Weddings Can Be Murder (11 page)

The empty evening looked brighter now. She
turned on the TV and let Donnie and Marie sing to her while she
tidied the kitchen.
Dallas
would be on later. Who needed
Carol Ann when she could immerse herself in whatever evil plot J.R.
Ewing was up to?

She let herself sleep late Saturday morning
and promised herself a nap later if she felt like it. Being fresh
and sparkling for a late night out was the goal. She imagined the
mansion decorated for the holidays and saw herself dazzling the
crowd in her new dress. The mood dropped a notch when she reminded
herself this was a company party, the same crowd she saw every day
plus, most likely, some of the workers from the crews. Not exactly
a glamour event.

She began to second-guess herself about the
dress—maybe it was overkill for this particular party—but then
remembered Sheila saying she’d bought a new dress. Juliette decided
to skip her hairdresser appointment and put away the faux-jeweled
collar she’d found on sale. She could do something simple with her
long curls—the dress, shoes and Al’s diamond bracelet would be
understated but elegant. She polished her nails and read a magazine
of home decorating ideas while they dried.

By the time Sheila tooted the horn outside
her apartment window at seven o’clock, Juliette had reconsidered
her outfit three more times. Aside from a whole new shopping
trip—which she refused to do because of the expense—her original
idea was still the best. She pulled a cashmere wrap around her
shoulders and ran down to the car.

“Wow, you look like a million bucks,” Sheila
greeted.

The car contained a cloud of cigarette smoke
and Juliette flinched a little, holding the door open longer than
necessary to get rid of it. She thought of her freshly shampooed
hair and hoped she wouldn’t reek by the time they arrived.

“I hope I can remember exactly how to get
there,” Sheila said as she pulled out of the parking lot.

Juliette found it oddly reassuring to know
Sheila wasn’t a regular visitor to the mansion. Then she chided
herself for feeling this way.

“Now, if only the guys don’t all hang out at
the bar and talk about concrete pours and earth-moving equipment.
Of course, Marion hardly knows any subject but accounting. Boring
if you’re a regular person, but if you need advice on your taxes
just get her into a corner. She’ll go on and on.”

Juliette had already noticed that about
Marion, from being around the office.

“Will everyone be there with spouses or
dates?”

“Most of the men on the crew are married, so
there’ll be women to chat with. The wives tend to give us office
girls the eye, wondering if we’re flirting with their husbands all
day. All you can do is be friendlier to the female half of the room
than the male side.”

Aside from the day she’d met Ernie Batista
out at the Rossmoor job, Juliette couldn’t remember meeting any of
the crew. There weren’t more than one or two times any of them had
come inside the office. Watching heavy equipment move in and out of
the back lot was about her only exposure to that side of the
business.

The rows of royal palms along the drive were
now lit by twisted strands of white lights around their trunks.
Driving between them felt like entering a fairyland. The front of
the mansion had electric candles in every window, wreaths on every
door, and a giant topiary ball suspended above the door. Al
Proletti himself met each car, giving the ladies a quick kiss on
the cheek and joking about the mistletoe overhead, while valets
moved the cars out of sight. He wore a white dinner jacket and tie,
setting off his dark hair and vivid blue eyes.

“May I take your wrap?” Al asked, his voice
a low murmur in Juliette’s ear. She noticed a uniformed maid had
offered to take Sheila’s. “I like your bracelet.”

His fingertips brushed her bare shoulders as
he lifted the shawl but they didn’t linger. Nothing inappropriate.
He handed the cashmere piece to the maid and offered an arm to each
of them.

“Ladies, shall we join the others?”

A decorated tree, at least fifteen feet
tall, filled a corner of the room he’d described on her last visit
as the living room. True to his word, the furniture had been moved
along the walls and into small groupings, the oriental carpet taken
away. A fire in the marble-fronted fireplace added a cheery
note.

Of those present, Sheila’s prediction
appeared true—the men were gathered, drinks in hand, near the door
and she caught words like ‘fill dirt’ and ‘the D-9 Cat.’ The women
hung close to the Christmas tree, pointing and commenting on the
ornaments. A string quartet played quietly in the corner near the
door, although she noticed a turntable and stack of vinyl albums
nearby. The crowd was definitely more Creedence Clearwater than
Bach—she noted with relief.

“Let’s get you ladies a drink,” Al said. He
steered them toward a bar just inside the dining room, where
Juliette noticed the side console loaded with covered dishes and
the long dining table set with gleaming china and crystal. “Dinner
will be announced in a half hour or so, although it’s a completely
casual buffet. People can serve themselves whenever they like.”

Completely casual? Juliette almost laughed.
In her world, casual was paper plates and barbeque. She’d never
seen a table set this way in real life, only in magazines. She
wondered what it would be like to host a party like this. In her
new apartment she would have proper glassware and at least a few
place settings of real china. It would be fun to have Carol Ann
over and do it up right, pretend they were classy ladies and
practice their table manners. Then she remembered Tommy and the
whole picture faded.

The bartender poured her a glass of white
wine, while Sheila opted for a martini. “Come on, I’ll introduce
you around,” she told Juliette.

Al had drifted back to the front door,
apparently expecting more guests. Sheila left it to the men to
introduce themselves, about thirty of them. On the distaff side of
the room, they interrupted the discussion of which department
stores put their decorations on sale before Christmas for another
quick round of introductions. Juliette supposed with time she might
remember them, but likely not. She knew the company had three
fairly major jobs currently underway and wondered at the turnover
among the crews. She suspected there was no reason to become
chums—they must come and go often.

With the choice of only Sheila, Marion and
Al to talk to, she wished it had worked out to bring Carol Ann as
her guest. The large room was beginning to feel stuffy so she
wandered back to the foyer, admiring the paintings on the white
walls. A small bell chimed a few times and she heard Al invite
everyone to come to the buffet. She didn’t feel hungry at the
moment so she stepped toward the library as the crowd went into
motion. The quiet room felt refreshing after the drone of voices
and she made her way around the room, looking at the book titles. A
tiny sound near the door caught her attention.

“Dinner’s ready,” Al said.

“I know. I thought I’d let everyone else go
first.”

He nodded. “Not one for noise and crowds,
huh?”

“Oh, it’s not that. Well, I am surprised how
many employees you have. It’s quite a crowd. I mean, I assumed …
maybe some of them are clients?”

“No, these are all company people.”

“I thought so. I didn’t see those two men
who were here the day you brought me out for lunch.”

His forehead wrinkled for a moment. “Oh,
them. No. They’re … they’re not.” He picked up a letter opener from
a small table, then set it down again.

Funny answer. She half expected him to
elaborate, to tell her who the men were, but he didn’t.

“Well, I suppose I should get something to
eat,” she said, passing him on her way to the door. “I’m sure it’s
fabulous food, if lunch was any indication, and someone went to a
lot of trouble to prepare everything.”

“You’re very considerate, Juliette. That was
a nice thing to say.” His tone was almost one of wonder.

She let it pass and headed toward the dining
room where voices rose in laughter and the clatter of dishes and
silverware filled the air.

At the long table there was an empty chair
beside Sheila’s. “Get your plate, hon. I saved you a place.”

Juliette almost couldn’t fathom the amount
of food. She helped herself to shrimp and rice and an
interesting-looking salad, knowing she would be miserable if she
attempted more. People who’d finished were getting up from the
table and places were almost magically reset in time for the next
person to come along. In the living room, the classical players had
left and pop music tunes began drifting through the open
doorway.

“I’m taking a little smoke break out front,”
Sheila said. “See you in there afterward.” A nod toward the
music.

Juliette was not incorrect in her guess
about the amount of food she could hold. She couldn’t even finish
what little she’d chosen. A maid noticed that she’d set down her
silverware and quietly asked if she wanted the plate removed. A
nod, and she stood up. Already, she was a bit bored with the crowd.
The women had covered the topics they had in common and those who
were friends had split off into their own little conversation
groups. Couples were beginning to fill the dance floor. One of the
burly construction workers raised his eyebrows toward Juliette, an
unspoken invitation to dance, but she wasn’t in the mood. She
motioned that she would be right back, as if she had to find the
bathroom. All the while, she wondered how late Sheila planned to
stay. They should have discussed it. Juliette should get a car. She
needed an escape hatch right now.

She wandered along the foyer, trying to
remember which door was the bathroom—any place for a few minutes
alone. Ahead of her, she noticed decorative lights and inviting
furniture on the veranda beyond the tall glass doors. She tried the
doorknob, wondering if it would be locked. It turned in her hand
and she gave a glance over her shoulder to see if anyone noticed.
She was alone.

The air was cool and still, the aqua glow
from the pool calming everything in sight. She took a deep breath,
let it out. Her bare shoulders felt chilly but she couldn’t bring
herself to go back to the noise and crowd. She rubbed them with her
hands.

“Aren’t you cold out here?” Al’s voice. She
knew it without turning around.

“It’s not bad. Christmas where I come from,
in the way north part of Texas, you couldn’t even be outside right
now without a heavy coat.”

“Take mine,” he said, shrugging out of his
dinner jacket and draping it across her shoulders before she could
object.

He was standing close enough she could smell
the familiar aftershave. He wore it every day but out here, alone,
the nuances of scent were so much more pronounced. The hint of musk
and spice went into her lungs, her brain, her soul. Her eyes closed
as she drank in the fragrance. The next thing she knew, his lips
were on hers. Lightly at first, then firmer. Then … gone.

When her eyes came open, he had turned away.
He gave her shoulder a squeeze and walked into the house. An urge
to run after him, the hint of his scent wafting on the air. She
breathed deeply, taking in the last of it, before she went looking
for her ride.

I wish I knew what I wanted. But until I do,
this is too dangerous a game to play.

Chapter 11

I arrived at my Jeep, panting like crazy,
wondering where my stamina had gone. I’m definitely getting too old
to be racing through backyards and jumping fences with a heavy
knapsack banging against my legs. I could only hope the police
hadn’t spotted me. Most likely all our questions to Kent Taylor
yesterday had prompted him to come back and look for more evidence
in Victoria’s house. If Taylor had spotted my Jeep or had seen me
making my awkward exit, I’d be up against all sorts of evidence
tampering charges. I jammed the key in the ignition and got the
hell out of the neighborhood.

The sun sent a sharp beam of its topmost
light over Sandia Crest as I pulled into the driveway at the
office. With a guilty glance over my shoulder I hot-footed it to
the back door and let myself in. I used the gray light from the
windows to make my way upstairs, not wanting to reveal my presence
with a lightbulb, and went into the bathroom where I locked myself
in and finally risked hitting the light switch. Silly, I know.

I set the pack into the sink and sat on the
toilet, partly nature’s call and partly to catch my breath. A bit
after seven a.m. and I felt as if I’d already put in a full day. I
shed the hoodie, zipped up the black jeans and set to work at
finding out what little treasure I’d brought back.

The files from Victoria’s desk would be
self-explanatory once I had time to read the contents. The laptop,
if it was anything like mine, contained her whole life story in one
form or another—banking, taxes, personal and business
correspondence, and maybe some hobbies. If she had any sense at
all, she’d password-protected it, which would be my challenge of
the day later on. I set it aside. The rest of the bounty consisted
of an envelope containing a couple hundred dollars in cash, a spare
credit card, a small notebook with what appeared to be computer
passwords (woo-hoo!) and an address book with a flowered fabric
cover and yellowing pages. I wanted this last item to be our answer
key but at a glance it appeared the entries were very old and
faded, perhaps not even in Victoria’s own hand.

I stared at the little stack of items. The
cash and credit card being locked away seemed a bit puzzling; why
hadn’t she planned to take them on their trip? Of course, for all I
knew she had extra money in her purse, now in police custody, and
this little stash was either mad-money or had lain in the safe,
forgotten, for awhile. At any rate, I couldn’t see it as a clue to
what had happened.