Corpse Suzette (17 page)

She felt as though
someone... someone in the dark... was watching her.

Stopping in the middle of
the hallway, she looked back at the entry and its other corridors and said, “If
you’ve got something to say to me, come out and say it. Don’t hide in the
shadows like a coward.”

She felt stupid. There was
probably no one there, but—

Then she heard it: a
movement. It sounded like something had brushed against a wall. Softly. Barely.
But there.

She reached for her gun and
pulled it from its holster.

“Come on out,” she said. “I
mean it. Come out now and put your hands up or I’ll shoot you.”

Her adrenaline was pumping,
her heart racing.

She could almost hear
someone breathing, there in the darkness where she had just stood. Whoever it
was, was following her. At least trying to. But she wouldn’t stand for it.

“I can see you,” she lied.
“Gome on out now with your hands up! Do it!”

Then she heard it,
unmistakable this time. Someone was running down the opposite hallway, in the
other direction. And running hard.

Gun in hand, but pointed at
the ceiling, she ran after them.

If somebody was going to
spy on her, she was going to know “who” and “why.”

Ahead, at the end of the
hallway, she saw a door open and bright sunlight stream in, but only for a
moment. Then it slammed closed.

She raced to the door and
carefully, cautiously opened it.

The sunshine was blinding,
but she saw a figure directly in front of her. She lifted the gun and pointed
it. “Freeze!” she shouted. “Hold it right there. Hands up and don’t you even
twitch!”

“They’re up!” the figure
said. “I’m not moving. Don’t shoot!” Her eyes adjusted, and she realized she
was aiming her gun at Jeremy Lawrence.

He was standing there, six
feet in front of her, his hands and arms raised, a look of alarm on his face.

“Why were you spying on
me?” she demanded.

“What? Spying? I don’t know
what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me. You were
back there in the entry area. You were watching me. I chased you out here, so
don’t act like you don’t know what’s up here.”

“I was over there...” He
lowered one hand long enough to point at a smaller building across a large
patio area. “...saying goodbye to Yasmina. I was coming over here to the main
building to lock up. I think I saw somebody run out just now, before you, but I
didn’t get a good look at them.”

She studied his perfect,
beautiful face and saw absolutely no expression. His pale blue eyes gave
nothing away, nothing at all.

He was remarkably cool for
a guy who was on the receiving end of a big bad Beretta.

And that could mean that he
was innocent. Or very, very good at being guilty.

She scanned his figure
quickly, but saw no outline of a weapon beneath his thin silk shirt or in his
twill slacks.

Lowering her gun, she said,
“You must have seen something. Was it a man or woman?”

He dropped his hands. “I
don’t know. I just caught a glimpse and—”

“Big or small?”

He shrugged. “Really,
Savannah. I didn’t even get a look, just a blur of movement and that was all.”

“I thought you were
supposed to be at Emerge, helping with Abigail’s makeover,” she said as she
reholstered the gun. “I just left you there.”

“I probably left a few
minutes before you did. I heard that Yasmina was here, packing and getting
ready to go. I had to say good-bye to her. I’m heading back to Emerge right
now. They’re coloring and cutting Abigail’s hair. That’ll take a while.”

Savannah felt the war
inside herself... the trusting, kind, loving person whom Granny Reid had raised
to always be fair and never accuse an innocent person of wrongdoing... versus
the cop who had been punched, spit on, shot at, and lied to twenty times in one
evening.

She decided to let Granny’s
girl come forward and deal with Jeremy Lawrence. At least for the moment.

She offered him her hand.
“I’m sorry about the gun, Jeremy. I hope you understand. I’m investigating a
murder here and a possible kidnapping.”

His blue eyes widened. “A
murder? Sergio was murdered?”

“Yes. The lab reports are
in and the M.E. is ruling it a homicide.”

“Oh, no! That’s horrible.”
He shook his head as though in disbelief. “It’s bad enough that he died. But we
figured it was natural causes. Murder? Who would want to kill him?”

“You tell me, Jeremy. You
tell me.”

“I don’t know. I really
don’t. He wasn’t exactly a gentleman where women were concerned... or, I hate
to say, an especially good businessman. But to have someone deliberately kill
him! Are you sure?”

Savannah nodded. “Yes, but
if you could keep that to yourself...”

“Sure. I understand. You
don’t want the person who did it to know that you know what they did.”

“Right.”

“I need to get back to
Emerge now,” he said, “if you’re finished with me, that is.”

“I am. Thanks, and sorry
about the gun business.”

He smiled his soft,
peaceful, ethereal smile. “It’s forgotten. Just catch whoever did that to
Sergio and help find Suzette. That’s all we want right now, Savannah.”

“I’m trying. I’m trying.”

Savannah watched the young
man walk into the building and close the door behind him. And she wondered. He
was so perfect. Perfectly handsome. Perfectly poised. Perfectly mannered and
perfectly groomed.

Yes, she’d definitely have
to keep a closer eye on Jeremy Lawrence.

Nobody on God’s green earth
was
that
perfect.

Chapter

S
avannah found Dr. La Rue in
the small building across the patio, where Jeremy Lawrence had indicated he had
just spoken to her. The tiny black woman had an enormous smile for Savannah
when they met in the middle of a hallway. She was struggling to carry a
cardboard box that looked nearly as big as she was.

“Dr. La Rue, I presume. I’m
Savannah. Thank you for waiting for me,” she said. “Here, let me take that.”

“I’ve got it. I’ve got it,”
Yasmina said between huffs and puffs. “More like
it’s
got
you.
Gimme
that thing.”

Savannah took the box from
her and instantly realized why the doctor was having a difficult time. The box
was not only large but extremely heavy.

“What do you have in here?
Lead? Water? A dead body?” Yasmina threw back her head and laughed heartily.
The sound went through Savannah and gave her the same warm feeling that she got
from hugging Granny Reid.

“A bit of all three, my
dear,” the doctor replied as she opened a door and ushered Savannah back
outside. “How kind you are to give an old woman some help.”

Savannah studied the doctor
over the top of the box as they headed toward a parking lot and a beautiful,
navy blue Jaguar. Dr. La Rue could have been any age, from late thirties to
sixty. It was difficult to tell. Her skin was a delicious shade of bronze and
glowed with health; her eyes were bright with intelligence and warm with
kindness. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, and Savannah was
sure that her own right thigh weighed more than the whole of the other woman.

“You don’t look that old to
me,” Savannah said as Yasmina opened the trunk of the Jaguar and motioned for
her to place the box inside.

“I’m older than these
hills,” she replied, gesturing to the mountains around them. “Older than trees
and dirt. And so are you. Don’t you believe that? Can’t you feel it in your
bones, child?” Savannah jostled the box until it fit and closed the trunk. “Oh
yeah,” she replied. “And some days these bones feel even older than that,
depending on what I’ve been up to.”

“And what are you up to on
this fine day?” Yasmina dusted her hands off on the bright blue and purple
tunic she wore over dark blue pants. Her ears and neckline sparkled with blue
and purple beaded jewelry that might have been considered by some to be too
large for such a small person. But Dr. Yasmina’s personality easily carried
such a bold statement.

“Like I mentioned on the
phone, I’m a private investigator and—”

“And what are you
investigating?”

“The disappearance of
Suzette Du Bois.”

“I figured as much.”

“And the murder of Sergio
D’Alessandro.”

Dr. La Rue gasped and put
her hand over her mouth. She staggered backward and leaned on the Jaguar’s
trunk. “Murder? His
murder
, you say?”

“Yes, I’m sorry to say so,
but it appears now that he was a victim of homicide.”

“How? How was he killed?”

“Apparently with an
overdose of Bot-Avanti, that new botulism drug the clinic has been using
instead of Botox. Someone put a lethal amount into the B
₁₂
solution
he normally takes.”

The doctor was obviously,
deeply affected by the news. She shook her head several times, as though
denying the information. Then tears sprang to her eyes.

Savannah cursed herself for
not telling Yasmina more gently. How many years had she been informing people
of horrible, heartbreaking things. She should have known better.

“Are you all right?” She
reached for the doctor’s arm. She could feel her trembling and was afraid she
might faint. “Why don’t we open the car door so that you can sit down?” she
suggested.

“No, I’ll be okay. I
just... oh, this is so terrible.”

She covered her face with
her hands and began to sob. Savannah fumbled in her purse and brought out a
handful of tissues.

She stood silently by,
allowing the woman time to cry and then to partially compose herself. Finally
she said, “I can see that you and he were very close. I’m sorry for your
loss... and for the awful circumstances of his death.”

Yasmina took a deep,
shuddering breath. “Sergio and I weren’t close,” she said. “I don’t believe
Sergio was close to anyone in his entire life. He just didn’t have it in him.
But murder. Murder is such a deep, horrible evil. It upsets...” She waved her
arms, indicating the mountains, the trees, that surrounded them. “...it upsets
the balance, the harmony of nature. It is a wickedness that damages us all.”

Savannah could agree with
that, absolutely and completely. In her years of experience she had seen the
ripple effect caused by a homicide that was more like a tsunami. The taking of
a human life could destroy not only the victim, but entire families. Even
communities were deeply damaged by the act of homicide, taking generations to
heal.

“It
does
damage us
all,” Savannah said. “That’s why I feel so strongly about bringing a murderer
to justice. For the victim, for the family, for all of us.”

Yasmina wiped her eyes and
straightened her back. “How can I help you, Savannah? Tell me what you need
from me.”

“I need to know if he had
any enemies, anyone who may have threatened to do him harm recently.”

“Other than Suzette... and
the women he’s thrown aside when he was finished with them... and the husbands
of the women he’s seduced... and the patients who weren’t happy with their
results... and the people who have lost the fortunes they invested in his
dubious business ventures... the professionals whose careers he has destroyed
through his lies and incompetence... people like that?”

Savannah’s jaw dropped.
Then she recovered herself and nodded. “Yes. Exactly. People like that.”

“Come inside,” Yasmina
said, heading back to the building. “We might as well get comfortable. This
could take a while.”

An hour later, Savannah’s
brain and her notebook were filled with the names of people who were everything
from disgruntled to furious with Sergio D’Alessandro. She didn’t know whether
to feel grateful or overwhelmed.

“It’s been ages since I’ve
had a list of suspects this long,” she said, flipping through the pages. “I
must admit, I didn’t care for Mr. D’Alessandro when I met him, and I think even
less of him now.”

Yasmina sighed and took another
sip of hot herbal tea. “I hate to speak ill of the dead. But under these
terrible circumstances, we must also tell the truth, even if it’s ugly.”

“I appreciate that.”

When the doctor had first
brought Savannah into her office, she had made them each a cup and offered her
some coconut macaroons from an antique tin. Savannah had settled into a
comfortable chair next to her desk and allowed herself the luxury of
temporarily basking in the peaceful ambiance the woman seemed to create around
her.

Some people had an air of
spirituality about them, an aura of otherworldliness that calmed and nourished
those fortunate enough to spend time in their presence. Savannah’s grandmother
was one such soul. And Dr. La Rue was another.

Savannah was reluctant to
leave her, but she had work to do— processing this list, among other things.

She looked around the
office with its pictures of tranquil island scenes on the walls, candles and
fresh flowers floating in sparkling, cut glass bowls, the sweet, exotic scent
of lemongrass in the air. “So, you’re moving out of here, huh?” she said.

“I am. This part of my life
has been dying for a long time. And that’s fine. All things die sooner or
later.”

“A sad thought.”

Yasmina smiled. “Not at
all. The leaves die and fall in a blaze of glory, and they feed the hungry
saplings that grow and flourish. Everything in its time.”

Savannah offered her hand
and wondered at the power that radiated from the other woman’s touch. “Thank
you, doctor,” she said humbly, “for all your help. I’m so glad we met.”

“Me, too, Savannah. Do stay
in contact. I’d like to hear from you from time to time, and I’d be pleased to
get to know you better.”

“Absolutely. It would be my
pleasure.”

The two women walked out
together, as Savannah took yet another box to the Jaguar.

It was when Savannah was
saying good-bye that she glanced back at the main building—the back door in
particular—and she thought of one more question she wanted to ask Dr. La Rue.

“By the way,” she said,
“did you speak to Jeremy Lawrence a while ago, before I arrived.”

“Indeed I did. Jeremy
rushed over here from Emerge to say good-bye and wish me well.”

“And how long was it, would
you guess, from the time you said good-bye to him and I met you there in the
hallway?”

Yasmina shrugged. “I don’t
know, a few minutes. I was involved, packing all those books into that box. I
really can’t say.”

“Okay.” Savannah thought
for a moment. “And one more thing. Did you see anyone else here today, other
than Jeremy and me?”

Yasmina nodded. “Just one
other person, someone else who came by to say farewell, right before Jeremy
arrived.”

Savannah had a feeling she
knew the answer even before she asked. “And who was that, Dr. La Rue?”

“Someone else who, like
Sergio, needs to find and love herself better. Then she could love others
better. It was Devon. My other visitor today was Devon Wright. Now there is a
troubled soul.”

Sitting at a table in Chez
Antoine was one of Savannah’s most enjoyable sensual experiences. The food, the
wine, the crisp, white linens, the classic French decor and the hospitable,
solicitous Antoine, who hovered and pampered his guests, all combined to create
the perfect dining experience.

But the reason Savannah
loved the place most was because when she was here, she was always the guest of
Ryan Stone and John Gibson. And they were, hands down, the best dates a gal
could have... if a gal was satisfied with having chocolate mousse for dessert,
and not a serving of hunk
á la mode.

And tonight the experience
was even richer, because she could share it all with two young women who were
enjoying every moment.

Across the table from
Savannah sat Tammy—relaxed and happy for the first time since her cousin had
arrived—chatting away with John, discussing the finer points of breaching
online security systems.

Next to her sat Abigail...
a transformed Abigail, thanks to the talents and efforts of the Emerge staff.
Savannah had decided, the moment she saw Abigail at the spa, that maybe this
idea of a metamorphosis wasn’t just hype, after all.

Abigail Simpson had,
indeed, unfurled like a beautiful butterfly.

Her hair had been cut, and
although it was still well past her shoulders, it fell in soft waves around
her, with feminine layers framing her face. And they had colored it a stunning
shade of golden red that brought out the peach tones of her complexion.

Before the makeover, her
brows had been bushy and well-knit in the middle. Now they were shaped and
gracefully arched, setting off her big eyes to perfection.

Her new makeup was a
mixture of golden and bronze tones, expertly applied to look glamorous, yet
natural.

The blouse they had chosen
for her was an elegant copper silk affair, and her chocolate velvet skirt had a
split that showed off her nicely shaped calves and ankles.

Even Dirk had commented
upon seeing her earlier, “Gee, Cousin Abby’s got great gams. Who would’ve
thought it?”

High-heeled sandals of
bronze-metallic leather and a matching handbag completed the ensemble, along
with a necklace, earrings, and bracelet that featured mystic twilight
topazes—the perfect final touch.

But it wasn’t the hair, the
makeup, the clothes, or the jewelry that had transformed Abigail and made her
shine. It was the unaccustomed attention she had received at the hands of the
staff and now from her friends, the interest in her concerns and preferences,
the pure pampering—being treated like a lady.

And a lady she had become.

Tonight her expression was
softer, her gestures more feminine, her whole demeanor more gracious. The
difference was simply amazing.

And underlying all that
womanly pulchritude was a purely female strength, born of newfound confidence.
The sort of female strength that, in another era, could have led armies of
chariots against enemy troops or ruled the civilized world from a queen’s
throne.

“Abby,” Savannah said, “I
just can’t stop staring at you, girl. You’re gorgeous!”

“Isn’t she though?” Ryan
said, giving their guest of honor the benefit of his heart-stopping smile.
“You’re absolutely glowing.”

Abigail blushed under the
compliments, but for once, no self-deprecating comments came out of her mouth.