A Dangerous Widow (A Dangerous Series) (13 page)

Before I could answer, her gaze flicked over
to Ben.

“And who is this?” she said as she turned to
him.

“This is Ben Cade,” I said.
 

“Your plus-one?” Maxine said in a voice so
light and sugary, it made my teeth ache.

“On the phone the other day, I think I told
you that Ben and I are a couple.”
 
Unless you were drinking and have forgotten.

“A couple?”

Totally drinking.

“Yes—for the past five months.”
 
I winged that last part to give our
pseudo-relationship some depth, but what would Maxine or Bill know?
 
Frankly, I didn’t care.
 
“Ben, this is Maxine and Bill
Witherhouse.”

They greeted him with handshakes.
 

“It’s a pleasure,” Bill said.

“It is,” Maxine agreed.
 
“And goodness, Kate—you’ve
certainly done well,” she said as her eyes roamed over Ben’s body.
 
“I won’t be the last to say this tonight,
but you two might be the best-looking couple here.”

“That’s all on Kate,” Ben said.

“I’m afraid I must disagree!”

Really, Maxine?
 
Already in the cups?

“What do you do, Ben?” Bill asked.

And here we go…

“I’m a private investigator,” Ben said.

“A private investigator?” Maxine asked.

Watch their expressions…

“Yes,” Ben said.
 
“Well, a former Navy SEAL who turned
private investigator, if that matters.”

“If you served our country, it does matter,”
Maxine said.

“I did two tours of duty in Afghanistan,”
Ben said.
 
“When I returned home, I
decided to use the skills I learned in the field to become a private
investigator.”

“How did you two meet?” Bill asked.

“That’s complicated,” I said.

Bill furrowed his brow at me.
 
“I can only imagine.
 
No offense to Ben, but you two don’t
exactly move in the same crowd, do you?”

You fucking snob.

“I’m not sure what that means, Bill,” I
said.
 
“But to answer your question,
I hired Ben to look into Michael’s death.
 
After receiving some recent information, I’m no longer convinced that
his death was an accident.
 
It could
have been murder.”

“I’m sorry?” he said.

“Goodness!” Maxine said.
 
“Murder?
 
Really?”

When she said that, I caught Bill
Witherhouse shoot his wife a sidelong glance, which was as tense as it was
uncomfortable.
 

But why…?

“How have you come to that conclusion?” Bill
asked.

“Right now, it’s more of a question.
 
Either way, I plan to find out.
 
And I’ll spend a fortune to get to the
truth if I need to.”

“But I thought Michael’s death was settled,”
he said.
 
“Everyone knows that it
was ruled an accident…”

“Recent information suggests otherwise.”

At that moment, Bill Witherhouse’s focus on
me became acute.

“What recent information?”

“I’m afraid that I can’t say anything about that.
 
I hope that you understand.”

Bill Witherhouse said nothing, but Maxine
did.

“This is nothing short of disturbing,” she
said.
 
“Who would murder Michael,
Kate?
 
That man was beloved in this
town.
 
You know he was.”

“As I said, recent events suggest otherwise.”

“Oh, dear,” she said.
 
“In light of this, now I have to wonder
what Michael would think of your new union with Ben…”

Oh, bitch, please.

“We had this conversation, Maxine,” I
said.
 

“We did?”

“It was over the phone.”
 
And since you were
apparently loaded, you don’t remember.
 
So allow me to remind you.
 
“You said that he’d want nothing but the
best for me.
 
You said that, after
all this time, Michael would want me to be happy.
 
It’s been five years since his death,
and if Michael were to reach out to me now, I know in my heart that he would tell
me that I should have moved on years ago.”

“Would he have?” Bill asked.
 

“He would,” I said.
 
“I’m still a young woman, Bill.
 
Am I to remain a widow in mourning for
the rest of my life?”
 

“Of course not,” he said.

“Your tone suggests otherwise.”

“My tone?”

“Never mind.
 
Let’s just say that I’m very happy to
have found Ben.
 
I’m also thankful
for the work he’s doing for me.
 
If
anything questionable happened to Michael, Ben will get to the bottom of it, because
he’s that good.”
 
I looked behind
me.
 
“I’m afraid we’re holding up
the line.
 
Chat later?”

“You can’t exactly leave us hanging like
that, Kate,” Bill said.
 
“I’m
curious to know what Ben might already have learned so far in his
investigation.
 
If you let me know
what you’ve learned, perhaps I can help.”

“You know, I think you might be able to
help, Bill.
 
Our mutual housekeeper,
Lydia, died here.
 
I believe you
were the one who found her.
 
Perhaps
you can shed some light on the circumstances surrounding her death that will
help Ben in his investigation.”

“There’s nothing more to say about that,” he
said.
 
“Lydia died of natural
causes.”

Maxine genuflected.
 
“Poor Lydia!
 
How she used to make our bathrooms
sparkle!”

I ignored her theatrics and kept my focus on
Bill.

“If you would indulge Ben in answering a few
questions, it could help us, Bill.”

“I’m sorry, Kate, but after all this time, I
don’t see how.
 
Lydia collapsed in
our kitchen—it’s that simple, it was that tragic, and for me, it also was
the end of it.
 
Why talk about the
dead after so many years?”

“We all speak of the dead, Bill, especially
when that person meant something to us.
 
The dead haunt us, and trust me when I say that Michael and Lydia’s
deaths still haunt me.
 
If you’d
like to talk about the day that Lydia died, please know that Ben and I would as
well.
 
And if you don’t—well,
I’m not sure what to say.
 
But I
will note your decision not to talk about it.”

With that, Ben and I turned away from them
and, with Ben’s hand on the low of my back, we walked into the ballroom.

*
 
*
 
*

“Let’s get a drink,” I said the moment we
were out of Bill and Maxine’s earshot.
 
I needed to speak up to be heard over the din of endless chatter and the
orchestra playing at the far end of the room
  
“Because after that exchange?
 
I need one.
 
And I’m talking about a martini.
 
STAT.”

“I can’t blame you,” he said.
 
“Jesus—you didn’t just go there,
you took them on.”

“I didn’t come here to waste time.”

“If memory serves, you’ve never been one for
that.”

“True enough.
 
The whole point of that exchange was to
lead them on and to see how they’d react.
 
Your impressions?”

“Bill sure as hell doesn’t want to talk to
us about Lydia.
 
He pretty much
cemented that in stone.
  
As
for Michael?
 
Bill obviously wants to
know whatever I’ve learned about his death—which is nothing, by the way.”

“And yet you have to wonder why he’s so
curious…”

“Agreed.
 
He behaved just cagey enough for me to want
to look deeper into his past.
 
To
see, for instance, if Michael and he had any kind of business dealings
together.
 
Something that might have
caused bad blood between them.
 
What’s your take?”

“With people like the Witherhouses, you
never know where you stand with them.
 
People like them are masters when it comes to putting on a stoic
face—and yet Bill’s cracked a bit back there, didn’t it?
 
Was it just because he was surprised to
find out that I was investigating Michael’s death?
 
Could be.
 
Was it because he’s somehow involved,
especially when it comes to Lydia’s death?
 
Could be.
 
Right now, neither
of us knows.”

“Let me get us a drink.
 
Martini for you?”

“Yes.
 
Vodka, with a twist.
 
No
olives.”

“I remember,” he said.

“How about you?
 
A Guinness?”

“When I’m at work, my tastes evolve.”

“To what?”

“A glass of seltzer.”

“How deceptive of you…”

“Precisely.
 
To anyone else, I might be having a
vodka and soda.”

“Got it,” I said.
 
“But be fast.
 
Because people are already recognizing
me and I can sense that I’m about to be mobbed.
 
And when that happens, I’ll want a drink
in my hand—in case I need to throw it on someone.”

He flashed a smile when I said that and
laughed.
 
“You’re a live one
tonight.”

“You have no idea.
 
The bar is just through there.
 
Over to the left.”

“You sure you want me to leave you alone?”

“If I keep my head down, I’ll be fine for
the moment.
 
Potentially.”

“Give me a minute.”

When he returned, he had a martini for me
and a tall glass of seltzer for himself.

“You’re a miracle worker,” I said as I
touched my glass to his.
 
“Thank
you.”
 
I sipped my drink and my eyes
brightened.
 
“This is perfect.
 
Belvedere?”

“It was either that or the Goose.”

“You chose well.”

“Have I told you that you look ravishing
tonight?”

“I believe you have in a few ways…”

“Well, you do.”

“It is a major step up from that ridiculous
pink satin gown I wore at senior prom, huh?”

“I believe I was in a pale blue tux.”

“You were—I still have the photos my
father took.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do—it was prom.
 
What girl gets rid of those photos?
 
But look at us now, fully making up for
it tonight.”
 
I touched glasses with
him again.
 
“Here’s to getting
older,” I said.
 
“And wiser.”

At that moment, I saw Mark Dodd just across
the room from us.
 
I looked at him
for a moment before I turned to Ben.
 
“A major ghost from Michael’s past is here.”

“Who?”

I’d already told Ben about Mark and Tom, so
I just reminded him about Mark’s history with Michael.

“Do you remember?” I asked.

“I remember—and I also remember that
you decided not to sell StoneTech to him either.
 
He must love you.”

“You have no idea.”

“Where is he?”

“Standing directly across from us against
the wall.
 
He’s my height in heels,
he has a patch of thinning, reddish hair, and he’s as pale as a salamander’s
belly.
 
He’s either with his wife or
his girlfriend.
 
At this point, I
don’t know anything about Mark—but you sure as hell can’t miss her.”

“I’m not finding him.
 
What does she look like?”

“Black hair hanging straight down the middle
of her back.
 
Beautiful, bright
yellow gown.
 
Mark must be doing
well, because everything about him is too plain to land someone like her.
 
Do you see them?
 
They’re standing with two others just
beneath the Picasso.”