“I’ve never seen such magnificent specimens—your diamonds, I mean,” I said, staring at her diamond covered chest.
She gave me the most peculiar look, thanked me in a haughty voice, and excused herself, disappearing into the crowd the way I wanted to disappear beneath the floorboards.
Tammy Hodges, Scarlett’s replacement at the TV station, swooped in just as the circle closed about me and took charge of the conversation. A wandering waiter replaced my empty champagne glass. After three, I began to relax and enjoy myself. Tammy seemed very pleased to talk about herself. However, as fascinating as she portrayed her life to be, I grew bored and drifted away to wander about the room—eavesdropping without drawing attention. Since I rarely traveled in these circles, I could casually lounge close by, and then move on when someone took note of my presence. An hour of milling around in my exquisite new heels had my feet begging for respite, and I looked for a quiet corner to sit down and slip them off.
A small alcove, sheltered by pony palms, presented the ideal place to rest. Unnoticed, I slipped behind the palms, sank down on the upholstered window seat, and pulled off my shoes, sighing as the throbbing subsided.
I was massaging my pinched toes when the sound of a man’s voice nearby caught my attention over the piano music, voices, and laughter. Not ready to return to the party, I stilled my movements, so I wouldn’t be discovered in my stocking feet. The speaker would move on in a minute or two, so I closed my eyes, picturing Bradford’s strong arms around me and my toes sinking into the cool wet sand on a moonlit Florida beach.
Someone lit a cigarette and my beach evaporated. I stifled the immediate urge to cough, wanting to stay hidden for a few minutes more.
“I assume you have the package, Blackstone? The boss is most anxious to put an end to this business.”
Blackstone! My heartbeat escalated at the thought that this could be the same man who threatened Daddy’s life all those years ago. The man speaking sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite put a face to the voice, so I leaned closer to the screen of green palms.
“Yes. Our PD informant slipped it into my pocket a moment ago,” was the rumbled reply.
“I’m sure he had an excuse for delaying delivery?”
“Circumstances. He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t press.”
“The boss will be very happy to have this in safe hands. He’s meeting me in the library during Junior’s speech.”
Could the “package” be the missing thumb-drive? I’d bet my next breath the answer was a resounding yes.
A few seconds elapsed before I cautiously peeked through the palm fronds. Several small groups of men dotted the room, but no one group lingered nearby. The two men had moved away. I slipped on my heels. Bradford needed to know about this latest information that would crack the case wide open.
I found him chatting with District Attorney Randy Fallon. Bradford, with an uncanny awareness of something amiss, managed to convey the need for discretion with one luscious sweep of those long, black eyelashes.
He caught my hands, drawing me into his arms. “I’d like you to meet Jolene Claiborne.”
Fallon smiled. “I’m glad to finally meet you. Sam was just telling me about your whirlwind romance.”
Before I could respond, dinner was announced, drawing our attention.
I’m starving,” Bradford said heartily. “Please excuse us.”
“Of course,” Fallon responded as Bradford took me by the elbow and escorted me toward the dining room.
“Saved by the bell,” I said when we were out of earshot.
He laughed. “Always keep them guessing, Jolene. Now what’s up?”
I checked for listening ears and then said in a low, composed voice, “I heard two men talking about the flash drive. One of the men was addressed as Blackstone. Could it be the same man? You know—the loan shark—the man that threatened to kill Daddy?”
Bradford eyeballed me. “What men? Are you positive they were discussing the missing evidence?”
“Pretty sure. Mr. Blackstone referred to a mole in the police department slipping it to him.”
“Do you think you could identify them?”
“I didn’t actually see them. I was sitting in the small alcove just off the main living room. You know, the one sheltered by the miniature forest? I couldn’t hear very well over the music and loud conversations in the background. They were talking real low, but one voice sounded very familiar, although I haven’t been able to put a face to the voice yet.”
“Anything else?”
“They’re going to meet in the library…I believe during, no after…sometime during the mayor’s speech, I think. God, I’m not sure what time. But the package is gonna change hands then.”
“Okay. The mayor is giving his speech later in the evening which gives us plenty of time to eat and do a little mingling. I have to work, so you keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. And whatever you do, don’t approach those men if you come across them. Alert me. Understood? Please stay out of trouble.”
“Are you calling me a troublemaker?”
Bradford leaned closer. “No, I’m calling you a trouble magnet. A very beautiful trouble magnet,” he amended when I scowled at him. “Promise me you’ll come get me before you do something stupid like shoot someone in the foot. Hey, wait a minute. You left your gun at home, right?”
“Of course I did.” The lie came off easily—and it wasn’t entirely a lie. It was Billie Jo’s derringer strapped to my thigh, not Mini Pearl.
Satisfied with my answer, Bradford led me over to the end of the buffet line. I excused myself to the powder room, promising to return shortly.
Finding the nearest bathroom occupied, I wandered around until I found a vacant one in the back of the house. I’d just finished re-strapping the derringer to my thigh when Scarlett’s ghostly image flashed in the mirror.
“Crap, Scarlett,” I gasped. “Can’t you find a gentler way of announcing your arrival?”
“Okay, here’s my warning—I’m joining you in the ladies’ room,” she said. “And you don’t have to worry about a thing. I brought back-up.”
I scanned the room. “What back-up?”
“Just take my word. Other heavenly beings are here.”
“You mean angels?”
“Yes. Big kick-ass ones with swords of light.”
My brows took a hike. “Really, Scarlett? Swords of light? That sounds Hollywood.”
“Hey, you look great!”
Her tactic to distract me worked. I switched my attention to the burgundy ball gown Vivian Leigh had worn in the birthday party scene which was horribly out of date and not really Scarlett’s style at all. What I wanted to say was she should’ve taken her heavenly hatchet to it and brought it up to date like all the others she’d worn, but I refrained, knowing she wouldn’t take my suggestion quietly.
“Back at you,” I said. “I take it you’re joining the party?”
“Was there ever any doubt?”
“I never know with you, Scarlett. But since you’re determined to tag along, keep a low profile. Bradford warned me to stay out of trouble, and I don’t need any extra help finding it.”
“The party will be over before you open the door, Jolene.”
I lingered for a moment, questioning her sincerity. Not seeing any guile in her candid expression, I unlocked the door and stepped into the hall, colliding with Detective Grant. The solid strength of his arms locked us together in a tight embrace. His eyes strayed from my face to my revealing neckline.
“Oh, excuse me.” I pushed my hands hard against his chest. He released me, and I staggered backward. He stared at me like a dog eyeing a T-bone steak. I grew uncomfortable and tried to walk around him, but he blocked my path.
“Ah, if it ain’t Bradford’s little woman.” His words were loaded with ridicule. “I figured it wouldn’t take him long to dip into your honey pot. Yes sirree, no time at all. I sure would like a taste of that honey.”
He smiled with tobacco-stained teeth. “Now that’s no way to speak to a police officer, Miz Claiborne.”
“This one’s going to hell,” Scarlett said. “It’s tattooed on his forehead.”
With growing agitation, I scrutinized the detective’s appearance. Appropriately attired in a black suit and tie, he looked presentable, yet the sharp smell of cigarettes and alcohol clung to him. Scarlett was right—evil radiated from him.
“Stay away from me.” I pushed past him, his suggestive laughter chasing me all the way down the hall. Only when I was again at Bradford’s side did I learn Grant had been hired as security. That left me feeling a little uneasy, so I shadowed Bradford.
Dinner turned out to be uneventful. Scarlett hovered close by as an invisible guest, only a shadow. Grant gave me a wide berth, but every few minutes, I would catch him staring. The guy gave me the creeps. Bradford noticed my nervousness and assured me he had warned the detective to keep his distance. After that, I found myself relaxing and enjoying the lively conversation.
Around nine, the gambling tables were opened and quickly filled. Bradford moved from table to table with a careful eye. I watched him work for a while but grew bored with the whole setup—not being a gambler myself. Thankfully, the hour passed quickly, and everyone was ushered into what appeared to be a spacious drawing room. Richard Payne introduced several important-looking men to the crowd. They each spoke of the political aspirations of the party, and Mayor Payne’s rightful place as leader, before launching into the real reason we were here—money.
Since I had no intention of donating to the cause, I tuned out their voices and watched in amusement as Scarlett worked the room. Her ghostly antics were wildly amusing as she pinched and poked her way among Whiskey Creek’s top families. Soon afterward, the mayor stepped up to the podium to fill the room with his deep, charismatic voice.
Bradford slipped through the crowd and made his way to the front, talking into a small microphone attached to his wrist. Grant mimicked Bradford’s movement at the opposite end of the room. With Grant occupied, I turned my attention to the impassioned words the mayor effectively spun from a brilliantly written speech which captivated the audience.
I glanced at my watch, and then back at Bradford working security. The flash drive would change hands soon. Knowing that he would be right behind me, I assumed it would be safe to slip away unnoticed. For assurance, I touched the slight budge at my thigh. The derringer gave me added confidence to move away from the crowd.
The library was located in another wing of the house away from the drawing room. Earlier I’d scouted it out after my trip to the ladies’ room so that I’d have no problem finding it later. A twinge of unease settled over me as I realized how far I’d distanced myself from the other guests. None of the sounds from the main part of the house penetrated this wing of the mansion. Complete silence. There wasn’t even the ticking of a clock to shatter the insulated feeling I had. Cautiously, I turned the knob, peering inside the softly lit room. Finding it unoccupied, I entered, closing the door behind me.
Scarlett materialized at my side. “Why are we here?”
I gazed around the warm, cozy room, splendidly decorated in vibrant autumn colors. A wall-to-ceiling bookcase dominated one side of the room. “To eavesdrop on your killers. Now help me find a good hiding place. They’ll be here any minute.”
“I take it you didn’t tell lover boy?”
A wide window seat caught my eye. “I told him. He’ll be here. Don’t worry.”
“He doesn’t know you’re here,” Scarlett stated.
“Well…I didn’t exactly promise not to.” I crossed the room to stand before the window seat. “I wonder if this opens.”
It didn’t, so I shifted my attention to the tall bookshelves lining the pine paneled walls.
“I’m going to hide in plain view,” Scarlett said.
Stopping my perusal of the bookshelves, I turned around to see her perched on the back of the leather sofa facing the fireplace, the red velvet of her gown draped against the mahogany brown leather.
“Get your Little Red Riding Hood butt down here and help me. The big bad wolves can see me, remember?”
“How about under that table over yonder?”
“Funny. I’d stand out like a sore thumb.”
“You stick out anyway in that dress.”
Of course, she was right. If I hadn’t been so vain and set on impressing Bradford, I would’ve dressed more modestly for this event. Just hearing her say out loud what was on my mind, and probably everyone else’s too, caused heat to flood my face.
“Suck it up, Jolene. I’d have done the same thing if I had a good-looking man panting after me.”
“He’s not panting after me,” I shot back. “We’re working together, remember?”
“So you say, but I’ve noticed the way you two look at one another.”
I paused in my search. “I don’t have the hots for him. Now, if you want to spend eternity in some place other than my beauty shop, you’d better help me find somewhere to hide.”
She floated toward a blue print chair. “What about here? You squeezed into that dress, so this should be a snap for you.”
“Thanks for pointing that out.”
The blue chair sat catty-corner to the wall, providing a small space behind it. The ruffled skirting around its edges would shelter a person from the rest of the room. I started toward it when I noticed the custom drapes lining French doors on the far wall. Dark brown and heavy, they offered better coverage than squeezing behind a chair, and they puddled on the floor, so even my heels would be hidden. Muffled voices sounded outside in the hall. Without hesitation I dashed to the drapes and disappeared behind them.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Mastermind
Silently uttering every prayer stored in my brain, I froze as approaching footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor. I held my breath as someone paused by the French doors then moved away.
“You have the package?”
“Mr. Blackstone delivered it as scheduled,” another voice said.
Hmm. Sounded very much like Robert Burns.
“As I promised, your involvement ends here tonight if that is your wish. With this in hand, we’re safe.”
“What about the money? Detective Grant won’t wait much longer for the second installment.”
Well, I’ll be. Richard Payne. He must be the mastermind. I hadn’t seen that coming. The revelation of Grant being the police department informant failed to surprise me, however—and it explained the Rolex watch. The creep!
“Then you’d better pay him off tonight,” Payne said in a dismissive voice. “We can’t afford any further screw-ups. Everything is falling into place. The Brotherhood is solidly behind Henry’s political future, and Scarlett’s report is now history.”
“I’ll have a meeting with Grant as soon as you give me the last installment.” Robert’s voice sounded rough with anxiety. “After that, I’m out. That pesky Claiborne woman has been snooping all over town.”
“Don’t tell me you’re feeling skittish?” Payne laughed. “Seeing ghosts?”
“Forget ghosts,” Burns said. “Let’s get finished with this business so I can rest easy.”
The tinkle of ice cubes falling into a glass broke the silence. “Would you like a brandy?” I heard a second glass being filled.
“Henry’s just what this country needs,” Robert said. “Glad to know the Brotherhood is backing him. He’s going to make a great governor someday.”
“Yes, my boy’s going places. I’ve big plans for him.” A glass was set down on a hard surface. “Too bad you want out. You could ride to the top with us. But you’ve served us well over the years. Are you sure I can’t talk you into staying?”
“Now�
��s not the time. I’m concerned about the Cantrell murder investigation.” He chuckled. “I’ve decided to take Cherry on a long vacation.”
“You’ve earned a rest,” Payne said. “Shame about Scarlett. The Brotherhood had hoped to recruit her into their ranks. She would’ve been an asset, but Henry couldn’t stay out of her bed. He ignored my warnings.”
“Well, her murder is the police’s problem, not ours,” Burns said. “I need to get that money to Grant.”
A drawer opened and the sound of a stack of bills being slapped onto a desk top filtered back to me. “Here’s the last of it, Burns. Now, let’s get back to the party.”
I waited a minute or two after the door closed before emerging from my hiding place.
“Oh God, I remember now.”
Scarlett’s voice startled me in the hushed stillness. I sank down into one of the overstuffed chairs, my knees shaking, and let out a long breath. I was back at square one. I’d been wrong in assuming that Scarlett had been murdered because of that investigative report. One by one, the names on my suspect list had been crossed off. Robert Burns had been the last.
Crap. What had I missed?
“Henry refused to leave his wife for me,” Scarlett was saying. “I loved him. I would’ve sacrificed my career for him. But he wanted me as his mistress, not his wife. Ironic. He did to me exactly what I did to Deena. God, I’m sorry for the pain I caused her and the others.”
I half-listened as my mind retraced every thought, every rumor, every note I’d written on this case. In my mind’s eye, I replayed the autopsy report, each interview, each piece of gossip, the pictures Deena had taken of the crime scene, and my lengthy conversations with Bradford. My conversation with Mrs. Eisenberg, and then later, Nancy, when she also mentioned Magnolia Manor. I also recalled the light, ocean breeze scent of the facial room—the same scent I’d smelled earlier on the mayor’s wife. The diamond brooch!
Suddenly, all the pieces of the puzzle fit together and I knew the killer’s identity. With a sudden burst of strength, I jumped to my feet and ran to the door. I had to get to Bradford. My hand was on the knob when the door opened, and Linda Payne shoved me back into the room.
Dixieland Dead Page 26