Bouquet of Lies

by Smith, Roberta

  A song ended and another began. The crowd shifted and she caught sight of Lacey laughing with Indiana Jones. The moment they walked to the refreshment table she knew it was Jake.

  That swagger of his . . .

  He loaded a plate with goodies. Lacey went one way while he came toward Darla with the food.

  “Fifteen pounds, remember?” He handed her the plate and she felt herself quiver. He removed his mask. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

  “I could tell.”

  “Really?” He grinned.

  “Thanks.” She bit into a cracker covered with crab dip. “Where did Lacey go?”

  “Ah, she saw someone and went to say hi. That looks good.” He took a crabby cracker off her plate for himself.

  “Hey. You said fifteen pounds.” She smiled at him.

  “She jokes! That’s progress.” He finished the cracker and took a meatball. “This is quite the bash.”

  “Lacey does it up big.”

  “I’d expect nothing less from her. Who are all these people?”

  Darla shrugged. “Once she meets someone she considers them a friend.”

  “I guess so.”

  She scanned the crowd and caught sight of Lacey talking to some guy dressed as a cop. Darla still didn’t see her mother.

  “Expecting someone?” Jake asked.

  She glanced at him. “No. No one.”

  “Eat up. I think I’ll get me something.” She watched him thread through the dancers.

  “I’d know that blue dress anywhere.”

  Darla whipped to her right. There was Randy wearing a business suit. Butterflies swarmed her stomach and her chest. Her quiet corner of the room was getting a lot of traffic. Without thinking, she took a step to get away. He grabbed her hand.

  “Wait a minute. I’m here without costume, invitation or date. The least you could do is be my escort, now that the ruffian has left your side.”

  “Why do you think that? He’s not a ruffian.”

  Randy continued to hold onto her. “My apologies. Didn’t mean to insult a friend. So tell me. How did you turn out so normal and your sister so not?”

  Was he making fun of her? She pulled her hand away. “Lacey’s the normal one.”

  “I beg to differ.” He gave the room a once over. “What do you know? There she is talking to the same guy for more than two minutes. Oops, no. There she goes leaving the poor guy scratching his head.”

  The cop wasn’t scratching his head. He was smiling. You sound jealous, she thought. They must have dated more than a couple times. “Why aren’t you in costume?”

  Randy looked down. “Well. I’ll tell you. Your dad calls business meetings any time of the day or night and I have to be ready.”

  “Really? He expects you to always be dressed like that?”

  “I buy permanent press so I can sleep in the monkey suit.” Randy’s face was dead serious. Suddenly he laughed. “I’m kidding.”

  “Oh.” Darla laughed too, mostly from shame for being so gullible.

  “But I did just meet with him. Your dad. Lucky for me or I wouldn’t be here with you.” He took her hand.

  Darla felt her skin tingle. She sucked on her lower lip and turned from Randy’s gaze. There was Jake with his plate, looking at her. He raised it in a sort of salute and spun round the other way.

  The music faded and the lights settled into a steady dimness. A spot focused on Lacey who shimmied on stage. Several in the crowd howled.

  Lacey called out. “Now that I have your attention.”

  Darla watched Randy stare at her sister. His expression was intense to say the least. “Did she break your heart?”

  “What? No! No.”

  Lacey motioned at boxes and trunks on the stage. “It’s time for a few tricks. Are you ready?”

  The crowd’s affirmative response was soft. Lacey shimmied again and hoots and howls filled the room. “That’s better. So. Without any further fooling around, here is the Amazing . . .” She gave the crowd a wink and a sexy shoulder move. “And I do mean amazing . . . Alcazar!”

  The ballroom darkened and lights for the stage came up. A tuxedoed magician with dark hair and dark eyes stepped into view. He took Lacey by the arm and guided her into an open box, then closed it so that only her head and feet could be seen. Lacey made a face, pretending to be terrified, and wiggled her toes. The Amazing Alcazar held up sharp plates of metal. One by one he slid them into the box, cutting it and Lacey into three equal parts. He turned the box so everyone could see the front, the back, and the front again. Then he separated the three sections. Lacey grinned and the partygoers oohed and aahed.

  Randy leaned toward Darla. “It’s really not so amazing when you know the secret.”

  “Do you know the secret?”

  “No. But that’s true of anything.”

  The magician put the sections back together and removed the plates. Lacey hopped out of the box. The crowd cheered.

  She felt Randy’s lips at her ear. “I need the little boy’s room. Don’t go away.” He squeezed her hand before heading across the room.

  She looked down. What was going on? Randy could be the hero in any one of the books she read and he seemed to like her. Over Lacey? He was a little older . . . how old was he?

  But why was she thinking about him? She was supposed to be on the lookout for her mother.

  The Amazing Alcazar changed a rabbit into doves. He turned water into wine. He cut rope into three pieces and mended it back to one. He pulled Lacey forward and she beamed in the spotlight. He brought a tall box front and center and spun it around twice before Lacey stepped inside.

  Darla’s eyes drifted away from the magic act and her heart dropped. Standing a few feet inside the ballroom, staring directly at her, was a blonde. Her hair was platinum and she wore a 1930s sheath satin gown. Although the lights were dim, and she was some thirty feet away, the face was unmistakable.

  “Mother,” Darla whispered and she took a step forward.

  The blonde turned and disappeared through the arched doorway behind her. Darla’s heart thumped a million times a minute and for a moment she couldn’t move. Then she dropped the plate of food, making a mess on the floor, and rushed forward. Bumping a few guests here and there, she made her way across the room and out the doorway.

  Where was she? Where did she go? Through the door that led to the north wing of the house or . . .? She looked down the dark hallway that ran parallel to the ballroom. Her mother stared at her from the other end. She motioned for Darla to come and then disappeared around the corner.

  Calm down. Calm down! Her legs felt like lead, but at least they carried her. She turned the corner as her mother had and saw no one. This hall separated the ballroom from her father’s office. She moved forward and first glanced through the door to the ballroom. All the guests appeared enthralled with the magician act. Her mother wasn’t among them.

  She opened the door to her father’s office. Empty.

  Moving ahead she entered the foyer. She saw her mother slip inside the library and close the door.

  Darla crossed to the library. The library. The room in the house she hated most. She closed her eyes for a moment, and with a deep breath cautiously opened the door.

  The lights were out, but a crackling fire softly illuminated the room, casting eerie, dancing shadows on the wall. She saw no one.

  “Mother?” Darla took a step. “Mom?”

  No answer.

  She moved to the couch that paralleled the fireplace and saw her father lying on the carpet. He was on his back, eyes open, blood oozing from his head. A poker lay beside him.

  Darla let loose with a scream. She backed away and bumped into someone. Turning slowly, she came face to face with the blonde. She screamed again and the room began to spin until she saw nothing at all.

  Eleven

  IT HAD BEEN two hours since the body . . .

  The body . . . Harper. Her father. Daddy. He’s a body now.

  The wa
terworks began again. Lacey had no idea she had that many tears stored in her head. Her father was dead. Daddy was no more. How could that be?

  Seated at the dining room table, she leaned over, put elbows to knees, and buried her face in her hands. Most of the party guests had been dismissed. Darla was asleep in her room. The family’s physician had come and given her a sedative. The rest of the people the detective still wanted to talk to were sitting or standing in the dining room now. Like in the movies. Only instead of the end where the killer was about to be revealed, the questions were just getting started.

  The library was a crime scene now. Off limits with yellow tape across the door. Murder? Who would want to murder Daddy?

  She felt a hand on her shoulder. Someone spoke to her.

  “What? What?” she asked.

  “Do you need a sedative, too?”

  She looked up. Dan stood behind her. His words showed concern, but not the expression on his face. Cop face. Grim. A mask. Why was he still here? Surely he was no suspect. He had never even met Harper.

  Must be because he was a cop and had taken charge once the . . . once her father had been found. Yeah, that’s right. Dan had flashed his badge, shooed everyone out of the library and told all the guests not to leave.

  Lacey shook her head.

  “You sure?” Dan asked.

  “It’s all an act,” Edward’s voice snarled. “She never cared about my son.”

  His words whirled inside her skull and banged against her forehead. She ached and had no energy to fight with Edward.

  “Is that true?” The detective in charge addressed her. He was big. Fiftyish. Maybe sixty. If her face didn’t give him the answer, then he must think her worthy of an Academy Award. Every time she wiped her tears, mascara came with it. She had to look like a raccoon.

  “Think what you want. But don’t think anything Edward says is true.”

  Dan’s hands pressed her shoulders, steadying her.

  “Oh, she didn’t kill him,” Edward snapped. “Talk to that grease monkey who threatened me. Threatened Harper, now that I think about it.”

  The detective turned to Edward. “What grease monkey?”

  “The mouthy one who brought the car back. The Bentley.”

  “He must mean Jake.” Lacey wiped another tear with a tissue. “He’s our chauffeur’s son. He’s just here for the summer.”

  “That’s the chauffer’s kid?” Edward jerked his head.

  “He’s not a kid anymore, Ed. Try to keep up.” If she had any oomph she would have laughed at the perplexed frown on his face.

  “Was he at the party?” the detective asked.

  “Yes. But he didn’t kill Daddy.” She faced Edward and put as much energy into a glare as she could. “If he were to kill anyone it would be you.” Dan’s fingers squeezed her shoulder. Wrong thing to say. “Scratch that.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Jake Koldare. He lives over the garage. But I’m telling you. He had no problem with my dad.”

  “We’ll talk to him.” The detective wrote down the name.

  Fine. Talk to him. Waste time, she thought. “Look. Before they took her upstairs, Darla told me she saw a woman in the room.”

  “Aaaugh!” Edward banged the tip of his cane on the floor. “She’s crazy. You know that.”

  “She’s not crazy!” An adrenaline rush boosted Lacey’s resolve. That’s better, she thought. “Darla said a blonde led her to the library.”

  “A blonde or her mother?” Randy’s voice. He sat away from the table obscured from her view. He’d been asked to stay? Of course. He was possibly the last to see Harper alive. They’d had a meeting. They had moved from the office to the library because the party was too loud.

  “What do you mean?” asked the detective.

  “I heard Darla scream. I was the first to get to her.”

  “How is it you got to her first?” The detective studied him.

  “I was chatting with Darla at the party. I left her to go to the restroom. When I came back she was gone and I decided to go home. It’s just fortunate I was walking through the foyer or I wouldn’t have heard her scream. The point is she was mumbling, ‘Mother. Mother. Mother was here.’”

  “And this makes her crazy? Why?” The detective swiveled his head from Edward to Lacey.

  “Mother’s dead,” Lacey said flatly. “Dead. Dead. Dead. Like Daddy.” The tears flowed again.

  “What do you think happened?” Dan asked Lacey, seated across from her at the kitchen table.

  She still wore that sexy costume, a blanket wrapped around her for warmth. Her chair was pushed back and a scrawny cat purred on her lap. He glanced at the feline. All was right with the world as far as the cat was concerned. Milk in the tummy. A hand stroking its back. No attachment to a lost parent.

  At four in the morning everyone else had either gone home or gone to bed. He knew what it was to lose someone important in your life. He knew about death. Some people might want to be alone, but not Lacey. He knew that much about her.

  “I think this is a dream,” Lacey said. “I’ll wake up and nothing will have happened.” She took a sip of the tea she’d laced with cherry brandy. He didn’t try to take it away from her. Alcohol was okay right now. Whatever she needed to get through this.

  “And your sister? You say there’s no way she . . .”

  “Don’t even go there. She’s not strong enough or mean enough or . . . She’s defenseless. And she truly believes Mother is alive.”

  “You don’t?”

  Lacey shook her head rhythmically, slowly. The brandy had relaxed her. “She must have seen a party guest and made the leap. I don’t know what this is going to do to her. And Edward will try to use it against her. But she’s not going in the hospital this time. I won’t let it happen. I’m going to be here for her.”

  During the questioning in the dining room it had come out how unreliable anything Darla said was. It had come out that she’d been committed to a hospital for trying to commit suicide. Certainly he wanted Lacey’s sister to be okay, but it was Lacey he was worried about. Lacey, with her carefree spirit that now seemed lost. Lacey with her thick, gold-brown hair and flirtatious grin. Lacey with the body that curved in all the right places and obviously attracted all kinds of men. He’d observed them at the party. None were immune to her. And apparently, neither was he.

  “What about you? Who’s going to be here for you?”

  She looked at him with her viridian green eyes. They were swollen and pink.

  I’m here for you, he wanted to say. But he held his tongue.

  Lacey looked down at the cat. “Kitty will. And I’ll be back to my real self in no time.”

  That’s right. Be strong. Act like you can handle anything. He knew the drill. It was expected when you were a soldier. And when Sally died he’d put on the same act.

  He moved to the chair next to Lacey and sat. “I think this is your real self. All that happy-go-lucky stuff is a front.”

  She shook her head. “Why does it have to be one or the other? My father was just murdered.”

  He leaned back. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You loved him.”

  She took a sip of tea and sighed. “I didn’t even know him.”

  Her voice was thin. She was fighting tears again, he could tell. He wanted to take her in his arms and make everything all right, but he stayed put and simply said, “No?”

  She shrugged. “He was great when I was little. I thought of him as a king. I guess all little girls do. The princess syndrome or something. Then after Darla came along, everything changed.”

  She took another sip.

  Rely on me. Not that drink.

  She shifted in the chair and the cat jumped to the floor. The tabby found a corner and curled up.

  “Maybe you just felt rejected? Kids do that when there’s a new baby.”

  “No.” She stretched her legs and arched her back as she pulled her hair away from her face. The blanket fell t
o the floor. Her breasts pressed provocatively against the bodice of the magician’s assistant costume and he had to force himself to look elsewhere. “I was never jealous of Darla. It’s hot in here.”

  The drink was getting to her. He should go. She had her brandied tea. She could sleep now. She didn’t need him.

  She went on with her story. “Daddy ignored us both the same. At least I got three good years which is more than Darla got. Sweet, sweet toddlerhood. I remember only a few things. Little things. Like him reading to me. Slipping me into a sweater. And I remember baking cookies with him. Him. Baking cookies.” She smiled. “Imagine that. I burned my finger.” She held up her right index finger. “And he ran it under the faucet and told me I could eat all the cookies I wanted. I did, too.”

  Dan’s eyes went to her shoulder. Now he understood the cookie-sheet tattoo. He looked at her legs stretched before him. Then his gaze went to her breasts pressing to be released and lingered there. His insides felt like they’d caught fire. He stood up and scooted the chair under the table. “Sleep’s the best thing right now.” He clutched the back of the chair as if it were a lifeline and looked at her. “This is probably a good time to tell you. The detective on the case is my uncle. I called him instead of 911. He’s the best. I figured he could get himself assigned to the investigation.”

  She gazed back with a half-smile and nodded. “Okay.” She raised a limp hand for him to help her up. He took it and pulled. She stumbled toward him and he caught her. Had she done that on purpose? Maybe. Maybe not. It didn’t matter. Her body was against his and it felt good. His arms went around her. One hand moved to the small of her back. He pressed her to him and a thirst he hadn’t felt in a very long time urged him into action. He pressed his lips to hers and closed his eyes. Her arms went around him in a strong embrace. He tasted the cherry brandy she’d been drinking. He felt her heart beat as his heart raced.

  Stop! What are you doing?

  He pulled back. He shouldn’t have kissed her. That was wrong. She was vulnerable. She wasn’t his girl.

  Her eyes searched his.

  “I should go,” he said.

  “Why?” She looked bewildered.