Maybe siblings was too fancy of a word. Or maybe they’re too lost in grief to realize which way is up. Regardless, I’m glad Perry’s memorial is fleshing out.
Now to flesh out the killer.
Chapter 17
Saturday night arrives quick as a lightning bolt.
The manor is elbow to elbow with bodies, all trying to jam their way into the dimly lit ballroom in the back. Meanwhile, King and his kitty cohorts are wisely steering clear of the situation. I saw him lead the charge to the mysterious upper level of this dark and dank haunted house, and I couldn’t blame them. In fact, a part of me wanted to join them.
The ballroom is filled to capacity, and I know for a fact Opal charged fifteen dollars a person, which is five over what we agreed upon, but I won’t complain. After all, I do get a portion of it.
Tilly clip-clops her way over in sky-high heels and a silver sequin dress that might actually be a not-so-long T-shirt of some kind.
“Bowie, Bowie, Bowie.” Tilly gives my hands a quick squeeze. “This place looks fabulous and so do I.” She gives a little spin and the spotlight up above turns her into a human disco ball. “All right, you look hot, too.” She gives my little black dress a quick pinch.
“Thanks. It probably once belonged to Regina in another life, but it’s mine now. I have the receipt.”
She bumps her shoulder to mine before nodding over to Shep.
“That guy once belonged to Regina, too, but take it from me, he has your name on him now.” She leans in close to my ear. “You’ve got the receipt for that, too.” She gives a little wink before woo-hooing her way into the crowd, fist pumping while moving her hips to the music.
My eyes stray over to Shep, where the women flock to him freely, touching his clothes as if he were a modern day fertility idol. He glances my way and does a double take, those lids of his dropping down a notch, his lips curling at the tips.
I turn away, trying to play it off as if I were looking for someone else as Opal jogs up. She’s donned a black and white striped number that shimmers like water as she moves.
“Bowie Binx!” she blurts my name out in my face as if it were a curse. “I could kiss you on the lips.” She grabs ahold of my cheeks and air kisses either side of my face. A much better alternative if you ask me. Especially considering she’s wearing blood red lipstick that looks as if it could leave a stain for a decade or two.
“I take it we did pretty well?”
“Are you kidding? We’re in the money! We’re in the money!” she sings at alarming octaves, and I gently reel her in.
“Considering this is a glorified wake, I’d keep the merrymaking about our profits to a minimum.” I lean in. “We’ll have tea and cuddle with kittens later. It will be bliss for all involved.”
She gives a hard blink. “That does sound like bliss. I think I’ll start now.” She turns around and heads right out of the room.
I’m about to head toward the stage just as Shepherd Wexler steps in my path. He’s donned a dark dress shirt that sets off his eyes, and he looks like the exact mighty fine snack this boy-hungry girl is dying to take a bite out of.
“Bowie.” He offers a quick nod.
“Shep.” I turn my ear his way.
“You look nice.” His eyes remain pinned on mine, and every cell in my body floods with heat.
“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.” I lean in. “You do realize only you can say nice as if it were a four-letter word.”
His lips twitch as if they were openly defying him and trying to smile on their own volition.
I shake my head over at him. “Why are you such a tough nut to crack?”
He inches back. “I’m not a tough nut to crack.” His brows hike a notch. “Why are you such a tough nut to crack?”
A laugh gets caught in my throat. “I guess you got me there.”
Shep takes a step in close and a moment pulses by with his eyes locked over mine. My heart drums wildly in my chest and I can’t seem to catch my next breath.
In an instant, my body gets that old familiar warm and tingly feeling, and I’m afraid Shepherd Wexler does not sponsor it this time. The room sways in and out of focus and I stumble a moment.
“Bowie?” Shepherd steps in and takes ahold of me by the arm, but it’s too late. The tunnel vision has taken over and the noise from the room quickly drowns out as a picture forms in my mind’s eye.
A familiar scene begins to appear in what looks to be the café. I’m standing behind the counter just as Shepherd comes up and says something, but I can’t quite hear it. Then he sheds a slow spreading smile that I’ve never seen before.
The room comes crashing back into focus, the horribly loud music accosts my ears, and I take a few quick breaths as if I just jogged to the falls and back.
Shepherd Wexler smiled at me. Or at least he will.
I look up at him. Maybe there’s hope for us after all?
“Shepherd Pie!” a seemingly inebriated brunette jumps up on his hips and the two of them spin around in a fit of inertia. And just like that, Regina Valentine has whisked him off into the crowd.
“Bowie?” a female voice shouts over the music, and I glance around until I spot Nicki waving at me. Her hair hangs loose around her shoulders. She’s got on bright red lipstick and a little black dress that rivals my own. “Sorry I’m late.” She cringes while glancing at the box in her arms.. “I wish I could say there was traffic, but the truth is, I got emotional while putting this stuff together.”
“I’m sorry.” I wince. “Let me help you with that.”
“Oh no, it’s okay. I ran into Richard in the parking lot and he’s right behind me with another box just like this one.”
The older gentleman with a shock of white hair comes up behind her and we exchange a cheery greeting.
I have them put the boxes down on a side table I’ve cordoned off as Nicki and Richard set out the goods. A couple of framed pictures, a stack of his journals, a letterman’s jacket, and several awards are among the memorabilia. One of the awards looks like an old-fashioned record player with a large brass horn rising from it, sort of like a Grammy but a little less polished. A few of the triangular awards are made of crystal and catch the light like a prism.
Richard leans our way. “Is that Max Edwards taking the stage?”
I turn to look, and Max enters the limelight with a warm applause from the audience. He’s donned a black ten gallon hat and has an acoustic guitar strapped to his chest, looking every bit like the man of the hour.
“That’s him,” I say as Max begins an old familiar tune, and I recognize it right off the bat as “Come Away with Me”.
Nicki swoons to the music. “Wow, he’s really knocking this one out of the park.” She strides right up to the front of the stage like a woman possessed, and I can’t help but give a little laugh.
“He’s really that good,” I say.
Richard ticks his head to the side. “I guess it would be tacky for me to ask if he needed an agent, but I never said I was above being tacky.” He gives a mournful smile.
“Richard, what do you think happened to Perry Flint the night he was killed?” I don’t waste any time. I go in full force, no niceties involved.
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head and gives a mournful smile. “I mean, he had trouble before. He had threats. I guess we didn’t take them as seriously as we should have.”
“So you know about the stalker?”
Richard looks momentarily surprised. “That I do. Perry had his fair share of crazies. Always coming around, getting too close, sending cryptic messages—the typical stuff a singer of his caliber might see. Surprising, though, to think that one of those nutjobs might have gotten to him in the end.”
“Why is that?”
“I’d say it was pretty quiet for the last solid year.” He tips his head toward the stage as we watch Max do what it looks as if he were born to do. “Excuse me.”
He takes off and I watch the crowd as
they hold up their cell phones and illuminate the otherwise darkened room, and it’s a magical display—a magical tribute.
I do a quick scan of the room for Shep. I can’t help it. I felt something tonight. Something electric, and I wonder if he felt it, too?
If that vision of mine was any indication, something special is about to happen between the two of us. Someway, somehow, Shepherd Wexler is going to give me a genuine smile. And I can’t wait to bask in its glory, under its warmth.
I spot a blonde ducking into the hall that leads to the backstage area and it looks as if she’s being dragged forcefully by someone in front of her. I hike up on my tiptoes and spot the wide frame of a man.
I do another quick scan for Shep but don’t see him. And I’m not waiting around to find him either. That woman might be in very real danger.
The last time Perry Flint went down that hallway—he didn’t come back.
My feet carry me in that direction before I can process what’s happening. The back door is still shut, so I head into the only other room there is, the green room.
I burst in and flick on the lights, only to find a man and a woman jumping apart, both very much surprised, both very much—related?
Devin looks right at me, panting, her hair and clothes disheveled, and next to her stands an equally disheveled Bud.
“Devin?” I take a few ambling steps into the room. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t your brother?”
The blonde pants hard, and for a solid second, I’m convinced she’s about to pass out.
That phone call we shared earlier in the week comes back to me. Devin knew exactly what she was saying. She doesn’t have any siblings—certainly not a brother.
“Oh my God,” the words fumble from me. “You’re not related at all! You were cheating on Perry with this man, weren’t you? In fact, you were doing it right in front of his face. That’s so vile I can’t even wrap my head around it. How do you sleep at night?” A dull laugh scoffs from me. “Don’t answer that. I’m guessing he keeps you up.”
Bud groans, “Come on, Devin. We don’t need to listen to this. Who does this chick think she is, anyway?”
“I’m your worst nightmare.” My mother was right. You can take the girl out of Jersey, but you can’t take the Jersey out of the girl.
“Okay, fine,” she shouts my way. “You caught me. I’m guilty. Are you happy? Perry left me no choice. I had to do it. He forced my hand. And you’re not going to tell anyone, you hear me?” She pauses long enough for me to realize my vision just came to fruition. “Bud, would you give us a minute?”
He shoots me a disparaging look before storming out the door. “Be out in five, Devin, or I’m coming back in. I knew we shouldn’t have come back to this place.” His voice fades as he drifts down the hall.
“Did you do it?” My heart wallops in my chest. “Did you kill Perry Flint?”
“What?” She inches back as if I struck her. “No! Why would I kill Perry? He was my meal ticket, not to mention the open bar policy his name granted me, and free access to the greatest shows on the planet. Plus, I got to bring my boyfriend along for the ride.”
I give a few quick blinks as I try to piece together the information Nicki gave me.
“You wanted a baby and Perry wouldn’t give it to you. That’s why you went out and found Bud, isn’t it?”
She grimaces as if the thought repulsed her.
“Okay, first of all—” Her hand cuts the air, and suddenly it really does feel as if I’m back in Jersey. There’s not nearly enough hand gesticulating going on in other states per capita as there is in Jersey. “I’m not a fan of those pint-sized creatures. Heck, I wasn’t a fan of them while I was one. And second of all, I didn’t pick up Bud after I dated Perry. I came into the picture with him. And before you go and get all high and mighty with me, I don’t come from much, so the life Perry was able to afford me was a jewel in the desert of my life. I enjoyed my time with Perry.” Tears swell in her eyes. “He was special to me. I don’t care what you think of me. I loved him in my own way.”
“Yeah”—I scoff—“for what he could give you.”
Her jaw stiffens as she barrels past me and I follow her back out into the ballroom where people are still swaying to the rhythm of Max and his acoustic guitar.
Devin heads to the table with Perry’s things laid out and her chest bucks with emotion as she looks at them.
I stride up beside her. “You didn’t love Perry. You were two-timing him right to his face,” I say just loud enough for her to hear. “I’m surprised you were able to keep your story straight.”
She clucks her tongue. “What is that supposed to mean? I had two boyfriends, and believe me when I say, I knew which one was which. The math wasn’t all that hard.” Something on the table catches her eye, and she takes in a never-ending breath. “Oh my goodness, would you look at this?” She picks up the brass knockoff of a Grammy. “It’s Perry’s old coveted Folkey award. Where did you get this?” The look of surprise on her face dissolves from delight to horror. “Oh my God, they’re here.”
“Who’s here?”
“Whoever swiped this from him a few years back.” She shakes her head. “I need to find Bud. I don’t feel safe.” She takes off and I pick up the Folkey award and run my finger over the large brass instrument welded to the base.
Someone was stalking Perry Flint.
According to Richard, they stopped about a year ago.
Devin mentioned this was Perry’s coveted award. Does she really believe Perry’s old stalker showed up tonight?
I glance across the room as I feel the heft of the award in my hand and my eyes grow wide. There’s a certain someone who just might have the answer.
And maybe, just maybe, they might be the killer.
Chapter 18
The music grows louder and the noise from the crowd only seems to rival anything that’s coming from that stage. The dim lights give the room a smoky appeal, and there are far too many bodies compressed in the ballroom for me to make out anyone’s face, let alone find Shep.
But I do see someone I’m interested in speaking with.
I thread my way through the tangle of limbs until I come upon a svelte brunette, her eyes misty with tears as she listens to Max finish up Perry Flint’s runaway hit, “Come Back to Me”.
“You wish he could come back to you, don’t you?” I say it just loud enough for her to hear, and her eyes cut to mine.
Her lips quiver as she gives a hearty nod.
“Yes, I do.”
Nicki Magnolia looks lovesick in the very worst way. And I’m betting she is.
“Nicki, what do you know about Perry Flint’s stalker?”
“What?” she hisses as she takes a quick look around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did Perry have a fan who was sending him threatening messages?”
Her mouth falls open as she examines me as if seeing me for the very first time.
“I don’t think I know about that.”
Max starts in on another song, and Nicki does her best to sway to the music.
“Yes, you do know,” I say, stepping in front of her in an effort to block her view. “That scrapbooking album you were making for Perry’s mother? It was the same kind of album that was found in his office. It had all of these crazy letters, cut and pasted from newspapers and magazines, that somebody pieced together. Each one was a threat issued to Perry. It was put together in the same way you put your scrapbook together. Somebody put those letters in there.” A thought comes to me. Nicki said she was making that scrapbook for his mother—but…
Her gaze quickly ping-pongs around the room.
“I have to get some air.” She bolts through the crowd and down the hall until she’s out the back door and I’m right there with her.
“Nicki, wait,” I call out as I step into the chilled night air. “Nicki, you said you were making that scrapbook for his mother.”
“And?” H
er voice hikes an octave. “So what? I was doing something nice for the poor woman.”
“When I spoke with Devin and asked her to invite Perry’s parents to tonight’s event, she said—she said his mother died years ago.”
She takes in a quick breath. “Are you trying to pin something on me?”
“Come to think of it, when I called you the other day, I asked you to invite your siblings and friends, but you said you didn’t have any siblings.”
“And I don’t.”
“Then why did you tell me at the library that day you had a sister?”
“I never said that.” Her eyes grow wild as she turns to bolt and I snatch her by the wrist and yank her back.
“Yes, you did. You mentioned that your sister was the big scrapbooker in the family and she told you about the event at the library. But that’s not true. Nicki, you’ve been working for Perry for the last solid year, haven’t you?”
She pulls her hand free. “What in the world does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything,” I say as I pull forward that heavy brass award of Perry’s in my hand. “Richard said that Perry had a crazed fan that was sending threatening notes, but that it all stopped about a year ago. Right when you came onto the scene. I bet you were thrilled the day Perry pulled you into his inner circle.”
“So what?” Her chest heaves violently. “You can’t prove anything.”
“This award in my hand might.” I hold it up for her to see and she closes her eyes with the sheer look of regret on her face. “You stole it. It had disappeared a long time ago, and yet you magically had it among his mementos tonight. Perry is dead. And my guess is you killed him. Why did you do it?”
“It was Devin, I told you.” Her voice hikes up a notch and sends something fluttering out of the evergreens behind us.
I take in a sharp breath. “Yes, you did. You said Devin wanted kids. And they fought because Perry wouldn’t give them to her.” I shake my head. “But Devin told me, point-blank, she doesn’t ever want children—that she’s not a fan of those pint-sized creatures. Nicki, you lied.”
An Awful Cat-titude (MEOW FOR MURDER Book 1) Page 14