3 Dime If I Know (6 page)

“I agree, though my guess is Regina dislikes anyone who doesn’t do her bidding.” I turned from the bay window to face Rafe, who still leaned up against the wall.

“My sister is highly focused,” he said.

Jonette drained her glass. “No point in sugarcoating the facts. She’s a bitch on wheels.”

“High heels,” I said.

Rafe and Jonette looked confused, so I pointed out the obvious. “She’s a bitch in high heels. It takes talent to storm across the floor on those four-inch spikes. I couldn’t do it.”

My friend snorted. “I’d like to see you try.” Her face lit up. “We should have high-heel races at my election party this weekend. That’d show old lard butt I’m not afraid of his good old boy network. I’m winning that mayor seat from him.”

“Good idea. Hang on to that thought for later.” I crossed to Rafe’s side of the living room and took his hand. “You okay? That was intense.”

“My sister would take over the world if she could.”

“No wonder you struck out on your own.” His skin felt cool to my touch, but his fingers tightened around mine. Thank goodness my nurturing instincts hadn’t failed me. “I have to ask. Is she always like that? Does she ever let down her guard?”

“Rarely. She’s been demolishing the competition for years. She always has to be the best.”

Questions crowded my head. I wanted to ask them all, but should I? His sister’s visit had been unpleasant. Rafe might need time to regroup.

But his reaction to her parting words had been so strong. I couldn’t wait on his recovery. “Who are Hill and Tiffany?”

He gazed down his tan trousers, all the way to his spotless Oxfords. “Hill’s my brother.”

When he didn’t say anything more, I had the option of dropping it. The words came out anyway. “And Tiffany?”

He stiffened. “My ex-fiancée.”

I mentally reeled. He had a fiancée in his past. The image from the picture cropped up in my head, and I knew Tiffany was that woman. He’d loved her enough to want to marry her.

My face heated.

He’d loved her.

Before I could utter a word, Jonette jumped up and grabbed my arm. “We have an appointment in town. If we don’t leave right this second, we’ll be late. We have to leave right now.”

“I-I-I need to talk to Rafe,” I managed to say. “Take my car. He can drive me home.”

Jonette tugged harder on my arm. “No can do. Your presence is required. And we’re late. Very late. If we don’t leave right away, the entire free world will self-destruct.”

“We’ll talk later,” I said to Rafe as I kissed him goodbye.

He didn’t say anything, which disappointed me. He barely acknowledged my kiss, which hurt. As Tuesdays went, this one earned the distinction of being Terrible Tuesday.

While we walked out, he stayed put. I tried not to take his inaction personally, but darn it, it was personal. He needed help, but he couldn’t ask for it. He had deep, dark secrets and a sister who was a flesh-eating piranha.

“A dollar for your thoughts?” Jonette asked as she sped out the driveway.

“Isn’t the phrase a penny for your thoughts?”

“You look like you have more than a penny’s worth on your mind. Come on. Tell me.”

“Where to start?”

“I’ll start. The sister’s a bitch.”

I nodded. “Of the highest order. Probably whelped in a den of wolverines.” I paused to glance over at Jonette. “What did you talk to her about outside?”

“She tried to intimidate me. She said vagrants weren’t allowed on private property.”

“Yikes.”

“I didn’t let her have the last word. I told her she’d missed the turn for the shark tank.”

I snorted. “You didn’t!”

“I did. You can’t give bullies an inch, because they’ll wad it up and stuff it down your throat.”

I wish I’d seen Regina’s reaction to Jonette going toe-to-toe with her. That must have been something. Jonette took the next curve too fast. I braced against the door, the air from the half-opened window ruffling my hair. Afternoon shadows flickered across the road. Pungent evergreen scent filled my lungs as we drove past the Christmas tree farm. Normal things.

The tightness in my chest eased. “I was worried you would fight her.”

“I would’ve clawed her eyes out if she weren’t so scary.”

“She was scary. Poor Rafe. I bet he slept with a weapon under his pillow when they lived in the same house. I know I would.”

“His brother’s a low-life. Why is he messing with Rafe’s old flame?”

My mood tanked again as I connected the dots in this murky picture. “I have a feeling Tiffany’s the blonde from the picture. He loved her, Jonette.”

“So what? Something split them up, because they didn’t get married.”

“Even so, he’s not over her. He reacted when I asked him who she was.”

“That doesn’t mean he loves her. He might hate her now. Some men do that. They go from loving someone to despising them in the same breath. They won’t even speak their former girlfriend’s name.”

“Good try, but I’m not buying it.” I picked a piece of lint off my trousers. “Thing is, he’s been pulling back from me for a couple of days now. Something is up with him, though he won’t admit it.”

Jonette swerved around a dead skunk. The pungent odor filled the car, and we rolled down the windows all the way to clear the air. If only Rafe’s problems could be dealt with so easily.

“Men,” Jonette said. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.”

“Why can’t he tell me what’s going on? Why does he have to be all strong and silent? I hate it when he’s stoic like this.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Not much we can do, unless I hold him down until he spills the complete story of how he pissed off his big sister and lost his fiancée. Much as I’d like to resolve his past issues for him, it might not be in my best interest for him to be around this Tiffany again.”

I rubbed my face. “It’s so frustrating to have only a bit of the story. How can I help Rafe if he isn’t forthcoming about what happened? Maybe I shouldn’t stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I care about him. I don’t want Britt to railroad him into a murder charge. I need a fresh angle to investigate. Right now we’re stuck.”

“Let’s get unstuck. That’s why we went to his house. Put aside your personal feelings and get serious about this murder investigation.”

“We know names now. The dead woman from Rafe’s past is Starr. His sister is Regina, his brother is Hill, and the family firm is Golden Enterprises. I can’t believe I didn’t check him out when we started dating, but I’ve been so busy living in the moment and enjoying his attention that I dropped the ball. Even though he didn’t want to talk about his family, I should have done some digging on my own. But maybe it’s just as well. Regina is so forceful, I might have turned tail and run.”

“Golden Enterprises. I know that name from somewhere.” Jonette snapped one set of fingers as she thought. “Wait, I got it. I’ve seen that firm in the society pages of the Washington paper. They host red carpet charity benefits. I forget what they do. Banking or something like that.”

My head was clearing now that I wasn’t seething with jealousy. “Investments, I think. They manage several mutual funds and similar investments. I never connected Rafe to Golden Enterprises before. You’d think a hotshot amateur detective like me would have picked up on the silver spoon in his mouth.”

“His family money would certainly explain the nice furnishings and the primo car. He’s probably loaded.”

Loaded with charm and secrets. I aimed to learn those secrets. “Speaking of his furniture, I’d like to have a talk with his decorator, Ashley Webber. She’s another name we learned today. I’d like to know if she has any other ties to him. What about his old girlfriend? Should I track her down?”

“Let’s wait a bit on her. She’s already jumped into his brother’s arms. If Rafe finds out we’re snooping, it will seem less invasive to have talked with his decorator than his former heartthrob.”

Though I wanted to grill Tiffany and ask why they didn’t make it, Jonette’s head was clearer than mine. “Good point,” I admitted.

“Meanwhile, we can comb the news feeds for more info about the dead woman. How did she become Rafe’s friend? One would think people from his past could afford swankier accomodations than the Catoctin View Motel.”

“Rafe isn’t a snob about friendships. He knows us, doesn’t he? We’re definitely not from the money crowd.”

“There is that,” Jonette conceded. “It feels good to work with you on a case again, Clee. I enjoy digging into people’s lives. What’s our first step?”

“Online research. My first step will be the computer in my office. I need Ashley Webber’s address and phone number. I’ll schedule a design consultation with her.”

“Great. That means I can play with the puppies before I go back to work.”

“You made your puppy selection yet?”

“I was thinking Arnold because he’s so outgoing and inquisitive, like me, but then I think Moses is such a cuddler, I should take him. And then I think they’re both males who will hump anything that moves. I should stick with beautiful Ariel, but I don’t want to say no to the guys. I can’t make up my mind.”

“What will Dean say when you bring three dogs home?”

“He already said no. I will be forced to decide, but I’m not there yet. I love all of them.”

“You need to choose, because I have to advertise the other pups. Charla and Lexy are lobbying hard to keep the others. I can’t have three of those giants in my house either.”

“It would be easier if they weren’t so cute.”

I silently agreed, but cute only went so far, like charm. My thoughts boomeranged to the murder and my boyfriend. He couldn’t have done it, right? I wanted to believe him, and I said I believed him, but a solid alibi would make me feel a lot better.

No question in my mind that Rafe had grown up with lots of advantages. He had money and upper-crust connections. He had good looks and charm. Had he traded on these assets to dispose of a problem from his past?

“You’ve seen my work at the Washington Design Center?” Ashley Webber sounded as surprised as I felt. The trip down I-270 to her firm inside the Washington Beltway seemed farther than the physical miles I’d traveled. The buildings were bigger, ritzier. The people talked the same, but they dressed as if they lived in a different world.

I’d worn my ivory blouse and taupe slacks to meet Rafe’s interior designer, but in this uptown setting of gilt accessories and antiques, I felt underdressed. Ashley’s dark hair was pinned up into some sort of “prom do,” all shiny and curly. Jeweled clips sparkled in her hair. Her sequined gown was fancier than any prom dress I ever wore. I couldn’t imagine getting so dolled up for work every day.

As it was, I hoped my deodorant held out. I’d changed in the locker room at the golf course after my usual disastrous round in the Ladies’ Nine Hole Golf League this morning. I’d nibbled on granola bars and sipped bottled water in lieu of lunch, so the sparkling water and fresh-cut veggies with creamy dip offered by the designer were quite welcome.

“I saw your work at one of your clients’ houses.” Picking up another small carrot, I glanced around, first seeing the framed magazine covers behind her curved-leg desk, then my gaze traveled down to the desk itself. With brass hardware and decorative molding, that gleaming inlaid desk probably cost more than my car when it was new.

Ashley thought I was gawking at the items on the wall. “I write for those magazines. Publicity drives clients to my doors, and you can never have enough clients, now can you?”

She obviously hailed from the moneyed crowd, probably didn’t have to work to keep a roof over her head. Even so, my smile warmed. I didn’t want to like her, but I did.

“Clients are the lifeblood of any business,” I agreed.

“What business are you in, Mrs. Jones?”

“Please, call me Cleo. I’m an accountant.”

“You must have a great head for figures. I’m wonderful at measurements and spatial placements, but put a tax form in front of me and my eyes cross.” Ashley laughed in a manner that had me smiling. “Enough about me. You’re here to talk about changing your personal space. First, let me reassure you that you’ve made an excellent choice. I’m a member of the American Society of Interior Designers, and my work has received international acclaim. Please tell me about your project.”

I studied my sensible shoes for a moment. This was the tricky part. “Unfortunately, I’m not here about a design commission, though I wish I could afford you. I very much admire your work. I live out in Hogan’s Glen, about forty miles from Bethesda. You designed the interior of a friend’s home, Rafe Golden.”

“I did.” Ashley’s smile dimmed. “I don’t understand. What is it that I can do for you?”

“I’m trying to help Rafe. His name has come up in a police matter. He won’t divulge his association with the person in question, and I’m worried his silence will be misconstrued.”

“Rafe’s in trouble? Does his sister know?”

“I met Regina yesterday. She said our local detective contacted her.”

“Reggie doesn’t tolerate dissention. If I know her, she’s phoned the governor to get that cop fired.”

“That should be interesting.”

“Reggie is—well, for want of a better term—overprotective of her family. She and Rafe, though, that’s surprising.”

“It is?”

Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “I’m a business professional. I don’t gossip about my clients.”

“I’m not after gossip. I’m seeking background information. If I could learn more about the homicide victim, perhaps I could suggest a motive someone else might have had to kill her.”

“Murder?” The designer shuddered. “This is about a murder?”

“Yes. I’m desperate to learn more about the connection between Rafe and the murdered woman.”

“Who are you again? What is your relationship with Rafe?”

“We’re seeing each other. Socially.”

“I see.”

Ice dripped from her words. A lesser woman might have walked away from this fishing expedition, but I couldn’t let Rafe down. Knowledge was the best way to break down a wall of ignorance.

“I didn’t know Rafe had money when I met him. He’s the golf pro at my club. Our friendship developed into something more, though where it’s going I can’t say.” Oops I didn’t mean to say that. Now I sounded like a gold digger. Heat flooded my face. “I care about him, and I don’t want anything to happen to him.”