Body of Evidence

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Body of Evidence Page 33

by Stella Cameron


  “We’ll talk much more about it,” Emma said. She might have a little advice for Eileen. “I’d better give Orville a call now.”

  She went into the back room and shut the door before dialing his office number, only to be told by his assistant that he’d gone out for a few hours.

  Emma didn’t really want to, but she phoned Carl, who came on the line immediately. “Hi, Emma. I’m so glad you called. I didn’t handle things well the other day. I’m—”

  “Forget it. We’ve all been going through extraordinary times. Any idea why Orville’s been tryin’ to get me all mornin’?”

  After only the slightest pause, Carl said, “Weren’t you in?”

  Nosy bastard. “No, I wasn’t. But I’m at the shop now so I was hopin’ to talk to him.” No way would she explain her movements to Carl Viator. “How’s Sandy? I want to see her as soon as possible.”

  This time the silence was longer. “She’s doing just fine. She’s embarrassed and won’t go out. If you want to find her, she’s at home. You’ll probably have to go over there. She doesn’t answer the phone.”

  Emma sighed. “I should have noticed somethin’ was wrong, shouldn’t I?”

  “If anyone should, it was me,” Carl said. “I didn’t because she hid it well. Go see her now, Emma. She needs you.”

  Sandy came before the shop. “Okay. I’ll do it. Any idea what Orville wants?”

  Carl laughed, and the sound wasn’t nice. “Afraid so, cher. We lost Oakdale to another buyer, and he’s fuming.”

  If she could feel sorry, she would. She couldn’t. “I see. You’ll find other property, you always do. And I guess I’ll probably be saying goodbye to the shop. Ah, well.”

  “Did you tell anyone about the little lagniappe the owner was going to get? Or thought he would. You know, the value-added deal we mentioned? It got leaked to the current city manager, and he threatened to sue, so that got squelched in a hurry. Orville has to keep it clean right now.” He laughed too hard.

  “I didn’t say anythin’ to anyone. I wouldn’t have thought about it.”

  “You’re gonna have trouble convincin’ Orville of that.”

  “Why?”

  “He’ll get around to tellin’ you himself. For myself, I’m glad it’s happened. I didn’t like the arrangement.”

  Emma caught sight of herself in a mirror and looked at the ceiling. “I’m goin’ to see Sandy now.”

  The Viators also lived close to the golf course, but on a different street from Orville. Emma didn’t even like driving in the area anymore. Eileen and Annie had been thrilled to stay at Poke Around, so there was no excuse not to leave again.

  She thought of Finn and swallowed. He’d refused to promise he wouldn’t get involved in the murder case today, not without letting her know what was going on. He’d also refused to let her stay with him, pointing out that she’d made a fuss about all the work she needed to do. And he had business, too, he’d told her.

  Tonight, when he expected her to be available, it would be her turn. Angela had called a gathering, and although Emma didn’t feel like going, she knew how much healing they all had to do—together. She would rather be with Finn, but she wasn’t going to be.

  The Viators’ three-story, antebellum-style mansion could be the largest house in the parish. Orville sneered at the place and suggested the Viators were in over their heads financially. Emma only knew that Sandy took huge pride in her home.

  Emma pulled into the circular driveway and parked beneath the porte cochere to give the Lexus some shade on the relentlessly hot day.

  She wasn’t surprised when no one answered her ring at the front door, but her spirits sank lower. How could you help a dear friend when you didn’t really understand the problem? All she could hope was that Sandy would confide in her, let Emma inside whatever had pushed her to damage herself.

  Just as Sandy had a key to a side door at Orville’s house, Emma carried one to let herself in through the Viators’ kitchen.

  She didn’t need the key; the door wasn’t locked. Inside, the sight and fragrance of freshly baked cake layers cooling on racks and a bowl of yellow frosting lifted Emma’s spirits. Sandy considered baking one of her major talents but only did any when she was in a good mood.

  “Sandy?” Emma called, swiping a smear of lemon frosting and licking it from her finger.

  She wandered through etched glass doors into the breakfast room, where the breakfast dishes remained on the table. The housekeeper dealt with those things and must be late.

  Room after room showed no sign of life. “This house is too big, Sandy,” Emma muttered. “You shouldn’t be able to get lost at home.”

  She looked up the grand staircase in time to see Sandy’s miniature dachshund negotiating a downward path, her tummy sliding over Persian carpet as she came. Bijou arrived and patted at Emma’s shins with pointed little paws. Emma picked her up, and the velvety creature settled at once into the crook of an arm.

  How like Sandy to forget the cake she’d been making and wander off. Probably luxuriating in the bath with a novel if she’d followed one of her regular patterns.

  Nuzzling Bijou’s snout into her neck, Emma went upstairs and walked into the Viators’ open master suite before she heard the noise. She stood, toe-deep, in peach-colored carpet, before she saw the couple sweating together against a gilded French writing table that stood in one of the room’s two bow windows.

  The filmy drapes at the twelve-foot-high window were drawn back, and, framed against a hot blue sky, Orville had planted his naked butt on the edge of the table. With his head thrown back, he gripped the gilded edge, probably to help anchor him against Sandy’s onslaught.

  Sandy by sunlight was an acknowledged sight to be seen. Beside a swimming pool, she could create enough diversion to cover for a murder in progress in the rose garden. Kneeling in the sun streaming through her own bedroom window, her black hair beamed faintly blue, her perfectly even, perfectly all-over tan glowed, and her coral-colored lipstick out-shone Orville’s now you see it, now you don’t, pride-and-joy.

  Bijou howled.

  37

  “Are you drinkin’ champagne?” Finn ran up the steps to the gallery behind the Balou house and looked down at Emma. “I’ve been lookin’ for you. You haven’t been answerin’ your phone.”

  Using the big toe on her right foot to keep gently rocking, she sat in the old glider and cradled a champagne flute against her chest.

  She gave him a vague smile. A navy-blue halter top and shorts didn’t help him keep his attention on her face.

  “How long have you been here?” he said. “Eileen and Annie are having a great day at the shop. They love it. But you told me you’d be there for the afternoon.”

  “It’s still afternoon.”

  He ducked out of a patch of sun and sat down beside her. “But you’re here, not at the shop. Don’t shut me out. Somethin’s eatin’ you.”

  “Carl Viator set me up.” She raised her glass and looked at him through the pale champagne. “Don’t worry—I’ve had two sips, and I’m not enjoyin’ it. I’m too mad, mostly at myself for being such an idiot.”

  “Set you up how?”

  “I went straight to see him afterward, and he didn’t try to deny it.” She stared straight out at the trees that edged the property. The white cat jumped onto her lap, and she gathered it up, kissed its head until it squalled and leaped away. He would be glad to take the cat’s place.

  Sometimes it paid to keep your mouth shut. Finn figured this was one of those times. He considered holding Emma’s hand but decided against trying.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t pick up on it a long time ago, but Carl Viator hates Orville. I don’t blame him, but I don’t know how long he’s hated him. I think he wants to destroy him. I’d lay odds he just made sure a real estate deal Orville wanted fell through.”

  “Do you care?” A man had to ask what a man had to ask.

  “Care? You’ve got to be jokin’. I gu
ess I’m just disappointed Carl’s such a dud, too. He made sure I caught Orville with his obligin’ female friend. The one in the photos.”

  Finn held his breath.

  “I accused Carl of taking those photos. He didn’t admit it, but he didn’t deny it, either. The other day he pretended a set had been delivered to him. That was because he wanted to see my reaction to the ones he threw at me. I just know it was him. Now I’m thinking he must have been the cowboy, too. Creep.”

  Shit. “Why would he do things like that? Emmy, maybe you’re wrong on this.”

  She look her third sip of the champagne and wrinkled her nose. “This couldn’t have been a good year,” she said. “Carl did it because he was hurt, and he wanted me to hurt just as much. He wanted me to feel as betrayed as he does.”

  Finn tried to take her glass and set it down. Emma slapped his hand.

  “You told me you had a busy day planned,” she said. “All business.”

  “I’m through with it.” And he was pleased, at least with parts of the day. “I bought Oakdale.”

  Color rose in her face, and her smile was secretive. Not exactly the reaction he’d hoped for.

  “I’ve only been workin’ on it for a few days, and I didn’t think I had a chance. The owner said he had an offer I couldn’t improve on. Then we had an appointment today, and he said the place was mine. Just like that. His people have to meet with my people and deal with papers.”

  He didn’t know what to make of the narrow way Emma studied him. “I didn’t know you had ‘people,’” she said.

  “It’s just a figure of speech, Emmy. I’d made up my mind I want to put down roots here, so… Emma, don’t look at me like that.”

  She kept right on looking. “I’m glad for you.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to change the subject, but you asked. You’ve had a horrible shock, and I’m not doin’ a good job of helpin’ you deal with it.” He was doing a lousy job. “Just let it all out, cher.” All he’d dreamed of doing throughout the drive up here was telling her about Oakdale.

  “With Carl’s help, I walked in on Orville and Sandy—in flagrante delicto. Buck naked and buckin’ in the sunshine.”

  “They were outside?”

  “No. The sun was shinin’ into Sandy’s bedroom. Sandy and Carl’s bedroom.”

  What could he say? Finn very cautiously put an arm around her shoulders. Her body felt stiff, and without warning she threw the glass of champagne over the gallery railing.

  They sat quietly.

  “You’re hurt,” Finn said. “It’s one thing to know your spouse is unfaithful. It’s another to catch him in the act. And with a friend.”

  “I’m glad I did,” she said. “They know I saw them, and they had nowhere to hide. I loved it.”

  He smiled a little. “Remind me never to get on your wrong side.”

  His cell phone rang, and he considered not answering but saw it was Billy. “Yes, Billy?”

  “What did you find out?”

  Finn smiled some more. “Nothin’ new, or nothin’ we didn’t already guess. The shootin’ of that movie was obviously a big deal around Wells.”

  Emma looked up at him with laughter in her eyes. Now she knew he had been right about Billy wanting them to go where he would rather not go himself.

  “News,” Billy said. “John Sims ducked out. Seems to be an epidemic of men dodgin’ out of Pointe Judah at the moment. I wanted to talk to him about Sandy, just to see if he was missing drugs he couldn’t account for. He’s gone.”

  “John travels a lot,” Finn said.

  “Not for a pharmaceutical firm, he doesn’t. I had that followed up, and he hasn’t worked for them in more than a year.”

  Finn rubbed hard at the skin between his brows. “So what’s that all about? The guy was lyin’ through his teeth. He let everyone think he was still a rep.”

  “He could have been embarrassed to say he’d gotten the boot,” Billy said. “I’m gonna be here late this evenin’. If you feel like stoppin’ by, bring booze.”

  Finn switched off without committing and gave Emma a précis of what Billy had said about John.

  “Did Billy make sure John’s not working for a different outfit?”

  “I don’t know.” But if someone was going to come right back with that question, it would be Emma.

  She hopped out of the glider and stretched.

  Finn was grateful.

  “Stick around, if you like,” she said. “There’s plenty to eat if you want to make something.”

  He blinked. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I’m goin’ out for the evenin’. A few of us need to get together.” She sighed. “If we get much fewer, there won’t be anyone left.”

  Finn shot to his feet. “Don’t you ever talk like that. Whoa, you take my breath away, and it’s not a good feelin’. Where are you goin’? Who else is goin’?”

  “Excuse me?” The indignation didn’t ring a hundred percent true. “I have an engagement this evenin’.”

  “And it’s none of my business?” he said. Inside, he fumed. Why didn’t she get it that he had good reason to worry about where she was all the time?

  “Secrets,” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “Where else would I be goin’ to meet with friends?”

  He was a tough guy, a warrior. Warriors didn’t suffer from nervous stomachs, so why did he feel like his gut had been punched? “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I know I can’t tell you what to do, but…”

  “You’re right.”

  “Emmy, two members of that group have… You know what’s happened. Could it hurt to be careful?”

  She bounced to her toes and kissed him. Before he could catch her and do something about the opportunity, Emma had slipped out of reach. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’ll be with friends.”

  38

  Emma hurried into Angela’s house. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, avoiding the other woman’s eyes, not wanting to see the reproach she expected. “I’ve had some busy days.”

  “You’re not late,” Angela said, her voice even more husky than usual. “You’re the first one. Thank you for coming, Emma.” She held out her arms, and Emma returned a long hug.

  “What are you doin’ openin’ your own door?” Emma said. She studied Angela. “You always have Mrs. Merryfield do it. Does this mean you’re feelin’ better? I haven’t forgotten how you forced yourself to come to me when Denise died. It had to be so hard.”

  “Sometimes we do hard things when they’re for the best. Come on in and get changed.”

  Still breathless from hurrying and being nervous, Emma said, “Let’s sit down first. I think anythin’ I had to do would be too much right now.”

  “We always wear our robes,” Angela said. “They’re part of what makes us a group. A dear, very close group.”

  “Do I see tears in those eyes?” Emma said, looking more closely.

  Angela pulled hair farther forward over the scarred side of her face. She lowered her gaze. “It seems to me as if everything we’ve had is fading away. The closeness, the understanding…the deep love that has allowed us to share things we wouldn’t share with anyone else.”

  “Get on,” Emma said, slipping past. “We need to talk. Two of our friends have died. It’s terrible. I can’t imagine… I would never have imagined anythin’ so horrible happenin’.”

  She went directly to the sitting room, kicked off her sandals and curled up on a love seat.

  Angela followed slowly. She repeatedly tugged at the hair falling over the damaged part of her face.

  Emma frowned. “I didn’t think you did that anymore.”

  “What?” Angela looked at her sideways.

  “Worry about a few marks on your face. I thought one of the first things we did as a group was work on that.”

  “Do you think I should have carried on with the surgeries?” Angela asked. “I still could, I supp
ose.”

  They had visited this place before, a long time before. Emma had believed the other woman had made peace with the disfigurement. She had been adamant about not having more surgery.

  “What do you think?” Angela said. “Would I be more lovable if my face wasn’t ruined?”

  Emma hated this. “You’re the only one who can make a decision about somethin’ as serious as plastic surgery. If you do it, it has to be for yourself, not because you think it’ll make a difference to someone else.”

  “Do you put on makeup for yourself? Do you wear a sexy little halter and shorts for yourself?”

  “This isn’t like you,” Emma said. She wasn’t sorry to sound sharp. “You know the things that matter most to me, and they’re all about people and relationships.”

  “Don’t you sound holy?” Angela looked away. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’m not myself. We’ve hardly gotten together in the past few weeks. I call, and all of you have excuses not to come.”

  “You called me once to come,” Emma said. “And I’m here. I’m sure the others will be, too. These haven’t been normal times. We’re all trying to make sense of senseless things.”

  “Look at me,” Angela said. “Look into my eyes and tell me your feelings toward me haven’t changed.”

  Emma knew it was silly, but she got a creepy feeling. “Nothing has changed,” she said. “Except that Denise and Holly are dead, Angela. They’re dead, and we’re grievin’. Grief takes time. I think about them every day, many times a day, and wonder what I could have done to stop what happened.”

  Angela snorted. “You couldn’t have done anything. Don’t be silly.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Emma dropped her bag on the floor. “But I still wish I could. When everyone’s here, we’ll get into this. There hasn’t been an opportunity until now, so stop tell-in’ yourself you’re bein’ ignored.” She smiled. “How could any of us ignore you? Without you, we’d never have come together, and look what we’d have missed.”

  At last Angela smiled. “My, what we would have missed,” she said.

 

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