Lance managed to quickly extricate us from GiGi and Henry once we discovered they had little to contribute. We weren’t the greatest company either, so I didn’t think they were heartbroken. They might have been relieved not to be grilled. Or possibly scared of the eyelash in my drink.
We circulated around the room. Lance was using his librarian organizing mode to ensure that we didn’t miss anyone. I was along for the ride. So many air-kisses. I’d gotten quite good at it by the end. My main worry was that the wig—quite a good quality synthetic—would catch fire from one of the candles on the floor candelabras. The eyelash had shaken my confidence a bit.
A few other people seemed surprised that Shelby hadn’t shown up, or else they were willing to fake it when Lance asked. Others didn’t know her or didn’t care much. Eventually, we were able to get close to the artist, Poppy.
“Wonderful series,” Lance gushed when we finally got our turn. He managed not to introduce me or refer to me by any name. Poppy didn’t seem to notice as everything had to be about her and I wasn’t. Lance kept it up. “You’ve really come into your own. The juxtaposition of light and form? Well, I’m at a loss for words.”
There was nothing I could say to top that. “Absolutely,” I added.
“I feel I’m growing into it,” she said.
I still would have liked to know exactly how she attached the feathers and wood, but it seemed gauche to ask.
“So organic,” Lance said. “Really.” Not for the first time, I wondered if his degree was a BS and not an MLS.
I was tuning out of this vacuous chat when he said, “Shelby’s not here?”
“Shelby?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Church?”
“Oh. I guess not yet. She’s supposed to come.”
“I wanted to approach her about a fund-raiser that I’m starting to think about.”
I could tell that when the conversation wasn’t about the artist or the party, her interest died quickly. “Oh look, here’s someone I need to talk to. Excuse me.” She turned her back.
Lance whispered, “Puts me in my place.”
“Learn to grovel better,” I said.
Lance was saying, “Never mind, I think that girl in the corner was in the photo from the Country Club. We should try our luck with her.”
As I turned my gaze toward a young woman who’d backed herself into a far spot where she stood looking wretched, a little buzz swept the crowd as a cluster of glamorous people arrived chattering. They handed their wraps to the coatroom attendants.
“Gotcha,” I said, as Shelby appeared right after the group swept into the room.
“Let’s head her off at the pass,” Lance said.
The gallery was jammed with people by this point. So very many high-end skinny jeans and ankle boots. So many five-inch stilettos. So much designer scent: Juicy Couture, Yves Saint Laurent and Calvin Klein. We wove our way in between people balancing martini glasses and canapés and headed toward the door where Shelby stood. From the way she glanced behind her, she was waiting for someone to follow her in. Was it the mysterious man in her life? The one who’d enticed her into this very bad situation? As we got closer, I could see she was even paler than she’d been at Summerlea. She’d done a haphazard job of using concealer to cover the dark circles under her eyes and what looked like a minor breakout. But her underlying skin color was gray, and there wasn’t a makeup in the world that could hide that. She could have done with a shampoo too. Shelby Church was clearly a woman under stress. And that was about to get worse, if I had my way. Because let’s face it, if you’re implicated in a murder and you’re willing to let other people take the rap for it, whatever bad stuff happens to you, you’ve got it coming.
Shelby caught Poppy’s eye. Poppy lit up and held out her arms. Her face clouded as Shelby worked her unsteady way toward the center of attention.
“Let’s position ourselves so she doesn’t get past us,” I whispered to Lance.
“I’ll get over to the front door, in case,” he said, sidling smoothly toward the main entrance. “I guess she came alone.”
I wiggled my way through the crowd, teetering on my five-inch heels. Now that my days and nights were spent in a small upstate New York town chasing first editions online, I’d gotten out of training in the art of wearing stilettos.
“Excuse me. Excuse me.” I kept repeating it as I found myself blocked by men and women who were too fascinated with each other to let another person pass. Finally, I stopped bothering and put my elbows out. In our family, we pride ourselves on our pointy elbows.
When I got close enough to speak, Poppy was holding Shelby by her arms. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, for a moment forgetting that she was center of attention.
Shelby shook her head and said, “Nothing. Just a migraine. I’m fine. I couldn’t stand to miss tonight. I wanted to tell you how wonderful it all is . . .” She took her first look around at the artworks on the wall and turned with a weak smile to Poppy. “Then I’ll head home to bed.”
No way you will, I said to myself. Not before I get my hooks into you. The group between Poppy and Shelby and me simply ignored my elbows and my “excuse mes.” Shelby gave Poppy a peck on each cheek and a hug. I could hear their conversation, but I needed to get close enough to speak to Shelby myself.
“I hope you’re not driving with that migraine. You look awful.”
“Thanks,” Shelby said with a crooked grin. “My friend is waiting for me in the car.”
“Oh, come, Shelby. Don’t tell me you’re still involved with that—”
Damn. Why hadn’t we asked Poppy about the man in Shelby’s life? We’d asked other people.
I pushed my way through two of the chatty types who seemed determined to block anyone from getting past them. As I did, I turned and caught Lance’s eye. I made a ridiculously complicated gesture, pointing to Shelby, pointing outside and turning an imaginary steering wheel. I hoped he would understand what I meant.
“Shelby!” I called. She whirled.
Poppy recoiled. “Sorry, um,” she said, meaning she was not sorry at all, “but Shelby and I are having a private chat. Do you mind waiting?”
Meaning she couldn’t have cared less if I minded or not. Face it, this was her party and her friend, and I was nobody and nothing.
But not to Shelby. She whirled and stared at me. She shook her head, frowned, trying to figure where she’d seen me.
“It’s Jordan, Shelby,” I said.
“Leave us alone,” Poppy said.
“I have to go,” Shelby said shakily.
“It is a matter of life and death,” I interjected loudly.
Shelby flinched. Poppy stared at her and at me. “We have security here,” she said, jabbing me with her long red nail. “I said this is a private conversation. Spare me the life-and-death crap.”
I’d already elbowed so many people out of the way, I felt sure if Poppy raised the alarm, I’d be tackled if not actually lynched.
“When I say life and death, Shelby, or should I call you ‘Lisa,’ I think you know what I mean.”
Shelby swayed.
“Murder is a bad thing to be involved in, Shelby. You’d better come clean, because the longer you don’t, the worse it’s going to be when the police catch up with you.”
Poppy’s jawed dropped. “Get out of here! Shelby, what’s going on?”
“I’m going to be sick,” Shelby bleated. She pushed forward and ran across the gallery, hands over her mouth. People who didn’t move in time found their martini glasses flying. Shrieks were added to the din of conversation.
Shelby stumbled but kept going. I was right after her, pushing my way through people and hearing glass crunch under my feet. Shelby hit the emergency exit, pushed it open and vanished.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AS SHE RUSHED through the door,
the alarm shrieked. I sprinted after her, out the door and into the alley next to the gallery.
“Wait, Shelby!” I screamed as I followed. “You have to speak to me. Please! You are going to get deeper into trouble! Wait for me!”
Please? Was I really pleading with a fleeing murderer?
Shelby reached the sidewalk and turned left. I hobbled after her. The heel on my left shoe snapped off. You can only run so far in stilettos, even when they do have heels. I kicked off both shoes and kept going. I found myself yipping as I stumbled over small bits of gravel and debris. A charcoal Lexus SUV was idling in front of the gallery. Was that Shelby’s friend? Apparently, yes. As I limped out of the alley, still shouting, “Wait! Shelby!” she reached the vehicle. The driver reached over and wrenched the door open for her. She tumbled in. The door of the SUV slammed, and the Lexus shot forward and squealed around the corner and out of sight.
All I got was the barest suggestion of a big, squarish head in a ball cap and large hands in black gloves. And Shelby’s backside as she tumbled into the passenger seat without a shred of dignity.
Of course, who was I to talk?
A horn blasted behind me. Lance, my knight in shining Beamer.
As the Beamer glided up, I yanked open the door. Normally, I would have barked at him to watch out for the car. But instead I shouted, “After them!” I’d always wanted a reason to say that.
Lance gunned it, and the Beamer showed its stuff, taking that corner smoothly. Gotta love that powerful engine. In a minute we were almost on top of the SUV with Shelby in it.
I took my lipstick from my tiny clutch and wrote the license plate number on my bare arm. With shaking hands, I pulled out my iPhone and dialed a number I knew by heart.
“Tyler? You have to listen to me. I’ve seen the woman who was at Summerlea. She’s currently fleeing from me—”
A torrent of words swirled from the phone.
“Let me finish! I’m not doing anything illegal. I’m not snooping or interfering. I happened to be Lance’s date at an art thingie in Grandville, and there she was. I almost fell off my shoes. I would have thought she’d be in hiding.”
Lance and I exchanged glances.
Another torrent. I held the phone away from my blistered ear.
“Well,” I said, “that’s your opinion, Tyler. But here’s the license plate of the Lexus SUV she took off in. Do you want to track it down? . . . Oh, come on, don’t be like that . . . Here’s something else you should know.” I squinted as I got a blast from Tyler. When he took a breath, I shouted, “I am not interfering. I am not messing with the investigation. I happened to come across this information. Perfectly innocent . . . You can check with Lance.”
Lance gasped. I glared at him. “Man up,” I whispered. “No, no! That wasn’t to you, Tyler. Anyway, I leave it to you and Detectives Castellano and What’s-his-name . . .You should pass on the information . . . What? . . . Wait! There’s more . . .”
“Get home now. And stop this. I’m serious,” Tyler shouted before hanging up.
“That went well,” Lance said.
“Better than I expected, actually. At least I can massage my poor, messed-up feet now. I think they’re bleeding,” I said. “Where are they?”
“Your feet?”
I ignored that. “Shelby and her driver.”
“Did you see him?” Lance asked.
I shook my head. “Just got an impression.”
“Was the impression like the faux Chadwick?”
“No. It wasn’t. That guy had a narrow face, a narrow head and that beaky nose. This guy was more—”
“Big headed?”
“Are you making fun of me, Lance?”
“Never.”
“All I saw was a guy with a big, squarish head, wearing a ball cap. I didn’t see his face.” I chuckled. “Let’s hope he’s enough of a blockhead not to notice us following him. Oh, and he had big hands too, with long fingers.”
“You noticed that in a fraction of a second?”
“I’ve been reading too much Marsh, I guess. I’m paying close attention to everyone’s hands, including yours.”
Lance rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Here on the main road, there’s lots of traffic, but if we stay on their tail, they’re going to notice us. Would Shelby recognize this car?”
“I didn’t even know about this Beamer until a couple of hours ago. It’s a good thing we didn’t take the Saab. She’d have recognized that, for sure.”
“Do you think Dekker will follow up on your information about the plate?”
“I do. But I don’t think he’ll tell me what he finds.”
“We’ll have to find out on our own, then,” Lance said. The Beamer surged faster into the night.
I rubbed my feet and wrote off my hose. There’s usually a first aid kit in any car my uncles own, and this one was no different. While Lance focused on the road, I slipped out of the shredded stockings.
He said, “Normally, that would have been sexy.”
I used a sterile gauze to get the grit out of my feet and winced when I applied rubbing alcohol. I finished off with bandages and hoped for the best.
As our pursuit continued, I filled Lance in on what happened at the gallery.
“Oh snap,” he said, when I told him about pursuing Shelby and the alarm being set off. “Poppy will be out of her mind. Did you see how much they sank into that reception? Caviar? Grey Goose?”
“Yes.” It would have been enough to get a good start on a return to grad school, I thought. But I had other things on my mind. Catching up with Shelby, for one.
We managed to get closer to the Lexus and followed as it swerved and shot around corner after corner. I hung on as Lance took the corner on two wheels. I bit my tongue so I didn’t say, “Next time, I’m driving.” Too late, we realized that the Lexus driver had pulled over to the right and turned off his lights. We shot past. I turned, pointed and squawked. Lance slammed on the brakes, and I gave thanks for my safety belt. Through the window, I spotted Lisa/Shelby’s white face and wide eyes. She saw me too. Her hand shot to her mouth.
As we pulled up alongside, the SUV lurched forward, swerved to make a U-turn and sped off in the opposite direction. Lance accelerated and made a tight turn, but those few lost seconds were too many. The taillights of the SUV had vanished. This time for real.
Fifteen tense minutes later, we had to admit defeat.
Lance finally exhaled. “Whoever he is, he’s coolheaded. There’s nothing we can do now.”
That stopped me. “Yes, there is. We can find out where she lives.”
“Shelby?”
“Who else. We can drive by there and—”
“She lives in LA now, working on her film career. We’d have to find out where her parents live. And we won’t be welcome back at the gallery. I have a feeling that Poppy won’t be glad to see me again. Ever.”
I thought about that. “Actually, Lance, you’d already left the reception when I confronted Shelby. She saw me, not you. Then she panicked and ran out the emergency exit and set off the alarms. Don’t look at me like that.”
“Jordan! You told me you shouted at Shelby and you chased her out the door.”
“Okay, fine. So I can’t go back. But you could go and apologize for me.”
“Not the first time.”
“Very funny. You could say you need to contact Shelby and say how sorry you are that your psychotic date chased her.”
“Sure. I’ll make up a story about you.”
“I’m sure you’ll make it a doozy. I’m counting on it.
“At least with that wig, no one will know who you really are.”
“That is one good thing. Drop me off somewhere, so I don’t get spotted. I don’t really want to spend twenty minutes on the floor of the car. Make sure you get an address for She
lby. Don’t get too caught up in the apology thing.”
“Give me some credit,” Lance sniffed.
* * *
LANCE DROPPED ME outside Walmart, as close to the front door as we could get. With my head held high, I limped in. Small clusters of people did notice my bare feet, not the usual style in chilly early April. I sailed by them and found myself some new stockings, more bandages and pair of low-heeled shoes that looked like they’d be good to run in. It had been that kind of day, and it seemed like the right idea to be prepared.
I waited patiently for Lance’s return in the evening gloom. We were getting closer to finding the man Shelby had been with. I felt that she’d been an accomplice and not the person behind the killing or even the whole charade at Summerlea. Would the kind of person who could plan a murder panic like that?
Shelby was falling apart.
* * *
LANCE SURVIVED THE apology session at the gallery, but barely. He said, “The cuts on my knees from crawling over broken glass groveling to Poppy are much worse than what happened to your feet. Trust me.”
“Go ahead, rub it in, Lance.”
“I told her that I’d heard what happened and that I’d stepped outside to make a call at the time.”
“Did she ask about me?”
“Oh yes. You’re toast if you ever see her again. But I told her that I didn’t really know you well. Anyway, I don’t think anyone noticed us. They’re all kind of into themselves. Lots of people walked through the door at about the same time. I said you’d attached yourself to me, and I’d thought that was kind of strange, but not a big deal at the time.”
“Good thinking.”
“I said that I thought you’d seemed a bit off. She thought so too.”
“Mmm.”
“I said that’s why I went outside to make the call. Just to put some distance.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I said I really wanted to connect with Shelby because I’d got this weird message from her.”
“Very good!”
“Yeah. Poppy’s furious with Shelby, as well as with you, whoever you are. Almost ruined the big night. So I said that it looked like everything had been cleaned up really well.”
The Marsh Madness Page 19