Belinda Blake and the Snake in the Grass

by Heather Day Gilbert

  I rushed over and started to reach for it, but serious misgivings stopped me. I turned and went to the bathroom, returning with a pair of cleaning gloves. Maybe I was being paranoid, but the image of Margo Fenton’s lifeless body lying in the flowerbed right outside my window flashed like a red warning light through my mind. While it was entirely possible this was a welcome note or some other legitimate form of correspondence, there was also the distinct possibility it wasn’t.

  The outside envelope was addressed to “Belinda” in a blocky print. I retrieved a knife to slit the top, then pulled out the crinkly paper that was shoved inside. This was no welcome note. It read:

  If you’re smart, you’ll let Margo Fenton rest in peace.

  My hand trembled as I slid the paper back into the envelope. It wasn’t an out-and-out threat, but there was some implied malice accompanying those cryptic words and that carefully disguised block print.

  I hesitated. Should I tell Stone, or should I call the cops? Val had asked me to let him know if anything else turned up, but that was before Stone and I became confidants. I might as well tell Stone first, then we could hash out our next step. He would be by soon to pick me up for Frannie’s.

  * * * *

  I wasn’t sure what to wear for this afternoon’s meeting. Stone had said we’d be visiting Frannie at her parents’ home. I really needed to take fashion notes the next time I went into downtown Greenwich. When I’d last visited the Rag and Bone store on Main Street, native shoppers seemed to sport a plethora of crisp white Brooks Brothers shirts, expensive accessories, and straight, blonde hair.

  At least my hair could fit in—when I straightened it.

  I did happen to be wearing a white shirt, but it was a Star Wars T-shirt.

  My mom would tell me to embrace myself and to stop trying to be someone I wasn’t. That seemed as good a philosophy as any. So instead of changing my shirt, I left it on and upped the quirky ante by pulling on my Doc Martens.

  I could almost hear Mom’s approval in my head. “Why fit in when you can stand out?” she’d say.

  There was a brief knock on my door and I realized Stone and Red were waiting for me. I checked on Rasputin—his tail still drooped out of his flowerpot and he had barely moved. I shoved my bathroom gloves and note into my purse. I could explain on the way to Frannie’s.

  Stone greeted me at the door and gave me an appreciative glance. “Nice shirt,” he said. He seemed very relaxed and a little sloshed, to boot.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Stone opened my car door, waving me in with a flourish. He leaned in as I sat down. “So how was your Manhattan sleepover with the snake?” He smiled, showing two rows of beautifully aligned teeth.

  “Amusing...hey, you know what else was amusing? Giving said snake a bath. You ever tried that, Richie Rich?”

  Stone laughed—a deep, pleasant sound—and closed the door.

  Red gave a low chuckle from the front seat. I’d gone and done it again—blurted the first thought that popped into my head. I really needed to be a little more circumspect.

  Stone opened his door and slid in next to me. He grinned. “So, Belinda, why don’t you just say what you really think of me?”

  I gave an enigmatic smile, because if I did share my current train of thought, I’d have to say how tantalizing Stone smelled—like tobacco and leather.

  He slipped lower in his seat, letting his legs sprawl out. We sat in companionable silence.

  After a few minutes, Red veered off a road and I could see the sound come into view.

  “We’re almost there,” Stone straightened a bit in the seat. “Let me brief you on Frannie. Her full name is Frances Rutherford, but she never answers to that. Since she knows me, I’ll probably lead the conversation as much as possible, but if you want to ask something, go ahead. Just phrase it carefully, because she’s a little touchy about any insinuation that she’s not pulling her own weight—even though she’s not. She’s been living with her parents since high school and although she’s puttered around with sales jobs, she hasn’t stuck with anything more than two months.”

  A little like Dietrich, living off the parents. I glanced at the man next to me, whose clothing, bearing, and hair screamed luxe. Did Stone himself have a job?

  My musings were cut short when Red announced, “Here we are.” I hadn’t even had time to mention my mysterious note, but that would have to wait until our trip home.

  I looked up at a sprawling, Tudor-style mansion. It had at least four floors and numerous side gables. It backed right up to the sound, and as soon as I stepped out of the car, I could hear the water gently lapping at the shoreline.

  A tall, redheaded sylph in a fluttery dress pranced down the driveway like it was a catwalk. The oversized straw hat she wore dipped over her eyes, so I couldn’t make out much of her face.

  “Stone, darling. It’s simply been too long.” She extended a hand, as if he should kiss it.

  Instead of obliging, Stone took her hand and gave it an unimpassioned pat. “Frannie, I saw you on Monday.”

  She shrugged and turned her attention toward me, actually pushing her hat brim up a few inches in order to better scrutinize my appearance.

  “And this must be...Brunhilda?” she asked, with a totally straight face.

  I couldn’t stop myself. I snorted. “Actually, I’m Belinda,” I said. “Stone, what on earth did you tell her about me?” I gave his arm a playful squeeze, kicking off our dating farce.

  Frannie’s eyes slid over to Stone, then back to me. Her condescending manner transformed into an uninhibited, flaming jealousy that matched her vibrant hair.

  Frannie Rutherford was not someone to be trifled with, and here we were, trifling with her. I was ready to confess our ruse on the spot, but Stone had picked up the baton and he was charging along with it.

  “Belinda just moved here,” he said, making it sound like I’d swung into town and picked up my very own Greenwich manor house. “She’ll be a great addition to our billiards parties, don’t you think?”

  Frannie tried to hide her frown. “Of course, darling,” she said, her tone flippant, even as her eyes continued to size me up. She slipped an arm through Stone’s and turned him away from me. “Come. Let’s go have some piña coladas under the cabana.” She glanced over her shoulder at me as she power-strode up the drive, practically dragging Stone along with her. “Or are you more of a strawberry daiquiri girl?”

  “Virgin strawberry daiquiri for me, please.” I didn’t care how that made me look. Somebody had to stay sober at this beach party.

  Stone shot me a questioning look, but kept silent and let Frannie lead him away. I tagged along on their heels, hoping Stone didn’t choose anything too high-powered, since he still seemed a little tipsy from whatever he’d imbibed this morning.

  “Of course,” Frannie said. As we approached a huge beach cabana, Frannie barked out drink orders to a guy who was conveniently manning the outdoor bar. We settled into cushy lounge chairs and Frannie shoved her hat up a bit more. Then she burst into tears.

  “I hated to miss her funeral,” she wailed.

  Stone seemed mildly impressed by this outburst. I observed Frannie closely, trying to ascertain if those tears were real or manufactured. I decided they were fake, because her nose didn’t get the least bit red.

  She accepted her piña colada from the cabana guy and took a long drink. Thus fortified, she continued, her voice still slightly tremulous. “I had to go to my cousin’s wedding yesterday. Terrible timing, right? But I was a bridesmaid, and you know how that goes.” She shot me a commiserative look. “You buy the dress, the shoes, the bag, and the poor bride’s counting on you. I had to attend.” She was really pouring it on.

  “Of course,” I murmured. It was obvious to me that she’d concocted a relatively simple lie, one we probably couldn’t look into. But why lie? What w
as she hiding? It had to be something more than guilt over a final fight with Margo.

  She rested her manicured hand on Stone’s muscled forearm and seemed to slump into her own thoughts, staring out at a small yacht on the blue-gray water.

  Stone, too, had turned more reflective than usual, his eyes closed against the brilliant sunlight. I extended my foot and gave his leg a little nudge with the toe of my Doc Martens, a reminder that we’d come for more than just drinks and lies.

  His eyes shot open and he sat up straighter. “Frannie, it was obvious you and Margo had argued before billiards night. Do you think that’s why she left early?”

  Frannie wrapped her fingers more tightly around Stone’s arm. “Sure, we’d fought, but so what? We fought all the time. I didn’t run her off, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I wasn’t saying that,” he said. “I just wondered what would make her so upset.”

  Frannie stayed silent.

  Stone took her hand from his arm and held it. I could see her defenses melting. “Is there something you haven’t told the police? You know you can trust me, Fran.”

  Frannie leaned in toward Stone—so close, I thought she was going to kiss him. “We fought about a man,” she said.

  Chapter 9

  Adopting the same serious, dramatic tone as Frannie, Stone repeated, “You fought over a man?”

  Frannie demurely pulled her wrap tighter around her arms to fight the chilly breeze coming from the sound. “Margo had started dating someone, but she wouldn’t tell me who. All I knew was that he made her cry nearly every night. That was enough for me to hate him.”

  I had to give Frannie credit there. No one wants her best friend to date a total cad.

  She continued. “One time, I even saw some bruising on her wrists and arms, like someone had gripped her too hard. She wouldn’t tell me where they were from, but I knew it was him. Whoever he was.”

  Stone’s jaw clenched and I could tell the abuse had hit a nerve with him. “And she didn’t even hint at who he could be?”

  Once again, Frannie placed her hand on Stone’s arm, as if drawing strength from him. “The only thing I managed to figure out was that their relationship had to be kept a secret. I wasn’t sure why.”

  Stone pushed again. “Was it some kind of big shot in Greenwich, do you think?”

  Frannie sighed. “All her life, Margo refused to date below her station, you know? She loved her wealth and wasn’t about to give it up. So I assumed her mystery man was well off. But it is possible that she was heartbroken because she’d fallen for someone who wasn’t wealthy.” She shot me a challenging look. “In my experience, those mismatched relationships bring nothing but pain.”

  I returned her glare with a knowing smile. “Of course. When money’s your god, everything else is a poor substitute.”

  Frannie apparently had no idea how to respond to that, and she looked away, her mouth set in a surly line. Stone stared at the water, no longer focused on the conversation. I figured he was running down a mental list of men whose identity Margo would have wanted to protect.

  Frannie sucked down another piña colada, and before she could ask for a third, I set my own glass down. It seemed we’d reached the extent of Frannie’s insight—or at least what she was willing to share with us.

  I took another deep breath of the fresh, salty air, then stood. “Thanks for having us over, Frannie. I’m glad we’ve met.”

  All in all, it had been a worthwhile visit. Envious, petty, and flirtatious as Frannie was, she had obviously been deeply loyal to her friend. She’d made up a story about why she’d missed the funeral, but I suspected she really hadn’t attended because she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

  I grabbed Stone’s arm. “Let’s go, honey love.”

  Those words got his attention fast. He roused from his near-stupor and jumped to his feet. “I’ll let you know when we do another billiards party, Frannie.” He held up a slim palm when she started to protest. “We’ll all get together, in honor of Margo. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  Frannie teared up. “I’ll be there.”

  She didn’t stand as we walked away. When I turned back, fully expecting she’d be shooting daggers at my back with her eyes, I was surprised to see her looking thoughtfully at the sound.

  A shadow seemed to pass over me. What if Frannie had some crucial clue as to who the killer was, but she hadn’t pieced things together yet?

  That would make Frannie the next target.

  * * * *

  Back in the car, I told Stone my concerns about Frannie’s safety.

  He listened thoughtfully, but disagreed. “If she knew something, I’m sure she would’ve told me.”

  I shook my head. “But what if she doesn’t know what she knows yet?”

  “Then she’ll probably tell me first when she figures it out,” he said. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but Frannie has a little crush on me.”

  “I’m not blind,” I said.

  “She has for years now. But Frannie crushes on lots of guys, so I just try to ignore it.”

  “That’s mighty big of you.” I remembered the note in my purse. “There’s something else. Frannie might not be the only target.”

  Stone fell silent as I donned my yellow gloves and unfolded the letter. I held it up for him to read.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “It definitely has a bullying tone,” he said. “And whoever wrote it knows you’re poking around into Margo’s death. You need to give the note to the police.”

  He fell silent, not saying what we both knew—when I gave the note to the police, they’d probably tell me to stop looking into things.

  Tapping Red on the shoulder, Stone said, “Would you mind taking us to that seafood place in Stamford? I’ll treat us all.”

  Red happily obliged and turned at the next corner.

  “We’ll think better on full stomachs,” Stone said.

  That is exactly the kind of thing my mom would say. She’d probably approve of Stone Carrington the fifth. But what about my dad? Katrina?

  Why was I thinking along these lines?

  Frannie wasn’t the only girl who was crushing on Stone.

  * * * *

  After filling up on unbelievably fresh lobster, baked potatoes, and coleslaw, I was ready to collapse into a food coma. I was wiping the last of the butter from my mouth when Stone threw another idea on the table.

  “What if we walk this dinner off? I have the perfect place,” he said, shooting me a remarkably non-buttery smile.

  Red stood from his private table and walked over. “You ready?”

  Stone looked at me and waited for an answer.

  “Oh, sure. Okay. But I really should get home...and check on the snake,” I threw out lamely. My introvert tendencies often caused me to try to put a kibosh on events that involved anyone other than myself. It was a habit I was trying to break, especially when that other person was as friendly and gorgeous as Stone Carrington the fifth.

  Red barely hid his smile as he walked out of the restaurant. I knew I was quite the anomaly as far as Stone’s regular date “type” went. If I was even on a date.

  Outside, the air smelled of earthy fall leaves and the evening sky was bathed in shades of periwinkle and magenta. It was heady stuff, and I felt a bit off my game—whatever that was. I looked down at my Star Wars shirt and evaluated myself. Geeky gamer girl was my game. Exotic pet sitter who jumped from airplanes or zip lined in her free time, maybe planted a few tulip bulbs on the side.

  Red waited in the car as Stone opened my door. I slid in, more than a little self-conscious.

  We didn’t talk much as Red drove to a location Stone had whispered to him. As Red pulled into a familiar parking lot, I recognized a beach I’d visited the first time I’d looked at apartments in Greenwich.<
br />
  Red locked the car after Stone let me out, then strode over and sat on a nearby park bench. The way Red positioned himself, pitched forward like he was ready to run to our assistance, made me wonder if he was carrying a gun under that jacket. Red wasn’t Security as well as a chauffeur, was he?

  I made a mental note to ask Stone about that once we were out of earshot. Besides, it took all my concentration to avoid stepping into various piles of goose droppings on the grassy path to the beach.

  Stone’s face had taken on a half-blurry look in the falling dusk, like a glitchy game. When he spoke, it was in a subdued tone I hadn’t heard him use before. It was really quite captivating.

  “Belinda. I have to be honest with you.”

  “Please do.”

  He slowed his long stride, so I could keep up more easily. “Margo was a little more than a friend. At least for a while. We dated not long after she broke up with Dietrich. It was just a rebound relationship for her.”

  We’d reached the sandy shoreline. I considered taking my shoes off, but figured I might accidentally dig my toes into more goose droppings.

  “And what was it for you?” I asked quietly.

  “It could have been more,” he said, and truth charged his answer. “But something happened. She seemed to lose interest. I think she was looking for something other than what I could offer.”

  Which was pretty near everything, as far as I could tell. What else had Margo wanted?

  I turned to the velvet-blue sky, focusing on a burning-bright planet just above the water’s horizon. Venus? Jupiter?

  “Belinda?” Stone’s voice tugged at my drifting thoughts and pulled me back.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t totally clear about my interest in Margo from the start, but I figured you’d suspect me. Then you wouldn’t want to help me, and I really needed someone—an outsider—to look at my friends and see the things I couldn’t.”

  I sighed. “I doubt I’ve done much for you. Right now, I’m just as clueless as I was going into this, except I’ve managed to garner a hate note from someone who must think I’m on the right trail.”