She released me, took one look at the state of the hallway, and said, “Let’s go upstairs.”
Tony put his phone away as we reached the upper hall. “Hi, Tony,” Gina said as she opened her bag. “Good thing I brought extras! You want pepperoni and mushroom, veggie feta, or green chile sausage?”
“Oh, no thanks,” said Tony, patting his stomach. “Big breakfast.”
She arched an eyebrow at him, then turned to me.
“Pepperoni, please,” I said. “And thanks for bringing them.”
“So you did not have a big breakfast.” She flashed a grin at Tony. “I’m practicing to be Sherlock Holmes.”
“Nice outfit,” he countered. “Do you always dress up to buy take-out?”
“I came straight from church,” she said, and there the subject died.
Gina was not the most devout person I knew, but she was arguably the most faithful church-goer. She went every week, often in the company of her nonna. I took credit for getting her to wear hats. At first she protested that it was old fashioned, but once she started wearing them she loved the attention they got.
She looked at the sitting area, where the sugar skulls took up half the table. “Hm.”
“Let’s eat in my suite,” I said. “I can make coffee.”
“Bless you, darling.”
Tony followed us in and joined us at the small dining table. I started my seldom-used coffee-maker while Gina shed her coat and dug out plates and silverware. The smell of garlic and spices had set my stomach growling; I dug into my calzone without ceremony.
“Radio had a story about a Halloween hanging,” Gina said, looking at Tony as she opened a container of marinara. “That your case?”
Tony grimaced. “Probably.”
“Can we not talk about it over lunch?” I said.
“Sorry. What would you like to talk about? Not the holiday ads, I assume.”
“No.”
Gina looked from me to Tony and back again. “What are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?” she said.
“I’m not sure,” I said, glancing at Tony. “Usually I get together with Nat, but she might have other plans this year.”
“Well, you’re always welcome at our dinner. You too, Tony. It’s a big, Italian family meal with lots of wine and antipasto and cannoli along with the turkey and all that.”
“Thanks,” Tony said, “but we have our own family meal.”
“Where do you have yours?” I asked Gina. “Not at your apartment.”
“Mama’s place. She’s got a table that seats twenty. We all dress up. I know you can manage that,” she said, grinning.
Gina kept up a flow of chatter about her family and holiday meals while we ate. Not feeling chatty myself, I was grateful. Tony watched and listened and drank coffee.
When I’d finished my calzone, Gina produced a container of cannoli. “Chocolate chip or raspberry almond?”
“Oh, gosh,” I said, looking at Tony. “Want to split one?”
Shrug, nod. I chose the chocolate chip, figuring he’d like it better than the raspberry. Gina took a raspberry and snuck about a third of it onto my plate. I smiled my thanks.
“Well, I’ve got to run, darlings,” she said when the sweets were gone. She bustled around putting lids back on containers. “Now, let’s see if this’ll all fit in your fridge.”
I started to get up, but Tony jumped up faster and took my plate away. Our gazes met and I smiled my thanks. He smiled back, with a look in his eyes that made my pulse accelerate, then turned to the kitchenette.
“This is so you don’t have to worry about dinner,” Gina said, rearranging the contents of my mini-fridge. “But if you want something different, just call and I’ll take you out.”
“Thanks.”
“Now, you take care of yourself! Go out for a walk or something. Don’t spend the whole day in here. Tony, you make sure she gets out.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gina put on her coat and gave me another big hug. “Love you, honey.”
“Love you too. Thanks.”
I saw her out, and realized on my way back up the stairs that I felt better. Tony was waiting for me in the hall.
“Can I see that map now?” he asked. “And can you stand to look at the badge again? I have a question about it.”
“OK.”
We went back in my office, and I returned to my desk. My badge had fallen on the floor, so I picked it up.
“Can I see that?” Tony asked.
I handed it to him and he examined it, then looked at the one in the evidence bag. “What are the circles?”
“Circles?”
“On the map. Some of the numbers are circled.”
“Oh, Gabriel did that. I asked him to recommend other artists to look at.”
“Did he do it for anyone else?”
“Yeah, Dale, and Margo, I think. And that’s just who I saw.”
“So he could have done it all weekend.”
I nodded. “Kris will know. She was with him in the booth.”
He handed my badge back to me. I shouldn’t have felt relieved, but I did. I slipped it into my desk drawer, and while I was in there I pulled out my file for the party and extracted Gabriel’s map of the chambers. I held it out it to Tony, who stared at it.
“Who else saw this?”
“Gabriel handed out copies at the planning meeting.”
“Could I keep this one?” he said.
“May I scan it first?”
He gave it back. I fed it to my all-in-one printer, saved the file, then gave him the original. He gazed dejectedly at it.
“So Gabriel was here, and Kris was here,” he said, pointing to the map.
“Right.”
“Who were in these two?”
“Roberto in the orange, and Gwyneth in the white.”
Tony grabbed a pen from my desk and wrote in the names. “But they were both at the back of the house when Gabriel left.”
“Yes. They’d been outside, and had just come in the back door, and then she fainted.”
He tilted his head, looking at the map. “I wonder if that was an act. They could have been cooperating with the killer.”
“I really doubt it. I saw her collapse. It looked real, and Roberto was truly upset.”
Tony sighed. “OK. Who was in these other chambers?”
“Cherie in blue, Margo in green, and Dale in purple.”
He filled in the names, then frowned. “Why is there both purple and violet?”
“Got me. Ask Poe.”
He shot me a glance.
“Sorry. The answer is nobody knows. Poe never explained the color choices.”
“So...any one of the three on the south side could have seen Gabriel leave. But they all denied it.”
“It was after ten, so they weren’t necessarily in their chambers. Gabriel said they could move around after the first hour. And in fact...” I frowned, chasing the memories. “I saw Cherie right before Gwyneth and Roberto came in.”
“Saw her where?”
“In the dining parlor. She was getting a glass of absinthe.”
“Who else did you see?”
I closed my eyes, thinking back. “I’d just gone around to check the fireplaces. There wasn’t anyone in the blue, green, and purple chambers.”
“All the ones on the south side of the house.”
“Right. I saw Kris in her chamber, then I checked the fire, then I saw Gabriel in his. Oh!”
Opening my eyes, I saw Tony watching me, waiting. He had his notes spread open on his knee and a pen in one hand.
“Gabriel said something, but when I glanced into his chamber I didn’t see anybody but him,” I said. “It was odd.”
“Talking to himself?”
“I don’t think so. It was something like, ‘What do you want?’ and I assumed he was on the phone.”
“Couldn’t have been. We found his phone with his street clothes.” Tony made another note. “Maybe it was Kr
is. Her chamber was right next door. She could have stepped into his.”
I frowned. “She would have had to pass me, or go the long way around.”
Tony shrugged. “Feasible.”
“But I would have seen her when I looked in!”
“Her dress was violet, right? Pretty dark in that black chamber.”
“She had on a silver crown, and silver trim on the dress, and her mask was silver,” I said, trying not to sound angry. “You saw how those red lights lit up the silver paint on Dee’s costume.”
Tony sighed and looked back at his notes. “What about Cherie? She was next door, in the dining room. Was there silver on her outfit?”
“No. It was all blue.” I frowned. “And I’m not sure exactly when she came into the dining parlor.”
“So she’s a possibility. Gwyneth and Roberto were at the back door, so it wasn’t either of them. That leaves Dale and Margo. Crap,” he said as his phone rang.
He folded the map and stuffed it in his pocket, then walked out into the hall. That pleased me; he wouldn’t have bothered a few months ago. Maybe I was actually influencing him a little.
I glanced at the clock on my computer: after one. Kris hadn’t called me back. I picked up my phone and sent her a text.
You OK? Need anything?
No.
I grimaced, but was glad to see that she was alive, at least. Alive, and in pain, and ready to take it out on the world.
Call if you want to talk.
She didn’t respond. I was about to get up when the desk phone rang, making me jump.
“We’re closed,” I said to it as it continued to ring. Specters of news reporters rose in my imagination, then the voicemail kicked in.
“Hi, Ellen, it’s Dale. I was wondering if—”
I grabbed the handset. “Hello?”
“Oh. Hi. Um, is it OK if we come pick up the absinthe fountain?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Thanks. Half an hour OK?”
“I’ll be here.”
I put down the phone. Not wanting to sit alone and stare at the murder weapon, I got up and went out to join Tony, who was just stashing his phone. “That was the lab,” he said. “Nothing in the vodka besides food coloring and that glitter.”
I was glad to be right on that point. The thought of Gabriel using his magnetism to get people to poison themselves made me shiver, the more so because I believed he could have done it, if he’d wanted to.
“Who called you?” Tony asked.
“Dale. He’s coming to get the absinthe fountain.”
“The what?”
“That big water-cooler thing in the dining parlor.”
“Oh. Dale’s the one that put the skulls around, right? Did you ever figure that out?”
“No.”
Tony frowned. “Can we go look at them again?”
“Sure.”
He stepped past me into my office, stuffed the evidence bags with the badge and the tulle into his jacket pockets, then led the way downstairs. Following Gabriel’s map, he began walking through the chambers in order, starting with the blue chamber. He picked up the sugar skull, turned it over, then shrugged and put it back.
We both went into the purple chamber, Violet. Tony paused to gaze at Vi’s portrait.
“You’re right, it needs better light.”
The candles on the mantel had burned out overnight, and I felt an urge to light at least one new one. Later, I told myself, and turned to the lamp stand with a sugar skull decorated in purple on it. “This is the one Dale put here.”
Tony looked at it, then back at the skulls on the mantel. “Who did these?”
I pointed them out. “Me, Julio, Kris, Gabriel, Dee.”
“Did Gabriel know Vi?”
“I don’t think so. Kris probably told him about her.”
“And these were up here before the party started?”
“A week before. We made them at Julio’s decorating party.”
Tony leaned his hands against the mantel, tapping one thumb on the wood. “Anyone at that party who didn’t make a skull for Vi?”
“Sure. Your sister, for one.”
Tony shot me a glance. “Who else?”
“Andre, Julio’s roommate. And by the way, I don’t think Vi has anything to do with this.”
“Humor me.”
“Dale. Margo. Cherie.” I paused, thinking. “Mick, but he didn’t decorate any skulls.”
“Not Roberto? Or Gwyneth?”
“They weren’t there. I don’t think Julio knew them. It was his party.”
“But Dale and Cherie and Margo were all there. Does Julio know them?”
“N-no. I guess Gabriel invited them.”
“But he didn’t ask Roberto and Gwyneth.”
“No. Do you blame him? He and Roberto were rivals, remember?”
“And Gwyneth was his ex.”
“Y-yes,” I said slowly.
Tony turned his head to look at me. “What?”
I swallowed. “Kris told me that Gabriel had...slept with the others at the planning meeting. I think she meant just the women.”
Tony’s eyes went wide. “All of them?”
“That’s what she said.”
He paced around the room, which only took a few steps. “So not just Gwyneth, but Margo and Cherie...in what order?”
“I don’t know.”
He took out a pen and his wad of notes. “Thanks.”
After making a note, he consulted the map and went through the passage at the back into the green chamber. I stood still, staring at the purple brocade draperies, feeling like a betrayer of womankind. How awful to think that Gabriel might have been killed by a jealous lover—so cliché! Worse, the most likely candidate in that case was Kris.
No tulle, my heart shouted. But that wasn’t conclusive. The tulle could have come from anywhere; it could be completely unrelated.
Maybe it was!
I hurried through the green chamber and caught up with Tony in the hall. “Tony, where was that scrap of tulle found?”
He paused and gave me an appraising look. “You remember where Gabriel ended up?”
I swallowed and nodded. “The flower basket.”
“The scrap was between the strap of the badge and the basket hook.”
“Oh.”
Not unrelated, then. That scrap of tulle would convict its owner, if she could be found.
Not necessarily “she,” I told myself. But tulle was mostly used for women’s costumes. Ballet tutus, wedding veils...
I tried to imagine how a tutu could get caught between the badge lanyard and the flower hook, and failed completely.
“Why Hidalgo Plaza?” I mused.
“I’ve been wondering that, too,” Tony said, following the map into the orange chamber and pausing to look at the sugar skull there. “The badge tells me the killer knew Gabriel, and he left the party in a hurry. That makes it probable that the killer was someone at the party. But if so, why go a quarter-mile away? Why not hang him in the yard here—”
“Bite your tongue!” I said, outraged.
“—where the intended audience would see him?”
“Maybe the killer didn’t want him to be seen.”
“In that case, there are much better places than Hidalgo Plaza.”
That was true.
“Or maybe it was an accident,” I offered.
“Possible, but not our top theory. He was—do you want to hear this?”
I hesitated, then nodded.
“We found damage to the railing on the second story, above the basket hook. He was pushed.”
And that gave me the picture of how it happened. He chased the killer, they ran into the plaza and up the stairs. Argument, push.
“But how did the lanyard get around his neck?” I asked.
“And why?” Tony said.
“Around his neck...” I frowned. Something was tickling at my memory. Something about the sugar skull party.
<
br /> Gabriel by the lilac bushes, putting something into Cherie’s hands. Kris pretending not to notice as she decorated a skull. Gabriel returning to the table, his collar framing his neckline.
And no ankh. No ankh, when he’d been wearing it before!
Quickly I told Tony what I had remembered. “He must have given the ankh to Cherie!”
“In front of his current girlfriend?” Tony said skeptically.
“Maybe it was a gift from Cherie, and he was returning it. She wasn’t happy about it, I remember that!”
“What happened next?”
I shrugged. “People decorated skulls. I...don’t think I saw Cherie again. She might have slipped away.”
“You don’t have any of the skulls she decorated, do you?”
“No, but I took pictures of all the skulls.”
He looked up from the map, gaze intent. “Show me!”
We went upstairs, and I brought up the skull pictures. There were a lot of them. Tony blinked at the screen full of thumbnails. It was a wild medley of color. Seeing them all at once reminded me how creative everyone had been.
“Oh, man,” Tony said, sounding tired. “Do you know who did which skulls?”
“Some of them. Not all.”
“Show me the ones Cherie made.”
“I’m not sure about them. I can eliminate a lot of the others.”
“Do that.”
I copied the folder, then deleted all the photos of skulls decorated by me, Angela, Kris, Gabriel, Julio, and Andre. That left about thirty skulls.
“Dee did that one. Rosa did those,” I said, deleting them. “Dale did these two. I’m not sure about the rest.”
Tony enlarged the remaining thumbnails and looked through them. “That one,” he said, pointing to an Egyptian looking one. “Who made that?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Look at the forehead.”
I zoomed the photo and gasped. The skull had an upside-down ankh on the forehead.
“Oh, my....”
“Bet it was Cherie,” Tony said. “Who would know for sure?”
“Um. Rosa and Dee were at the table with her. They might remember.”
Tony made another note. “Want to save me the trouble of looking up their numbers? And could you text me that photo, please?”
A Masquerade of Muertos (Wisteria Tearoom Mysteries Book 5) Page 22