by Libby Klein
“Why can’t she tell you what she’s walking you into? What if she’s sending you in to another crime scene? Or to contaminate evidence? Are you sure she isn’t guilty?”
“I’m not sure of anything except the trust is not going both ways.”
“I wouldn’t do another thing until she tells you everything. Is there anything else in the text?”
“All it says is ‘I’ll text you when I’m ready. Don’t tell Sawyer.’ Oops.”
“Why don’t tell me? What am I going to do?”
“I don’t know. Should I ask her?”
Sawyer’s eyes darted to the side. “No, don’t ask her. I’m sure she has her reasons.”
Okay. Weird. “Since when do we care about Amber’s reasons?”
I had more questions, but Joanne busted through the dining-room door carrying three teapots. “A little help out there, please. Tables two, seven, and eight want more tea. We need to start sending this lot off soon if we’re going to reset for three o’clock.”
Sawyer jumped into action and took a teapot. We all refilled for the various tables. I took the front section and started with the tower table. I had just poured when a bell tinkled from the library.
“You rang?”
“Look!” Victory hoisted a fluffy white Persian over her head. “Kittee come to feind me.”
I felt my eyes bug out, but all I could do was stare at Portia, who was licking strawberry jam off her whiskers.
Aunt Ginny pointed at Portia. “That. Plus, we need more lemon curd.”
I nodded dumbly. “Okay. Just so you know, I have to prep the three o’clock seating in fifteen minutes.”
Mrs. Dodson pressed her lips tight and gave me a slow nod. “We have the room until five.”
I lifted the laminated reservations list from the mantel and flipped it over. They were all listed for both seatings. Note to self: Aunt Ginny doesn’t do the reservations anymore. They would still show up wherever I was serving food, but at least they couldn’t sneak in under royal identities.
Mrs. Davis held up the sandwich plate. “Since you’re going back to the kitchen, could you also bring some more of the egg salad and cucumber sandwiches?”
Victory squealed, “Candee sayndweich!”
Mother Gibson nodded and her tiara bobbed back and forth. “And some more of those chicken salad in the hot cross buns. Mm-mmm!”
I took the empty tiers from the table to go refill everything—because they’d be asking for petits fours next—and was just about to leave the library when Figaro trotted in with something in his mouth.
I was trying to figure out what it was and whether or not I should be concerned, but he looked around until he spotted Portia in Victory’s arms. He trotted over to the table and dropped a stunned chipmunk at Victory’s feet. Figaro looked up adoringly into Portia’s green eyes, but Mrs. Davis screamed, “Mouse!”
That, in turn, shocked the bejeezus out of the chipmunk, who sprang to its feet and started zipping from room to room, looking for an escape. It ran across the foyer into the sitting room, and one of the Lotts jumped on top of her chair and screamed, “Mouse!” and started a cascade event of women flying from the house in terror.
Figaro was quite pleased with his declaration of love and waited to be fawned over, but Portia only returned a cold hiss.
I was trying to calm the hysteria when Dale Parker came around the corner and into the library, hopping over the zipping chipmunk. “Have you seen Portia? Oh, there you are, darling. Come to Daddy.” Dale took the white Persian in his arms and stroked her softly under the chin. “We won another blue ribbon today, didn’t we, baby? Come on, let’s get you a tuna treat.”
Figaro heard the word “treat” and flopped over with a thud, which caused Portia to hiss again.
Dale cradled his cat and marched up the stairs, oblivious to the mayhem Portia had been a party to.
I had to do some quick damage control with the mass exodus while trying to explain that it wasn’t a mouse but a cute little chipmunk, like in the cartoons. I picked Figaro up and looked into his bright-orange eyes. “Sorry, baby. I know you like her.”
Figaro patted a paw against my lips, shushing me.
“We might have to accept that sometimes, despite our best efforts, it just isn’t meant to be.”
CHAPTER 31
Figaro’s offering of love threw a damper on the one o’clock tea and the women evacuated like there was free money falling on the front lawn. On the plus side, that gave us plenty of time to prep for the three o’clock seating. That one was more chipmunk-friendly and chaos-free.
Joanne reset all the tables with clean linens, Sawyer washed all the dishes while I made fresh pots of tea and refilled the towers, and Aunt Ginny and the biddies used the intercom—since we had confiscated their bells—and demanded another bowl of cream for the scones.
Afternoon rolled into early evening, and Joanne declared that cleanup was my job and left with the biddies, while Sawyer said she had to run an errand but would be back in time to go to the Egg Hunt. The last few ladies were milling around, admiring the antique furniture, and Aunt Ginny’s royal duties were complete, so I asked her the question that had been on my mind all day. “What do you know about the Scarduzio family?”
Aunt Ginny’s eyes grew as big as my doorknob and she shushed me. She grabbed my arm and dragged me into the kitchen. “Be careful where you say that.”
“I’m in my own house. How much more careful does it get?”
“There are people here. The Scarduzios have ears everywhere.”
“You think ninety-two-year-old Mrs. Pawlowski is going to rat on me?”
Aunt Ginny pinched me. “I’m serious. Now where did you hear that name?”
“Ow! That’s Alex’s family. Gia’s wife’s maiden name is Scarduzio.”
The blood drained from Aunt Ginny’s face, and she more fell than sat on the kitchen bench. “Edith didn’t mention that as part of the background check. That’s not good.”
The nerves in my stomach were coming alive. “Why is that not good?”
“The Philly Scarduzios used to come down the shore every summer when I was a teenager to launder money in their Wildwood nightclub. You knew to keep your mouth shut, and whatever you did, you didn’t get involved with any of them.”
“Well, maybe she isn’t one of those Scarduzios. Maybe Alex comes from philanthropic Scarduzios full of nuns and generous billionaires.”
Aunt Ginny gave me a look that I usually gave to her when she voiced a half-baked scheme. “What happened?”
I sat across from her with my elbows on the table and folded my hands under my chin. “I think Gia might be working for the Mob.”
“Would that make a difference?”
I was really hoping for something more like “Don’t be ridiculous,” or “That’s your imagination.” “If he’s been working for the Mob this whole time, I don’t know him as well as I thought. And while I can forgive him for not being divorced, this would be one secret too many.”
Aunt Ginny nodded, then got lost in her thoughts.
Victory rounded the corner, still wearing her wedding dress and carrying her tote of cleaning supplies. “Bed are turns down, meints are ein peillows, and I caught keitty opening door with her fluffy paw.”
And here I was blaming Figaro. “I’ll ask Smitty to check the latch on the Monarch Suite.”
Victory dug around the refrigerator until she found the Fresca Aunt Ginny was hiding behind the beets. “Seister ladee bought manee things at Beauty Show. She has so manee box of face cream. Her room luuk leike store.”
Aunt Ginny narrowed her eyes. “Which lady?”
Victory looked at the ceiling. “Seister in purple room. She eis verry good teipper.”
Aunt Ginny sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. “Faelynn?”
I shook my head. “It’s none of our business.”
She fluttered her eyes. “What do we care that she went to the Expo? I’m sure she has a
perfectly normal skin-care routine for a woman her age.”
“Exactly. So what that she said she’s not into that sort of thing.”
Aunt Ginny shrugged. “It’s just a coincidence that someone was murdered at the very Expo she said she hadn’t been to?”
Victory took a swig of her Fresca. “What eis happening now?”
I shrugged. “I’m sure Faelynn’s harmless.”
Aunt Ginny and I jumped from the table and raced up the stairs to the Emperor Suite. Aunt Ginny reached around me and knocked on the door.
Victory had followed us and pulled out her key. “No one eis home.”
I pushed the door and it squealed as it slowly creaked open, and the three of us craned our necks to look around from the hall. “We’ve got to stop doing this.”
From the threshold we could see the many boxes and tubes and pots of skin-care products lined up on the dresser.
Victory pointed. “See. Eis a lot.”
I tried to see what the different items were without crossing into the room. “I don’t know. Is that a lot for a woman of her age?”
Aunt Ginny clicked her tongue. “Honey, you are her age. And that would be a lot even for Estée Lauder herself.”
I squinted to see the boxes closer. “Maybe she’s a distributor. What are the odds that everything would be from the Rubinesque line? See that logo? Those are all Dr. Rubin’s products.”
Victory kept looking in the room and back to us. “She have your jelleefeish one too.”
I took a hesitant step into the room. “Are you serious? Those samples were never given out. They were stolen the night before.”
Victory marched into the room to the dresser and held up the little black pot of Shayla Rose. “Eet right here next to Convention Hall teickets and map.”
Aunt Ginny blew out her breath. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“What?”
“We’re going to have to rename this room the Murderer Suite.”
CHAPTER 32
“Maybe she stole them when she knocked the doctor off.” Aunt Ginny craned her neck around the door.
“Have you lost your mind? Why would Faelynn murder Dr. Rubin? She doesn’t have a botched face-lift.”
Aunt Ginny pushed me aside to get a better look in the room. “Maybe he botched something you can’t see with her clothes on.”
“Well, I saw the crime scene. If it was a robbery, the thief left plenty behind.” My back pocket buzzed and we all jumped. I pulled it out to check the screen. It was a message from Amber.
I’m out front.
I typed back: Of what?
Your house. Come on!!!
I sighed. This was not the heads-up I had expected from I’ll text you when I’m ready. “I gotta go. Put that cream back where you found it. And don’t say anything to Rita and Faelynn about this. And make sure you keep track of the time I’m leaving. I may need an alibi later.”
I ran down the stairs and grabbed my purse from the front desk. Figaro was in the sitting-room window with his paws on the glass. Once outside I discovered the chipmunk parading back and forth on the front porch, flaunting its freedom. Smitty was performing patch surgery on Rabbitzilla and I paused to wave hello.
Wheet wheeeee! Amber leaned on the horn.
I gave her a what-is-your-rush look and she tapped her wrist.
I got to the little green rust bucket but hesitated. I didn’t want to be anyone’s patsy. “Where are we going?”
“Just get in!”
“No. I want to know who we’re talking to first.”
“A friend of mine in Woodbine. Now get in or we’ll be late.”
That was a terrible answer. The least she could have done was lie and say she was taking me for pizza. I’d get in the car for pizza. I climbed into Amber’s death trap and dug around in between the seats for my missing alibi card from Dr. Rubin.
“What are you doing?”
I pulled out a sticky Whatchamacallit candy wrapper and added it to the pile behind her seat next to the fire extinguisher. “I lost something important when my purse was dumped the other night.”
Amber blasted away from the curb and slammed me against the seat. “Yeah, sorry about that. That was Connor Simmons. He can be a real tool.”
“He’s the one who found the gun in the dumpster?” I dug between the seat and the center console and found a limp, strawberry Charleston Chew. Eww.
“The same. Hey, I’ve been looking for that.” She took the hot candy bar and ripped the wrapper to gnaw off a bite.
“So, what came of that?”
“The crime lab’s running tests on the shell casings found in the apartment to compare to the gun they pulled from the dumpster and my service weapon. Then they’ll run them through the national database and look for a match.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it? If you’re innocent, that should prove it.”
Amber stopped chewing and slowly turned to face me. Her eyes had turned cold. “What do you mean, if I’m innocent?”
“Whoa! Watch the road!” I’d gone back and forth with my trust in Amber. I used to be a good judge of character. My instincts said she was telling the truth. My instincts had also been making a fool out of me since I drove off the ferry in North Cape May last September, so they’d lost the privilege of being consulted. “I’m just saying you have nothing to worry about, right?”
Amber didn’t answer. She picked up a super Big Gulp from her cup holder and took a long drink.
“So . . . what’s it like being a cop in Cape May?”
“It’s fine.”
“Do you have a lot of friends on the force?”
“It’s not kindergarten, McAllister.”
“I know, but is there any reason another cop would be out to get you? Do you have any enemies on the force? Why would someone want to frame you, specifically?”
Amber stared straight ahead. “Who knows why people do what they do?”
“How about Kieran Dunne? Have you ever worked with him before?”
Amber checked her blind spot, then changed lanes. “He investigated my partner for evidence tampering a few years ago. He accused me of covering for him and interfering with the investigation.”
“Did you?”
Amber was silent.
So much for getting Amber’s side of the story. We drove in awkward silence for the rest of the trip. I was starting to worry that Amber was taking me out to the Pine Barrens and leaving me for dead when she pulled into a complex of government buildings. The parking lot was nearly empty, and one pole light after another flickered to life as we cruised past. When she stopped in front of the Cape May County Medical Examiner’s office, the muscles in my neck relaxed. “Why didn’t you just say we were coming to a legit source this time?”
Amber flung her door open. “Either you trust me, or you don’t, McAllister.”
She slammed her door in my face. I had to crank my window down, reach my arm out, and heave my door from the outside while she waited with her back to me by the entrance.
Amber said something to the security guard on duty and we were buzzed in. Inside we were met by the same woman who had taken Dr. Rubin’s body from the Expo. We stared at each other for a moment while I was trying to remember if I knew her name.
Amber cut through our momentary stare down, her words still biting with an edge. “Poppy McAllister, this is Kat Hinkle. Kat is one of the county coroners. Kat, this is Poppy. She’s . . . assisting me.”
What was in that pause?
An uncomfortable flicker flashed behind Kat’s eyes as she picked up on the tension between us. “Nice to meet you, Poppy. If you’ll both follow me, please.”
It was immediately obvious that the county government had not budgeted for color. Kat led me through the beige lobby, around a maze of beige walkways, past beige offices full of beige cubicles. I followed behind, silently listening to them chat.
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m hanging
in there. I still have one friend on the force who hasn’t turned their back on me.”
“You know I’m here for you. I’m just sorry we have to do it like this. With your record, I can’t believe that anyone would try to pin you with murder in the first. Who did you piss off?”
“When I find that out I’ll let you know.”
We reached the dead end of a well-lit hallway and stood at a door that said PRIVATE in black-and-white lettering on a beige plaque. Kat pulled out a ring of keys and unlocked the door. The interior looked like a scene from mad scientist theater. Everything was gray: the walls, the floors, the cabinets, the body on top of the stainless-steel table. All gray. I wished I had been nicer about the beige. The ceiling was high, and a giant exhaust fan hung in the center over the exam table. There was a nightmare set of tools on a tray next to the table—things that looked like they were designed in a Nazi medical facility. What was that? A razor? Screwdriver? Giant pliers? I looked down and wished I hadn’t. The scariest thing in the room was the drain in the middle of the floor. Oh God. My stomach turned over. The room was cold, but the air was stifling.
“McAllister! Don’t pass out in here. You’ll contaminate the evidence.”
I grabbed the counter by the sink and made the mistake of looking on the tray next to it. “What’s that?”
Kat was pulling on latex gloves and glanced over at the tray. “That’s a bone saw.”
White prickles of light filled my vision and my mouth went dry. Amber jerked me up by my shoulder. “Get ahold of yourself. Look in my eyes. Think of this as a set on a TV show, got it?”
I tried to focus on her, but she was wavy, like someone needed to adjust her picture.
“All of these are props, and that’s an actor getting paid to just lie there. Now just breathe normal in and out of your nose. That’s it.”
“It smells like ammonia and bad pickle juice.”
Kat pulled on a lab coat. “That’s the formalin. You get used to it.”
Amber got something off a shelf behind me. It was a surgical mask. Then she took a vial of lemon essential oil out of her front jeans pocket. “Rub this under your nose. Now put this on. Pretend you’re an extra on the set of Bones.”