Gilt Trip (The Boston Uncommons Mystery Series Book 3)

by Arlene Kay

  “Perfectly understandable,” Anika fibbed. “Eja and I want a business opportunity too. It’s important for a woman to assert her independence, don’t you agree?”

  I summoned my sweetest smile. “How much was Justin asking?”

  Her whispered response was almost inaudible. “Fifty thousand. He had a lot of expenses. Renovation and such.”

  How many generous patrons had forked over a similar sum? No wonder the sexy sifu was so confident. Between thrusts and embraces, he managed to pick more than a few pockets. In many ways, he was no different than Phaedra herself. Both profited from the weakness and neediness of others.

  Heather plucked a mirror from her purse and dabbed her eyes. “I have to leave,” she said. “Please don’t tell Horton about this.”

  “Of course not,” Anika said. “Po can drive you home, Heather. You still look pale.”

  “No. Please. I have my car here.”

  Heather did look unwell, but I saw an opportunity to connect with Portia Amory Shaw without appearing too obvious.

  “No problem,” I said. “You can ride with Po while Anika and I follow behind in your car. That way we won’t take any chances.”

  Anika placed a water glass on some bills and herded us out the door to the Bentley. “Where did you park your car, dear?” she asked.

  “The valet has it.” After handing me her receipt, Heather sunk into the Bentley’s sumptuous seats. She was either faking or genuinely distressed, but I couldn’t tell which.

  “Take Mrs. Exley home, please,” Anika told Po. “We’ll follow right behind you.”

  The valet snapped to attention and in short order delivered Heather’s car. It suited her, a striking Jaguar convertible that oozed money and class. I don’t own a car, and my skill at navigating in city traffic verges on dangerous. I had no desire to mar the custom paint or dent the pristine exterior of a work of art.

  “I’ll drive, if you don’t mind.” Anika’s eyes sparkled. “I love Jaguars, in fact, for the longest time I nursed an old XKE along.” She sighed. “A beautiful beast but trouble, like so many gorgeous creatures.”

  As we belted ourselves in, I said, “‘Beauty is its own excuse for being.’ Remember?”

  “Ah, Emerson,” Anika said. “How like a Boston boy to appreciate nature. You know, I quoted that to Bolin every time the XKE broke down. Finally, he just shook his head and made me get something more reliable. You know how he is about safety.”

  Anika had a reckless streak that confounded her husband and horrified her son. That’s why we made such a daunting duo—although Deming had another less flattering term for our partnership.

  She stepped on the accelerator and made that jungle cat roar. By ignoring several vulgar hand signals and bleating horns from other drivers, Anika eased into traffic and headed toward Belmont.

  “Did you buy that fainting act?” I asked. “Surely Heather knew what Justin Ming was up to? She’s a prime suspect in my book. I think her pride took a shellacking when she realized that her body and her money were being used. Besides, what were she and Phaedra fighting about if not that?”

  Anika shrugged. “Love is blind, as they say, and lust is doubly so. She was very convincing about that blood though, don’t you think? I watched her reaction, and she was clearly shocked.”

  “Maybe she’s a sociopath,” I said. “Supposedly they pass lie detector tests with flying colors. That would make it fairly easy to fool us.”

  Anika beamed her Mona Lisa smile my way. “Didn’t you ever fib to your mother, Eja? Even a little.”

  I dredged my memory banks for guilty secrets. My parents were both academics, philosophy professors who believed in abstractions and syllogisms rather than conventional child rearing. They were rationalists who forbade me almost nothing. As a result, I was a studious little prig who rarely strayed from the straight and narrow. Things changed when I hooked up with Cecilia Swann and her dark twin, but even then my mother regarded my antics with amused tolerance. In short, I had no need to lie.

  “Eja—are you okay?” Anika swerved onto Storrow Drive and stepped on the gas.

  “Sorry. I was pondering your question.”

  “No matter. My point was that most children fib to their mothers quite often, and that gives one a sixth sense about lying. Bolin always says that I have a truth detector in my brain. That’s why I believe Heather.”

  “Loaning a man money is bad business,” I said. “Your body, maybe, but never let them into your purse. More great advice from the Bard.”

  Anika laughed and executed a sudden U-turn into the Exley driveway. “Here we are. Po is already here. Heather probably went upstairs.”

  I locked eyes with Anika. “We really should check on Heather. Don’t you agree?”

  She parked the Jag and hopped out. “Sure. It’s only polite. If Portia is around, we can say hello.”

  We hadn’t discussed my encounter with Fleur yet. Even though she hadn’t rejected our proposal outright, I was having second thoughts. Even in college Fleur loved to keep one dangling until the last possible moment. She was heavily into power plays, especially when they involved other females. All things considered, Portia might be an easier target. She fit every stereotype of the dull-as-dishwater accountant more enamored of debits than desire. Yet I recalled the malicious gleam in her eyes when Phaedra’s name was mentioned. That suggested that Portia, the down and out family retainer, might be ready for adventure.

  Anika greeted Carlisle and asked for Ms. Shaw. As a well-trained servant, the butler wouldn’t think of questioning Mrs. Bolin Swann or her motives. He gave me the fisheye.

  We were ushered into a small parlor furnished exclusively with sofas and chairs in various patterns of chintz. In another era, ladies would have fanned themselves, exchanged confidences, and received their visitors in such a space.

  “What a surprise!”

  It was impossible to tell how Portia Amory Shaw meant that remark. As usual she was clothed in a shapeless shift that gave new meaning to the term nondescript.

  Anika recovered quickly. “We didn’t want to intrude, but since Mrs. Exley got ill during lunch, we thought you should know. She probably wouldn’t mention it otherwise.”

  “You’re joking,” Portia said. “Heather loves drama. She feeds off it.”

  “Not like those of us who work for a living,” I said. “We don’t have that luxury.”

  She gazed at me, surprise mingled with a healthy dollop of respect. “Exactly.”

  “Speaking of work,” Anika said. “Eja and I have a proposition to make. It presumes that you don’t mind doing financial analysis.”

  “And that you can keep it to yourself,” I added. “This matter is confidential. Just the three of us.”

  Portia’s dour features brightened. “Oh, I can keep a secret. Believe me.”

  We spent the next twenty minutes outlining our fantasy takeover of Shaolin City and her role in the process. As Anika embellished, her enthusiasm grew to the point that even I got excited.

  “This is our project, understand. No men allowed. Eja and I will be the primary investors, and the current staff will manage the property.”

  Portia put on her CPA hat and nodded. “You’ll want to form a subchapter S Corp. All the small businesses do that. But let me get this straight—exactly what do you want from me?”

  “An assessment of the financial health of the business and the owner.” I paused. “And here’s the tricky part. You have to do it without tipping off Master Moore.”

  A frown knitted Portia’s brow as her green eyeshade descended. “Master Moore?”

  Anika nodded solemnly. “Master Avery Moore. He’s the owner, a venerable martial arts master and respected teacher.”

  “Gee, I don’t know. That’s pretty tough these days with priv
acy laws.”

  “Surely there are public records, filings and such that anyone can access. Don’t you run credit checks through the foundation?” I rummaged in my purse and found the information packet that all Shaolin City clients received. “Here. This might help you.”

  I could tell that Portia was intrigued. The poor woman’s life was probably so dull that any respite was welcome. When Anika mentioned a suitable fee, I knew that we had her hooked.

  “Let me poke around on the Internet,” Portia said. “I might be able to help you.”

  Anika rose and made our excuses. “I’m afraid we have to run. Please contact me or Eja if you learn anything.”

  We congratulated ourselves on a successful venture, dissecting our day in hushed whispers. After stopping at my place to pick up Cato, we headed for the Swann homestead feeling triumphant and a bit cocky. After all, our detective work had yielded some important clues. Heather’s explanation of the blood bore some scrutiny, but it seemed genuine as did her shock at the relationship between Phaedra and Justin Ming. If true, someone else murdered Phaedra, someone who had access to the locker room, or was bold enough to risk being discovered in a fairly public place. That narrowed the field but shed a blinding spotlight on spurned lover Horton Exley and the nefarious Justin Ming.

  Instead of plaudits, an unpleasant surprise awaited us the moment we reached Swannland. Bolin, Deming, and a redheaded quisling with a pixie cut were huddled over the library table plotting our doom. I assessed the situation the moment I saw Fleur Pixley. That traitorous minx had revealed our scheme to the last person on earth I hoped to involve. Anticipation is usually my strong point, but I’d forgotten just how desperate Fleur was to curry favor with Deming. So much for female solidarity—sisterhood, be damned!

  “A party! What a surprise.” Anika strolled up to Fleur and hugged her. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

  Anika’s poise in the face of danger gave me courage. I resisted the urge to bolt, stared straight at Deming, and plastered a smile on my face. Cato proved his allegiance by baring his fangs and lunging at Fleur.

  “He’s not good with strangers,” I said. “Such a protective little cuss.”

  Bolin, ever the gentleman, greeted us and offered refreshments. His eyes twinkled with a bemused expression that said nothing surprised him anymore. Unfortunately, Deming was less understanding. He grunted, sipped his scotch, and hunkered down, never moving a muscle.

  “Fleur called Dem after you went out today,” Bolin said. “It seemed like a good idea to get together and catch up on things, particularly since, as usual, you ladies are way ahead of the rest of us.”

  Deming eased into the conversation like a hungry shark on the prowl. “What else is new,” he fumed. “I thought you were a writer, Eja, not an investor. Imagine my surprise when Fleur mentioned your new interest.”

  “She’s my partner,” Anika said. “Lots of people diversify. It makes financial sense.”

  “Besides,” I said with all the sweetness I could muster, “we’re exploring options. Everything is tentative, and we assumed our dealings with Fleur were confidential.”

  Even the most brazen hussy can feel shame. Fleur’s fair Irish skin turned beet red as she absorbed our scorn. “I felt obliged to read Dem in on everything. After all, his client is involved.”

  “Really? We discussed a business proposition, nothing that concerned the Exley family. Their name never even came up in conversation.” Rage boiled up within me the more I considered her treachery. “I’m very disappointed in you, Fleur.”

  Anika chimed in, polite but pointed. “Me too. As it turns out, you don’t have to worry. Eja and I have made other arrangements. That probably is best for us all.” She stood, indicating in the classiest way possible that the discussion was over, and Fleur was no longer welcome in her home.

  Bolin shook Fleur’s hand and thanked her for her concern. “Nice to see you again, Fleur. Good luck with your future plans.” He nodded to Deming and walked over to join his wife. “Dem will see you home.”

  Once again, I felt like an alien in the splendid realm of Swannland. Between Fleur’s treachery and Deming’s arrogance, there was no place for a midlist mystery writer with an inquiring mind and an independent streak.

  Deming stalked out the door without even turning my way. I almost wept, but pride and a compulsion to avoid pity kept my eyes dry. I patted Cato’s head and put on my great big Brownie smile. “It’s getting late. I’d better head on home.”

  “Wait, Eja.” Anika sensed my pain. “Why not stay for dinner. I’m sure Dem will be back soon.”

  “No, thanks. I’ll go home and do some writing. It’s my therapy when I need to think.”

  “We’ll speak tomorrow,” Anika said. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

  I wasn’t so sure, but good manners demanded an upbeat response. After flashing a plucky grin, I prepared to leave.

  “Oh, Eja, one more thing. Will you be at our exercise session tomorrow?” Anika bit her lip. “I’m not sure. Maybe . . .”

  “I’ll be there,” I said. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. But if you’re busy, don’t worry. I’ll tackle the group class instead.”

  Bolin walked to my side and squeezed my hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the car.”

  His presence was comforting, even when he said nothing. Bolin Swann projected warmth, self-assurance, and strength, just the prescription I needed at that moment.

  “Forgive him, Eja. Ever since Cecilia died, Deming has been terrified that he’ll lose someone else. He feels helpless, and that overwhelms him. If Dem had his way, he’d wrap up you and his mother and never let you go.”

  I took a deep breath. “He’s angry all the time, Bolin, and I can’t live that way.”

  “Not angry, just vulnerable. A control freak. I know my son, Eja, and he loves you more than you could ever realize. Always has, even as a kid.”

  “Maybe we’re not right for each other. I’ll never be a compliant wife.”

  Bolin chuckled. “I know all about that. Anika has an independent streak a mile wide. It took some time for me to accept it. Swann men are hardheaded.”

  I shrugged and reached for my iPhone. “More time, huh? I promise to try.”

  “You don’t need a cab,” Bolin said. “Let Po drive you. I insist.” Anger was easy to rebuff, but kindness broke me down. He nodded to Po, opened the passenger side door, and patted my shoulder.

  “Give him another chance, Eja. Please.” Bolin’s dark eyes gleamed. “Anika depends on you so much, and I already think of you as my daughter.”

  The cool wind brushed my face, making me shiver. I stood on tiptoe and kissed Bolin’s cheek. “You’ve both been wonderful to me.” I paused. “But Deming has to come to terms with things before it’s too late.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  DEMING DIDN’T CALL that night. Perhaps he was snuggled in Fleur’s arms, granting that harridan’s every wish. I thought of the parallels between Anika’s Jaguar XKE and her own son, both sexy, fractious beasts meting out pleasure with pain. That described Deming as much as a slinky auto. Should I keep agonizing every time our relationship broke down or make a clean break? The conundrum weighed me down, banishing all hope of restful sleep.

  I loved Deming and accepted him with all his foibles. Unfortunately, he viewed me as a work in progress, fresh clay to mold and manipulate to his specifications. We had battled since childhood about our differences. At one time I considered them strengths, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  Cato had no patience with my struggles. He prescribed exercise and vigorous ball tosses as the answer to almost everything. Come to think of it, the little devil had a point. After tramping about the Common with him, I felt invigorated and curiously optimistic. When my telephone rang, I answered it without even checking caller ID.


  “Eja? Sorry I missed you yesterday.” Ames Exley’s distinctive Brahmin voice enunciated every syllable as if his life depended on it.

  “Oh, yes. Just a temporary health scare. How are you?”

  He paused. “Hungry. How about joining me for lunch at the Seaport Hotel? At Tamo, the restaurant. I guess I should have made that clear, although . . .”

  “Today?” Last minute invitations were always chancy propositions. I wondered how many women before me had turned him down. On the other hand, memories of the restaurant’s tuna sliders and chicken fingers made me salivate. I ignored the part about the hotel.

  Ames laughed. “You got me. I’m playing hooky. Escaped my big brother’s clutches just a minute ago and wanted to have some fun. C’mon. My treat. Are you game?”

  “Sure. I can be there by noon, if that works.”

  “See you then.”

  Ames rang off, leaving me with mixed emotions and a faint glow of triumph. A date with an attractive man might be just the tonic I needed. Deming Swann could sulk in silence as far as I was concerned.

  When the phone rang again, I saw his name and chose the better part of valor. I simply stiffened my spine and ignored Deming’s call. He never left messages, no need to. My heart and brain were attuned to the special ring tone that he had. Besides, I had some prep work to do. No time for platitudes and angst-laced conversations. Eja Kane was on a mission.

  I chose conservative garb in case Ames actually had designs on my virtue. No one could fault the cashmere sheath, snappy red jacket, and Ferragamos that I wore. They were prim, with subtle well-bred Brit touches. Stylish but austere, just like my mindset.

  Nightmarish lunch hour traffic kept my cab driver swearing and me wondering. I arrived at Tamo on the stroke of noon, rather like Cinderella fleeing the ball. Despite the crowd, Ames had already snagged a seat. He waved merrily, beckoning me to join his front row table.