I liked the idea of an open bar, but I warned myself to be cautious, since I hadn’t eaten any lunch and I feared the effects of drinking on an empty stomach. The alcohol could go right to my head. Of course, if others were in the same boat, it could be a good thing to loosen a few inhibitions. Someone might say something or do something to give him-or herself away as the perpetrator of Vienna’s murder.
That’s where Detective Wall would come in handy. He’d put two and two together, maybe even hear a tearful confession, then jump in and make an arrest, and voilà, he could wrap up the case without a lot of footwork. Was that why he was attending this funeral? I had to confess that was my motive. Even if I didn’t get to witness a confession, I’d at least get a feeling for the players in this drama. I would be disappointed if there wasn’t some sort of drama, considering the situation.
As soon as I had in hand an Alexander expertly made with crème de cacao and Dolce was sipping something called an Acapulco made with tequila, we stood on the sidelines watching the crowd. So far I didn’t recognize anyone, but that was because we didn’t know any of Vienna’s friends or relatives except for her twin, Athena. We’d seen her mother and father along with their significent others at the benefit.
“Saturday night at the auction, we never actually met any of Vienna’s family, did we?” I asked Dolce.
She said no, but we already knew her stepmother, Bobbi, who was one of our customers. We were soon joined by our favorite oldster, Miranda McClone. She was holding a glass filled with a frothy substance she said was a banana daiquiri, while her husband had ordered a scotch and water. “Such a novel idea, serving drinks at a funeral,” she said, giving both Dolce and me a once-over. “You girls look just fabulous,” she said. “I should never have worn black. It ages a person at least five years.” Since five more years would put Miranda close to ninety, I was glad to be able to assure her that it wasn’t true in her case—and I meant it.
“With that hat, you look absolutely marvelous,” Dolce told her. She was right; the wide-brimmed hat with the tassel, feather and beads was the perfect accompaniment to a plain black suit. The only drawback was that she hadn’t bought the hat at Dolce’s. She couldn’t have because Dolce hadn’t had much of a hat selection this season. A fact Dolce must have been acutely aware of as she gazed raptly at Miranda’s choice of headwear.
“The hat certainly spices up your outfit,” I added.
Miranda smiled and kissed me on the cheek. She smelled of Ralph Lauren’s latest scent, Romance. One of the reasons I loved working at Dolce’s was for the contacts I made there. The customers were so much more than customers. I was telling the truth when I said they were also friends. Miranda was one of my favorites. She never gossiped, never had a bad word to say about anyone.
I was thinking that maybe we too should have worn hats. Just seeing this spunky eighty-something all turned out made me feel like I’d neglected to get completely dressed. Almost as bad as forgetting to wear shoes.
“Have you viewed the, um, body yet?” Miranda asked us. “Or do you prefer to remember her as she was? I know some people do. I’m a good friend of her grandmother, Jane Marlow, on her father’s side, and I know Jane is most upset about this whole thing. The police telling the family they’re being investigated. I ask you, what is the world coming to?”
Neither Dolce nor I had an answer to that. Did this mean Jack was zeroing in on some particular member of the family? I was afraid to ask.
“Look, there’s Lex standing at the door,” Miranda said. “He was so fond of little Vienna. He gave her everything she ever wanted. Do you know Bobbi? Yes, of course you do. That’s her in red. I know it’s an unusual choice, but she’s quite original, which is why I admire her so much. Doesn’t follow the crowd. She explained to me that this is not a time to weep, it’s a celebration of life. This is Lex’s way to honor his daughter. The party after the funeral will be held at her mother’s house in Atherton. It’s an awkward situation, but I believe they’re handling it well, don’t you?” she asked us.
“Oh, definitely,” I said. “Bobbi’s dress is outstanding,” I said. Actually I thought it was bizarre for Bobbi to be wearing bright red to this funeral. Especially knowing how she felt about her stepdaughter.
Dolce took a sip of her drink. “I believe red is traditional among the Ashanti tribes in Africa. Maybe Bobbi has some connection.”
Dolce also knew how Vienna felt about her stepmother, and she wasn’t about to compliment her in any way. No matter what she said, I could tell by the look on her face she thought the red dress was completely inappropriate. Of course, we weren’t following tradition by not dressing in black, but we weren’t trying to stand out either. We’d leave standing out to the customers we’d helped find outfits for, namely Sachi, Pam, Monica and Barbie, who were now mixing and mingling in the crowd.
I just couldn’t wait any longer to view Vienna in her casket. I left Dolce chatting with Miranda and I slipped into the huge high-ceilinged viewing room with sunshine coming through the skylights. There was soft music playing, and the people in the room were speaking in hushed voices.
Instead of rushing up to view Vienna in her coffin, I held back, afraid of seeing her, afraid of bringing back the shock when I’d found her body. I’d have to look at her. Otherwise I’d regret it, but I wasn’t ready yet. Maybe after another drink. I procrastinated by saying hello to her sister. Athena was greeting people while she stood next to the guest book. Her hair was long, layered and more voluminous than I remembered. She was wearing a black taffeta scoop-necked dress with a chiffon-trimmed grosgrain sash and black stiletto heels.
“You look great,” I said. “Love your dress.”
“Thanks,” Athena said. “I wish you’d tell my stepmother that. Bobbi just told me I wasn’t a bridesmaid and this wasn’t a cocktail party. Even at my sister’s funeral she had to say something snarky.”
“She’s probably terribly upset and she’s not herself,” I said. Though I wasn’t sure why I was defending her. I scarcely knew the woman, and what I knew of her I didn’t particularly like.
“Oh, she’s herself all right,” Athena said. “And if she’s upset, it’s because Vienna is the center of attention and not her.” She looked around the room. “So, who are all these people?” she asked. “Like the guy who just came in wearing a kilt. What’s up with that?”
I turned around to see a guy wearing a red and black tartan plaid kilt with a white shirt and black jacket. On his muscular legs he wore white kneesocks. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see him haul out a bagpipe and play a dirge for Vienna.
“You don’t know him?” I asked.
She shook her head. “But I’d like to. That’s why I’m in charge of the guest book, so I can find out who’s who. Watch me go.”
With that, she strode across the room, the guest book under her arm, and sashayed up to the kilted guy. I knew it wasn’t Geoffrey, but could this be either Emery or Raold? Or someone I didn’t even have on my list of suspects? Neither of those names sounded Scottish, but you never knew. If only I had a guest book. What excuse did I have to go up to strangers and ask who they were and how they felt about Vienna? None.
I could hardly say I was investigating her murder. They’d say, “Oh, are you with the police?” Or, “Are you with the family?” All I could say was, “I found the body. I’m the chief suspect. I have to find someone else besides myself who had a motive and the opportunity to kill Vienna.” Unfortunately I had both according to Detective Wall. I searched the room for someone who looked suspicious. Someone who either looked too sad or too happy to see Vienna in her coffin. But most people were standing around talking, completely oblivious to the body in the middle of the room. Almost as if they were at a cocktail party. I didn’t see the mourner in chief, Vienna’s father. Maybe he was too overcome with grief to face her body. Or maybe he was still playing host by the bar.
I should just grit my teeth and look at her. I might have a flash of insight.
Maybe she’d send me a message from wherever she’d gone. It could be, “Look for a man in a kilt.” Or it might be, “Don’t overlook the obvious.” Or what about, “Cherchez la femme”?
I inched up to the coffin. When I got there, I closed my eyes for a long moment, hoping for a moment of clarity, or at least a pathway into the spirit of Vienna. But I got nothing. Vienna had never communicated much with me when she was alive, so why did I expect her to get in touch now that she was dead?
“I can help you,” I wanted to tell her. “I can catch your killer, just send me a sign.”
“Are you okay?”
My eyes flew open. It was Detective Wall standing next to me at the coffin, his expression somewhere between concerned and puzzled. He’d managed to look conservative but drop-dead male-model stunning at the same time.
“I’m fine,” I said, embarrassed to be caught unawares, my eyes closed like a sleepwalker. “You look like you just stepped out of Vogue Hommes International.”
“Just trying to fit in,” he said. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think I was here looking for a murderer.”
“But you are.”
“It’s my job.”
Whether he wanted to or not, Jack always stood out no matter where he was or what he was wearing. Today it was a single-breasted, two-button dark blazer with a stylish white pocket square, a pair of narrow flat-front slacks, a buttoned vest and a pair of Steve Madden dress shoes.
“I thought maybe you were asleep,” he said. “I was afraid to wake you.”
“I was trying to communicate with Vienna.”
“Tell her you were sorry?”
I stared at him. I was still avoiding looking into the coffin. “For what? That she took my job? That she broke Dolce’s heart? That she had to die on Sunday morning, leaving me to discover her body…”
“Never mind,” he said, obviously tired of hearing me rant. “How do you like her dress?”
I finally forced myself to look at her. I gasped. “It doesn’t matter what I think of it, it’s what Vienna would have thought that counts.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I…I don’t know. She loved to shock people, so maybe this dress is exactly what she would have wanted. The glittery stretch fabric is fun, flirty and it hugs her curves. It’s just…It’s just that it’s more appropriate for a party than a funeral.” And it wasn’t anything like anything she’d ever worn that I knew about. A long-sleeved dress with shoulder pads? A touch of forties glamour to my way of thinking. I wondered what Dolce would think. Where was she?
“So who dressed her?” Jack asked. “Someone who loved her or someone who hated her?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I think she looks fine. It was a bold choice. Maybe not something she would have chosen, but still gutsy. That’s her stepmother, Bobbi, over there. Why don’t you ask her who did it?”
“I hate to interrupt any private grieving,” he said.
Was he serious? Jack was ruthless when it came to investigating a murder. And now he was afraid of hurting someone’s feelings?
“Don’t worry, Bobbi isn’t grieving. Just the opposite is my guess. If you’re looking for suspects, she should be on your list. She was at the auction, and she’s jealous of Vienna’s hold over her father, Lex.”
“You’re up on your motives, I see.”
“Motives and opportunity, isn’t that what it’s all about? Just FYI, there are some men here to check out.”
“Emery and Raold? They have alibis.”
“Very convenient. What about Geoffrey? I think she’d dumped him for someone else. Not sure who.” Not sure but I was going to find out.
“I have Geoffrey’s statement.”
“And the man in the kilt,” I said.
“A cousin who flew in from Scotland,” Jack said. “He was on the other side of the world when Vienna was killed.”
“So who didn’t have an alibi?” I said. “Besides me?”
“You don’t really think I’d give you a list, do you?”
“No, but I’ll give you a list of possibilities and you just shake your head or nod.” I didn’t wait for him to shake his head or roll his eyes, I just started naming names.
“What about her stepsister, her stepmother, her ex-boyfriend or, I don’t know, her roommate, who I’m guessing is the woman over there wearing a sporty watch with a bunch of sparkly bracelets and a matching ring I could swear were Vienna’s. She’s the one talking to the cousin in the kilt. Have you checked all those alibis, because I think I could give you their motives without half trying.”
Jack just looked at me as if I’d gone completely insane.
“Anyway, you admit there is a list. I’m not the only one. How about this?” I asked. “I come down to the station and take a lie detector test.”
“Do you know how many convicted spies have passed a polygraph test?” he asked.
“So now I’m a spy as well as a murderer. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” Didn’t Jack know that someone like myself who was guilty would never volunteer to take the test. Or else he or she was innocent, as I was, and would pass with flying colors.
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation at a funeral home in the presence of the deceased,” he said with a glance around the room. I didn’t blame him for averting his gaze from the coffin. No matter how good she looked, it was downright eerie staring at a dead woman you once knew.
“You started it,” I said under my breath. I would not be blamed for disrespecting the dead. “I’m just defending myself. For your information, speaking as an Aquarius, Saturn has been in my house this past week, so I’ve been trying to broaden my mind. I know you don’t want my help, and you won’t let me take a polygraph test, so I’m backing off.” Of course this was a lie, and I don’t think he believed me.
“Rita,” he said, glaring at me.
I don’t know what else he was going to say, probably another warning not to meddle. What else was new? Tired of trying to clear myself, I turned away from the coffin and went to join some of Dolce’s customers dressed just as they said they would, in true Vienna-homage outfits. It made me relax and smile as we exchanged hellos. They said they’d gotten some strange looks, but they didn’t care. They were here to honor Vienna.
A few minutes later I saw Athena standing with her mother, Noreen. Her eyes were red and swollen. I wanted to introduce myself and offer my condolences, but they were in the midst of a conversation.
“I blame your father for this,” Noreen was saying to Athena between sniffles. “He always gave her everything she wanted. Why else did she choose to live with him instead of me? Because he gave her everything she ever wanted, that’s why. You see what happened? No wonder she crossed someone who did her in. She thought she was entitled. See where that got her.”
I stood listening shamelessly while they talked. It was all useful information. Maybe even crucial. Some nuggets I already knew, like the fact that Vienna thought she was God’s gift to retail and to the men in her life. The two women scarcely noticed me.
“Mother, Daddy is the only one here who even gave a damn about Vienna. Yes, he spoiled her, but at least he cared about her. You’ll have to find someone else to blame for her murder.”
At that point the two of them looked at me. They knew I’d been eavesdropping. I flushed guiltily, but I stayed right where I was.
Nine
I wanted to say, “Don’t look at me,” or else I wanted to run out of the room, but of course that would have made me look guilty. So I smiled weakly and said I was sorry for their loss.
Athena and her mother stared blankly at me for a second, then went on talking as if I wasn’t there.
“You have to speak to Daddy,” Athena told her mother. “Now of all times. He looks awful.”
“I can’t face his wife, that bitch. She always calls me Norma, like she can’t remember my name is Noreen.”
“You don’t have to face her. Look, he’s over th
ere with one of his car salesmen. At least you could thank him for hosting this thing, whatever it is.”
“It’s a cocktail party, not a funeral,” Noreen said with a frown. “Totally inappropriate. Just like your father. He has no idea what’s proper under the circumstances.”
“Well, that will just make your reception at the house look that much better.”
“At least Lex will see I know what a wake is and how well I’ve done without him,” Vienna’s mother said. “All right, here I go.”
I watched as she sucked in her breath, smoothed her hair and started across the floor toward her ex-husband. I would have loved to hear their conversation, but I’d have to imagine what went on by their gestures. As it happened, they hugged and cried. That much I could see. What I wanted to hear was who they suspected of killing their daughter.
All I needed to do was walk casually across the room, and I heard Lex Fairchild telling Vienna’s mother, “I swear, Noreen, I’ll kill him if I find him.”
There was only one person he could possibly mean by that: the murderer. How was Lex going to find him? I wished I knew. I wanted to ask him if he had any clues, but I was afraid to face him. I really hoped I could find the murderer first and turn him over to Jack before Lex killed him.
I didn’t have the opportunity to hear any more because just then Lex’s wife in her shameless red dress came out of nowhere, grabbed his arm and told him it was time to leave.
I swear I saw sparks fly between her and Noreen. If Lex hadn’t been there, there might have been a real catfight.
I could only hope I’d have more chances to hear more at the reception or wake or whatever you call it. I caught up with Dolce a few minutes later, after Vienna’s parents had had their brief emotional meeting.
“Looks like the place is clearing out,” Dolce said, her eyelids fluttering. “I hope you can drive to Atherton because I’m feeling a little woozy.”
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