Silk Stalkings (18 page)

“You put something
in Harvey's jacket after he passed out?” Charlie asked.

Ned nodded. “I didn't think you saw that. I thought you'd assume I was making sure he was okay.”

“I don't believe you,” I said. “Whatever you put there would have been found.”

“I'm sure it was, but nobody would think anything of it. I put back his heart pills.”

“But Harvey didn't have heart problems,” I said. But before I continued, I thought about how I knew that.

It was something Mr. McMichael had said during our visit. He had been talking about his own heart attack, and he commented on how old it had made him feel to see Harvey running about China while he was recovering. Big Joe had mentioned it, too.

So was Ned bluffing? I needed to find out.

I knew Vaughn had moved back to San Ladrón from Virginia, where he'd established himself with a reputable financial firm, when his father had the heart attack. I just didn't know when that had been. And I hardly thought it was a question I could ask in front of Charlie and Ned, considering nobody else was supposed to know Mr. McMichael and I had visited to begin with.

Only there was no way for me to proceed until I knew more, and there was only one person in the room I could ask.

“Vaughn, I need to talk to you. Alone. Outside.”

“No,” Charlie said.

“Yes,” I said back. She looked as surprised as I felt. “I'm trying to help. You know that. So when I say I need to talk to Vaughn alone, you should know I mean I need to talk to Vaughn alone.”

She put her hand on Ned's bicep. “Come with me,” she said, and pulled him away from us. “Poly won't let anything happen to Lucy. When you asked me for help, I said you'd have to trust me. That means trusting my friends.”

Ned glanced back at me, but this time went with Charlie. I rushed Vaughn outside to the bench on the sidewalk. After looking around to make sure nobody could hear us, I took his hands in mine and looked him straight in the face.

“When did your father have his heart attack?” I asked.

“My father? What does he have to do with this?”

“Please, just think. How long ago was that?”

He tipped his head back while he thought. “Nine years ago?”

“You're sure?”

He nodded. “I interned at the firm in Virginia for a year before they hired me. I got the news of Dad's heart attack at the party where we were celebrating my first full year on the job.”

For the first time since I'd met Vaughn, I saw a trace of
his regret that he'd left that life behind. Now wasn't the time to ask him about that. “You didn't want to come back to San Ladrón, did you?”

He looked down at our hands. “He's my only father, Poly. What would it say about me if I didn't come back when he needed me?”

“But you did come back.” I squeezed his hands. “And because of that, we can help Charlie.”

“How?”

“Come back inside with me.” I stood up and led him back to the auto shop. Charlie and Ned sat in Charlie's office. They both looked up. Charlie's eyes moved to Vaughn, who was staring at me, too. Turns out having all eyes on you isn't such a comfortable feeling.

“Ned, why did you have Harvey's pills at the Waverly House party?”

“I came here from Encino to talk to Harvey Halliwell, and even though I was pretty sure I knew which one was him, I checked with the bartender. She pointed to the guy with the glass of OJ. I started to follow him and one of the hostesses stopped me. She handed me a pill vial and asked if I'd make sure he got it.”

I felt like I'd been hit by a bug zapper. “One of the Waverly House hostesses gave them to you? Can you describe her?”

“Sure. She was pretty. Red hair, early twenties, fair skin. Why?”

I was pretty sure Charlie, Vaughn, and I were thinking the same thing. We hadn't heard the last of Sheila. But aside from this new information, I knew there was something up with Ned's visit, something he wasn't telling us. “Ned, why was it so important that you talked to Harvey that night? Why'd you come here from Encino to talk to him?”

He dropped his head down in shame. “I'm not proud of my behavior. Harvey Halliwell was involved in a—a business deal of mine a few years back. I never knew if he knew who
he had invested in, and I was afraid somebody might find out and think Lucy had an unfair advantage in the pageant because of my connection with Halliwell Industries.”

“Harvey invested in your auto shop?” Charlie asked. I could tell from her expression that she was surprised.

“You wouldn't know anything about it,” he said slowly. “It was right about the time you left.”

“Sounds like fishy timing to me,” she said. She stood up and walked to the side of the office where Vaughn and I sat. Her emotions were more locked down than a seized transmission. She stood behind our chairs and crossed her arms over her chest. I almost felt sorry for Ned, because Charlie had just let him know it was three against one.

Almost.

He stared at her, and then shifted his eyes to me. “I can't talk about that. Not now.”

“Did you kill Harvey Halliwell?” Charlie asked Ned.

“No! All I wanted was to make sure there wouldn't be a problem with Lucy entering the pageant. When I told him who I was and mentioned the—the business deal—he got all red in the face. At first he said he didn't know what I was talking about, and then he said I wasn't to ever talk about that again. I know it was stupid not to walk away, but I wasn't sure. So I stood there, trying to figure out if my being here made him more mad. He turned away from me and drank his glass of orange juice and a few seconds later he collapsed.”

“And that's when you put the pills back into his jacket,” I said.

“Yes.”

I closed my eyes and tried to picture what I'd seen that night. And I couldn't be sure if Ned had taken something or had left something. The way I had seen things, it could have gone either way.

“Harvey didn't have a heart condition.” I said. “What
would happen if someone who doesn't have a heart condition took nitroglycerine?”

Vaughn was the one who answered. “Nitroglycerine causes the blood vessels to dilate almost instantly.”

“Would it harm him?” I asked.

“The pill probably wouldn't, but if it was followed up with a large dose of sugar, it might make him light-headed enough to faint.”

“A large dose of sugar,” I said slowly. “Like a glass of Tangorli juice?”

Harvey Halliwell had
been known to give his Tangorli juice credit for his good health. When he went to events around town, he arranged for there to be a supply just for him. And according to Ned's story, Harvey had been at the bar getting a glass of juice before he headed outside. How difficult would it have been for a person with access to nitroglycerine tablets to dissolve one in Harvey's drink?

Not very difficult if that person worked as a hostess at the very location where Harvey ordered his drink.

So Sheila had opportunity. And it seemed she might have had means. Now more than ever I needed to find her and ask her a few pointed questions.

I glanced at the cat clock on the wall of Charlie's office. The eyes moved side to side, counting off the seconds. It was quarter after nine. I had forty-five minutes before it was time to open the fabric store for business, and at least part
of that time needed to be used for a shower and change of clothes. That didn't leave time for much else.

“Ned, I know I can't tell you what to do, but I think you should talk to Sheriff Clark and tell him what you told us,” I said.

“Why? So he can pin a murder on me? I'm not going anywhere or talking to anybody until I know Lucy is safe. She's the only reason I'm still in San Ladrón.”

I could tell from the way Charlie stared at me that she wanted me to tell her where Lucy was. I shook my head.
No way, José.
If Charlie found out her sister went to Mr. McMichael for help, there would be all kinds of trouble. Nope, that information was going to have to stay with me.

“I have to go open the fabric store,” I said. “I'll be there until six.” I looked at each of their faces. Nine hours seemed like a really long time. I wasn't even sure if Ned would still be in San Ladrón by the time I got off work. I stood up.

Vaughn stood, too. “I'll walk you there.” He headed out of the office and I followed him.

Behind us, I heard Charlie say to Ned, “How about you help me out for the day? Saturdays are always busy and it might be nice to boss you around for a change.”

“Sure. It'll give me a chance to see if you're taking any shortcuts on your oil changes.”

I stopped by the exit and turned around. Ned followed Charlie to the back of the auto shop. She removed two sets of coveralls from a row of hooks on the wall and tossed one to him. They both stepped into them in the same manner: flop the coveralls on the ground in front of them, step into the left leg, step into the right leg, pull them up to the waist, and then shrug the sleeves over their arms at the same time. The circumstances of Charlie's upbringing and subsequent adoption might have been unconventional, and I strongly suspected that Ned had taken advantage of Charlie's
background, but at the moment, the bond between them was stronger than onetime boss and employee.

“Hey,” I called out to Charlie. “I need an oil change. Here's my key. Come get the car when you get a chance.” I pulled my VW key off my key ring and tossed it to her. She snagged it out of the air with one fist.

“You got it,” she said.

Vaughn stood by the traffic light at the intersection when I left Charlie's. The walk signal was counting down. If he was in any kind of hurry, he'd just missed his window. It wasn't hard to figure out that he'd been waiting for me.

“A part of me wants to tell you that you owe me an explanation,” he said.

“A part of me wants to tell you to mind your own business.”

“Is that the same part of you that came to my apartment last night and asked for my help?”

I considered his point. “Probably not.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“On a street corner in San Ladrón, waiting for the light to change.”

“That's not all that far from where we started.”

The light shifted to green and we crossed. Usually when Vaughn and I walked side by side I matched his stride and we fell into a comfortable rhythm.

Not today. Across the street, Violet Garden laced a chain through the door handles of Flowers in the Attic.

“I'm not used to having people walk faster than me,” he said.

“Look,” I said. I pointed at Violet. He picked up the pace.

I miscalculated my step onto the sidewalk and fell forward. Tripping and falling down wasn't as big a deal to me as you might think, largely because I'd gotten used to being clumsy for most of my life. Tall person, small feet. I liked to think of it as my own genetic curveball.

Vaughn pulled me back up to my feet. I dusted myself off and looked at Violet. She was staring at us. She looked back at the doors to her shop and tugged hard on the metal chain that was threaded through the handles. She'd miscalculated the length of chain that she'd need to lock the door, and unless the heavy metal links changed their physical properties and stretched like elastic, the ends weren't going to get close enough to be secured by a padlock.

Good thing there was neighborly me to come to the rescue, at least now that I was back on my feet.

“Hi, Violet. Do you need help with that?” I called out to her.

She scowled at me and yanked on the chains again. I passed Tiki Tom's store. He stood by the register, bouncing along to the music pumping through his headphones.

Violet put a hand out and stopped me in my tracks. “You've caused trouble ever since you moved here. First that homicide, then the sign in front of your store that broke the sidewalk, and now this pageant. It's a wonder I waited this long to close the store.”

“You're closing? For today?”

“For good. There are more important things in life than selling old trinkets.”

“What about Lilly?”

“It's not all her choice. There are two of us running this store and I have just as much say in when we should close our doors as she does.”

“Violet, don't be rash.”

“Rash? You don't know the first thing about rash decisions. I made a rash decision eighteen years ago when I listened to Harvey Halliwell and entered my daughter in that pageant. I don't know if I'll ever see her again.” She choked on her words. “But I still have a daughter out there somewhere. And she deserves for me to honor her. I've spent the last eighteen years placing a value on the memories of strangers when I haven't done anything to value my own.”

Her hands were shaking. She held the chains, and they rattled like a ghost in the attic of a haunted house. Instinctively, I stepped closer to her and put my hands on her shoulders. She didn't shrug me off. Tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped onto her pastel-pink blouse. She tucked her chin and I gently turned her toward me and hugged her. She held her arms up in front of her chest, as if protecting her heart from a sudden blow. I suspected that blow had come when her daughter went to live with her ex-husband and that the annual pageant had become an unwelcome reminder of the void left in her life.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jun Wong heading toward us. I tipped my head toward the doors to Material Girl and let go of Violet for a moment to feel around inside my bag for the keys. The petite Chinese woman took them and unlocked the gate and then unlocked the door.

“Violet, let's go inside the fabric store. I don't think you want to be out here on the street.”

She acquiesced. I kept an arm on her shoulders and guided her inside. Jun set her equipment down and pushed a rolling chair over to where we stood. I lowered Violet into the chair and got her a box of tissues.

“I miss her so much,” she said. “So much, Poly. I never meant to push her into something she wasn't ready to do. Why won't she answer my letters? Why won't she return my calls?”

Jun pushed a second chair behind me, and I sat down across from Violet. “I can't answer that.”

Violet pulled two tissues from the box and made an effort to get her sobbing under control. In time, the only evidence of her emotional breakdown was the redness around her nose and eyes and the irregular rise and fall of her chest when she breathed. She reached her shaking hands into her handbag and plunged into the sea of tissue and loose dollar bills. “They're not here. Why aren't they here?”

“What are you looking for?”

She sat up and placed her hand over her heart and closed her eyes. Her chest rose and fell twice, but even though her hand was pressed against the floral fabric of her dress, it continued to shake.

“Violet, are you okay?” I asked.

She opened her eyes and held out her open handbag. “My heart is racing. I need to calm down. Look inside and find my nitroglycerine tablets, would you?”