Tart of Darkness

Home > Other > Tart of Darkness > Page 15
Tart of Darkness Page 15

by Denise Swanson


  “Yes.” Maureen’s fair complexion reddened. “One of the pledges had written a novel, and although she kept it a secret, because Regina wanted to be a writer too, the girl confided in her. Regina expressed an interest in reading the girl’s book and the pledge gave her the manuscript to critique. After a couple of months went by and Regina didn’t give it back, the girl asked about it. Regina pretended she didn’t know what the pledge was talking about. And when the girl went to her sorority big sister about the missing manuscript, Regina claimed that the girl was delusional.”

  “Couldn’t she just print out another one?” Trent asked, finishing his martini and putting the empty glass on the coffee table.

  “The manuscript was handwritten and there were no copies.” Maureen explained. She held up a finger to prevent anyone from interrupting her and added, “Yes. The girl was incredibly stupid to hand over her only copy, but she thought she could trust Regina.”

  “Why in the world would Regina do something like that?” Trent asked.

  Dani silently nodded her agreement with Trent’s question. Was it another case of sheer meanness like Lazarus Hunter had described?

  “Because Regina had submitted the manuscript to an agent friend of her mother’s as her own work.” Chelsea blew out a breath. “Apparently, the novel was amazing and the agent found an editor who made an offer to acquire it for her publishing house.

  “But before any contracts were signed, the editor’s assistant remembered reading a query letter with the same plot and character names,” Maureen continued the story. “The assistant alerted her boss, who contacted the pledge, who took the matter to the standards committee, who turned it over to national.”

  “I don’t remember Regina having a book published, and I’m sure her parents would have invited the whole country club to her launch party, so did the pledge get her novel back?” Trent asked.

  “Unfortunately, no.” Maureen shook her head, setting her shoulder-length hair in motion. “Regina refused to admit she’d stolen the manuscript and the publisher’s attorney said that a query letter would never be enough to prove it was the pledge’s work.”

  “So with a ‘she said versus she said’ case, the publisher backed away from the project.” Chelsea’s tone was grim. “And no other agent or editor would even look at the book, so it was never published.”

  “The poor girl.” Trent seemed genuinely sympathetic. “Pouring her heart into writing a novel and having it stolen had to be devastating.”

  “Absolutely.” Maureen recrossed her legs. “If Regina had been murdered back then, there wouldn’t be much of a question as to who killed her.” Maureen shrugged. “But it all happened over a year ago, maybe closer to a year and a half. I can’t remember exactly when it took place.”

  Dani frowned. That was a long time to hold a grudge, but still she should at least find out the name of that pledge and talk to her. But how? Dani took a deep breath—

  Shit! She’d been so engrossed in the conversation, she’d forgotten the food cooking in the kitchen. And now it smelled as if her sauce was burning.

  Fighting the impulse to run, Dani eased away from the wall, cleared her throat, and announced, “Anytime you all are ready to eat, I’ve put the first course on the dining room table.”

  “Thanks, Dani.” Trent rose to his feet and the others followed.

  Dani forced herself to walk sedately down the hallway, making sure her rubber-soled shoes didn’t squeak on the corridor’s polished hardwood floor. Once she was out of sight and was sure no one would notice, she broke into a jog and sprinted toward the stove. Thankfully the port sauce was salvageable and she quickly strained it into another pan, then grabbed her knife and carved the beef.

  Although Dani overheard snatches of conversation as she served dinner, nothing more about the stolen manuscript was discussed. And at eight thirty, when Dani entered the dining room with the lemon fluff, the couples were talking about a vacation they were planning on taking together during the holidays.

  Dani hid her frustration and served the dessert, then stood there searching for a way to steer the discussion back to Regina.

  Chelsea flicked Dani an irritated glance and stared pointedly at the doorway. “We have everything we need.”

  “Great,” Dani mumbled and retreated to the kitchen. While she packed her equipment, she turned over in her head how she would get the identity of the pledge who Regina had betrayed, but nothing came to mind.

  Too bad she couldn’t just ask Chelsea. But there were two problems with that solution. One, she’d have to admit that she’d been eavesdropping. And two, Dani didn’t want the Karneses to associate her with Regina. The more she could keep herself separated in their thoughts from the murdered young woman, the better.

  Shelving that conundrum for another time, Dani continued to tidy up. An hour later, Dani heard the Ackermans leave, and she went to find her clients. As usual, Trent and Chelsea had retired to the professor’s study for their after-dinner drink, but instead of their customary casual banter, tonight the couple was arguing.

  Hesitating outside the partially opened door, Dani heard Trent shouting, “You knew that Regina was an unethical bitch. You knew what she was capable of doing. Why didn’t you warn me about her?”

  “It never occurred to me that my husband would fall for her tricks.”

  “I didn’t.” Trent’s voice wavered. “I mean, I was flattered when she seemed attracted to me, and I may have flirted a bit, but I never had an affair with her. I wouldn’t do that to our marriage.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t.” Chelsea’s tone was mocking. “Why wouldn’t I trust you? Just because Regina sent me a video of you kissing her?”

  “Chelly, you know that I love you and only you,” Trent said. “Regina set me up. She was incensed when I wouldn’t change her C to an A.”

  “You didn’t seem to be fighting her off too hard in the recording.”

  “I was in an awkward position.” Trent’s voice was pleading. “With her parents being friends of ours, I was trying to let her down lightly.”

  “How?” Chelsea sneered. “By shoving your tongue down her throat?”

  “No!” Trent yelped. “As I explained before, I had just told her I wasn’t interested and she was still getting a C when she threw herself into my arms. She must have set up her cell phone beforehand to record us. And she edited out the part where I shoved her away.”

  “What I still don’t understand is why, despite your moral preening, you didn’t take any legal measures when she stole your wallet and used your identity to open all those credit cards.”

  “I didn’t want to get dragged into a messy court case.”

  “Right.” Chelsea’s heels tapped across the hardwood floor and Dani heard liquid pouring into a glass. “We were lucky that her parents wrote us a check for what she charged.”

  “They seemed as confused as we were as to why she just didn’t use her own cards.” Trent sighed. “The Bournes said between what they gave her and her trust, she had nearly unlimited funds. To this day they claim the whole thing was a mix-up.”

  “When that all happened, I told Honoria to get that girl into therapy.”

  “Seriously?” Trent snorted. “Like either Ashton or his wife would admit there was something wrong with their perfect daughter.”

  Dani waited, but when it was obvious the discussion about Regina was over, she knocked on the door, entered, and said, “I hope you and your guests enjoyed dinner. There are leftovers for tomorrow night.”

  “It was delicious.” Trent smiled from where he sat behind his massive, black-lacquered desk. “Maureen and Scott couldn’t stop talking about the food. Thank you for extending dinner to four.”

  “Yes.” Chelsea’s smile was tight. “It’s a good thing that they live a couple of states away or we’d have to worry about them stealing you.”
r />   “No worries. I can always fit in a couple of more clients,” Dani said brightly, not adding that they currently were her only personal chef customers. “But original ones have priority.” Dani pulled her phone from her pants pocket and held it out. “Are you ready to settle the bill?”

  “Here you go.” Trent reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, flipped it open, and handed over his American Express.

  “I see you got your new card,” Dani commented as she processed the transaction and returned his credit card.

  Although she doubted Trent would talk about Regina in front of her, Dani hoped maybe he’d slip.

  “Yes.” Trent slipped his AmEx back into its proper slot. “Thank goodness.”

  “I was thinking about how scary identity theft can be,” Dani said, walking toward the door.

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Chelsea tapped a perfectly manicured red nail on her brandy snifter. “Right, dear?”

  Trent nodded.

  Dani wished the couple good night and headed out to her van. As she backed out of their driveway, she thought about all she’d heard at the Karneses’. At this rate, it would be harder to figure out who didn’t want Regina dead than who did.

  Chapter 15

  A cold front had come through while Dani was inside cooking for the Karneses, and the van’s wipers were having a hard time keeping up with the rain hammering against the windshield. She turned on the radio before scooting forward to the edge of the driver’s seat, trying to see out of the waterlogged glass.

  Punching the button for the NOAA weather station, she mentally crossed her fingers. The past few years, Central and Southern Illinois had been devastated by several tornadoes. Because of that, everyone, including Dani, was a lot more concerned about the possibility of a twister touching down than they had been in the past. And this was exactly the conditions that could produce a supercell. The cool, dry air from the storm front meeting up with the hot, humid environment that they’d suffered through all day was a recipe for creating a funnel cloud. And despite Dani’s fondness for testing out new recipes, this wasn’t one she wanted to sample.

  There were no watches or warnings on the radio for the Normalton area, and Dani had relaxed a bit when a loud clap of thunder accompanied by a blindingly bright bolt of lightning sent a shiver down her spine.

  Taking a deep breath, she willed her racing heart to slow down, then inched the bulky van through the open gateway that separated the secluded cul-de-sac from the rest of the development. Although there were a few cars parked along the curb here and there, the dark streets were empty of traffic. Not exactly a surprise at ten fifteen on a weeknight.

  Tomorrow was a workday for most folks who lived in this upper-middle-class neighborhood and they were probably on their couches watching the news or getting ready for bed, rather than out driving around. Especially with the storm blowing through the region.

  Dani gripped the steering wheel and drove slowly through the residential area. The pavement was slick, and as she stared out her windshield, she could see raindrops creating needlelike streaks in the light of the streetlamps.

  Visibility was poor, and the last thing she needed was to be involved in an accident. She couldn’t afford for her insurance to skyrocket or, worse yet, have her name pop up on any police reports. Dollars to doughnuts, Detective Mikeloff would seize any opportunity to drag her into the station and attempt to make her look like a habitual offender.

  Between the dangerous weather and her thoughts of the even more dangerous detective, Dani’s pulse was pounding as she tried to concentrate on her driving. She was only a few blocks from the main road when she caught a glimpse of a figure bent over next to an old Mercury station wagon ahead of her.

  Squinting, Dani watched the person struggling to remove a flat tire. A sudden gust of wind made the figure stagger backward, and Dani saw that it was an older woman.

  Dani tapped the brakes, then hesitated as the good and bad angels on her shoulders argued. Ms. Pitchfork whispered in her ear that she was tired and it was dangerous to stop for strangers, assuring her that the woman could call a garage for assistance. Ms. Halo pointed out that the poor lady was clearly in need of help and maybe she didn’t have a cell phone or the money to pay for a tow truck.

  Knowing she’d never be able to sleep if she didn’t pull over, Dani parked the van behind the incapacitated car, then took a moment to consider the situation. She had an umbrella in an organizer on the back of her seat, but the wind would destroy it in seconds. And although it wasn’t super cold, she didn’t want to get soaked and have to drive home in wet clothes.

  Deciding that the disposable poncho she kept in a pouch in her emergency kit would be her best hope for remaining dry, she dug the box out from under the passenger seat and rummaged until she found the sealed envelope. It looked a bit melted, but when she pulled apart the packet, the poncho appeared to be undamaged.

  Once Dani was shrouded in plastic, she reluctantly emerged from the van. Tiny shards of hail stung her cheeks and she nearly jumped out of her skin when the van door slammed shut behind her.

  After checking to makes sure she had her keys, Dani approached the stranded station wagon. Sickly moonbeams tinted the street an eerie silver, and when the woman looked up from her battle with the tire, she jumped to her feet, clutching her chest and stumbling backward.

  With the headlights now illuminating the woman’s face, Dani recognized her as the Bourne’s housekeeper, Mrs. Carnet. Didn’t she live in? What in the heck was she doing out this late in such bad weather?

  Pushing her hood back a little so the woman could see her face, Dani said, “Mrs. Carnet, it’s Dani Sloan. I don’t know if you remember me, but I catered Regina’s luau. I just finished cooking dinner for the Karneses and was heading home when I saw you.”

  “Of course I remember you. You and your girls were so sweet. Thank you for stopping.” Regaining her footing, the housekeeper pushed her hair out of her eyes and trudged back toward the disabled vehicle. Abruptly, she stopped, her shoulders slumped, and she covered her face with her hands. “This is the worst day of my life and I don’t know what to do.”

  The rain made it difficult to tell if Mrs. Carnet was crying, but Dani automatically reached for the packet of Kleenex she always kept in her pocket.

  When she realized that in this weather offering her a tissue would be futile, Dani sighed and asked, “What happened?”

  “The Bournes fired me this afternoon.” Mrs. Carnet started to sob. “I’ve been with them for twenty-one years and they told me I had eight hours to vacate the premises or they’d have me forcibly removed.”

  Dani glanced into the ancient station wagon and saw that it was loaded with boxes and suitcases that looked as if they had been hastily piled in the car.

  “Why in the world—” Dani cut herself off. The older woman was shaking and Dani wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from the shock. Either way, she needed to get Mrs. Carnet out of the rain. “I’m not sure I could change your tire, so how about I drive you wherever you were going and you pick up your car tomorrow?”

  “I…I can’t leave it.” Mrs. Carnet gazed at the station wagon. “Everything that I own is in there. What if it gets stolen?”

  “If you want, we can call for a tow truck.” Dani took the woman’s elbow and tugged. “But let’s wait for it where it’s dry.”

  “My cell phone is dead.” Mrs. Carnet allowed Dani to help her into the van. “With everything that happened, I forgot to charge it.”

  “No worries.” Dani took her cell from her pocket, swiped the screen to unlock it, and handed it to the woman. “You can use mine.”

  Mrs. Carnet carefully placed the phone on the dashboard, took off her fogged-up glasses, then, realizing her clothes were soaked, she looked around helplessly. Dani handed her a stack of paper napkins and watched silently as the older woman car
efully wiped the lens, then settled the frames back on her face. Finally, Mrs. Carnet picked up Dani’s cell from the console and stared at the tiny, black rectangle as if she’d never seen a cell before.

  Shaking her head, Mrs. Carnet said, “I don’t even know who to call. The Bournes have always had me on their insurance plan, but I’m guessing that I’m not covered by that road assistance anymore.”

  “Most likely they haven’t had a chance to cancel it yet,” Dani said slowly. “You could probably use it this one last time.”

  Mrs. Carnet shook her head violently. “No! If I do that, they might have me arrested.” She glanced at Dani. “They’re merciless.”

  “Fine. How about if I call who I use?” Dani asked, tucking the info about the Bournes into the back of her mind to consider later.

  “I guess that would be okay.”

  Mrs. Carnet returned the cell phone to Dani, who woke up the screen again, brought up her contacts, and tapped the icon. After she’d reached the emergency tire business and spoke to the serviceman, she held the cell against her chest.

  Turning to Mrs. Carnet, she said, “The guy wants to know if you have a spare tire available, and if so, are you sure that it’s good.”

  “I have no idea.” Mrs. Carnet shredded the used napkin, forming a tiny, white paper mountain in her lap. “I’m not even sure where it is. I’ve had the car for thirty-seven years and never had a flat before.”

  “It’ll be okay.” Dani patted her hand, then spoke into her cell. She passed on the lack of info about the spare, along with the make, model, and age of the vehicle. Once she disconnected, she said, “They’re super busy because of the storm, but the technician promised that he’ll be here in thirty to forty-five minutes. An hour at the most. He’ll bring a tire with him to replace the flat, but he said you’ll need to get a whole new set before you drive any distance.”

  “You don’t have to wait.” Mrs. Carnet reached for the door handle. The older woman’s head was held high and her voice was steady. It was clear that she wasn’t the type who enjoyed sharing her troubles or accepting help. “I know you must be tired after cooking dinner for the Karneses.”

 

‹ Prev