“Right.” Kat slid into the space next to Natalie, and I plunked down across from Grace. “Do you think she would pick up where her husband left off?” I asked no one in particular.
“Maybe,” Natalie said with a scowl. “She likes money, that one. And everyone knows she’s the main reason Littleton wanted the rent increase. To keep her in designer clothes, cars, and jewels.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Ioan, crossing his arms over his chest. “Littleton was just plain mean, and he liked having people under his thumb. I wonder if Petra had anything to do with that decision at all. It would be just like Littleton to raise our rents just because he could.”
There were murmurs of assent from the others. I stole a quick glance at Natalie. From the expression on her face, it was evident she didn’t agree with the majority consensus. I remembered what Grace had told me—about her starting the rumor about Petra and her gym coach and also about her recommending Colin to Littleton—and I touched her arm. “Might I have a word with you in private?” I asked.
She looked surprised but nodded, and we slid out of the booth and moved off a bit to a nearby corner. I decided to get right to the point. “I heard that you were the person who recommended Littleton take on Colin Murphy as a partner in the gallery,” I said.
Her eyes widened, but her expression remained neutral. “I did,” she said. “I knew Colin from back in Boston, and he’s a very talented art appraiser. He’d been downsized and was looking for work. Why do you ask?”
I shrugged. “I was just surprised. When we last spoke, it certainly seemed as if you had no love for Littleton. I didn’t realize you were that close.”
“We’re not—at least not anymore. At one time, though, he wasn’t such a bad egg. He used to visit Boston quite a bit, and we struck up a sort of friendship there. When I decided to move here, I contacted him, and he gave me a good deal, initially, on my store.” Her lips thinned as she added, “Ever since he married her, though, he changed. He became more money-hungry than ever. I blame her for the change in his attitude.”
“Surely you can’t also blame her for the disagreements Littleton and Murphy were having over the gallery?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure what you mean. They were having more tiffs than usual lately, but they’re both strong-willed men with definite opinions. I’d have been surprised if they didn’t argue.”
I nodded. Natalie started to turn away when I remembered the note. “One last thing,” I said quickly. “Did you ever hear Littleton talk about someone named Kahn Lee?”
Her eyes darkened for a split second, then cleared. “Kahn Lee, you say?”
“Yes. I thought perhaps it might be an artist?”
She gave her head a brisk shake. “Never heard that name. If he’s an artist, I’ve never heard of him. We’d best get back,” she added, turning on her heel. I started to follow her but paused as a collective gasp of astonishment went up from the booth. I looked over my shoulder to see what had attracted their attention, and my jaw nearly dropped as I saw the source of their consternation—Petra Littleton. “Well, what do you know,” Natalie muttered. “Here’s the grieving widow now.”
Petra certainly didn’t look the part of a grieving widow—far from it. My first thought was that the photo in the paper hadn’t done her justice. Her dark hair was pulled back into an elegant French twist, and her makeup was flawlessly applied. Her dress, a brilliant cobalt-blue knit, shaped and molded every curve of her well-toned body. As she approached the counter, I noticed how extraordinarily tall she was, due no doubt in part to the killer stilettos she had on—pale blue, with a slim strap around the ankle, a peep-toe style that showed off her pedicure—toenails painted a pale shade of blue and dotted with little stars. I was positive I’d seen those same shoes in Vogue last month. They retailed for nine hundred dollars. Not too shabby.
She walked right up to our booth and stood—maybe posed would be a better word—for a few seconds before her crimson lips parted to reveal gleaming white teeth. “How fortuitous, catching the group of you together,” she said. “I was going to call a personal meeting with each of you, but since everyone’s conveniently here . . .” Her gaze swept over us, and I noted it rested for a moment longer than necessary on Grace. She cleared her throat and announced, “I’m sure rumors have been swirling. Let me say right now that my husband left the bulk of his fortune to me, including his rental properties. So, for the time being, I’m going to continue on as general manager of this complex, as well as his other holdings.”
Anxious glances were exchanged. No one spoke. We had no idea what to say.
“I know most of you, of course,” she went on. “I’ve eaten at Buck, Antonio, and Ioan’s establishments many times. I’ve ordered books from Natalie, and I am familiar with Ms. Topping’s hat shop.” I noted she made no mention of Devon. Then she turned her sharp gaze on Kat and me. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you two.”
Kat thrust out her hand. “I’m Katherine McCall. I’m the director of Friendly Paws Animal Shelter. This is my sister, Sydney.” She indicated me with a flick of her wrist. “She’s been helping the shelter with publicity.”
Petra pinned Kat with a sharp gaze. “Ah, so you are Katherine McCall. I understand you had a little run-in with my husband before his unfortunate demise.”
“It really wasn’t that bad,” Kat began, but Petra held up a bejeweled hand and waved it carelessly in the air.
“Oh, sweetie. Don’t fret. Half the town made idle threats at Bridge at one time or another. Hell, I did it all the time.” She shrugged as if it were no big deal and then turned to face everyone. “As I said, I’m going to be the general manager of this complex, but it’s only a temporary thing. I have no desire to do this permanently, and I have no desire to dabble in real estate as my late husband did.”
Ioan’s head shot up. “If you’ve no desire to dabble in real estate, does that mean you’re going to sell off the properties?”
Petra threw her head back and laughed, a low, throaty sound that would have been grating coming from anyone else—but from Petra, it sounded sexy. Her hand reached up to toy with the magnificent diamond solitaire pendant that dangled from the gold chain around her neck. “Goodness me, no. They provide quite a nice income. I have no plans to sell at all. I just can’t be bothered with the mundane day-to-day management of my late husband’s empire. I’ve already set the wheels in motion to locate a suitable business manager. Until then, though, I shall do my best.”
“Does your best include rent increases?” piped up Grace.
Petra eased one slender hip against the table. “Let me put your fears to rest right now. I’m aware my husband stirred up a hornet’s nest when he mentioned a possible rental increase to all of you. I’d just like to go on record as saying that as far as I’m concerned, there is no need for any increase on the shops, at least not at this time.”
Antonio leaned forward and said excitedly, “You mean that? You’re not going to raise our rents?”
“I repeat—there will be no increases at this time. Let me go one step further. If the issue should be revisited in the future, I can assure you any increase will be nowhere near 30 percent. That’s exceedingly steep. I don’t know what my husband was thinking. Then again, he was a greedy bas—person.” She turned on the full-wattage smile again. “I hope that sets all your minds at ease.”
Antonio leaned across Natalie and held out his hand to Petra. “It certainly puts mine at ease. Thank you so much, Mrs. Littleton.”
She clasped Antonio’s hand and bestowed a dazzling smile on him. “You are very welcome.”
Everyone started to slide out of their seats, and everyone save Natalie crowded around Petra, murmuring their thanks. Natalie made a beeline for the door while Kat and I stood awkwardly by and exchanged a glance that said more plainly than words: What about the shelter?
Apparently satisfied, the shopkeepers all started to file out of the diner. Kat looked at me, then squared h
er shoulders and marched right over to Petra. She touched her arm and said, “That’s wonderful that you aren’t planning to increase the shops’ rent but . . . does the same hold true for the shelter?”
Petra’s eyes widened, and then she slid into the booth, motioning as she did so for Kat and me to do the same. Once we were seated, Petra folded her hands on the table in front of her. “The shelter’s situation is a bit different from the others, I’m afraid,” she said slowly.
I felt my stomach plummet. I stole a glance at Kat out of the corner of my eye and saw her jaw was set, her lips compressed in a thin line. “How so?” she asked in a tight voice. “If you ask me, not raising the rent on the shelter should be number one on your list of priorities. We are one of the few no-kill shelters in this area, and we provide top-notch care for the animals in our charge. We work tirelessly to find them good homes, and . . .”
Petra held up her hand. “I’m aware of all that, Ms. McCall. Unlike my husband, I’ve always been a staunch supporter of animals. As a matter of fact, I’ve given anonymously to your shelter, as well as other animal rescue groups, on various occasions. This is purely a business matter. There is another prospective tenant who wants that location and who is willing to pay top dollar—heck, more than top dollar—to acquire it.”
Kat’s lips drooped. “Oh.”
She reached out and gave Kat’s hand a pat. “My financial advisor and I plan to meet with the mayor early next week, though, to discuss the situation. I know it’s not exactly what you want to hear, but . . . I’ll try my best to work with you, believe me. I’m not against the shelter. I’m hoping a deal satisfactory to all parties can be worked out. As a matter of fact, I always wanted to adopt a dog from there, but Bridge wouldn’t hear of it.”
“We specialize in cat rescues, but we also have some lovely dogs,” Kat responded. “A few are pedigree rescues. You should stop in. I guarantee you’ll find a puppy you’ll fall in love with. My staff and I will do our best to accommodate you.”
Petra looked slightly amused. “You guarantee it, eh? Well, Ms. McCall, I just may take you up on that. I certainly would love to have a dog, especially now that Bridge is gone. I’ve always been a sucker for unconditional love.” She brushed at her eyes and then turned her gaze on me. One long nail tapped at her chin before she pointed it right at me. “I’m sorry, it’s just that . . . you look so familiar. Are you certain we’ve never met before today?”
“Actually, we have. At your husband’s wake Monday night.”
She snapped her fingers in the air. “That’s where I saw you,” she murmured. “I remember now. You had a black pantsuit on. Tailored, very nice.” Her lips quirked. “I never forget an outfit—especially one as well made as that one.”
I paused, part of me flattered that such a fashion plate as herself would notice my simple outfit. Then again, it was one of my more pricey articles of clothing—I’d splurged on a really great suit when I’d worked at Reid and Renshaw. The set also boasted a matching skirt and vest. “Thanks. I realize I should have come over and offered my condolences, but to tell the truth, I felt a bit . . . awkward.”
Her finely penciled brows drew together. “Awkward? Goodness, why?”
“Well, for one thing, my sister and I are the ones who found your husband’s body.”
Her eyes widened a bit. “You two are the ones who found him?”
“Yes. Didn’t the police tell you?”
“They said it had been found by some people who’d had an early morning appointment. No names were mentioned. I’d assumed . . .” She gave her head a little shake, leaned back in her chair. Rosie appeared, set a mug of steaming coffee in front of her, and quickly withdrew. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
I leaned forward. “Could you think of anyone who would have wanted your husband dead?”
She plucked the creamer from the table and poured some into her cup. Then she picked up a spoon and gave it a quick stir. “Honey, that list would take ages to recite. You either loved Bridge or you hated him. Unfortunately, most people were in the latter camp.”
“Including you?”
She paused, coffee cup halfway to her lips. “Bridge and I had a very . . . open marriage. Things were very rosy at first, as they usually are, but little by little, I could feel him drifting away from me. He found fault with my spending, with the company I kept, with my son—in short, with practically every aspect of my life.”
The words tumbled out before I gave them a second thought. “Is that why the two of you had affairs?”
Kat gasped, but Petra didn’t seem at all bothered. She leaned back in the booth and took another sip of coffee before she answered. “Most folks around here have me pegged as a real shrew,” she said, “but nothing could be further from the truth. I was a loyal and faithful wife to Bridge. As for his infidelities, well . . . they didn’t please me, but sometimes that’s just the way a man is made up. One thing I’ll say—he always came home to me. Then again, the way our premarital agreement was worded, he pretty much had to.” A small sigh escaped her lips. “I wasn’t happy with my husband’s affairs, which he took care to flaunt in my face, and he suspected me of sleeping with practically every man who looked at me sideways. I knew Bridge had a roving eye before we married, so I had the agreement worded so each of us was allowed our little dalliances, if we chose to have them. But if either one of us wanted to end the marriage, there would be consequences. In my case, I could walk away with everything I’d accumulated during the marriage. In Bridge’s case—well, let’s just say I got well compensated for my time.”
“I’m surprised a businessman as savvy as Trowbridge Littleton would have agreed to that.”
She made a little clucking sound in her throat. “Oh, honey. Back then he was so besotted with me, he’d have signed anything. Come to think of it, we both had stars in our eyes back then . . . but I’ve always had this annoying practical streak. A gal’s gotta look out for herself. I found that out the hard way. In spite of it all, though, I think we did love each other in our own ways—at least I did. I loved him enough to know that no matter what I thought, he would do what he wanted to do.”
“But he’d decided recently that he did want a divorce?”
She waved her hand. “He threatened that at least once a month. Then he’d take a look at his bankbook and forget all about it.”
“How did your husband get along with your son?”
Her eyes darkened, and she let out a sigh. “That’s a whole other story, I’m afraid. Trey and Bridge were constantly at odds.”
“I heard he owed your husband a large sum of money.”
Her eyes widened, and two spots of color appeared on her cheekbones. “Gossip sure travels fast in a small town,” she muttered. “Yes, unfortunately my son got into a few . . . scrapes, shall we say, and Bridge bailed him out. He wasn’t about to let Trey get off scot-free, though, and I supported his decision.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Tough love?”
“You might call it that. As a matter of fact, I’m continuing where my husband left off, only now Trey will be making his payments to me. I’ll be the first to admit that my son is a lot of things, but a murderer? Hardly. He faints at the sight of blood.” She picked up a napkin, toyed with its edge. “All this speculation is so unnecessary. I told those detectives what they needed to find in order to close this case—Bridge’s diary.”
I stared at her. “Your husband kept a diary?”
She nodded. “Yes. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. Yes, it was unusual, but Bridge was an unusual man. He wrote everything down in that diary—absolutely everything. Shortly before his death, he bragged he had enough information on people in that book to ruin lives.” She drained her cup and set the mug down. “He knew plenty of secrets, and he wasn’t afraid to write them down or let the people know he knew, either. He kept it somewhere in his private office at the gallery—that I know. I told the police to find that book, and they’d probably find out the name of B
ridge’s killer. But . . . somehow I don’t think that detective took me too seriously.”
Aha, I thought. Now I had a pretty good idea what it was that Bennington suspected either Kat or I had taken. Aloud, I said, “Oh, I don’t know about that. You might be surprised,” I murmured. “Sometimes detectives like to play everything close to the vest.”
She glanced at her watch, then started to ease out of the booth. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes. I know you’re concerned about the shelter, and I promise you, I’ll keep you apprised on how the talks turn out.” With a wave and a smile, she walked out the door, hips swaying.
Kat turned to me with a rueful expression. “She’s not at all what I expected. She’s a square shooter, all right, and she doesn’t pull any punches.”
I had to agree. “I think Littleton met his match with her, all right. I can see why he would have been attracted to her.”
“Please don’t think I’m nuts, but . . . I kind of liked her.”
“I don’t think that at all, because I kind of like her too.”
“I wish she had something more positive to offer about the shelter. Now I’m not certain what’s going to happen,” Kat said. “In spite of her protestations, I get the feeling she’s pretty savvy when it comes to business. She might empathize with the shelter’s plight, but the bottom line is dollars, and if this other place is offering more than top dollar for rent, there’s no way we can possibly compete.”
“She said she wanted to adopt a dog,” I said. “Hopefully she’ll visit the shelter before any negotiations, and you can dazzle her with how well the shelter is run and what good care the animals receive. Stress the fact that if the shelter has to move or close, many of the animals might not survive.”
“Appeal to the sense of humanity in her? Maybe. It’s a quality her dearly departed hubby never had, that’s for sure.” Kat looked at her watch and rose. “Come on. It’s time we got back to work.”
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