Gilt Trip (The Boston Uncommons Mystery Series Book 3)

by Arlene Kay

  Portia shuddered. “It’s so sterile. Like a sci-fi movie.”

  I stood and poured myself a Pellegrino. “I’m surprised you two know about it. Horty said it was a big secret.”

  “You’d be surprised what we know, dear Eja.” Ames rose and stepped toward me, causing Cato to growl. “Wow. That mutt really doesn’t like me, does he?”

  “He’s the cautious type,” I said. “Very protective.”

  Unlike her aggressive cousin, Portia was a bundle of nerves. Her left eye blinked incessantly and she constantly moistened her lips. “Phaedra Jones was a bad person who got what she deserved. She seduced men and then she robbed them. Horty wasn’t her only victim, you know.”

  Ames walked over and stood behind her chair. “Come on, Cuz, give poor Enid a break.” When his cell phone buzzed, he looked at the caller ID and rolled his eyes. “Speaking of the devil. It’s Horty. Mind if I take this call?”

  “Not at all,” I said. “Go into the kitchen if you need privacy.”

  As soon as he left, Portia motioned to me. “I forgot to mention this before. Avery Moore has gotten regular payments exceeding a half million dollars over the past year. That’s what keeps the dojo afloat.” Her voice was low, almost a whisper. “I managed to trace the source.” She blushed. “A friend of mine is a banker. Anyway, they all came from a single payer.”

  I heard the low rumble of Ames’ voice as he prowled about the kitchen. “Who was it?” I asked. Now I was excited, leaning forward to catch her every word.

  “You probably won’t believe it. I know I was shocked.” Portia paused. “The money came from Justin Ming. Every penny of it.”

  That bit of news left me gobsmacked. It also altered my view of Sifu Ming, despoiler of women and serial gold digger. Was he scheming to take over the dojo or propping up his master’s dream? With great effort, I closed my gaping mouth and responded.

  “Well, so much for Shaolin City. Anika and I won’t subsidize a failing business. Frankly, I’m surprised that Justin had that kind of money.”

  Portia cocked her head to one side. “Really? Phaedra probably had a partner. You said so yourself. She would have done anything to please Justin Ming. When that type of woman falls hard she has no sense.”

  The malicious gleam in her eyes transformed Portia from mild-mannered accountant to gleeful conspirator. I drew back and stroked Cato’s fur, trying to make sense of things. Was Justin Ming the unknown partner in crime? He was certainly strong enough to hoist those gold bars and clever enough to target potential marks. His motive was easy to imagine—greed and need, the two biggies of crime.

  But murder was another issue entirely. According to Euphemia Bates, Justin had no history of violence. Marriage-minded women were probably a common occurrence in his life, and he was wily enough to elude them without resorting to murder. Why eliminate Phaedra and risk a murder charge?

  Ames sauntered back into the room, sporting a snarky grin. “Miss me, ladies?”

  “Were you gone?” I asked. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “You always were a smart-ass, Eja. Life with the Swanns hasn’t changed that.”

  Portia gasped. “Ames! Manners.”

  “Maybe Eja can solve the murder and save Horton. That’s what she really wants.” Ames sneered. “Why talk with the cops when we’ve got our own Sherlock Holmes right here?”

  I took a deep breath and killed him with kindness. “Actually, I pattern myself after the female sleuths. Amelia Peabody or Kinsey Millhone will do nicely. Miss Marple is a bit long in the tooth for me, though.”

  Neither one of my guests was a mystery buff. They both shot puzzled looks my way and gaped.

  “Forgive me, Eja. That was rude.” Ames took a healthy slug of his drink. “Tension has been mounting lately, and I haven’t been myself. I’ve finally come to a decision. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve decided to move on.”

  “Move on? You mean, leave Boston?”

  “Leave the family business and strike out on my own. I’m following your advice, Eja. Remember? You told me to pattern myself after Deming. I’ve decided to join a law practice in the city.”

  “He’s moving out of the house too,” Portia said. “We both are.”

  “Together?” I gasped.

  I couldn’t blame Ames for snarling at me. Manners had gone out the window long ago. “Of course not,” he said. “Don’t be absurd. We’re both professionals with great credentials. Doors will open for us.” He drained the scotch and leapt to his feet.

  “Come along, Portia, Eja is a busy woman. So much to do, so little time.” The words were fine, but his tone was faintly menacing. “Where’s your fiancé, by the way? Writing briefs with Pamela?”

  “Right here, Ames. Is there something you want to tell me?” Deming walked through the door dressed in corporate avenger garb. His lips brushed my cheek as he stood next to me—legs apart—in a wushu stance.

  “Nothing. Never mind. I didn’t mean anything.” Ames motioned to Portia. “Come on, Cousin. Time to disappear.”

  Portia reached out and touched my arm. “Thanks, Eja. I’ll be in touch.”

  They hustled out the door without saying a word.

  “WHAT THE HELL was going on?” Deming asked. “I thought you promised to lay low, not throw a party. And how come you left the door unlocked?”

  “You said don’t leave the house and I didn’t. Portia was okay, but Ames was creepier than usual. As for the door . . . that was just a lucky accident.” I stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Who knew that my personal superhero would rescue me?”

  Deming glowered at me, playing the heavy parent. “Ames certainly looked odd. Who wears a Grateful Dead shirt during dinner hour in Boston?”

  Something clicked in my mind as he spoke. “Repeat what you just said.”

  He locked luscious hazel eyes on mine. “His T-shirt. Classic Grateful Dead. Vintage, too, by the looks of it. Didn’t you see the skull design?”

  I realized with a grim finality what that meant. My tormenter, the sender of dead black roses, had been in my home enjoying my liquor and planning God knows what. According to Horty, Ames was also versed in the martial arts, just like Phaedra’s killer.

  “I’ve been so dense,” I said. “How could I have missed it? Freaks who follow the Grateful Dead are called Dead Heads just like those decapitated roses. Ames came here to taunt me. Probably expected me to faint or cower. Bastard! No wonder he got a strange look when he found out you were coming over.” I threw my arms around Deming and hugged him. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, what’s this all about?” He gently stroked my hair and whispered, “Remember the song? I’m the one who watches over you, Ms. Kane, and I always will be. Forever.”

  We walked hand in hand into the bedroom, undressed, and held each other close. For a while I lay in his arms feeling safe and cherished, a world away from murder and malice. Then without warning, I started shaking.

  “That does it,” Deming said. “You’re going to stay with my parents until this whole mess is over.”

  I thought of the comfort and safety of the Swann mansion with the ever-vigilant Po standing guard. It was tempting. Too tempting. I salvaged my dignity and fought through my fear.

  “I can’t do that. If I let a creep like Ames disrupt my life, then he wins. I need to concentrate on my writing and live normally. Besides, I have Cato here to protect me.”

  Deming snorted, using vivid scatological terms to express his opinion. “Okay. Here’s the compromise. I’m moving in here until things settle down. Okay?”

  I showered him with fevered kisses and the promise of much more. By the time we finished our discussion, both of us were in agreement. Even Cato was reconciled to our new living arrangements.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ANIKA AND BOLIN joined us for breakfa
st the next morning. Like all good guests they came bearing gifts—a picnic hamper of international goodies prepared by Po. Even Deming stopped grousing long enough to wolf down crabmeat quiche, Dou Jiang, and smorgas, tributes to the native countries of both of his parents.

  Left to my own devices, I would have plunged facedown into these delicacies. Fortunately, wisdom prevailed, and I followed Anika’s lead, taking modest amounts of each dish. Bolin and Deming showed no such restraint. They piled on the carbs, as though fat deposits were a curse reserved for females only.

  After a civilized interval, we sipped espresso and discussed murder. I summarized last evening’s cocktail chatter, aided by Deming’s withering asides and snide observations about Ames Exley.

  “Wait a minute,” Anika said. “You mean he sent you those flowers? That’s monstrous!”

  Bolin frowned as he evaluated the situation. “My question is why? What did Eja say or do that provoked him?” He turned to his wife. “You were part and parcel of it all. He might try to harm you too.” A look of tenderness passed between them. It was enough to make a romantic out of a confirmed skeptic.

  “I told them, Dad. Eja is confined to quarters until this thing is resolved.” Deming hesitated when he saw the expression on my face. “In any event, she needs to be extra careful. That’s why I’m moving in.”

  Bolin gave his son a thumbs up. “Great idea. I’ll tell Po to be especially vigilant. No more hikes up Boylston to that dojo, ladies. He’ll drive you if you insist on going.”

  I ignored Deming’s scowl and fed Cato a few tidbits under the table. Vigilance makes watchdogs burn up the calories.

  “Looks like we need to reevaluate Justin Ming,” I said. “He’s sort of a Robin Hood figure, taking from the over-privileged and donating to his master. I wonder if Avery Moore even realizes what’s going on?”

  “Don’t count on it,” Deming said. “According to Horton, this Moore character is unworldly. No head for business.”

  Anika squeezed her husband’s arm. “We may be safer at Shaolin City than on Beacon Hill, as long as Eja avoids Heather.”

  Bolin locked eyes with his son the moment he heard Heather’s name. “I hope you spoke to Horton about that, Dem. Heather needs counseling before she harms someone.”

  Deming’s reaction bordered on surly. “Right, Dad. Heather is Pam’s client, so she’s handling things. Thanks to Mom and Eja, Lieutenant Bates called them down to headquarters today. Pam isn’t happy at all.”

  Normally I bite my tongue to stifle ill-advised comments. Today I chomped down on a Danish instead. The sweet treat took the sting out of Deming’s words and made me feel fine. Pamela Schwartz’s happiness was the least of my worries.

  “I still don’t understand it,” Anika said. “What got Ames Exley involved in this? He was always a sweet boy when his parents were alive. Now you say he’s moving out and leaving the foundation.”

  “His cousin manages the accounting functions,” Deming said. “She’ll be hard to replace. I’m not exactly sure what Ames does there other than trot around looking important.”

  I wondered more about the root of all evil—money. Ames and Portia would soon be without jobs or a place to live. Boston’s stratospheric housing costs and surplus of lawyers made life a very dicey proposition—unless, of course, one had a nest egg of five million untaxed dollars.

  “Wake up, Eja,” Anika chided. “You’re dreaming.”

  “Not dreaming, thinking. Maybe Horty’s been right all along. What if Phaedra tried to go straight and was deceived by her partner, a slick number named Ames Exley?” I recalled the smug expression on his face when he called me Sherlock.

  Bolin leaned forward, his eyes wary and intense. “You think he’s the murderer?”

  “Oh, no, Bolin,” Anika cried. “I refuse to believe that.”

  I wasn’t captive to fond childhood memories of Ames. During our days at Brown, he was considered a dilettante and a major prick. But murder was a giant leap into the ninth circle even for an Exley.

  “It’s possible,” I admitted. “If Phaedra threatened him, he might lash out. According to Horty, Ames had martial arts training. Some kind of black belt.”

  Deming exchanged amused glances with his father. “You remember them, Dad. Always competing, never winning. I doubt that either one has the guts to commit murder. Exleys never dirty their hands.”

  We chewed on that thought while digesting our breakfast. Bolin and Deming left for work shortly afterwards, leaving Anika and me a few minutes of privacy.

  “Our lesson is still scheduled for three o’clock,” I said, flexing my muscles. “Are you going?”

  Anika nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it, especially after ingesting all these calories. We’ll pick you up at two thirty.” She shrugged. “Marriage is compromise, Eja. It’s no big deal if Po drives us.”

  There were a hundred objections I could raise and only one sensible solution.

  “Not a problem. Besides, it’s kind of cool, having a bodyguard.”

  MY ATTEMPTS TO write were doomed that afternoon. Instead of producing prose, I saw a kaleidoscope of sounds and faces linked to Phaedra Jones. A braver person would have told Euphemia Bates of her suspicions. I cursed my cowardice and did nothing. Cops demand proof, and all I had were assumptions and unsupported conclusions. No arrests had been made, and according to Deming, none were imminent. Mia Bates would flay me alive for wasting her time and poking into police business.

  My cell phone buzzed as I prepared to meet Anika. No caller ID necessary—the velvety baritone on the other end was unique.

  “Ms. Kane,” said Justin Ming. “Will you be at class this afternoon?”

  “Absolutely,” I replied. “I’m looking forward to it. Remember, time is running out.”

  He stayed silent for a moment, as if he were considering his next move. “Of course.”

  “Who will teach us tonight?”

  “The master sends his regrets. I am his unworthy replacement.”

  “Excellent. There are so many things I want to ask you.”

  The air was thick with innuendo and an undercurrent of menace. I vowed to puncture the aura surrounding Justin Ming with a few well-placed barbs. The man was a living, breathing study in cant, a trickster of the highest order. One way or another I would find a way to crack that smug exterior.

  After we hung up, I gave Cato an abbreviated turn around the Common and then sprinted out the lobby to join Anika. True to form, Po assisted me into the car with a curt nod and a remote semi-smile. My tactics never changed. I chattered nonsensically to him, hoping to provoke a reaction. As usual, he was far too wily to grunt, grimace, or give the game away.

  Anika gave me a hug and immediately joined in speculating about sexy Sifu Ming and his motives.

  “Maybe the master isn’t so holy,” she said. “What if he’s blackmailing Justin? The dojo is Avery’s whole life. The Shaolin Way is his vocation, not a job. Some men would do anything to preserve that even when it violates everything they stand for.”

  “Some women too. Who knows what Phaedra had in mind? Maybe she was blackmailing Justin. Not the best basis for marriage, but effective.” I closed my eyes, thinking of Deming, who would risk everything to protect me. How lucky was I?

  To my surprise, the exterior Shaolin City was virtually deserted. The normal hubbub had been replaced by a veil of silence that sent a shiver up my spine. Before Anika could speak, Po hopped out of the car and surveyed the terrain. The whole charade resembled theater of the absurd, but oddly enough, I found it comforting.

  Anika clutched my arm. “Don’t mind him, Eja. Bolin’s word is law to Po. Believe me, nothing will harm us on his watch.”

  When Justin Ming appeared at the door, he spoke with Po and waved us in. There was nothing suspicious in his manner, nothing that accounted fo
r the sudden spasm of panic that gripped me.

  “Come on, Eja. He’s ready.” Anika leapt out of the Bentley without waiting for Po. She exited as gracefully as a gazelle whereas I lumbered out grizzly fashion.

  Sifu Ming held the door open and waved us into Shaolin City. “We had to cancel most classes today, ladies, but don’t be alarmed. Electrical problems. Fortunately, the practice room can still accommodate our private clients.”

  “Shall we reschedule?” Anika asked.

  “Not at all. In fact, I suggest we try a new area today. Do you feel adventurous?” His dreamy eyes focused on me, issuing either a challenge or a warning.

  “I’m up for it,” Anika said. “What do you have in mind?”

  Justin flashed his enigmatic smile. “You have progressed beyond our basic program, Mrs. Swann. I prescribe the Dragon form. It builds upon the cardiovascular workout, adding self-defense techniques.” He cocked his head to one side, letting a lock of thick black hair obscure his face. “Interested?”

  “Absolutely,” Anika said. “I’ll change and stow my things in the locker room. Coming, Eja?”

  “I’ll be okay if you’ll take my bag with you. Don’t worry.”

  Justin Ming folded his arms, studying me with bemused tolerance.

  “What about me?” I asked, expecting the worst. “I’ve learned a lot too.”

  He glanced down at me. “You alone can best gauge your progress, Ms. Kane. Have you found what you were looking for at our dojo?”

  I should have been terrified, but I wasn’t. Justin Ming didn’t frighten me even though he could snap me like a twig or use that Dim Mak maneuver. Seduction was his go-to trick, but I was impervious to those charms.

  “I’ve learned a good deal,” I said. “There are some answers I don’t have, but I’ll get there eventually.”

  “Tenacity must be tempered by caution,” he said. “Overconfidence can be dangerous.” He bowed and turned aside as though waiting for my next move.