Murder After Midnight

by Dianne Harman

  Sonia believed him all right. This meeting wasn’t turning out the way she’d planned it at all. She crammed a huge bite of her burger into her mouth, and didn’t care at all if there was oily cheese dripping down her chin. She kept eating until the mountain of food evaporated before her, and when she was done she looked around the table in surprise. Seemingly confused, she asked Bruce, “Did I eat all that?” The cocktail of pills she’d taken earlier was obviously wearing off.

  “Sugar high,” Bruce muttered, signaling to the waitress to bring more coffee.

  Sonia rummaged in her purse before stuffing a handful of tablets into her mouth, washing them down with a gulp of her warm milkshake. “I don’t understand why Dana’s so popular,” she said to Bruce. “She’s a mess. She’s old, overweight, and from what I can tell, she hasn’t had any work done on her face or her body. Her favorite pastime seems to be posing for paparazzi shots of her stumbling out of bars with different men on her arm. All I can say is that I feel sorry for her poor husband and children.”

  Sonia had regained her composure, and pulled a gold-colored compact out of her purse. Observing herself in its mirror, she smoothed the immaculate blond waves of her hair and fixed her makeup, reapplying what she considered a flattering plumping lip gloss that gave her mouth a bee-stung look.

  “Sonia, no one’s denying how great you look. But Dana...well, Dana’s got something different. Dana’s special.”

  “How so?” Sonia smiled sweetly while she disguised her urge to punch Bruce in the mouth.

  Bruce continued in a thoughtful manner, “Let me give you a tip,” he said to Sonia at last. “Just be yourself. That’s what people like about Dana. People can relate to her. She’s everyone’s big sister, the forty-something woman next door. She gets caught with her hair in curlers and doesn’t seem to care if she’s caught with lipstick on her teeth.” He gave Sonia a pointed look.

  Sonia self-consciously ran her tongue across her snow-white porcelain dental veneers.

  Bruce was on a roll. “Dana’s naturally pretty, but not threateningly so,” he continued, “and she’s the first to laugh when things go wrong.”

  Sonia couldn’t see anything funny about the situation she found herself in at that moment. “I hear you, Bruce, loud and clear. You’re telling me as long as Dana Donnelly is at the television station, I don’t have any hope of a better offer than the crummy deal you dragged me here today to tell me about. Is that it?”

  “That pretty much sums it up,” Bruce said. “Unless something happens to change Dana’s status between now and January 1 st , which is unlikely, my advice to you is to accept the offer or start looking for another job.”

  “I see,” Sonia said, her face turning sullen. “It’s a pity I don’t have rich family connections like she has. Everyone knows Dana’s father pulled strings with his golf buddies to get her that job in the first place. That and the casting couch, of course,” she snidely added. “All that may be true,” Bruce said, waving to the waitress for the check, “but neither of those factors have kept Dana where she is today. No matter how she got the position, she’s stayed there on her own merit.”

  Sonia pouted. “I disagree. I’m sure the bedfellows she flaunts on her social media pages have something to do with it. I’ve had my share of high-profile lovers too, but I don’t parade them online.”

  “Perhaps you should,” Bruce retorted, handing the waitress his credit card. “You do realize the photos are all part of Dana’s carefully orchestrated media campaign? Taking a barefoot moonlight stroll with Brad Pitt, and having a photographer trailing you, doesn’t happen by accident.”

  Sonia saw the blond intern looking their way. Bruce smiled over at the young woman, and as he got up to leave he nodded to Sonia. “I suggest we keep the station waiting for your answer until the last minute. You never know, they may have a change of heart. No harm keeping them guessing that you might have a better offer.”

  Sonia watched as the intern began walking toward the exit, probably to bump into Bruce accidentally on purpose outside. Somewhere in her brain fog of Xanax for anxiety and Adderall to bring her mood back up again, the bones of a plan were taking shape in her befuddled mind. “Good idea, Bruce,” she said, smiling innocently at him. “I’ll call you January 1 st with my answer.”

  Bruce had already turned away and was heading toward the door. “Great,” she heard him mutter, as he sauntered off in pursuit of the intern.

  Sonia ran her finger across her dessert plate and licked off the last traces of whipped cream. She still hadn’t replied to the invitation to Dana’s New Year’s Eve party that was sitting on the hallway table at home, but she’d just decided that she’d definitely be attending it. She smiled and moved along the seat to the edge of the booth, breathing in so that her skirt didn’t split when she stood up. She was carrying a rather large food baby, courtesy of the lunch she’d just eaten.

  Smoothing her skirt and practically dancing out the door of the restaurant, Sonia congratulated herself on coming up with the perfect solution to her problems. If things went as intended, Sonia wouldn’t need to make any calls on January 1 st . Instead, she knew the executives at the TV station would be calling her, begging her to stay on and take the top spot on the morning show. Finally, she’d get the recognition she deserved, and that Dana had deprived her of for so long. Sonia would be able to name her price. And then she would fire that slime ball Bruce Tarbert.

  CHAPTER 3

  DeeDee pulled on a pair of jeans and a rumpled shirt and ran a hairbrush through her fine blond hair. It had gotten long again, hitting her shoulders, and she vowed to make an appointment at the local salon as soon as possible to have it cut shorter. Jake had said he liked it longer, and that was part of the reason she’d let it grow.

  No need to please him anymore , she thought, tying it back in a loose ponytail. I was foolish to even consider it .

  She set the hairbrush down on the dresser, and picked up a navy-blue sweater from the nearby chair. Putting her arms in the sleeves and lifting it over her head, she paused mid-air as the familiar scent hit her. The sweater belonged to Jake, and she inhaled the mix of his cologne and laundry powder, before yanking it off and tossing it on top of the box in the corner that contained other items of his that he’d left at her home.

  There was a pair of binoculars he used for bird watching, several operatic CDs, and walking maps for a trip he was planning with his daughter. Jake wasn’t a hoarder, years in the military had insured that, and all of his belongings held a meaning to him. DeeDee fully intended to return everything to him before long, so she could get on with the rest of her life, but her feelings were still too raw to even think about contacting him yet. That and the fact that the local Chief of Police and his deputy were downstairs in her great room waiting for her at that very moment meant returning Jake’s possessions was not her immediate priority.

  DeeDee hurried down the stairs.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Chief Hewson,” she said. The chief and one of his men were standing in front of the large window in the great room looking out at the view of Puget Sound. “Please, take a seat, gentlemen. Can I make you some coffee?”

  Dan Hewson turned towards her with no trace of a smile on his face and said, “If it’s all right with you, we’ll get straight to the questions. We have a lot to get through today, as I’m sure you can appreciate.”

  The two men sat on the sofa, and DeeDee sat in an armchair across from them. “Of course,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. Balto came padding across the room and laid down at her feet. She needed some emotional support at this difficult time, and she was glad to have him at her side. “So, we meet again,” DeeDee said, in a feeble attempt at an ice breaker.

  “Indeed we do,” Dan Hewson said, while the other officer began to write in the notebook he was holding in his hand. DeeDee had met the chief previously when a guest was murdered at the first dinner party she’d catered when her business, Deelish, had opened several mont
hs earlier. Not only had she been absolved from any wrongdoing in connection with that incident, but she and Jake had helped solve the murder.

  There you go again DeeDee , she thought. Can’t you go more than a few minutes without thinking about Jake Rogers? Her face flushed and she willed herself to put he-who-should-not-be-mentioned out of her mind.

  “Mrs. Wilson, can you tell us when was the last time you saw Mrs. Donnelly alive last night, and what time you left her home?”

  “It was around 1:00 a.m. when I spoke to Dana in the kitchen,” DeeDee said carefully, trying to remember when she’d looked at her watch. “My assistant, Susie, had left a little earlier, I remember checking the time when I came inside from the garden, and telling her she could go. I’m sure Susie can confirm that,” she said nervously.

  “We’ll ask her, don’t worry about that,” Chief Hewson said matter-of-factly. “Was anyone else in the kitchen when you spoke with Mrs. Donnelly?”

  DeeDee shook her head. “No. She thanked me and gave me a check for the party. I thought she was going to bed.”

  “Clearly not,” Chief Hewson said, “considering that her body was found near the pool house.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to Dana?” DeeDee blurted out, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

  The chief raised a hand to silence her. “All in good time, Mrs. Wilson. Did you leave the premises right after Dana gave you the check?”

  “No. I think it was about thirty minutes later. It took me a while to repack my car with all of the leftover food and catering equipment I’d brought to the party,” DeeDee explained. “And then I…well, I sat in my car for a bit,” she said sheepishly.

  The police officers exchanged looks. “Why did you do that, Mrs. Wilson?” the chief asked her.

  “I had a lot on my mind. It’s not against the law, is it?” DeeDee replied hotly. “In fact, if you’d just let me tell you what happened when I was sitting there, maybe I can help you.”

  Chief Hewson leaned forward. “Please do, Mrs. Wilson.” He looked at her expectantly. “In your own time.”

  “I was lost in my thoughts,” DeeDee said, “when I heard a noise from the side of the house. The next thing I knew, someone was running toward my car. I thought it was one of the guests from the party, drunk.”

  “Can you tell us who you saw? What did this person look like?”

  “It was dark,” DeeDee said, agitated, “so I couldn’t make them out at all. I have no idea if it was a man or a woman. I thought they were going to run into my car, so I yelled and tried to turn on the headlights.”

  The second police officer was furiously scribbling notes.

  “And then what happened?” Chief Hewson asked her.

  “When whoever it was heard me yelling, the person stopped and raised an arm to their face, shielding it from view,” DeeDee said. “By the time I turned on the headlights, they’d run off.”

  “I see,” Chief Hewson said, letting out an exasperated sigh. “And then what did you do?”

  “I drove home,” DeeDee said matter-of-factly.

  Chief Hewson’s eyes widened. “Didn’t it seem strange to you that there was some kind of a noise, followed by someone running away?”

  Tears filled DeeDee’s eyes. “I just thought it was one of the celebrity guests who didn’t want anyone to see them drunk,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “How was I to know it was something more than that?”

  The chief’s face softened. “You couldn’t, Mrs. Wilson, but we have to ask.”

  DeeDee nodded. “I understand. Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “Dana Donnelly was killed by a knife wound to the heart. The coroner puts the time of death somewhere in the hour before 1:45 a.m., which was when her husband found her by the pool house. She’d told him she was going to check and make sure the pool house doors were locked, and he went to look for her when she didn’t return. It’s likely she knew her killer, judging by the fact that she was facing her attacker when she died. The coroner can tell by the angle of entry of the knife that killed her.”

  “I see,” DeeDee said, getting up from her chair. Her legs felt wobbly, and she put her hand on the nearby wall to steady herself.

  Chief Hewson stood up as well, with a look of concern. “Are you all right, Mrs. Wilson?”

  DeeDee cleared her throat. “There’s something else,” she said, her voice quivering. “I found a note attached to the windshield of my car this morning. It all makes sense now.”

  Chief Hewson followed her to the table in the hallway where she’d left the note. She handed to him, watching in silence while he read it. Looking back up at her, his face was grim.

  “Seems like you saw the killer last night, Mrs. Wilson, and they think you can identify them.”

  DeeDee’s face crumpled. She didn’t want to cry in front of these men, but she felt that was a distinct possibility. “But I really didn’t see them,” DeeDee said weakly. “What am I going to do?”

  Chief Hewson put an arm around her shoulders and helped her back to the armchair. “We need to keep you safe until this is sorted out,” he said.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” DeeDee muttered.

  The Chief chose to ignore her comment. “As I recall, aren’t you dating Jake Rogers, the private investigator? I suggest you call him immediately. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be able to protect you. ”

  “Jake and I are no longer seeing one another,” DeeDee replied. “Guess I’m out of luck, then.”

  Chief Hewson frowned. “Do you have a gun?” he asked her.

  DeeDee nodded. “Jake got me one a while back.”

  “Keep it with you at all times,” he instructed her. “And don’t be afraid to use it. I’m going to give you my direct line in case you need to reach me in a hurry. If anything happens that concerns you, and I mean anything at all Mrs. Wilson, I want you to call me immediately. Is that clear?”

  DeeDee accepted the business card he handed her, and looked at it dumbly. Her vision was blurred with tears, and she couldn’t clearly read it, but she assumed it contained his contact details as promised. “Yes,” she nodded. “Crystal clear.” She wondered if there was a spare jail cell at the police station she could use, in which case she would happily move in then and there.

  “Good. I’m going to take this note and give it to forensics, okay?”

  “Sure,” DeeDee said. What with hers and the chief’s fingerprints already on it, she hoped they would find a third set that would help identify whoever had written it, but she doubted that was going to happen.

  “Thanks for your time, Mrs. Wilson, don’t get up,” he said, nodding to his deputy. “We can see ourselves out.”

  DeeDee heard their footsteps in the hallway before the front door clicked open and then shut again.

  “Looks like it’s just me and you, kiddo,” she said, reaching down to feel Balto’s warm fur at her feet. “What do you say we go for a walk, and then come back and start making a list of the people who were at the party?”

  Balto leaped up, and ran over to the door .

  DeeDee’s gaze followed him, and despite her predicament, she managed a smile. “Hold on, Balto. I’ll be there in a moment. Who says I need a man in my life? I just need to find my gun.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Dino Argyros dove for the ringing telephone on his office desk and pressed the speakerphone button.

  “Your wife is on the line, sir.”

  Dino paused. “Please tell her I’m busy, Myrtle. Have you had any luck reaching Mrs. Donnelly?”

  “Not yet.” Myrtle’s tone was disapproving. “But I’ll keep trying.”

  “Make sure you do,” Dino said, staring at the framed photograph on the opposite wall. “And don’t put any other calls through unless it’s Mrs. Donnelly. Got it?”

  “Yes, Mr. Argyros. Of course, sir.”

  Dino released the button on the phone and limped over to look at the photo. Staring back at hi
m was a younger version of himself, dressed in a tuxedo. His tan face was lit up by laughter, his grin stretching from ear to ear. His thick, wavy, dark hair had just started to gray, with faint traces of salt and pepper visible on close inspection. On Dino’s right stood his wife Gia, and on his left was another couple, their neighbors on Bainbridge Island, Dana Donnelly and her husband Mickey .

  It was Dana whom Dino’s gaze homed in on now, as if he didn’t remember every line on her face, every curve on her body. The way her eyes creased when she smiled, the feel of her warm skin next to his. When he closed his eyes, he could imagine the smell of her perfume. The photo had been taken at a TV awards show on the night he’d fallen in love with her, and the precious stolen moments they’d shared together in the four years since would forever be etched in his consciousness.

  Dino’s cell phone buzzed from where it was laying on the table by the window, and he hurried across the room, his eagerness to speak to his lover hindered only by the twinge of pain that shot through his knee, courtesy of a football injury sustained during an extended misspent youth. He’d been putting off the reconstructive surgery on his cruciate ligament because of the time constraints imposed from running his billion-dollar shipping business and his obsession with carving out all the time he possibly could to spend with Dana. The swelling in his knee joint and the pain when he placed weight on it was his forty-five-year-old body’s way of telling him he couldn’t wait much longer to get some medical help.

  He stared despondently at the name on the screen of his phone, and let it ring without answering. The call was routed to his voicemail service, and a few moments later he listened to the recorded message. A familiar voice filled the room when he played the message.

  “Dino? Don’t think I don’t know you’re there, you heartless pig.” His wife Gia’s Greek accented voice was spitting venom. “At least I know you’re not with her.” The words, delivered in a deep rasp, stabbed Dino in the chest. “Her car is in the driveway next door. She’s with her husband right now, Dino,” Gia said, taunting him with a hollow laugh. “You know, the man she’s married to?”