Grosse Pointe

by Clara Grace Walker

  Detective LeBec sat across the table from her in a leather chair that looked a lot more comfortable than the hard piece of plastic she’d been escorted to.

  “Tell me about the night your sister died,” he said. Staring at her now like he couldn’t wait to hear every word she said…as if she might actually tell him something useful.

  “I told you all about it that day you came to see me at my house, right after they found her body. I was at a party.” She thought now she should have brought her attorney, wondering what exactly Cameron had told him when he’d come here two weeks ago. But there hadn’t been any follow-up since then, and they’d both gotten on with their lives, putting unpleasant memories like murders and police interrogations behind them. It had been stupid not to get their stories straight before she came here though. She’d just assumed the police had all the information they needed from her and Cam, and no one was seriously looking at them as suspects.

  “I’m aware of the party at the country club.” Detective LeBec picked up a pen from the top of the file in front of him, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. He stared at her with curious eyes. “You know, of course, that Annie was killed before the party started. According to the autopsy, she died between three and five o’clock that day. You and your husband didn’t arrive at the country club until seven.”

  “That’s right.” Carolyn hated the way he made her feel…the pit he had sitting in her stomach, like she was some sort of criminal. “But we were both at the party when Annie’s body was dumped on the polo field.”

  Max nodded, smiling. “I’m also aware that Cameron’s whereabouts during the party were unaccounted for between nine and nine-forty-five.”

  “I told you, he was taking a business call.”

  “No one from the school called.”

  Letting out a long sigh, Carolyn said, “It was about a fundraiser for the art museum.”

  “I’ve checked his cell phone records during the time in question that night.”

  Carolyn felt it now – that little sense of panic – and she wished Cameron had thought of a better excuse. But damn it, she was trapped in the lie now, and all because her husband was such an idiot. “I don’t know why you keep harping on about that night anyway,” she said. “He was home preparing course work for the coming school year the night Hannah died. And two nights ago he was at the Summer Select choir concert. And you can more than take my word for that one. He had an entire auditorium full of witnesses.”

  “But not you?” He stated it as a known fact.

  “I had a headache that night. I stayed home.”

  “So why lie about the night your sister died?” Max asked.

  Casting her glance around the room, Carolyn scrambled to make sense of this visit. Surely he couldn’t still suspect Cam. He had a solid alibi for the last murder. Yet, that stupid cop kept staring at her, looking at her like she was a liar, lips pursed together, shaking his stupid head. And slowly it dawned on her. She was the one on the other side of the interrogation table.

  “Curious thing, Mrs. Pringle, no one remembers seeing you between nine and nine-thirty the night of the country club party either.”

  Thinking quickly, she tried denying it. He couldn’t possibly suspect her. Could he? Scrambling now, her mind raced for all the possible ways to explain the lie. Garner his sympathy. Keep him from thinking what he must surely be thinking. And she settled on playing the victim card. “Are you trying to humiliate me?” she asked. On cue, her tears formed.

  “Why would I try to humiliate you?” Max asked, still twirling the damned pen.

  “I spent all that time in the ladies’ room that night.” It made a good story…one that couldn’t be disproven…so genius she started to bawl. “You think I don’t know my husband cheats?” Tears came for real now, and she hated Max for it. God, she needed a drink. She was heading for Rustics the very second she stepped out of this miserable building.

  “Is it your contention, Mrs. Pringle, that your husband was with another woman during the forty minutes he was unaccounted for? And that you were in the bathroom crying because of it?”

  “Yes!” She wailed, and hated this smug, middle-aged cop as much as she ever remembered hating anyone.

  “So why lie about it?”

  “Because I have a social standing in this community to think about. Good grief, you can’t possibly be that dense. You understand that appearances matter, don’t you?”

  Max, setting down his pen, looked at her with a hard stare. “I understand they matter to you, Mrs. Pringle. Your sister having your husband’s baby would certainly have been bad for appearances.”

  “My sister was not having Cam’s baby!”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do say so!”

  “Alright then. The DNA results will be back soon. We shall see.” Pausing then, softening his glare, he said, “Any idea who your husband snuck off with?”

  Damn him. She was still reeling from the DNA comment. That would be a disaster if it was true. But Cam hadn’t given them a DNA sample. She was sure of it. So she raced through the possible answers to his question…names of women Cam might have snuck off with. It suited her to blame it on that interloping bitch, Bexley Hart. But that stupid little cunt was too squeaky clean. She’d been with Nan and Vaughn almost the entire evening – a fact they’d be much too happy to attest to. And when she wasn’t with one of them, stupid-ass Cameron had been there trying to hit on her – humiliating his own wife in front of the entire club. Another name would have to be given. All the women who’d been at the party paraded through her thoughts like a fashion show – seeing each of them in the dresses, skirts and pantsuits they’d worn – seeing Bexley in the way-too-predictably pink Lilly Pulitzer. Who had they all been talking to? Who else might have disappeared? Finally, settling on one name she thought might work. “Well, he’s been known to slip upstairs to the library with Katherine Buckingham, if you must know.”

  Katherine was a friend of Annie’s. She’d moved to the City three years ago, and worked as an executive assistant at Linwood Jameson’s firm. In fact, she was currently sleeping with Lin. But she’d had a well-known affair with Cameron before that, and hell, if she was anything at all like Annie, she was probably screwing half the town.

  “Katherine Buckingham?” Max continued with that hard stare of his, back to twirling the pen. “You expect her to admit to this?”

  “Hell no! People care what other people think about them, you know.”

  “I suppose they do at that.” Pausing now, seeming to accept her explanation, he asked, “So who do you think killed Annie, Hannah, and Sophie?”

  The question surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to ask. And again, she raced through the possibilities, quickly coming up with an answer. “Linwood Jameson.”

  “Really?” His brows shot up. “Care to tell me why?”

  “Well, for starters, he dated all those girls. God only knows, he’ll screw anything that walks. And the man has a temper. Everyone in town knows that.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Feeling vindicated now, stronger, like she’d come up with exactly the right answers.

  “Well, you’ve been very helpful, Mrs. Pringle. Thank you.” Pushing up from his chair, he escorted her back to the door, watching as she made her way outside.

  Carolyn exhaled, relaxing, pleased with herself for handling the stress so well, waiting until she had her Mercedes pulled out of the parking lot and headed down Kerby toward Kercheval before dialing her sister.

  “Hello.” Eleanor answered, sounding tired.

  “Ellie, it’s me. Can you talk?”

  “Cara?”

  “Yes. Can you talk?”

  “You sound nervous. What’s wrong?”

  “I just left the police station.”

  “What? Why?”

  “They wanted to talk to me about the murders. Me! Can you believe it? As if I’d ever dirty my hands killing someone
. Hell, I could probably find half a dozen junkies on the other side of Alter willing to kill someone for a fix. What would be the point in putting my own self at risk?”

  “True,” her sister agreed. “But you really should have picked a better time to sneak off to the pro shop with Antoine.”

  Antoine was the golf pro at the club. He had keys to the pro shop, enabling them to steal away for a quickie the night of the party. Antoine was twenty-six, handsome, and well-hung. Half her friends at the club had tried him out. They liked to compare notes – her friends and her – and everyone agreed; Antoine was a total stud.

  “Okay, you’re right.” Carolyn allowed her sister the concession, though she hated admitting it. “I could have picked a better time and place, but it’s not like I knew some psychopath was going to murder Annie and dump her body at the club now, was it? Besides, Cameron and I were both home the night Hannah Ransom was killed.”

  “I get it,” Eleanor said. “But seriously, Sis, that’s not a very solid alibi. People are just going to think that one of you is lying for the other. Though Cam’s appearance at the choir concert should put him in the clear.”

  “Yeah. I guess my headache that night was as ill-timed as my crying jag the night of the party.”

  “Oh my God! Were you with Antoine that night, too?”

  “What can I say? The man’s a stud.”

  “I know, Cara, but this looks bad for you.”

  “Why?” She felt defensive about it, even with her sister. “I didn’t have any reason to kill Hannah or Sophie. And I would never have killed Annie…even though Cam did knock her up. I just wanted her to get an abortion.”

  “Okay. Okay,” Eleanor said, sounding more like the older sister now, instead of the second-born. “I’m not the one you need to convince. You need to get the police off your ass. Did you manage to do that? Or are we going to have to hire you an attorney?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve put him on Linwood’s trail.”

  “Linwood Jameson? You seriously think Lin killed Annie and her friends?”

  “No. Not really. But at least that will give Detective LeBec someone else to interrogate for a while.”

  “I suppose.”

  A terrible thought had occurred to Carolyn right before leaving the police station, and she confided it now to her sister. “Ellie, do you know what I realized when I was busy telling Detective LeBec that he should question Lin, because Lin dated all of the dead girls?”

  “No. What?”

  “Vaughn Humphries dated them, too.”

  Silence answered her on the other end, and Carolyn waited for what felt like several long minutes for her sister to respond. “Ellie, are you still there? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  Eleanor cleared her throat. “Did you tell anyone else this?”

  “No. Of course not. I know you’ve got your sights set on Vaughn.”

  “Good. See that you keep your mouth shut about that.”

  Eleanor spoke with a finality Carolyn hadn’t heard since they were kids and her sister had warned her away from being friends with an overweight, pimple-faced girl in middle school who was not part of the in-crowd. “Well, of course I wouldn’t say anything, Ellie, but what if —”

  “Vaughn didn’t kill anyone, Carolyn! For crying out loud, what’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. It’s just, Vaughn wasn’t seen for a long time during that party either, and we know he wasn’t with Bexley Hart that entire time. And, well, no one’s even thought to ask him where he was when Hannah and Sophie were killed.”

  “Oh my God, Cara! Do you even hear yourself right now?”

  “Yes, but wouldn’t you want to know if he did it?”

  “He didn’t.”

  “I know you don’t believe it, but —”

  “Vaughn Humphries didn’t kill anyone! Now shut up and never mention that idiotic idea ever again.”

  “Okay,” Carolyn said. Two years younger or not, Eleanor had always ruled the roost, and Carolyn knew better than to cross her. “Forget I ever said anything. It was a stupid idea anyhow.”

  “Good. Now where are you?”

  “I’m driving down Kercheval in the Park. I was just about to go into Rustics for an early happy hour.”

  “Perfect. I’ll join you there in twenty minutes. And keep your mouth shut until then.”

  “Of course.” Carolyn found an open spot in front of the bar and pulled up alongside the curb, shifting her car into park and shutting off the engine. Some days she hated Eleanor.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Saturday sizzled at ninety-five degrees. For two and a half hours, Bexley had cooled herself from the summer heat with Vaughn at the country club pool. They’d sipped champagne spritzers, talked, laughed, ate French fries, and dove into the splendid waters of the pool whenever the sun felt too intense. It had been like a day one might see in a movie or television show. Absolute perfection. Right up until Bexley had been reminded of the club’s one major drawback: it came with a complete line-up of the Dodson family — plus appendages.

  Eleanor, Sally Hamilton, and two women Bexley had never seen before, showed up first. They sat in the pool chairs one row in front of Vaughn and Bexley, the next umbrella over. Eleanor was especially boisterous, laughing and giggling about their morning golf game.

  “I ran into Lisa Washington at the Village Palm,” Bexley heard Eleanor say. “My God is she ever starting to get the wrinkles. Hasn’t anyone told her about Botox?”

  The rest of the women laughed, and then Eleanor said, “And my God, you should see the roots starting to grow in. The whole time she’s talking to me, I’m thinking, ‘seriously woman, call the salon.’”

  “Did you offer her the number to Salon 76?” one of the women asked.

  “Hell no! I run into that woman around town enough. I don’t need to see her at the hairdresser’s too. The next thing you know, she’d be coming out with a blonde bob. As if that would help her any. She’s got the face of a bulldog.”

  “She’s always going on and on about her charity work whenever I see her,” Sally said. “And acting like I don’t know she slept with my husband.”

  “Sally, everyone’s slept with your husband,” Eleanor said. “I’ve slept with your husband.”

  More laughter followed — from everyone except Sally. And then some whispered comments Bexley couldn’t make out. Every few minutes Eleanor would steal a glance in Bexley’s direction. Obviously so. One time, shaking her head, she said to her friends, “He’s here with the temporary.”

  Bexley ignored her, thinking Eleanor was making herself look desperate.

  Carolyn Dodson Pringle and her creepy husband came next. They plunked themselves down under the umbrella right next to Bexley and Vaughn. Literally right next to them. And Cameron went straight to staring over Vaughn, who sat between him and Bexley, ogling Bexley every few seconds, his gaze fixed predictably just below her neck.

  Five minutes, and Bexley had had it. “I wish he’d quit staring at me,” she said.

  Following her gaze, Vaughn frowned. “You mean Cam?”

  “Yes. He hasn’t stopped looking this way since they sat down. Pity he and Carolyn couldn’t have found someplace else to sit.”

  With a shrug of his shoulders, Vaughn said, “Those are about the only two chairs left.

  He wasn’t wrong. The heat had brought a swarm of members to the pool. Even the chairs on the lawn were full. It didn’t matter. The observation irritated her anyway. “You could try sounding a little more sympathetic. My point was that the guy won’t stop ogling me.”

  “Shh.” Vaughn put a finger to his lips. “He’ll hear you.”

  “I don’t care if he does.” Glancing over, she saw Cam still looking her way. Carolyn, too. Carolyn scowled. She got up and headed for the gate separating the pool from the restaurant, ping pong tables, and bath house that made up the rest of the summer village. Cam turned his gaze from Bexley, watching his wife disappear inside the bath house.


  Relaxing once more into her lounge chair, Bexley closed her eyes, letting her thoughts drift back to the night in Vaughn’s bed she hoped would soon follow.

  “You’re making those purple scraps of fabric look pretty amazing.”

  “What?” Bexley’s eyes snapped open. Cameron Pringle stood at the foot of her lounge chair, grinning over her.

  “Just saying your bod is smoking hot. That’s all.”

  She looked over at Vaughn, expecting him to say something. And when he didn’t – when all he did was fidget and look uncomfortable — her anger erupted full force. “One, your comments about my body are not welcome. Two, you’re a pervert. And three, quit staring at me.”

  Cam’s jaw dropped. He looked from her to Vaughn, and then back to her, his expression going from shocked to angry by the time his gaze swiveled back her way. Face blotched red, he glared at Vaughn. “Are you going to let her speak to me that way?”

  Vaughn looked even more uncomfortable, bumping up his shoulder. “Maybe you should go sit back down.”

  Cam aimed his stare back at Bexley, sneering. “Chill out, Miss Hart. I was just trying to pay you a compliment.”

  Bexley looked over at Vaughn again. His face was almost as red as Cam’s, but with embarrassment animating his eyes, instead of anger. He shook his head, as if telling Bexley not to say anything more. Anger spiraled hot inside her. “Are you even kidding me right now?” she asked.

  And then Carolyn arrived on the scene, fresh from the bath house, brushing thin blonde bangs from her face, and rolling her eyes. She stared at Bexley with icy contempt. “Do you mind terribly not coming to my club, flirting with my husband, and then starting a scene?” She spoke in a hushed tone, folding her arms under her breasts, looking down at Bexley with a laser beam stare.

  Bexley jumped from her chair, throwing on her cover-up, grabbing her beach bag and purse, and slamming her feet into her flip flops. “You listen here, Mrs. Pringle.” She wagged her finger in Carolyn’s face. “I have not now, nor have I ever, flirted with your philandering husband. He’s the one who keeps coming on to me, and I would like him to stop!”