by Norma Lehr
Money, money, money.
Abby was still in shock about the state of Gail’s marriage. She knew firsthand that during times of stress people were capable of putting on the most elaborate acts to cover their pain. Before she found the courage to leave her ex and go out on her own, she had been one of them.
Now to locate Blythe and lure her away from that admiring pit boss. Find out if Tom Moran fed her the same line of bull he fed Gail and Renee.
The condo door opened, and Blythe stood framed in the doorway, the porch light casting a golden glow over her copper hair. “Abby, there you are. Gail mentioned you were out here. What in the world? Come on in and meet a few of these nice folks.”
“I don’t feel especially social tonight,” Abby said. “All that excitement at the Celebrity Room did me in. How about you? Do you think the falling sound boom could have been purposely dropped on Jan?”
Blythe joined Abby on the bench. “Goodness no. Why would anyone do such a thing?”
Abby studied Blythe with disbelief. “Blythe, get real! Why would anyone murder two dancers?”
Blythe pondered a moment. “Melanie and Dana were part of the old group. We just met Jan. Who would be out to get her? Detective Fromer made it clear that we were to blame. We’re the ones who carried this old baggage to Tahoe.”
She had a point there, Abby thought.
Blythe swooped up the hem of her long cotton skirt and wrapped it around her legs. “It’s a bit chilly out here, don’t you think?” She buttoned her brown linen jacket and faced Abby. “I know you were snooping around in my room. I want to know why.”
Oh, oh. Busted! Abby searched for an explanation and couldn’t come up with one. “Who told you?”
“The maid. I speak Spanish. Actually, I understand it better than I speak it. When I returned to my room after the media interviews in the showroom, she caught hold of my arm and explained how she let you in. I guess it dawned on her after you left that you didn’t belong there.” Blythe gave Abby a head to foot scan. “She described you right down to your pretty little ankles. And, you didn’t attend the media interview with the rest of us. I figured it had to be you.”
Abby sighed, and nodded. “Okay, I did it. I had her let me into your room thinking it was Gail’s.”
“Go on.”
“That pink froth in Melanie’s mouth at the spa—I figured Fromer might conclude it was poisoned Powrdanz. I wanted to prove it wasn’t.”
“Were you also trying to rule me out yesterday when you gave me the third degree about my teas?”
“Yes. You’re right, but I still haven’t ruled you out as the one who visited Melanie and made her cry the night before she died.”
“I don’t have a clue who killed her, but yes, I did visit her that night. But someone else had been there before me. Melanie had the door wide open when I got there, and she was using a magazine to fan the smoke out of her chalet, muttering how some people had no regard for others.”
“I figure you were the one who made her cry. Why?”
“I’ve got a feeling you already know. Just like I knew LaToma’s picture had been moved the minute I walked into my room.”
Blythe was one sharp tack. “Okay, so I suspected. Not right away. It took a while after I left your room, but I figured it was your personal business. I just hoped you hadn’t done anything stupid after all these years.”
“You’re not listening to me. I didn’t kill her. I wanted money, that’s all. The herb farm could use an upgrade, especially in the kitchen. Even with LaToma helping out, I haven’t been able to bring things up to code, and the Santa Cruz Health Department is on my back. Melanie was ready to give me a bundle for what she’d done to me; that is, before someone poisoned her.”
“So, after she was poisoned, you made that trip to Harveys. Melanie must have disclosed the fact that T.J. Barry was really Tom Moran. I can only guess why you looked him up, but when you did, he let you know he and Melanie had never legally divorced. That’s when you asked him to honor Melanie’s wishes about the money, am I right?”
Blythe nodded, and her eyes filled with tears. “In New York, you and Melanie were the only ones I told about my pregnancy. Melanie and I were roommates at that time, and my morning sickness clued her in. She had no sympathy for my condition. She let me know in her cruelest way that it was my own fault for being so careless and gullible. You never judged me, and I appreciated that. You never asked who the father was.”
Abby’s brow furrowed. “Did Melanie know?
“The other night, Melanie swore she didn’t know for sure, but I think she did. The biological father? He made it clear he was busy working on his career and couldn’t be tied down with a kid.”
“When you left the Toppettes, I thought you were getting an abortion. I offered to go with you, but you said no.”
Blythe smiled sadly. “I couldn’t go through with it. What a mistake that would have been! The road ahead was rough at times, but worth every sacrifice I had to make. My daughter has been the light of my life.”
Abby nodded thoughtfully. “She’s a real beauty.”
“Some think she looks like me, but I’m sure you figured out by now who she really resembles.”
“She has his eyes and the same dark hair. Does she know?”
“Not yet. I tried to find him when LaToma turned five and again when she was eight. It was like he’d disappeared off the planet. Now she’ll be able to meet Tom when he hands over the money she’s due.”
“How did he react when you faced him with the truth?”
Oh, he knew in New York. That’s why he took off with Melanie. She provided him a way out. Now, since he’s never had any other children, he thinks it might be nice to meet his grown daughter.”
What a tangled web. “He owes you a lot more than money. Make him pay!”
Blythe nodded slowly. “After the estate is probated, he’ll be one rich daddy.”
The door flew open, and the young gal to be engaged rushed out to her car, grabbed a package, and ran back. When she passed them on the steps, her eyes sparkled. “Come on inside and meet my groom to be.” She tapped the tiny package. “We’re going to exchange our gifts to each other in front of everyone.” She reached down and gently tugged Abby’s arm. “Come on, you two. You’re missing all the fun.”
“Another time, thanks.” Abby headed for Renee’s car. “I’ve had enough excitement for one night.” She waved at Blythe, told her she’d see her in the morning, and walked to the car.
She suddenly felt overwhelmed with sadness over her old group. She had accomplished what she set out to do this evening, but some of the information she had gotten from Gail and Blythe had not only been totally unexpected, but depressing. Wasn’t anyone happy, or at least content?
Now she knew why Melanie had cried on her deck the night before she died. Perhaps, in the end, Blythe had made her acknowledge her complete self-involvement: she had deprived a little girl growing up from knowing her father.
Blythe had no reason to kill Melanie, especially if Melanie had offered her a nice settlement for the heartache she’d caused. If it had been Melanie and not Tom who had told her they were still legal spouses and if she had mentioned her plan to leave her estate to Dana someday, that could be a different story. It would have given Blythe a motive to kill Dana.
Maybe Blythe figured committing a crime for her daughter would be morally justified.
Abby wove her way down the hill, confident that Renee, no matter how tired, would be waiting up for her. Then she remembered that Renee had not answered the phone when she’d called from the party. She must have been in the shower or at the Circle Bar having a drink. She’d feel better when she confirmed that her friend was safe. And Renee should feel better when she learned that she wasn’t the only dancer who had been fooled by that jerk Moran.
Tomorrow, when Abby reported some of the facts she’d gathered to Detective Fromer, Renee could relax at last. Abby checked her rearview mirror. Headlight
s had followed her down the hill and now turned onto Stateline, cruising behind her. She stepped on the gas. It could be nothing at all, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She made a quick left and pulled into the Cal Neva. The car, a limo with creepy dark windows, moved slowly past.
When she reached their chalet, the drapes were closed, and no lights were on inside. Blade sat on a deck chair with his feet propped on the railing, basking in the light of a huge autumn moon. “You do realize,” he gazed up at the sky, “that in a few more nights when it turns full, that will be a blue moon?”
“That right?” Abby pulled up a chair and joined him. “A blue moon, if I remember correctly, is the second full moon in a month.”
Blade plopped his feet to the deck and turned to face her. “Correct. Where’ve you been?”
“Am I reporting in to you now?”
“Not reporting, but I’ve been worried. I got to your performance late. I apologize for that. Had car trouble on the way up over the pass. Overheated. Damn!” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I stood in the back of the room while I watched you dance and seriously tried to find you after the crash on stage, but pushing my way through that over-exited crowd was tough. When I finally made it backstage, you were gone and Fromer asked me to stay on. He questioned me again.”
“He thinks you had something to do with that falling prop?”
“Not now. After I reminded him I’ve been gone for two days and didn’t make it back until the last of the show, he backed off. If there’s one thing I learned from being a cop, the simplest explanation can be the right one. He’s just doing his job. Like he says, everyone’s a suspect.”
Abby looked over at the darkened room. “Renee asleep?”
Blade shrugged. “I knocked. No one answered. I figured she was probably with you. You never did say where you’ve been.”
Abby didn’t reply. She went to the door and tried the handle. Unlocked. She stepped in and switched on the lights. Renee’s purse lay in its usual spot on the nightstand beside her bed. Abby dropped Renee’s car keys next to her purse and swallowed her fear. “How long have you been here?”
“An hour or so. When I couldn’t find you backstage, I talked to Fromer awhile and then moseyed on down here.”
Without turning around, Abby’s voice trembled. “You didn’t see Renee in the casino?”
Blade came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She turned and asked again, “Did you see her in the casino?”
Blade frowned. “If I had I would’ve said. What’s with you?”
Abby studied his face. How well did she know this guy, this P.I. who said he was an ex-cop, who claimed he knew Dana from San Diego? What if he had done something to Renee? She had to get out of there.
She rushed past him and took the chalet steps two at a time. She’d scour the casino, and if Renee wasn’t anywhere to be found, she’d call Fromer and tell him to get over there on the double.
She knew that logic was against Blade having anything to do with the murders. He’d been gone the last two days. Or so he said. Too much had happened over the past few days for her to trust her instincts or even her reason. As Fromer kept saying, ‘Everyone was a suspect.’ ”
Chapter 19
After searching for almost a half hour, Abby came across Jan sitting alone at the bar. She rushed up. “Have you seen Renee? I can’t find her anywhere. It’s getting late.”
Jan checked her watch. “You’re right; it’s nearly twelve. I’ve got to get to bed.”
She slipped from her stool.
“Wait! Have you seen her?”
Jan gave a profound yawn. “I did earlier. She came backstage. Mumbled that she’d left her practice gear in the dressing room. Detective Fromer and I were just leaving when she came in.”
“Did she say she was meeting someone?”
“Nope.” Jan covered another yawn. “Just that she was tired and needed to get to bed.”
“Well, she’s not in the chalet.”
Jan shrugged. “Maybe she did meet up with someone and they’re out bird doggin’. The big casinos are over in South Shore.”
Abby choked down her panic. “Everyone she knew was at the condo.”
“Not everyone.” Jan stood and stretched her back. “I didn’t go. Neither did T.J. Barry.” She started to leave, then hesitated. “So, how do you think the performance went? Great, wasn’t it? Until someone tried to knock me out of the way.”
“You think that prop was dropped on purpose?”
Jan made a face. “Sure. After that threatening note I received, of course. Fromer does, too.”
“He said that?” Abby looked around. “Where is he now? Is he still here?”
“No. He left, and now I’ve got to go. Good luck finding your friend. Tell her I said to take care of that foot. She did okay tonight, but she could do better tomorrow. Tell her to keep soaking it.”
“So, we’re going on again?” Abby figured Jan would reconsider and cancel.
“Of course. It’s another sell-out. No show, no dough.” She wiggled her fingers “bye” and shuffled from the bar.
Abby had deliberately refrained from mentioning that she knew Vince was Jan’s brother. She’d leave it up to Gail to spread the news, if she chose to. She watched until Jan turned down the hall toward the tower elevators, dragging and tousled, in workout pants and an oversized gray sweatshirt. Not her usual attire of skimpy togs, or her typical shot of energy plus. Could be the prop crashing so close tonight really scared her. Abby certainly didn’t know her that well, but if someone asked, she would have to say Jan looked depressed.
Earlier at the condo, Vince had praised his sister for her patience, but she’d been more or less testy with the dancers, showing them their numbers and putting them through their paces. In fact, she’d had a short fuse most of the time during rehearsals, rapping that long pencil against her clipboard, sending a clear message like Morse code that she demanded perfection on stage. Abby had wondered more than once what she was doing taking orders from a young woman not much older than her own daughter—someone who wasn’t even born when the former dancers worked in New York.
Vince must know her better than anyone. Away from the footlights Jan might be a completely different person. The lovely oil painting at Vince’s place came to mind. Jan had been a darling little girl with long strands of dark hair fastened with a pink ribbon. Her spiky hairdo now was trendy for her generation. Cool, too, but it hardened her pretty features.
Abby turned and headed for the front desk. The night shift duty consisted of one male clerk. He checked the room slots. “No messages for you, sorry.”
Hands shaking, Abby searched through her purse for the card with Vince’s number. Punching his number into her cell phone, she waited impatiently for an answer. Just as she was about to hit the end button, she heard a click.
“Hello,” she called anxiously. “Is anyone there? Can you hear me?”
A woman’s voice came on. “Just barely.” She giggled. “We’re having a party.”
Abby knew that. Anyone living within hearing distance of that condo would know. The earlier, more mellow music had turned to hip-hop, and the voices in the background sounded garbled.
“Can you put one of the dancers on?” Abby pleaded. “It’s kind of an emergency.”
“Wait.” Another giggle, higher this time. “Can a dancer come to the phone?” Long pause. “No, Randy. Not you. There are guys here who think they can dance, but I’ve got news for them.”
“I need to speak to one of the Toppettes. Please!”
She waited impatiently before Blythe came on. “Hello.”
“It’s Abby, Blythe. I’m looking for Renee. By any chance, did she show up over there?”
“No. Gail left shortly after you did. You two should have stayed. The party’s just getting started.” Her voice lowered. “I kind of like this pit boss. A little paunchy but he has nice teeth.”
“Okay. Have a good time.” Abby meant it.
After hearing about LaToma and Blythe’s struggle to raise her alone, Abby thought she deserved some fun.
“I will. See you in the morning.”
“Wait,” Abby said quickly. “Don’t hang up. Gail drove over there with you and this pit boss. Who did she leave with?”
Pause. “Dunno. She didn’t say. I was out on the deck when Vince mentioned someone picked her up in a limo. I think she’d had a tad too much champagne.”
“A limo, huh?” Abby shook her head. No. Couldn’t be the one that had followed her earlier. Could it? Frustrated, she ended their conversation, punched in Renee’s cell number, and waited. Ten endless rings. When Abby left the chalet for the party, Renee had been talking to Josh. Might there have been some kind of problem there? And, how about Renee’s mother? Maybe there had been an emergency, and she had rushed to the hospital—where Renee’s cell phone wouldn’t work. Renee might have left in such a hurry that she didn’t have time to leave a message.
And how could Renee go anywhere without her purse and car keys? Besides, Abby had taken her car to Incline. The car! She’d go back out and see if Renee had an address book in her car. Her mom’s number might be stashed in the glove box. If it got much later without a sign of Renee, Abby would be forced to call, no matter how late. The desk clerk watched as she swept through the automatic doors. She crossed to where she’d parked when she returned from Vince’s party and stood shivering while she looked around the lighted area. A few pricey vehicles were parked near the silver sports car. She tapped her forehead with her palm. How did she expect to get into the car anyway? She’d dropped Renee’s keys next to her purse on the nightstand.
She wasn’t thinking straight. Her mind felt boggled. It had been months since she’d been up this late. A cold wind swept through the area, and she pulled her sweater tight. After considerable thought, she wondered if somehow—during the interval between talking to Jan at the bar and sitting alone in the snack bar—she’d missed Renee. She nodded halfheartedly. Yes. The picture was clearing. Renee must have returned from wherever without their paths crossing.