I did as he asked, and browsed through the remaining skull photos. There was another Egyptian one, but it didn’t have an ankh. I enlarged it anyway, and Tony leaned closer to the screen to look.
I became conscious of his smell, of leather and weariness and his own distinctive Tony-ness. Instinct made me turn my head to catch a better whiff. He met my gaze.
“You smell good,” I said.
His mouth dropped open, then he pushed his phone and notes onto my desk and reached for me.
Blood fired through my tired veins with sudden thunder. I returned his hungry kiss with equal enthusiasm. I was tired of skulls, puzzles, and sadness.
In the distance, the front doorbell ring downstairs rang. Tony raised his head, muttering a curse.
“You expecting someone?”
“It’s probably Dale, coming to get that fountain.” I shifted in his arms, regretting necessity. “Um. Will you excuse me?”
Tony kissed me again hotly, then gently, then let me go. I stood, straightened my clothing, took a deep breath, and went downstairs. At the front door I pushed aside the black fabric that still covered the lights
Not Dale, but Margo stood outside, looking pale in a black sweater and jeans. But then, Goths liked to look pale.
I opened the door. “Hi, Margo.”
“Hi,” she said in a near-whisper. “Sorry to bother you.” She took a breath. “I left my cloak.”
I stepped back. “Come on in.”
She hesitated a split second, as if returning to the scene of the party brought bad memories, then headed for a row of hooks near the back of the house, several of which held cloaks or coats. Reaching for one, she hesitated, then took down its neighbor and folded it over her arm. They were both black; everything on the hooks was black.
Margo stood staring at the cloak in her arms, one hand stroking the velvet. I noticed it had a pretty silver clasp, a triangular Celtic knot.
Tony came down the stairs. “Margo! Got a minute?”
She jumped slightly and looked up at him. “You scared me!”
“Sorry. I have a couple more questions if you don’t mind.”
Taking pity on her, I gestured to the chairs that still lined the hall. “Have a seat. Would you like some tea?”
Margo shook her head, hugging her cloak as she sank into a wing chair. “It’s just so awful,” she whispered, brushing aside a tear.
Tony pulled another chair out from the wall and set it at right angles to Margo’s. I hovered, unsure whether I should stay.
“First of all, do you remember who made this?” He turned his phone toward her, displaying my photo of the skull with the ankh on it.
Margo stared at it for a few seconds. “I’m not sure. Sorry. Maybe Cherie.”
“OK.” Tony put away his phone and took out his wad of notes. “Are you sure you didn’t see Gabriel leave the house last night?”
She nodded, staring blankly.
“Where were you when Gwyneth fainted?”
“In the hall.”
“What did you do?”
“I...nothing. I just watched. Roberto was helping her.”
“How well did you know Gabriel?”
Margo’s head jerked up as she met Tony’s gaze. “I’ve known him for a couple of years.”
“Did you date him?”
“Yes,” she whispered, and a tear slid down her cheek.
“How recently?”
I frowned, trying to catch Tony’s eye. This seemed cruel.
“Midsummer,” she said. “We got together then. Right after he broke up with Gwyneth.”
“Why’d they break up?”
Her face darkened into a scowl. “She’s such an airhead.” She shot a glance at me. “Sorry. But it’s true. Gabriel’s so much smarter than her. She drove him crazy.”
“When did you stop dating him?”
She winced a little. “About a month ago.”
“When he hooked up with Kris.”
Margo nodded.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Nothing happened.”
“He just changed partners? Or were you still seeing him?”
She looked at Tony, then shook her head again. “No.”
“What about Cherie?”
A shrug. “Cherie was before Gwyneth.”
“Did she and Gabriel part on friendly terms?”
Margo laughed softly. “No. They had a spectacular fight.”
Tony glanced at me, then made a note. “Anyone else see it?”
“Everyone. It was at Beltane. Gabriel was flirting with Gwyneth and Cherie blew up at him.”
That surprised me. Cherie had always struck me as calm and collected, though she did have a sharp tongue.
“She’d had a bit too much,” Margo added, with evident satisfaction.
“Too much what?” Tony asked.
She leveled a flat gaze at him. “Booze. She’s not into drugs.”
“OK, thanks,” Tony said, making another note. “That’s all.”
Margo sat still for a moment, then slowly rose, smoothing the cloak over her arm. She met my gaze and turned toward the front door. I followed and closed it behind her. The glimpse of sunlight dazzled me; I looked at the black drapes, but they were on a rod that was secured above the door. I’d need a step ladder. Or better yet, Mick.
Time to call in the reserves. My phone was upstairs, so I stepped into the gift shop to use the house phone. Mick’s voicemail answered, and I left a message asking him to come in as soon as he was available.
“What’s Beltane?” Tony asked as I came back out.
“It’s a pagan holiday,” I said, remembering Kris telling me about it. “May Day.”
“So Gabriel was with Cherie before May, then with Gwyneth until Midsummer—I assume that’s June or July.”
“June. The solstice.”
“Then with Margo, then with Kris. Whew.”
“He was very charismatic.”
“Sorry I didn’t get to see him in action.”
I grimaced at this tactless remark. The suggestion arose in my mind that Gabriel could have given Tony a few pointers, but I dismissed it as unworthy.
“I need to put some laundry in the dryer,” I said, and headed for the pantry.
Tony started upstairs, but the back doorbell rang and his footsteps stopped, then came down again.
I opened the door and found Dale and Cherie outside. In an olive green sweater and jeans, Dale looked more like a preppie than a Goth. He also looked a bit embarrassed. Cherie was draped in black: a black broomstick skirt under a top with long, dripping sleeves and a plunging neckline that showed off a familiar silver ankh. No makeup, just an expression of wounded woe.
“Hi,” I said, and Cherie winced. I lowered my voice and added, “Come in.”
“Sorry,” Dale whispered to me as we went into the dining parlor. “I couldn’t talk her into letting me come alone.”
Cherie slunk into the parlor and stood staring at the absinthe fountain. I glanced at Tony, who had remained in the hall.
“We’ll need to empty it out,” Dale said, stepping toward the fountain. “Where’s the nearest sink?”
“The restroom,” I said, “but the kitchen sink is bigger.”
“Kitchen, then,” he said, and started moving crystal goblets away from the fountain. “There should be a box for these.”
“Yes, it’s in the gift shop,” I said. “And some of those goblets are in the kitchen waiting to be washed.”
“We can wash them later.” Dale glanced at Cherie, who was slowly walking around the table, her feet shuffling, her drooping demeanor putting me strongly in mind of Ophelia. She spotted one of the goblets on the sideboard and picked it up, staring at it as she turned it in her hands.
“I’ll get that box,” I said, starting toward the hall. Tony came to the door before I reached it, and I stepped back.
“Hi, Dale,” he said.
Dale shot him a wary look.
“Hi.”
“Got a minute for a couple of questions?”
“Sure.”
Tony paged through his notes. Cherie, goblet in hand, resumed her slow circuit. I hesitated, feeling tension between the two men.
“I was wondering if you made those sugar skulls you put in the chambers,” Tony said.
Dale set down a goblet and turned to face Tony. “No, I just put them there.”
“Who made them?” Tony asked.
“Roberto.”
“Why’d he ask you to put them in the chambers?”
“It was just a joke.” Dale said, watching Cherie glide slowly through the draped doorway into the main parlor. When she was gone, he relaxed and took a step toward Tony.
“Roberto found out about the skull decorating party, and was mad that he wasn’t invited. So he made his own skulls and had me put them in the chambers.”
“Pissing on Gabriel’s territory,” Tony said.
“Kinda, yeah. But I don’t think Gabriel even noticed.”
“Why didn’t Roberto place them himself?”
“That Gabriel would have noticed.”
“They didn’t get along?”
Dale sighed, moving a goblet away from the fountain. “They had a friendly rivalry.”
“Sometimes friendlier than other times?”
“Look, I’m not going to say anything bad about either of them. They’re both my friends.”
“And you thought it would be funny to help one friend mark the other one’s territory?”
Dale frowned, then took a breath and steadied himself, meeting Tony’s gaze. “I knew it would make Roberto feel better, and Gabriel probably wouldn’t care. I figured it would defuse things some.”
“Uh-huh.”
They stared off, and I held my breath. To his credit, Dale didn’t flinch from the patented Aragón Cop Stare.
A tinkle of breaking glass cascaded into the silence.
Dale looked toward the doorway into Rose. “Cherie? You all right?”
A sob followed. We all rushed for the doorway.
Dale got through first, and Tony and I squeezed through together, arms tangling briefly. My heart pounded as I tried to see. The black drapes masked the overhead lights, and at first all I understood was that Dale had grabbed Cherie.
“Give it to me!” he demanded, one arm around her waist, the other reaching for her flailing arm.
Cherie gave a louder sob. “No! I want to die!”
She tried to wrench away, and bumped into a lantern stand. The lantern toppled, crashing to the floor, the red glass shattering. I yelped as I hopped back.
Tony stepped in and caught Cherie’s wrist in both hands. A gleam of light on a jagged edge of glass and I suddenly understood: Cherie had broken the goblet.
17
Tony shifted his weight, changing the angle of Cherie’s wrist, and as she cried out, the jagged goblet was in his hand instead of hers.
At the same time, Dale grabbed the black cloth off the empty food stand and caught Cherie’s other hand in it. I saw a dark streak down her arm a second before Dale swathed it in the cloth.
“Ellen, take this!” Tony called, holding the broken goblet out toward me. “Careful.”
With shaking hands, I took it by the stem. There was blood on the sharp edges, and dripping down what was left of the filigreed bowl.
Tony reached into his pocket, produced a pair of handcuffs, and snicked one onto Cherie’s wrist. He pulled it behind her and reached for her other wrist, still held by Dale.
“Is that necessary?” I asked in a small voice, my heart going out to her.
“Keep her from hurting herself more,” Tony said as he snapped the second cuff into place. Cherie’s knees buckled and she sobbed. Tony and Dale both supported her, keeping her from collapsing onto the floor covered with broken lantern glass. I had a flash of memory: Gabriel’s painting, “Calculation,” of Gwyneth surrounded by shards of red glass.
“Call an ambulance,” Tony said to me over his shoulder, then he looked at Dale. “Let’s get her out of here.”
I backed into the dining parlor, glass crunching underfoot, and set the broken goblet on the table, then ran for the kitchen and the nearest phone. I struggled to catch my breath as I dialed 911.
While I was giving my address to the dispatcher, a car came up the driveway and parked next to mine. My heart sank.
It was Kris’s Scion.
All black was not unusual for Kris’s wardrobe, but the T-shirt and jeans with her hair pulled back in a ponytail was. It made her look young and vulnerable.
“What is your emergency?” the dispatcher said.
“Uh—we need an ambulance. A woman is injured—broken glass.”
I waved at Kris through the window, hoping to divert her to the kitchen. She didn’t notice.
“Are you with her?”
“What?” I said. “Oh—no. Detective Tony Aragón is. She’s—not exactly rational.”
“Is she violent?”
Another wail from Cherie. Kris paused at the back door, frowning.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go,” I said, and hung up the phone, then opened the kitchen’s back door.
“Kris! In here.”
She came in. “What’s going on?”
“What are you doing here?” I said simultaneously.
“I—we need to take down the chambers today,” she said, looking miserable.
That had been the original plan, before the world had turned upside down. “You didn’t have to come,” I said. “I called Mick. He can help me.”
Distant sobbing. I winced. Kris frowned.
“Stay here,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
I headed for the hall. Kris followed. Not wanting to waste time arguing, I let her.
Cherie was on a love seat, still handcuffed and weeping quietly, with Dale’s arm around her shoulders. I could see part of the black tablecloth still swathed around her forearm. It looked wet.
Tony stood nearby, talking on his phone. He glanced up at me, then his eyes widened as he saw Kris. He turned away, still talking.
“God!” Kris said, staring at Cherie. “What happened?”
“She cut herself,” I said.
“Cherie!” Kris stepped toward her.
Cherie looked up, focused on Kris, and let out a wail of despair. A siren howled a harmony in the distance, from the west.
“That’s the ambulance,” I said. “Kris, could you let them in?”
I gestured toward the front door. To my great relief, Kris obeyed, stepping past Tony, who glanced over his shoulder at her. Cherie subsided into muffled sobs.
The ambulance crew soon had Cherie bandaged and strapped to a gurney. Dale stood watching with an expression of pity as they rolled her down the hall toward the door.
“Gabriel,” Cherie moaned. “Gabriel.”
The EMTs took her to the waiting ambulance. Kris watched from the doorway. I turned, looking for Tony, but he had disappeared somewhere. Dale stood by the love seat, his sweater smeared with blood.
“Thank you for your quick thinking,” I said to him.
“I shouldn’t have let her come. I didn’t think she’d...well.”
“None of us guessed her intentions.”
He sighed. “I don’t know if anyone’s said this to you, but I’m sorry our party turned into this—” He gestured helplessly toward the wreckage.
“It’s hardly your fault,” I said.
A sad smile curved his mouth briefly. “I’d better follow them to the hospital. Mind if I come back later for the fountain?”
“Not at all. Would you like to clean up in the restroom?”
Dale looked at his hands, smeared with Cherie’s blood. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Cold water on bloodstains,” I called after him.
The ambulance pulled away. Kris closed the front door and turned to me.
“How did she get cut?”
I took a careful breath. “She broke a goblet.�
��
Kris frowned, then her eyes widened. “Deliberately?”
“I think so.”
“She tried to commit suicide? In the tearoom?”
“In Rose.”
“God dammit, Cherie!” she yelled, slapping a hand against the wall.
She stormed into the main parlor. I followed, catching her arm as she reached the arch into Rose. “Don’t go in! There’s glass all over the floor.”
She stood staring in at the mess. I could feel her trembling with rage.
“Damn you, Cherie!” she said. “You selfish bitch!”
“Come upstairs,” I said softly. “Please.”
Kris turned to me, scowling and breathing hard. My heart skipped as I wondered whether she’d loose her fury on me. I gave her arm a gentle squeeze.
“Please, Kris.”
Her eyes narrowed, then her breathing slowed. Uttering a contemptuous curse, she strode back to the hall and up the stairs. I hurried after, following her into her office where she threw herself into her chair and commenced gnawing on a violet thumbnail.
“I’m going to make some tea,” I said from the doorway. “Be right back.”
She shot me a malevolent glance, then looked at her computer screen, ignoring me. I slipped away downstairs to put a kettle on and look for Tony. I found him in the dining room, an empty evidence bag in one hand, frowning at the broken goblet Cherie had used to cut herself.
“Do you want a box for that?” I offered.
He looked at me. “Yeah. Thanks.”
I fetched him a sturdy box from the gift shop, and some tissue for good measure, and watched him carefully pack the goblet. “Does this move Cherie to the top of your list?” I asked quietly.
“Hell, yeah. She proved she’s unstable enough.”
“I....” I bit my lip.
Tony finished scribbling on the box and put away his black marker, then looked at me. “Don’t tell me. You don’t think she killed Gabriel.”
I shrugged. “It’s just a feeling.”
“Looks like a pretty good case to me. That whole thing with the necklace.”
I shook my head, unable to articulate my misgivings. Yes, Cherie was hurt by Gabriel’s returning the ankh. Yes, she aimed a couple of snide comments at him during the party. I just didn’t see that adding up to murder.
The front doorbell rang, followed by a brisk knock. I stifled a groan.
A Masquerade of Muertos (Wisteria Tearoom Mysteries Book 5) Page 23