Felix got busy sniffing my toes.
“That was fast,” she said, reaching for the cake. “Thank you.”
Shoot, I needed to get into the house.
I handed it over reluctantly. “Um, I don’t mean to be a pest but would it be possible to use your powder room?” I did a little wiggle to show it was an emergency.
“Oh.” She glanced behind her. “I suppose.” She opened the door wider and I slid in.
Success!
“This way.” She led me down the large, echoing hallway, past a formal dining room and to a guest powder room.
“Thanks a bunch.” I smiled, hoping I looked more innocent than I felt at the moment.
Felix had followed on our heels, and he had his nose tilted up, trying to sniff the cake.
The woman chuckled. “I think I better go put this on the kitchen counter, out of reach.”
“Good idea.” I leaned down and gave Felix a scratch. “Don’t worry about me. I can see you’re busy so I can find my way out. Hope you enjoy the cake, Felix.”
I pretended to close the door, but once she’d gone, I pushed it opened and slipped back out. I needed to find some evidence that Daisy actually lived here and not in the condo we’d visited.
Moving quietly, I went the opposite way from the front door.
On the left was a formal living room with dark wood floors and rich, chocolate leather furniture. I walked in. It smelled like furniture polish and faintly of cigar smoke. Glancing around, I spotted photos on the fireplace mantle. Moving quickly across the room to scan them, I zeroed in on one of the 8x10’s.
Bingo! There was Daisy.
She was wearing a formal but feminine black suit, her hair pulled back into a severe bun. She was seated in a chair and an older gentleman was hunched behind her, one hand on the back of her chair and one hand on a cane. He also wore a black suit.
My heart sank. I understood now. This was her father’s house … or maybe even her grandfather’s? The guy looked pretty old. She probably stayed here part time to take care of him. No scandal there.
Sighing, I turned around to leave and then froze.
Daisy stood in the doorway in a pink, fitted dress, her arms folded, a confused expression on her face.
“Daisy!” I squeaked. “Hi.”
“Darwin? What on God’s green earth are you doing here?”
I moved closer to her, my smile frozen on my face. Getting caught snooping in someone’s house had to be the lowest form of humiliation. I was beyond mortified. “I’m so sorry. I took a wrong turn exiting the bathroom …”
Then I remembered she wouldn’t even know why I was in the bathroom. “Oh, did your … the woman who brought Felix in my pet boutique today for some gluten free food … did she tell you she won a free cake? So I delivered it today is why I’m here. In your living room. Well, actually I had to use the ladies’ room is why I’m in your living room, but the cake is why I’m in your house.” I squeezed my lips together. I wanted to slink past her and run to the car. That wouldn’t be socially acceptable though, I’m sure. Instead I waited for her to respond.
Finally, her eyes flicked from me to the fireplace photos. She grew subdued. “Do you recognize Peter’s work?”
I glanced behind me, confused for a moment, and then it hit me. “Oh, the photos of you and your father? Peter took those?”
Her gaze moved abruptly back to my face, and the sweet smile I’d come to associate with her resurfaced. “Yes, in his studio. We just had those taken last month for his birthday. We use … used him for all our family portraits.”
“They’re very good.” I didn’t know what else to say, and I was suddenly speechless as I stared at her hand. On her left ring finger sat the engagement ring I’d seen in my vision from Petey. My mouth went dry. My heart did a somersault in my chest.
When I met her eyes again, she was still smiling but they were sharper. Or was that my imagination?
I motioned to her hand and forced words from my constricted lungs. “Did you and Lincoln get … engaged?”
She glanced down and then suddenly broke out in a girlish giggle. It was pleasant, which confused me in my state of anxiety. “No, no.” She lifted her hand and examined it. “This is just a family heirloom. I like to wear it around the house when I’m not out in public. No sense inviting a mugging. Lovely, isn’t it?” She held it out for me to examine. “Almost six carats set in platinum. The side stones are rubies and sapphires.”
I felt the tension drain from my body as I crossed the room to get a closer look.
Yep, definitely the ring. Wow, her family must be loaded.
“It’s stunning. Very unique.” Something was wriggling around in my gut still.
What was it? Oh yeah. My vision. Why would Daisy be putting Petey in his carrier? I really needed to think about what that meant.
“Well, I need to get back to the pet boutique. It was good to see you again. Hope Felix enjoys his cake.”
“Of course, I’ll walk you out.”
When we got to the door, Felix trotted around the corner licking his lips.
Smiling, I gave him a pat goodbye. Then I had an idea. “You know, I’m fostering Peter’s Yorkie pup until I can find him a home. You wouldn’t be interested in a little brother for Felix would you?”
She crossed her arms and grinned at me good-naturedly. “Nice try. Peter already tried to get me to take that puppy home when we were there getting our portraits made. I would’ve loved to, honestly. He’s a precious little thing. But for one, my father can’t see very well and accidently stepped on him at the studio. I felt terrible. Also, I don’t know the first thing about puppies and potty trainin’. Felix here is easy, already trained.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Puppies are a lot of work and he is very tiny. All right, see ya around.”
I pulled back onto 20th Avenue feeling disappointed. There was a logical explanation for both the house and Daisy being the one to put Petey in his crate in my vision. Obviously she had put Petey in his crate to be safe after her father accidently stepped on him. Being stepped on was a bit traumatic for the little guy so my vision had nothing to do with Peter’s death.
Back to square one. I needed to talk to Will and see if he’d come up with anything this morning. Time was definitely running out now. And I’d gone and promised Sylvia a wedding.
A wave of frustration overwhelmed me. I banged my head against the steering wheel at the light. “Way to go, Darwin.”
*****
Will and I met for lunch at Parkshore Grill. It wasn’t the pleasant affair it usually was, though, since both of us were slumped in the booth lost in our own thoughts. Twirling my straw in my ice water, I finally sighed and broke the silence. “I was so sure once we’d found the owner of that engagement ring from my vision, we’d have the murderer.”
Did I just say that out loud?
I glanced up in time to see discomfort darken Will’s expression.
He quickly hid it and reached across the table to take my hand. “Don’t be hard on yourself, Darwin. It’s me who’s failing here. I’m the one who should be coming up with the hard facts to solve this.”
Hard facts, right. Not visions. They weren’t useful. Message received.
I tamped down my hurt, and was just about to change the subject, when I caught sight of someone out of the corner of my eye. Zach was standing outside the window on the sidewalk. I met his gaze through the glass. He held up a hand in greeting. A small smile stretched on my lips as I waved back.
Then I felt the emptiness as Will’s hand left mine. I glanced at Will. He was staring at Zach, his expression unreadable.
Zach’s gaze moved from me to Will, then he nodded and walked away.
Well, that was awkward.
“What’s the deal with that guy, anyway?” Will asked without actually looking at me.
“What do you mean?” I knew what he meant and felt my face growing hot at the question. Will wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was probab
ly the most observant person I knew, and it didn’t take a very observant person to recognize the way Zach looked at me.
“Never mind, we have enough to worry about.” He leaned back as the waitress placed two steaming plates of pasta in front of us. When she left, he said, “Let’s talk this out one more time. I think one of our most important pieces of evidence here is that vial of missing sux from the Southern Cross clinic.”
“But it went missing after Peter’s death,” I reminded him, silently grateful for the change of subject.
“Still, too much of a coincidence that it went missing from the very vet clinic connected with Helping Paws, where Peter spent a lot of time volunteering, and where he took the photos he hid on the thumb drive.” He shoved a forkful of warm pasta in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. After he swallowed he added, “And those photos would be the second important piece of evidence.”
I nodded. “It does make the most sense. That someone stole his cameras and laptop looking for those photos.”
Will pointed his fork at me. “But why were they so important to the killer? Was it the time-stamped van photos which were the obvious subject? Or was it the accidentally captured photos of Lincoln Lee and Daisy Beaumont?”
I shifted in the booth, feeling the weight of the question. Seemed to be the million-dollar one. “Well, if it was the van photos, then Sassy would be the most likely suspect.”
Will nodded. “If they would prove she was committing fraud, yes.”
“But if it was the photos of Lincoln and Daisy the killer was after, then one of them would be the most likely suspect.”
Will pushed aside his plate half-eaten. “Only if they knew about the photos, though. How would they know Vanek had them?”
I followed his line of thought. “They’d only know if Peter told them he had them. And he’d have no reason to tell them unless he was using the photos against them. Blackmailing them for some reason. Maybe that’s where the money for his shelter was coming from.”
Will’s attention went to the window for a moment and then he shook his head. “Lincoln Lee is a struggling model and vet tech. I don’t think he has that kind of money. And Ms. Beaumont’s not exactly had a successful modeling career.”
I held up a finger, getting that rush of adrenaline that happened when I felt something clicking but couldn’t quite see it yet. “But Daisy’s family does. Her father’s house is one of those multi-million dollar mansions in the historic district. If Peter was blackmailing them, maybe she was planning on getting the money from her father.”
Will sat completely still, but the intensity of his thoughts blazed in his blue eyes. After a moment he said, “But we’re still missing motive in that theory. Why would Ms. Beaumont care if there were photos of her and Lincoln Lee together? Sure, she said she didn’t want to be hassled by the other models if they found out, but succumbing to blackmail and committing murder to hide the fact they’re dating? Doesn’t add up.”
I gazed out the window, trying to force my brain to put something together that made sense. Who would care that much that Daisy and Lincoln were dating?
I watched a family of four walk by with ice cream cones. An overweight chocolate lab with them stared up hopefully for drippings. I turned back to Will. “It’s a long shot but what if her father wouldn’t have approved of the relationship for some reason? What if she was hiding it from him?”
A sadness rode in on a small wave. It took a moment for me to root out the cause. Oh, yeah. The realization that I would’ve loved for my father to meet Will. I’m sure he would’ve approved. But even if it was possible for him to be here, would Will accept him?
Will reached across the table and laid a warm hand over mine. “You okay?”
I nodded, giving him a half smile. Those observation skills again. “Fine. I was just thinking about how I would’ve liked my father to meet you.”
Will smiled and rubbed the amethyst promise ring he’d given me. “I would’ve liked my parents to meet you, too. They would’ve loved you as much as I do.” He glanced up. “What about your mom? I’d really like to meet her.”
“Oh.” A lump formed in my throat. “I’m not exactly her favorite daughter right now. She still hasn’t forgiven me for leaving Savannah.”
“I’m sorry,” Will said. “Maybe in time then.”
“Yeah, sure. In time.” I nodded and blinked back tears.
Will noticed and changed the subject. “Okay. I guess it’s worth a call to Ms. Beaumont’s father and, if nothing else, rule out that theory. If he knows about his daughter’s relationship with Mr. Lee and isn’t vehemently against it, then I’ll have to switch directions and really bear down on Sassy White later today. Bring her into interrogation. It’s early and I’ve really got nothing on her, but if I show her the van photos Vanek took maybe it’ll provoke an emotional response. Maybe even cause her to slip up and confess.”
I leaned back into the soft back of the booth. “Does that really work?”
Will looked tired suddenly. “You’d be surprised what people will confess to if they feel guilty enough.” He glanced out the window and shook his head. “I can’t shake the feeling that we’re missing something around the money, though.” He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face. “We ran a check on the people who donated to Vanek’s Fund-Me page. There was one lady who is wealthy. A Bianca Rubio. She gave five hundred dollars but according to my team, she’s a hotel heiress worth a few million. She could’ve been a blackmail target, but over what? I have no idea. We’re planning on interviewing her, though. At least find out what her relationship with Vanek was.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I asked for a box when the waitress returned and we prepared to leave. “I was supposed to go to that group photo shoot tonight on the beach with Margie Bealle. Do you think I should cancel? Seems less likely she’s involved.”
Especially now that I’ve already discovered the owner of the large engagement ring from my vision.
Will slid out of the booth and then held out his hand to help me. “You should still go. See what the models know about Daisy and Lincoln’s relationship, if anything.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Even if Margie Bealle hadn’t have given me the colorful South Beach hotel on Treasure Island as a landmark, I would’ve been able to find the photo shoot. All I had to do was follow the flock of men who’d migrated from the Friday night drum circle further down the beach.
“Great. An audience,” I mumbled, trudging across the sun-warmed, packed-down white sand. I tugged at the small bikini top I’d borrowed from Mallory, wishing I’d thrown on a robe instead of just a pair of shorts.
This idea was going from bad to worse.
A group of black beaked shorebirds scurried toward the edge of the water as I approached. I spotted Margie Bealle talking to a tall blonde in a shiny gold bikini at the water’s edge.
Margie was a stocky woman. Her short, dark hair was held back with a purple bandana, and a camera was slung around her neck. Four other bikini-clad women stood around, their various shades of long hair blowing in the ocean breeze. Two of them I recognized from Rachel’s party. One, the red-head, looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen her before. They were too busy touching up makeup and adjusting various body parts to notice me, thank heavens.
Two men were also standing around equipment bags in the sand. One of them was busy propping up a large metallic panel of some kind. They also paid no attention to me. They were too entranced by the real models.
“Margie.” I plastered on a smile as I approached. “Hi, I’m Darwin Winters. Thank you so much for squeezing me in.” I purposely didn’t look at the woman she was standing with. Rude, I know, but my courage was on shaky ground to begin with.
Margie gave me the once over, then reached out and took my chin in her hand. “I hope you brought some concealer for those dark circles under your eyes.”
Makeup. Right. Well, that only took what … three seconds for my ignorance of this
foreign world to show itself. “Oh, I’m sorry … I forgot.”
I felt a hand on my arm. “I have some you can borrow. Come on.”
The model I’d been terrified to look at was suddenly my savior, and I told her so … repeatedly.
“All right, ladies.” Margie clapped her hands. “The warm lighting is happening. Let’s get this show on the road. Tisha, you’re up.”
I accepted the mirror and stick of makeup. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I’m Cindy, by the way. This your first time working with Margie?”
I tapped the cream in beneath my eye and smoothed it in. Huh, what do you know, it actually worked. “Yeah. I used to use Peter Vanek … before … you know, he died.”
She nodded. “Such a shame. He was a good guy. I used him when I started out last year, but he was always so overbooked. Margie’s all right. You just have to ignore her temper. It’s not personal.”
“Temper?” I handed her back the concealer stick.
Cindy shrugged. “She’s passionate about her art.”
“Cindy! Get your butt over here!” Margie yelled from the shoreline.
Cindy grinned. “See what I mean? You’ll be fine.” She swiveled and jogged down to the water on the balls of her feet. It was like a scene out of Baywatch and elicited a few whistles from the crowd.
Margie shot them a look and they stopped.
I walked down to watch Cindy’s photo shoot, hoping to grab some tips for my turn.
Cindy moved smoothly, standing at first, tilting her chin one way and then the other. Her expression morphed from pure joy to sultry sex kitten. Yeah, that wasn’t happening for me. She kneeled down and let the soft waves rush over her thighs.
“Stick that chest out, Cindy! Beach Body Magazine doesn’t want some hunched over animal on their cover!”
I backed up a step and accidently stepped on someone’s foot. “Sorry!” I gasped.
“No worries. I’ve got another one,” the model behind me laughed easily. “You seem nervous. First time?”
For Pete's Sake Page 13