03-Keeping Mum

by Alyse Carlson

  “Okay, this little investigation game needs to be over,” Jake said.

  “Tell you what,” Rob said. “Tell us a few more details, and if you can convince us, we’ll drop it. Starting with why the other poker buddies haven’t been talked to.”

  “Look. Thanks for the grub, but I don’t need this.” Jake stood, ready to go.

  Annie went to him and put her arms around him, “Please. This is important to Cam’s dad, who you know has supported me when no one else would.”

  It was an exaggeration, but the comment was pointed at Jake. Cam and Rob had believed in Annie when she was accused of murder, but Jake hadn’t. It had been Cam’s dad who bailed Annie out and helped explain her behavior, which at the time had been strange. With him present, it was a point much harder to ignore.

  Jake made a sour face, but he sat back down. “Okay. I’ll entertain your theories. I will only answer questions about whether your guesses are on or off. No confidential info, but I can give you some warmer/cooler clues.”

  Annie kissed him soundly and then fetched him a cupcake.

  They all continued talking for another hour or so, Jake confirming the details they’d learned about Vivian and how the two dead men were connected to her. Cam was impressed her dad could refrain from commenting, but then he had a bit of practice. Jake wasn’t willing to believe their conspiracy theories, but he promised to look into any connection between Vera and Chad Phillips. And through it all, no mention was made of the undercover mission set for the next day with Vera Windermere-Sullivan.

  When they got back to Cam’s apartment, Rob opened Cam’s computer.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Hunch,” he said.

  “About?”

  “Brian Fontana. I know that name.”

  A picture popped up and Rob nodded. “That’s what I thought. I didn’t recognize him when I was there, but this is the guy from Chad Phillips’s office.”

  “He’s working with Chad Phillips? And calling Vivian? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “None at all, but I’m sure this is the same guy.”

  “So even if he’s a hit man, it may have nothing to do with Vivian.”

  “I’m more likely to believe she’s set her own spy, or maybe he’s taken it on himself . . . help his aunt and all,” he said.

  “Oh, man.”

  “No. It’s good. It’s a sneaky tactic that is not nearly as extreme as murder.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The stakeout started way too early the next morning. Cam felt guilty, on top of it. She’d told Evangeline what she was up to but had called in sick to her boss, Madeline Leclerc. A murder that didn’t involve a Roanoke Garden Society member as a suspect was not of interest to Madeline, even if the woman had urged Cam to “solve” the first pair of murders that had brushed past the RGS radar. When Cam thought about it, she was lucky she still had a job with how that one had turned out. Madeline hadn’t been at all pleased.

  The country club had a huge parking lot and apparently a lot of golfers and early-morning exercisers, so it was easy to pass unnoticed as they sat looking out for Vera Windermere-Sullivan’s BMW. At around ten, Rob sent Cam to buy coffee and he hovered in the trees near the entrance, but there was still no sign of their quarry.

  Only after eleven did she finally appear. Cam thought she looked the worse for wear—like maybe she’d partied all night and was now here to try to get back some semblance of respectability. They gave her about five minutes and then followed her in with their guest passes.

  Once they’d given Evangeline’s name and the passes to the front desk, they each headed separately to the locker rooms and planned to meet at the pool.

  Cam changed and went out, but there was only a pair of old women swimming laps. She wondered if she’d missed some key piece of information about Vera’s workout, and when Rob came out they discussed it, guessing Vera had probably stopped in the sauna. Cam headed back to check and, sure enough, there she was.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Cam said as she entered.

  Vera didn’t answer. In fact she didn’t open her eyes. She was propped against the cedar wall, clutching her towel as if it would leave her of its own accord.

  Cam sat a step lower. She knew heat rose and was feeling the dehydrating effects of the wine from the night before. Thankfully, she’d had about three bottles of water while they watched for Vera that morning. She really hated to sweat but tried to fake enjoying it, wishing Annie had taken the early shift.

  “Do you come here a lot?” Cam asked.

  “Mmmm.”

  Cam took that for an affirmative, but one not meant to encourage conversation.

  “Because my boyfriend and I are thinking about joining. We’re checking it out today.”

  The woman opened an eye, but gave no more encouragement than that.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s pretty pedestrian if you’ve ever spent any time at a club in a city, but it seems to be the best of the very limited selection around here. I’ve been a member my whole life, but I’ve been to all the others.”

  “You have? Would you be willing to tell me about some of them?” Cam hoped the eager-beaver icebreaker would get Vera talking, and apparently the encouragement to talk a little trash was what was needed. Vera rattled on for about ten minutes about the other clubs. Unfortunately, Cam was beginning to feel light-headed.

  “I am so sorry. You’ve been so nice to me, but I’m not used to this sauna. I think I’m going to go swim a few laps,” she said.

  She almost fell over as she left, so it was a good thing she hadn’t stayed longer. She had several drinks from the water cooler and then made her way out to the pool where Rob was already swimming laps.

  She stopped on the edge and watched him with pleasure. He played baseball in the summer, but took care to get some exercise year-round and he sure looked good in a swimsuit—sort of a Speedo, but the kind with longer legs. He insisted trunks caused too much resistance, and that was okay. He filled these out well. He stopped at the wall in front of her and looked at her questioningly.

  “Just admiring your form,” Cam said.

  He grinned. “She coming?” he whispered.

  “Yes, but we have a minute, or possibly several. I had to get out of there, though. I almost passed out.”

  “Yeah, I thought you might be heat sensitive. So let’s make this look real.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going to help you work on your stroke—it means I get to put my hands all over you,” he teased.

  Cam rolled her eyes, but other than an older man in the end lane, they were alone in the pool at present, and the idea didn’t sound too bad, so she jumped in beside him, then came up with a squeal.

  “That’s cold!”

  “It’s not bad when you’re moving. It’s a good temperature for laps, actually. A lot better than some of the silly pools I’ve been in that are for geriatric water aerobics or something.”

  “You be nice,” Cam said.

  “I’m just saying warm is fine if you’re standing around, but cool is better to swim.”

  She liked warm better, but she knew Rob was probably right.

  They made a good effort at “Rob helping Cam,” at least to the degree she could control how ticklish she was. She tried extra hard when she saw Vera come out in her sleek black suit and dive into the lane next to them. She went down and back ten times before she stopped to talk to them.

  “So what are you two doing?” she asked.

  “This is my boyfriend, Rob. Rob, this is . . . wait. I didn’t get your name,” Cam said.

  “Vera.”

  “Vera. Nice to meet you. Anyway, Rob swam in high school and so he’s trying to help me swim better.”

  “I did that,” Vera said. “Club team here and then my high school. You from around here?”

  Cam thought she was flirting with Rob, which annoyed her, but then that had been one o
f their plans. She just wished it hadn’t been so easy to get it going.

  “I grew up in Michigan,” Rob said. “And it was water polo, actually. At least once I hit high school.”

  She giggled. “Race you.” And then dived under water.

  Rob, ever competitive, dived too, without even giving it a thought. Cam moved over a lane. She thought about swimming a lap, and then debated the importance of being there when they got back. Finally, she let the mission win. Rob would get more out of Vera if they could bond as swimmers. He knew the cover story and he was a reporter. She pushed herself off the wall and made an attempt at a real lap.

  Rob and Vera were laughing and in conversation when she reached the original side again. She thought she might be getting a stitch and scolded herself for getting out of shape, even though she rode her bicycle regularly. She took a breath and pushed herself to do another lap to give Rob time to work Vera.

  When she finally arrived back a second time, Rob thankfully stopped her.

  “Cam, Vera is the daughter of the man from the funeral we went to Monday—Derrick Windermere’s daughter.”

  Cam gave her best surprised face. “I didn’t recognize you with no clothes and your hair up. I’m so sorry about your dad.”

  “Yes, well . . . I appreciate that. And I’m sad, of course. But there is a part of me relieved to not have my life meddled in anymore.”

  “Oh! I guess I can see that. He was very powerful. My best friend is Senator Schulz’s daughter, so I know powerful men can be fairly opinionated.”

  She didn’t share that strong people didn’t let that stop them. Not everybody could be Annie. Probably if everybody were, chaos would reign, but Cam knew which kind of person she preferred as a best friend.

  “I think I’ve met that friend of yours—Annie. Mike, my husband, was the brother of the Senator’s wife, Elle. We were at their wedding.”

  “Was her brother?” Cam said, hoping she wasn’t overdoing her acting.

  “Mike was killed this week, too. It’s been a horrible week.”

  Vera seemed to take heart in the sympathy Cam and Rob offered her, so maybe it wasn’t overly contrived. They swam some more, or rather Rob and Vera did, Cam moving to the Jacuzzi spa, and then Vera offered to treat them to lunch in the bar.

  “It’s the same menu as the clubhouse, but with a much better choice of cocktails,” she said.

  Cam fought the impulse to seek out the clock. She could tell something had transpired conversationally between Rob and Vera. Vera kept saying it was so nice to talk to someone who wasn’t giving her advice or judging her, so somewhere they’d shared something. She tried to squash the fact that it bothered her. And she couldn’t be sure whether she was jealous that Vera was flirting with her boyfriend, or jealous her boyfriend was the one making progress on the investigation. Either reason was silly. This was the plan. But it didn’t stop her from ordering a salad with fresh crab on it for lunch. If Vera was paying, a small part of her wanted to take advantage.

  Rob ordered a Cobb salad and a beer, and Vera a cup of soup with a roll and a glass of wine. By the time their food arrived, Vera was ready for a second glass, but Cam wasn’t going to complain. Her sweet tea was just fine and it would give her and Rob a conversational advantage.

  “I am so sorry you have to deal with all of this tragedy. Do they know anything about who might have killed your dad yet?” Rob said.

  “Mike was murdered, too.”

  “That’s horrible,” Cam gasped.

  “Were the deaths related then?” Rob asked.

  “I can’t see how. They ran in entirely different circles.”

  “So what did Mike do?” Cam asked.

  Vera sighed. “He worked for Windermere, which I know sounds like I’m contradicting myself. But seriously. He was a nobody in the company. It was just Daddy being charitable.”

  “Speaking of Windermere,” Rob said, “I hope this isn’t too personal . . . was there some sort of lawsuit trying to get your dad out of Chrysanthemum Holdings?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me at all. Dozens of people would have liked him out of their way. Possibly even Heather, claiming in his right mind he would have married her, though the reality is, he couldn’t. Mother was blackmailing him on that front. She claims she was protecting my interests, but I think she just never wanted a second Mrs. Windermere.”

  “Heather. That’s his . . .”

  “Heather Saunders. Girlfriend. For ages.”

  “And your mother kept them from marrying?”

  “Believe me. She has piles of dirt on my dad. She wouldn’t use it, of course. It would mess with her alimony. But she threatened to where Heather was concerned.”

  “Do you know anything else about Chrysanthemum Holdings?”

  “Only that that Melvin Entwhistle is a piece of work. My father never should have trusted that weasel.”

  “Melvin? Really. Weasel how?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, I’m sure. He just gives me the creeps.”

  That seemed to have turned Vera off from official conversation. Instead she wanted to know about what part of Michigan Rob was from, how he’d ended up in Roanoke, and how he and Cam had met. Cam felt like a third wheel, but they’d gotten a lot of valuable information, so she tried not to pout about it as Vera talked through a third glass of wine and a single bite of her berry sherbet.

  CHAPTER 17

  When Rob dropped Cam off at her place, she had to lie down for a while. She’d forgotten how much energy swimming took. Finally she dragged herself to the shower, as this was the night she was scheduled to bartend with Dylan. She had a new appreciation now for Rob’s feelings on the matter. She’d acted far less jealous than Rob had, but then again, the ruse with Vera had been agreed upon beforehand.

  Hopefully, because Rob knew what she was doing with the bartending gig, he wouldn’t be upset this time. That reminded her of the very steamy, if slightly medicated, kiss she’d once shared with Dylan. A secret she intended to take to her grave.

  Cam chose a shortish black skirt and white cotton blouse for the night. She figured she looked like a waitress in it. Overly traditional would be the only criticism, and probably not a lot of that, as she was showing some leg.

  Annie let herself in while Cam was dressing and lectured Cam on safety, hanging a thin rope around her neck with a small container of mace at the end before she left again. Cam wondered when Annie had become the paranoid one, but then remembered that their past investigations had gone a lot worse for Annie than Cam, and it couldn’t hurt to have this just in case.

  Dylan had agreed to pick her up to go to the “casino,” which wasn’t a casino at all, but a lush game room in one of the fancier homes west of Roanoke. At seven, he arrived and they drove to Copperbrook to set up. It was a strange name for a manor, but Cam was willing to bet that money from copper mining had paid for the place.

  A maid let them in and led them through to the back of the house. The room was decorated in dark wood with thick-cushioned, tapestry-covered furniture. It was semicircular and had windows with a view of the Blue Mountains on the south side, though it was only a silhouette, as the sun had set just before they arrived. More impressive to Cam was the view to the east of a large greenhouse filled with a variety of flowers and vegetables. Drawn, she moved toward it and peered through the glass. Though the light of the day was fading, she saw one corner with tropical flowers—African violets and bird of paradise—that were still under lights. Nearer to her were orchids and hibiscus on one wall and tomatoes on the other. Someone loved both flowers and fresh food.

  “Ahem!”

  Cam started and turned back around to find Dylan, ready to instruct her.

  The bar was an old-fashioned one, pretty big for somebody’s home. There was room for half a dozen tables, but at the moment, there was clearly only one table that mattered. A large round table with a felt top trimmed in wood sat at the center of the room, all others pushed to the periphery. She wondered if it had com
e from Atlantic City or something. It had an air of being expensive and seedy at the same time.

  “You ever tend bar before?” Dylan asked.

  “No.”

  “Well-drinks . . . you know what those are, right?”

  “One liquor, one mixer.”

  “Right. You can probably do those. One third alcohol, two thirds mixer for most—half and half at the main table. High-end booze allows us to charge more, so use it for everyone, unless they give you a brand. Then do what they want. Beer and wine are easy. You get any mixed-drink orders, otherwise tell me.”

  “Got it.”

  “Don’t ask any questions. That going to screw you up?”

  “I was actually just hoping to observe.”

  “Yeah. That’s better. But try not to be too obvious about it. It’s not like these people want their business in the tabloids, so they’re paying attention to who’s paying attention, if you know what I mean.”

  That worried Cam. She’d sort of thought, as a waitress, she would fly under the radar.

  “So how many people are usually here?” she asked.

  “Five or six players at the main table. Anywhere between nobody and a dozen watching. If the main game isn’t too big a deal, sometimes there’s another game or two at the other tables.”

  “And are they going to be okay with two bartenders?”

  “I expect the higher-end turnout tonight. Sully’s death will bring some more people out of respect, so they’ll be glad I anticipated and they don’t have to wait for drinks.”

  “So they’re gambling? With a dead friend?”

  “Well, sure. It’s what they did with him. How better to pay their respects? Probably more girls, too.”

  “But playing, it’s all men?”

  “All but one time that I ever saw. That Ellie was a firecracker.”

  “Ellie? Elle Chamberlain Schulz?”

  Dylan shrugged.

  “Was she Sully’s sister?”

  Cam could see recognition cross his face. “Yeah. I think she was.”

  “That’s Annie’s stepmother.”