Beauty to Die For

by Kim Alexis

  “Valentine. Valentine Overstreet. I think you know her brother, Greg, the security guard? He was devastated, of course. Kept insisting it was murder, not suicide. But we all figured that was just his way of coping. I mean, the signs were pretty clear.”

  Anger flared within Crystal’s heart. Maybe so, but how dare they all dismiss Greg’s suspicions entirely? Even if suicide had been the more obvious conclusion, they could’ve at least considered the alternative.

  Moonflower continued. “Val was clinically depressed, I do believe, plus she’d been having an affair with a married man, and it ended badly. Losing her job was the last straw. She just went off the deep end. Almost everyone blamed Raven, but I say it was Reggie’s fault too. If only he weren’t such a stickler.”

  Again, Crystal gasped. What was it that Marcus had overheard Iliana say to Reggie?

  Wasn’t one death enough for you?

  It made sense now.

  The death Iliana had been talking about was Valentine’s!

  “Her ex was the one who broke off the relationship. Told Valentine he had to call it quits because he just couldn’t live with the guilt anymore. Guilt, schmilt, the guy cheats on his wife all the time. That was just an excuse.”

  The wasp landed and began inching its way along a windshield wiper. Crystal watched, her mind spinning as Moonflower continued.

  “I mean, their affair wasn’t exactly common knowledge, but Val confided in me sometimes. I know she loved him desperately. Losing him devastated her.”

  Crystal’s mind raced. What was the quote the police had taken for a suicide note? “If you lose control of your heart, you lose control of your head, too?”

  No wonder everyone had jumped to that conclusion.

  “Who was he?” Crystal hated to ask, but she simply had to know.

  On the other end of the line, the older woman was quiet for a moment. “I’m no gossip, Crystal. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t violate a confidence like this, but I guess it doesn’t matter now anyway. I think I’ll make an exception, purely as a cautionary tale.”

  “A cautionary tale?”

  Moonflower sighed. “The man was someone she worked with. You work with him now too. I’d hate to see you fall into the same trap she did. He is awfully handsome.”

  Crystal’s mind raced. “Who, Moonflower? What’s his name?”

  “It was Ty Kirkland. The spa aide. Before she died, Valentine had been having an affair with Ty.”

  JULIETTE HAD NO IDEA who Raven’s agent was, but it shouldn’t be hard to find out. She waited until Marcus finished his call with the detective, then as he drove them back to the resort, she started checking around. Sure enough, after just a few calls, she had the agent’s name and office number.

  Crystal had said the man might be in hiding, but Juliette had a feeling he’d just been avoiding Moonflower’s calls. And though Juliette hated to throw her own “celebrity” around, she invoked it now. It must’ve worked, because after less than a minute on hold, the man’s secretary put her through.

  In her most charming voice, Juliette apologized for the intrusion but said that she needed to talk to him about her “old friend and colleague” Raven. Then she launched right in, telling the man her theory about Raven’s threat at the airport and the three men who were staying at the resort incognito. Much to her relief, the agent confirmed all of it.

  “Let’s just say that Raven was desperate to get that part.” He spoke in a thick Brooklyn accent—despite the fact that he worked in Beverly Hills. “She managed to get a glimpse of the script, and she was convinced that was the character she was born to play. The role called for a ‘woman of a certain age,’ a hard-working Appalachian type who also happened to be tall and stunning.”

  Just like the paragraph Juliette had seen in the restaurant. “Any chance she was actually going to get the part?”

  “No ma’am. No way. Between you and me, Ms. Taylor, I couldn’t even get her an audition. They said they needed a more, uh, natural look.”

  “Ah.” In other words, one not so obviously altered by cosmetic surgery. Poor Raven. Why had she clung so desperately to her youth when she could have grown into such a beautiful older woman?

  The agent continued. “Somehow she got it in her head that if the director would just spend a little time with her, he’d look beyond the obvious and see how perfect she was for the part anyway.”

  “So she arranged to meet up with him here?”

  “Uh . . . not exactly. You might say she kind of stalked him there.”

  He went on to explain how Raven had been hovering around VonTassel for a few weeks, waiting for the perfect opportunity to corner him. Apparently she had busboys on the payroll at all of his favorite restaurants, to keep their ears open on her behalf. Last week she finally hit pay dirt when one of her paid informants told her that not only was VonTassel going to a spa this weekend—which was, to her mind, the perfect place to connect in a relaxed setting—but he was going to her spa, the one she’d been using for years.

  “She must’ve been thrilled.”

  “Yep. Took it as kismet. Wanted to book a room near his but there was just one problem—she had no idea what name he’d be registering under. All her informant knew was that he was staying incognito, as a character from an old Jimmy Stewart movie.”

  Juliette nodded. “So why all the secrecy? From what I understand, people in the entertainment industry come to Palm Grotto all the time.”

  “It’s the combination of the three people involved.” The man’s voice grew intimate. Conspiratorial. “This is all very hush-hush, you understand, but rumor has it that those three are in talks about forming their own studio. If they do, it’ll be very big news.”

  “I see.”

  “From what I understand, this is supposedly going to be their flagship film.”

  A flagship film from a new studio—and Raven dreamed of being the star.

  Taking a deep breath, Juliette thanked the agent for his help and said there was just one more thing, the matter of the blackmailer.

  He sounded surprised that she knew about that but told her what he could. His version of events was similar to Crystal’s, though when he mentioned having discussed it with the police, Juliette interrupted him. “Wait. You reported the blackmail to the police?”

  “No, Raven didn’t want that. I’m talking about yesterday, when the lead detective on the murder case called to question me. I went ahead and told him everything—about the blackmail scheme, about Raven’s threat to you at the airport, about the three men and why she was there at the spa.”

  Juliette thought about that for a moment. “Did you happen to mention how Raven gave the list of Jimmy Stewart character names to the reservationist?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  Well. At least that explained who had tattled. Just knowing made Juliette feel oddly vindicated. Take that, Iliana.

  Marcus made a right turn, and Juliette realized they weren’t far from the resort. Eager to wrap things up, she asked the agent her final question, if he thought the blackmailer might’ve been the one to kill Raven.

  “Huh. Never crossed my mind. That’s been all over and done with for a while. The letter came back in January, Raven responded to it a week or two later, and nothing’s happened since. I’ve been monitoring the Internet—just to keep an eye out, you understand—but as far as I can tell, no movie has ever surfaced. I think the blackmailer was bluffing. Once she called that bluff, there was no other response but to let it drop.”

  Marcus slowed as they neared the entrance up ahead.

  The agent continued. “If you want to know the truth, Ms. Taylor, there are plenty of viable suspects much closer at hand. Raven had no shortage of enemies, as I’m sure you know. I hate to say it, but given the number of people who wished she were dead, I’ll be surprised if they ever figure out who actually did it.”

  As Juliette hung up, a wave of sadness swept over her. It was almost as if Raven had intentionally alienated peopl
e, to keep them away. She probably figured if she never let anyone get close, she’d never get hurt.

  How wrong she had been!

  Juliette tried to put those thoughts from her mind as Marcus slowed and turned in to the resort. They pulled to a stop at the security booth, surprised to see Didi there, chatting with Orlando, laptop tucked under her arm.

  As soon as Marcus rolled down the window, Didi instructed them to park the car around the corner and come right back. Juliette didn’t have much time to spare before she would need to return her attentions to the retreat—dinner with the attendees was in half an hour, followed by an hour of preparation and her final keynote address at eight—but they did as requested and were soon back at the gate on foot.

  “You’ll never believe what I found.” Didi’s eyes glowed as she opened her laptop and thrust it toward Juliette. “This is the clearest shot I got of the footprint near the sign.”

  Juliette looked at the photo on the screen, which was quite clear. It showed the rich brown soil of a flowerbed, into which had been pressed the front curve of a shoe with a very unique tread.

  “Now, if you zoom in here . . .” Didi pressed a few buttons and enlarged the image. “You can see a tiny irregularity on one of the treads.”

  Juliette squinted at the screen, conscious of the heat of Marcus’s body as he stood close and looked on as well. Didi was right, the tread pattern consisted of rows and rows of round dots, but one of those dots looked different from the others—intentionally so.

  “Now”—Didi pressed a few more buttons—“I had an idea, so I did a little Googling. And voilà.”

  With one more click, the photo of the dirt was replaced with a slick advertising image of an actual shoe, tilted on its side to reveal the unique tread along the bottom. The rows and rows of dots were an exact match for the shoeprint in the dirt.

  Without a word, Didi zoomed in closer on this image as well—until Juliette could see exactly what had caused the irregularity in the dirt. One of the dots of the tread held an imprint, the familiar logo of the overlapping letters L and V.

  Louis Vuitton.

  No question, the shoe that had made that footprint was a designer ballet flat, straight from the Louis Vuitton spring collection.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  JULIETTE COULDN'T BELIEVE ILIANA had been the one to vandalize their sign. Then again, she had left the resort last night in a fury, blaming the owners of JT Lady for her misfortune. Was it really all that surprising that she’d come back here later to strike out in revenge? At least her only weapon had been a can of spray paint. Considering the events of the past few days, Juliette shuddered to think what could have happened instead.

  Marcus frowned. “Guess we should call and share this with the police.”

  “We can tell them in person,” Didi said. “They’re on their way now to get Xena. They called Orlando and told him not to let her leave the property.”

  Juliette glanced at Marcus. Thank heaven the police were already acting on the info they’d called in just after leaving the restaurant.

  Juliette glanced at her watch and rethought her schedule. She had intended to freshen up and prepare for her talk before dinner, but that would mean heading on to her room now. Instead, she decided to wait and do that between the meal and the closing session, which would buy her another half hour before she’d have to go. Maybe she’d get to see how events unfolded.

  A handsome young security guard came to deliver a status report to Orlando, and Juliette strained to listen as they spoke. From what she could hear, Xena was still at the spa for now but was almost done for the day and should be heading out soon. When they finished talking, the young man slipped into the booth as Orlando rejoined them at the gate.

  “I wish the police would hurry up and get here.” He looked toward the road, his expression tense.

  Juliette cleared her throat. “While we’re waiting, I have a question about Iliana. She was escorted out of here last night in a rage, so why on earth was she allowed back onto the property later?”

  Orlando shook his head, looking surprised at the very question. “She wasn’t. She snuck in somehow, probably during rounds.”

  “Rounds?”

  He returned his gaze to the road. “Yeah, we try to keep the booth manned continuously during the day, but that’s not as easy at night because there’s fewer guards on duty. Once an hour, starting around midnight, whoever’s manning the gate usually has to lock it up, hang out the ‘Back in 10 minutes’ sign, and drive the loop, just to make sure things are okay.”

  Juliette pursed her lips. “But hasn’t security been sort of amped up the past few days?”

  Orlando nodded. “We’ve had extra personnel since the death, but there were a few hours last night—around three to six this morning, I think—where there was no overlap. My guess is that Iliana parked her car on the road around the corner and out of sight, watched until the guard took off on his rounds, then came in on foot, painted the sign, and slipped back out again before he returned. She probably could’ve done that in ten minutes—and if not, she knew this place well enough to hide for a while and slip out during the next rounds an hour later. That’s my theory anyway.”

  CRYSTAL HAD TO TALK to Greg. She had to tell him that she believed his theory about his sister’s death, even if no one else did. She wanted to describe the afternoon’s brainstorming session, to let him know that the people who were trying to solve Raven’s murder might be willing to try and solve Valentine’s as well.

  He was probably still on duty, so she drove straight to the resort. When she got there, she was surprised to see Juliette, Didi, and Marcus all standing at the guest entrance gate, talking with Orlando. Something strange was going on.

  Swallowing hard, Crystal scanned her card to clear the employee gate, then she pulled ahead and parked on the shoulder. She climbed out and ran over to join them, hoping they wouldn’t mind her butting in.

  They didn’t seem to. With a welcoming smile, Juliette explained that they were waiting for the police, who were coming to get Xena. “Also, Didi identified the shoe print. It was Iliana.”

  Crystal gasped. “Iliana wrote those horrible words on the sign? No way!”

  Suddenly a voice called out from the booth—Greg’s voice—telling them that Xena was on the move, headed to employee parking.

  Crystal hadn’t even noticed Greg there before, but now their eyes met and he gave her a quick wink before returning his focus to the screen and the walkie talkie inside. Watching him, she felt a surge of electricity that shot clear down to her toes.

  There was a noise behind her, and she turned to see a sedan pulling into the resort entrance, Detective Bryant at the wheel, followed by a police car.

  “It’s about time,” Orlando mumbled as both vehicles came to a stop.

  Leaning down, he updated the detective on the situation, then got into the backseat of the second car, the cruiser, so he could lead them to the parking lot to apprehend Xena.

  Greg raised the gate as Orlando had them back up and pull through the employee entrance instead. Then they were off, racing down the narrow road. Crystal thought Detective Bryant would follow, but instead he stayed where he was and spoke to Juliette. “I’m glad you’re here. I was just about to contact you. Do you have a moment?”

  She nodded. “We’ll meet you in the main parking lot, around the corner.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Crystal stayed there beside the booth and watched everyone go, wondering why, after such commotion, all of a sudden things seemed so quiet.

  Maybe it was the calm before the storm.

  EVEN IF IT WASN'T mutual, Marcus was starting to have a lot of respect for Didi. She was protective of Juliette, of course, and not exactly warm and fuzzy toward him. But as he watched her with the detective, he couldn’t help but think how competent she seemed, how clearly she laid out the facts and presented her case about Iliana and the shoeprint and the vandalized sign.

  T
he four of them were at the far end of the half-empty parking lot, standing beside the detective’s car in the shade of a big tree. A radio crackled inside the vehicle, at one point interrupting them with the report that Xena had been apprehended at her car without incident. They all cheered. After that, Didi jumped back into her tale and soon had Bryant so convinced about the shoeprint that he radioed in for another cruiser to round up Iliana Hernandez, wherever she may be.

  After that, Didi put away her laptop and they all listened as Bryant launched in with the news he’d come there to deliver. According to him, the fingerprint report had returned with a hit. The man who snuck into Juliette’s room while she was sleeping and left a note on her pillow was none other than the spa aide Ty Kirkland.

  By his own admission in that note, Ty was the one who’d killed Raven.

  Juliette paled at the news. Marcus took her by the elbow even as Didi moved into place on her other side and grabbed her forearm. Their reactions as dueling protectors would’ve been almost comical had the situation not been so serious.

  The detective’s expression was grim. “Worse, Kirkland has disappeared. Around noon he told people here that he had a family emergency and had to leave early. But according to his wife, there is no family emergency and she hasn’t seen or heard from him since he left for work this morning.”

  Marcus and Didi grunted in unison.

  The man continued, his eyes on Juliette. “We’ve checked out the timing and think he must have gone to your room right after he left the spa. No one knows where he went after that.”

  Juliette pursed her lips. “Any idea why he killed Raven? Or why he decided to confess, for that matter?”

  Detective Bryant shook his head.

  Didi’s eyes burned with rage. “Why did he go into Juliette’s room? Why confess that way?”

  “You think he was trying to threaten her? Scare her? What?” Marcus could feel his blood boil.

  Bryant shrugged. “He was probably making a point, trying to show that he could do harm if he wanted to. It’s not uncommon, a type of ‘posturing.’”