martini, eat another olive. She hiccuped. She might need a cracker or two to soak up the alcohol she’d already drunk. And when would those girls get back? They could turn up the music and have another dance party. Her New York friends could be fun. Taffy was ready for some fun.

  She reached for the stair railing. She took tentative, careful steps down. One at time. She felt dizzy. Had to be careful. Almost at the bottom now. Was that the power flickering? Were the lights going out? The last few stairs beneath her feet seemed to go marshmallow soft. Her legs seemed to fall through fat, sticky marshmallows. She collapsed into a fluffy heap in the foyer, as if she’d fallen into a beautiful white soufflé.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “Taffy? Taffy…”

  The cloud-like soufflé vibrated, dispersed, disappeared. Voices were calling her. Hands were jostling her.

  Then it was just one voice. One hand.

  “Taffy, are you okay?” Oh. Maria’s voice. Taffy blinked. It was already dark outside. She looked up into Maria’s concerned face.

  “I’m wearing your dress,” Taffy mumbled. “I’m pretending to be you.”

  Maria pushed her up into a sitting position.

  “You weren’t answering your phone. I started to get worried.”

  “Worried about me? I can take care of myself.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “Can you? Can you see how much I care about you, Maria. You’re my best friend.” Taffy grabbed onto to Maria’s jacketed arm. “Not my other friends. They aren’t real friends. I’m sorry, Maria. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

  “Lied? About what?”

  Maria seemed to be trying to free some strands of Taffy’s hair that had gotten stuck to her face with saliva.

  “There’s nothing wrong with Nana. She’s fine. I lied and said she wasn’t, because I had to go. But I didn’t mean to lie. I went to New York to help Mitch.”

  Maria nodded. “I know. Ethan told me.”

  “He told you? He told you I was lying? He wants to break apart our friendship. He hates me now. He broke up with me.” Taffy started crying again.

  “Come on, let’s get you up.”

  But that proved easier said than done. In the end, Maria supported her with one arm and attempted to maneuver her down the hall. “Now let’s get some coffee into you. And maybe a shower.”

  “He doesn’t want me anymore. I’ve used up his patience. His friends don’t like me. My friends don’t like him. They think I should be with someone else. But I want to be with Ethan, and he doesn’t want to be with me.”

  “I don’t know what Ethan wants right now but—”

  “I know what I want. I want another drink. Let’s have a drink together. Let’s make up, Maria. You’re my best friend. The best one I have. I don’t need Ethan. We don’t need a man. Men. Bah.” She looked down at her dress. “Why do we make ourselves up like this for men. You don’t need to get married, Maria. You don’t need Finn. Let’s tell them both to take a hike.” She started giggling. “Ethan would like that. He likes hikes.” She started snorting with laughter but soon started choking. “My throat’s dry. I need that drink.”

  “We’ll start with water, okay? And then coffee.” Maria had managed to drag Taffy to the kitchen. She wavered at the edge of the kitchen table.

  “There’s my phone.” She pointed. “You tried calling, but there it was the whole time. It didn’t let me know you called. It’s not a true friend. It didn’t let a true friend get through.” She picked up her phone and was planning to throw it out the window for its betrayal but Maria took it from her.

  “Let’s get this charged up, shall we? No wonder I couldn’t get through.”

  “No, let’s get rid of it. We’ll throw it away with all the men in the world. Luke too. Let’s get rid of them all.”

  “Luke?”

  “I didn’t tell you. We used to be in love. He wants me back. He wants to marry me. That’s why I tried on the wedding dress.”

  Maria looked confused. “But you said you were pretending to be me.”

  “I was?” Taffy looked down at the wedding dress. “Right, you’re the one getting married. Not me. Because I said no to Luke.”

  “Who exactly is he?”

  “My old boyfriend. From before I moved here. Before Ethan. Oh, Ethan! He hates me now. He saw me with Luke!” Tears started sliding down her cheeks again.

  “Sounds like you had an eventful trip.” Maria poured a glass of water and turned on the coffee maker.

  “But I just went with Luke to the gala so I could follow Veronica around for Mitch, and then Ethan showed up and—” Taffy collapsed onto a kitchen chair or tried to. She slipped right off of it and fell to the floor in a frilly heap.

  Maria bent down to give Taffy a sip of water. She guzzled it back and then said, “I don’t love Luke. I love Ethan. But he thinks I love Luke now and—”

  “It will all get sorted out eventually. Don’t worry. “

  “I’m so irresponsible, Maria. I don’t even know where Macy and Cher are now… I’m breaking the judge’s rules, so no wonder you’re mad at me—”

  “I’m not mad. And Ellie’s been checking in with me. They’re seeing a movie tonight in Blancheville and will be home late so they’re staying at Ellie’s tonight.”

  “I’m glad they’re not here. I don’t like them anymore. I’m going to ask them to leave.”

  “Maybe now’s not the time to turn them out.”

  “Why not? They’re selfish and self-centered and airheaded and materialistic, and they’re meddlers in my love life. They tried to get me to go back to Luke. They planted all kinds of doubt in my head about Ethan—”

  ”They’re still your friends, Taff. And even with the best of intentions, friends still screw up.”

  “I’ve screwed up with you, haven’t I, Maria? I’ve been a terrible friend to you, haven’t I? Admit it.”

  “You’re always trying to help me, Taffy. With Finn, with my wedding, with my hair, with my work.”

  Taffy gasped and hiccupped at the same time. “I’m a meddler too!”

  “Sometimes we think we know what’s best for people, and sometimes we turn out to be wrong.”

  “I’ve helped on the case though, right? You’re going to arrest Lorne, aren’t you? He’s in cahoots with Veronica. Mitch and I recorded some stuff— he’ll give us her phone records if we ask. I’ll call him.”

  “That might help, because I still don’t have quite enough to charge Lorne yet.”

  “And you have to get him to admit Veronica was in on it!”

  “That might be harder.”

  “You’ve got to get him, Maria!”

  Taffy had worked herself up and now started to feel queasy. “Ooh, I don’t feel so good.” She held on to her tummy.

  “Let’s get you out of this dress and into bed. I was hoping to talk to you, but you’re in no shape… You need to sleep this off.”

  Taffy moaned again.

  Maria guided her upstairs, but between getting out of the dress and into her pajamas, the nausea got worse.

  Taffy lunged for the toilet.

  “Too many martinis,” Maria admonished.

  “It might have been the sushi,” Taffy groaned.

  “Sushi?” Maria said quizzically.

  “You know the Japanese style—”

  “I know what it is. Geez, that’s not what I meant. Something came up in Blake’s toxicology rep—”

  Taffy heaved again.

  Maria mopped her brow. When she was done, she got Taffy into bed.

  Taffy was trembling a she slipped between the covers. “Didn’t Blake eat sushi the night he died?”

  “Yeah, but Chef Albert wouldn’t have served anything to make people sick.”

  Taffy stomach clenched. “Ooh, don’t say that word!”

  “Sick?”

  Taffy moaned. “Stop.”


  “Okay, time to sleep,” Maria patted Taffy’s hand. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

  Taffy nodded weakly. “I’m sorry I was such a mess when you got here. Still am.”

  “Friendship is messy sometimes.”

  “And I’m sorry about the wedding dress. I think I ruined it.”

  “It looked good on you. Maybe you should keep it.”

  Taffy frowned. “I have a feeling it will be a long time before I’ll be needing an outfit like that.”

  Maria tucked the covers up to her chin. “Love is messy, too, Taffy. Give Ethan some time and then tell him the truth. Your crazy truth.”

  Taffy sighed with fatigue. “I think he’s done with my crazy. I think it’s time I move back to New York. Maybe it’s the only place I really belong.”

  “You can keep telling yourself that if you want. And then one day you’ll get on a plane and never come back. None of us can be in two places at once, Taff. There comes a time when we have to choose where to put down roots. And who to put down roots with. You’re lucky enough to be able to choose. The where and the who. Don’t squander your luck.”

  Maria’s advice was now blending with dream images. Luke was back in his chef’s hat. He waved a pastry knife in front of a vat of icing.

  “The cake!” Taffy tried to sit up again but couldn’t manage it. “We have to taste the cake… It’s tomorrow, I think. Chef Albert… Pierre…”

  “We can worry about that tomorrow. You get some rest now.”

  “I’m a terrible maid of honor,” Taffy mumbled. “I don’t know why you’re still my friend, Maria. I’ll just go back to New York with Macy and Cher. I’ll blend in with the other shallow, irrelevant people. That’s where I fit in best.”

  Maria brushed a strand of hair off Taffy’s forehead. “Don’t say that. I’ll be your friend no matter which coast you end up on. We’ll make it work.”

  “You’d come back to New York to visit me?”

  “As long as there wouldn’t be any prettifying, hair-pulling appointments involved.” Maria smiled. “But I like you here.” She stood up and turned out the light. From the doorway, she said, “For what my opinion’s worth, you fit in here just fine.”

 

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