"What are you doing here?" I asked, hopping out of the car.
"Sweet ride. New?"
"Maria's."
"That explains it."
I took the porch steps two at a time. "Tam didn't kill Leo Barker, did she?"
I didn't really think she had. Okay, so I was a little worried. All right, I was a lot worried.
"Not yet."
I noticed he wasn't smiling. Kit was almost always smiling. "What's wrong?"
"This." He pulled a small animal carrier out from under the swing. I hadn't even seen it there behind his tree trunk legs.
"What's that?"
"That's Gracie," he said.
I swallowed, not liking his dark tone. "Who's Gracie?"
His thick eyebrows rose. "Your new dog."
"What?!"
He mimicked my voice. " 'Get a small dog, something cute. Girls don't like big slobbery dogs.' " He narrowed his lined eyes at me. "I should have told you that Daisy isn't like most girls."
I took a step back. "Uh, she didn't like the dog?"
A dark eyebrow slashed upward. "You think?"
"Um. Well. Why don't you take it back, get a refund?"
"No takesies-back where I got this dog," he said in a way that made "takesies" sound menacing and not cute. Gulp. I didn't even want to know.
"There's got to be a shelter that'll take him?" I asked meekly.
"Her. It's a her. And Daisy won't hear of it. Wants her to go to a good home."
I shifted my backpack. "Your home is a good home."
He rose. "The dog's certifiable. She needs to be with someone equally crazy." He shoved the carrier at me. Reluctantly, I took it.
He went down the steps. "Have a nice day," he called out without looking back.
I watched him drive away. Peering into the carrier, I wondered how bad it could be. Something so small should be cute and cuddly, right?
I unlocked the front door and set my backpack and the carrier on the floor.
It took me a full minute to get the cage door open and another five to coax Gracie out, her yipping and growling the whole time.
Gracie was a Chihuahua. All black, with white fur on her feet that looked like little bobby socks. She was adorable, with big black ears, a pointy nose, and huge dark eyes.
She shook in my arms. I set her down. "Well, Gracie, looks like you'll be staying here for a while."
This wasn't going to be so bad. I don't know what Kit was talking about. She was a sweet little thing.
She looked up at me, tucked her tail between her legs and peed on my carpet.
An hour later I was trying my best to persuade Gracie to come out from under the couch.
Every time I actually got her out, another puddle appeared, and she'd zip back under.
I wondered about her bladder size and realized that maybe Kit hadn't been exaggerating crazy.
I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just leave her under there. Not to mention that the rug needed to be cleaned. But she just wouldn't come out—and stay out.
I nudged the couch with my foot. It slid an inch backward and Gracie came darting out, ears back, tail tucked, and ran into the wall behind me.
She bounced back, turned, and zipped past me. She bumped into the coffee table leg, yipped, and dove back under the couch. Ohhhkay. I'd leave her be for now.
I grabbed my backpack, pulled out Nate's package, set it on the table.
Guilt tugged at my conscience. He'd told me not to open it. But that was before Claire was found dead. All bets were now off.
Taking a deep breath, I ripped the top off the package Band-Aid-style, quick and fast.
I squeezed the envelope so it billowed out and peeked inside. I saw several folds of cream-colored paper protecting a smaller wrapped bundle.
Swallowing hard, I put the envelope on the table.
Did I really want to be doing this? Hadn't I learned my lesson about snooping into other people's lives?
My inner voice nagged that this wasn't people. This was Nate, and consequentially, Maria. My baby sister. Usually, I didn't listen to that voice. I likened it to the angel and devil that sat on cartoon characters' shoulders . . . Over the years I recognized that my inner voice tended to run more hot than halo—which meant that I probably shouldn't be doing what I was about to do.
I reached in and grabbed hold of the paper. Slowly, I slid it out, and dropped the whole thing on the floor when someone thumped on my door.
My heart lodged in my throat, beat there wildly while I gathered up the envelope, the papers, and shoved them back into my backpack.
"Neee-nah!"
Maria. "Oh crap," I muttered under my breath. "I'm coming!"
Gracie shot out from under the couch, started running in circles, yipping and yapping.
A cab was pulling away from the curb as I pulled open the door. Maria was on the porch, a Louis Vuitton garment bag draped over her arm. Her huge rolling suitcase at her feet. Her gaze narrowed on Gracie.
"Eeee!" she squealed. She pulled me in front of her as a shield. "Is that a rat?" she asked.
I ducked out of her grasp and quickly closed the door before Gracie darted outside in a manic haze. "Yeah. Rats bark."
Maria's lashes fluttered. "Are you mocking?"
I ignored her. Squatting, I said, "Come here, Gracie."
More yips and yaps. I scooted closer to where she was still running in circles. She tucked her tail between her legs and peed on the floor.
Maria stepped back. "Ewww!"
I closed my eyes. I was going to kill Kit. Turning, I looked at Maria. "What are you doing here?"
"What do you mean?"
"You. Here. Why?" Any patience I'd had seeped into the rug with psycho Chihuahua pee.
"I'm moving in, of course."
Of course. How silly of me. "Why?"
"I can't possibly stay at either of my places. Everything's tainted. By the stalker at my condo, and then with Claire's body being in my backyard . . ." She set her garment bag on the chair.
Gracie dove back under the couch. I heard a thud and hoped she hadn't knocked herself out.
I sat on the floor, crossed my legs and looked up, wondering when lightning was going to strike me, because apparently I'd done something so horrible that I was being punished.
"I mean, really," Maria said, kicking off her shoes. After looking at Gracie's puddle, she put them back on. "Claire's body couldn't have been dumped somewhere else? It had to be my yard?"
I really didn't think it was a coincidence Claire's body was found in Maria's yard. Was someone trying to frame Maria or Nate? Or was it left there as a message of some sort?
I felt a sisterly duty to warn Maria about living here. Maybe then she'd leave. "You do know a teenage boy lives here, right?"
"I love Riley."
"He has a snake."
Maria shuddered. "I'm not planning to play with it."
"And it looks like I have a new dog. You don't like dogs, remember? Maybe you should stay at Mom and Dad's." She arched pale eyebrows. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" Yes. "No, not at all."
"Kevin thinks Nate might have done it. Killed Claire, I mean," Maria said, changing the subject. Looked like I had a houseguest.
Gracie poked her pointy nose out, sniffed Maria's leg. "Are you sure that's really a dog?"
"Yes."
"Is it really yours?"
"No. Yes. Maybe."
She arched an eyebrow at that. Gracie ventured out and sniffed Maria's leg. Miraculously, Maria didn't seem to mind. Apparently she'd forgotten she had dog issues. "Nate would never leave a body in his own backyard," she said as if we hadn't been sidetracked by a five-pound dog with bladder problems. "He's not that stupid." In the blink of an eye Gracie lunged forward and bit Maria's ankle. "Ow!" She pulled her leg up on the couch. Gracie darted back under the couch. "She bit me," Maria whined.
"She's little—it couldn't have hurt that much. Maybe that's the way she kisses. It was a love bite."
&nb
sp; Maria narrowed her eyes. "Has she had her shots?" I shrugged.
"Nee-nah!"
"Don't panic. I'll ask Kit when I see him."
"Kit?" She smiled dreamily.
Rolling my eyes, I got to my feet. "Could we get back to Nate?"
She rubbed the spot Gracie had bitten. "He's not dumb, Nina. I know professional athletes have that kind of reputation, but he's not. He's got a master's in business, for goodness' sake. I think he could figure out not to dump a body in his own yard."
"Unless he knows people will think that he's too smart to do something like that, then when he does do it, he doesn't look guilty."
Maria rubbed her temples. "You're giving me a headache. Nate didn't kill Claire. He wouldn't."
I tended to agree, but it begged the question, Where was Nate? And why was Claire's body dumped in his and Maria's backyard? And what was in that package? It had to be what Claire was looking for at Maria's condo. My gaze dropped to my backpack, at the papers I'd shoved in there.
Gracie ventured out from under the couch. She hopped up next to Maria, stared at her with big black eyes. "You bit me," Maria accused.
Gracie tipped her head, her big ears trembling. "Don't do it again."
I watched in amazement as Gracie climbed onto Maria's lap, turned three circles, and plopped down.
Maria looked up at me. "What do I do now?"
I grabbed my backpack. "Dog-sit?"
"What? Where are you going?"
"I need to go out for a while. Riley should be home around eight."
I hedged toward the door. Maria looked like she wanted to chase after me but didn't want to disturb the dog on her lap. I didn't blame her. I'd seen what Gracie had done to Berber. I can only imagine what she'd do to Donna Karan.
Thirteen
Twenty minutes later I was nestled on Ana's overstuffed sofa, clinging to my backpack.
Ana was still laughing about Gracie. "And you left her with Maria?"
"They seem to get along."
"You're not worried she'll make the dog into a purse or something?"
I probably should have thought of that. I bit my lip.
"What's wrong?" she asked me. "I can tell you have more on your mind than a crazy dog and a crazier sister." Fresh vacuum marks lined the rug. I needed to confide in someone, to get a fresh opinion.
"Claire Battiste is dead." Ana's cocoa-colored eyes widened as I told her about finding Nate's boss.
"Was Claire all bloated, like in the movies?"
I sighed. Maybe coming here wasn't a good idea.
"And," I continued, ignoring her, "I got a call from Nate this morning."
Ana leaned so far forward I thought she was going to topple right out of her lounge chair. "Oh my God! You did?" I told her about the call, and how I didn't know for sure if it was him. Then I told her about the package and how I thought that Claire was the one who broke into Maria's place, probably looking for it.
"Well, what's in it?"
"I don't know."
"Do you have it? You brought it, didn't you? 'Cuz you can't leave me hanging like this!" I pulled it out of my backpack.
Ana stared at it, shivered. "Aren't you going to open it?"
"I don't know! Nate had the package and he's missing. Claire wanted it and now she's dead! I don't know what to do. Should I call Kevin? Tell Maria? Close up the package and pretend I never got it?"
"Don't talk crazy! You need to open it. It's your sisterly duty to know what's in there."
More like she wanted to know what was in there. Still, I couldn't really argue with her reasoning. I'd had similar thoughts when I opened the package in the first place. "Go ahead," Ana urged.
I unfolded the packet of cream-colored paper first. Opening it, I stared at a list of names.
"Well?" Ana scrambled out of her chair and sank down next to me. My cushion dipped.
"It's a list."
"Of what?"
I skimmed the three pages. Names. A ton of names. At least five hundred. At first glance the names didn't mean much, but then I saw the names of the mayor, local celebrities, the governor of Kentucky, Cincinnati city council members.
Next to the names were a series of columns labeled in a shorthand I didn't understand. Most names had several checks next to them. A guest list, I realized. The gala guest list—the one Verona and Colin Frye had been looking for? Attached to the paper was an invitation to the event. On fancy vellum paper, it read:
Phineus Cancer Foundation Annual Gala
June 30th
The Kalypso
Black tie
Tickets $5000.00
"Five thousand dollars?" Ana gasped. "A plate?"
"I'm not sure."
"If it were, that would be ten thousand a couple."
I looked at her. "I can add."
She stared back. "Who has that kind of money?"
I flipped back through the pages. "Lots of people, obviously."
"There are five hundred names on the list. At five thousand a plate? How much is that?"
Okay, maybe I couldn't add all that well. I shrugged.
Ana scurried off and came back with a calculator.
"That's two point five million!" She gasped. "Five million if everyone brings a date."
"It is a charity event."
Ana blinked and shook her head, her sleek sable ponytail swaying. "Wow."
I couldn't imagine what this all had to do with Nate's disappearance, but it was obvious that Nate had thought it important for some reason.
Ana picked up the envelope and dumped the small bundle inside it onto the table.
I reached for it, resigned. Any voice that might have warned me to stop, that I was in over my head, was drowned out by my inner voice chanting, Do it, do it, do it. Pulling on the flap, I automatically cringed, preparing myself for what might be inside.
Nate hadn't wanted me to open the package, had sounded terrified. Why? Not over a guest list, certainly.
I blew out a deep breath as Ana leaned in. I emptied the packet onto my lap.
Polaroids. At least ten of them.
On top of the stack was a picture of a man from chest up, sitting in a chair. Late twenties, early thirties. Dark brown hair, five o'clock shadow, and a grim set to his jaw. The chair was Windsor style, with thin spindles and a bowed back. Behind him was a set of built-in bookshelves that were too far away to make out any details. "Who's that?" Ana asked.
"Don't know."
"Do you think Nate has a boyfriend?" she asked.
I turned to look at her, blinked.
"What? It's possible."
It was possible. Anything was possible.
"Come on," Ana urged, grabbing the stack of pictures off my lap. She flipped to the next one, her breath catching.
"What? What?" I leaned in, felt my breath catch too. "That's Claire Battiste."
"You recognize her even though you only saw her when she was all bloated?"
"I saw her at Maria and Nate's engagement party."
"Oh. So she wasn't all bloated?"
"Ana!"
"Fine. Fine. That's a Smith & Wesson pistol in her hand. Nine millimeter, black polymer grip, three—no, four—inch barrel."
I gaped. "How do you know that?"
"It's a gift."
The picture showed Claire holding the gun by her side. Her eyes seemed empty as she looked into the camera. No fear, no excitement. Just a dead calm.
I noticed too that the man's hands were pulled behind him, probably tied.
I swallowed. My pulse had kicked up a notch and perspiration dampened my palms. What had Nate gotten himself into? At this point, I almost wished he had a gay lover. Ana flipped to the next picture. The gun was now pointed at the man's head.
Ana gasped. "Do you think these are real?"
"I'd say no, but a dead, bloated Claire Battiste was in Maria's backyard."
"So she was bloated!"
"Ana!"
"All right!"
Ana flipped
to the next shot. Claire had moved back and pointed the gun cop-style at the man's temple.
My stomach knotted, afraid of what the next picture would show.
Claire's eyes were shut, I noticed, when she fired. The man's head was a blur as he slumped sideways, still held in place by the ropes holding him to the chair.
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