A Masquerade of Muertos (Wisteria Tearoom Mysteries Book 5) (28 page)

“He had everything to live for,” I put in. “He just got into a gallery in Canyon Road!”

“Mm.” Tony looked at his notepad and scrawled a note on it, then tossed it onto the low table in front of us and rubbed his forehead. “I think my brain just shut down.”

Dee (looking almost too normal in jeans and a sweater), came out of my suite, fluffing slightly damp hair.

“Here’s the bodysuit,” she said, offering a small, neatly folded bit of silvery fabric to me.

“Thank you. I’ll deal with it.”

“Felt kind of sad, washing off the paint.”

I stood and tucked a wisp of blond hair behind her ear. “Thanks for hanging on to get the photos. It was important.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. Well, good night, I guess.”

“Good night. Thank you, Mick,” I told her brother as he stood.

“Want me to come in tomorrow to help clean up?” he asked.

“Maybe. Get some sleep first. I’ll call you.”

They headed downstairs, leaving me and Tony alone with the ever-patient Owen. “How much do I owe you for the photos?” I asked him.

“I wouldn’t dream of charging you,” Owen said, making a warding-off gesture with one hand. “It was a privilege to document Gabriel’s final work.” A shadow of sadness crossed his face, then he rose and made one of his quaint bows. “Good night, or good morning, rather. May tomorrow be a brighter day.”

It could hardly be darker, I thought, but I merely gave him a weary smile and followed him downstairs, with Tony on our heels. Owen collected his cloak from the hall and headed for the front door, flinging the velvet around his shoulders with easy grace. I let him out and watched him walked down the path toward the gate. Closing the door, I leaned against it and looked at Tony.

“Alone at last,” I said.

“Yeah. About that dinner date...you want breakfast instead?”

“How about a rain check? Really all I want now is my bed.”

“That sounds good.”

He came over to me, leaning a hand against the door on either side of me. A possessive gesture, but I didn’t mind it, especially since he looked so tired. I reached a hand up and stroked his stubbled cheek.

He caught my hand in his and planted a kiss into my palm. A shimmer of anticipation went through my loins. He kissed me, long and deeply, then drew back.

“I really shouldn’t see you during this investigation,” he said, his voice rough.

I wanted to protest, but common sense told me he was right. Disappointment flooded my veins.

“Maybe you should take yourself off the case after all.”

He shook his head. “We’d lose too much time bringing a new investigator up to speed. I don’t want to have to explain...” He gestured toward the parlors.

“Right,” I said.

“The first twenty-four hours are our best shot at catching the killer. After that the odds start dropping fast.”

“So you don’t believe it’s suicide either.”

He fixed me with a stare. It was not the cop stare; his dark eyes were full of longing and weariness.

“I trust your judgment,” he said.

“Why, Tony Aragón. You’re going to make me cry.”

He sighed and planted another kiss on my forehead. “Gotta go. Call you in the morning.”

“It
is
morning.”

“Fine. I’ll call you later, then.”

“OK.”

I let him out and watched until his bike roared out of sight around the corner. Locking the door, I thought of one more task I needed to do before crashing. Between the insurance company and the fire marshal, I’d had candle safety thoroughly drummed into me.

I chose to begin with the black chamber. Even though the overhead lights were on, the red glare of the lanterns made the back of my neck prickle. The colored glass was smudged with fingerprint powder. I stood between the lanterns and carefully extinguished them both. The black chamber was now merely black, no longer sinister.

Going through the narrow passage into Iris, I checked to make sure the fireplace was safe as I passed it. I put out the candles in each chamber as I worked my way back through them, from the violet to the white to the orange, then across the hall to the green and into the purple—my Violet alcove—where I paused. The lanterns were guttering there. I extinguished them, then looked at the
ofrenda
. Three votives, each in glass and each on a fireproof coaster, lit the offerings and Vi’s painting. I left them burning, checked the fireplace, and went out to Hyacinth, the blue chamber, in time to watch the second of the two lanterns flicker out. I double-checked them just in case, verified the fireplace was safe, and went to the dining parlor.

A pale light was growing over the mountains, shining dimly in through the curtained French doors. The drinks table gleamed softly, waiting to serve revelers who would not be returning. A few bits of ice still floated in the half-full absinthe fountain. The candles that had warmed the cider had long since gone out. I glanced up at the chandelier, but it was still.

What did the captain think of all this? Perhaps the Goths had offended him.

Had he really known what would happen to Gabriel? Had he tried to warn me?

I needed to talk to Willow. We’d agreed to talk on the second, which was Monday. Tomorrow. Thank God it wasn’t today.

All at once, I felt unspeakably weary. I checked the fireplace, then went upstairs. Dee’s bodysuit sat folded neatly on the corner of the table in the sitting area with the candlelight of my tall votives flickering over it. They were safe; everything was safe, and I needed sleep, but I paused by the
ofrenda
for a moment to think of Gabriel.

Beautiful Gabriel. So talented, so
vivid
, and he’d been on the brink of success. It reminded me of Vi, the loss of such a shining soul. Wherever he was, I hoped he was free of suffering.

Normally I liked my phone’s Chopin “Impromptu” ringtone, but it was too energetic for me just now. Groaning, I groped for it to shut it up, and peered groggily at the caller ID.

Gina.

“H’lo?”

“Hola,
girlfriend! Happy November! It’s time to finalize your holiday ad campaign. How about eggs Benedict? My treat.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Too many ideas at once, all things I didn’t have room for in my brain right now.

“Um, I dunno. I think I need to stay here today.”

“Why? Party too hard? A bloody Mary and some protein are just what you need.”

“No...Gina...lemme get some tea in me and call you back.”

“OK. If I don’t hear from you in half an hour I’m coming over.”

“I’ll call you. Promise.”

I disconnected, then looked at the time. Eight-seventeen; she’d let me sleep in a little.

Not enough, though. It had been after four when I crashed.

Memories of the hellish night rushed in on me. I dragged myself out of bed, stumbled over my costume from the night before which was lying on the floor, and slunk into my kitchenette to put the kettle on. I showered while it was heating, all the while remembering moments of horror from the previous evening.

Bundled in my robe, I made tea and toast. Protein would be a good idea, but I wasn’t up to cooking eggs. As a gesture of good intention, I poured a dollop of milk into my tea mug. This was definitely a mug day, not a fine china day.

Sipping tea in my favorite chair, I watched the mostly-leafless tree branches waving outside my window. Breezy, though the sun was out. I tried to summon some enthusiasm for getting dressed. My feet ached and my calves were sore from going up and down the stairs. Emotionally, I was wrung out. Mentally, I felt like my brain was filled with cotton.

As I munched the last bite of my toast, I picked up my phone and called Gina. She answered on the second ring.

“Caffeinated now?” she asked.

“Partially. I’m going to have to ask for a rain check on the ad planning session. I’m probably going to be busy all day.”

“Don’t tell me the Goths trashed the place.”

“N-no. Well, there’s some cleanup, but that’s not the problem.” I winced and closed my eyes, not wanting to say the next words aloud. “One of them died last night.”

“Crap! In the tearoom?”

“No, thank God, but it was during the party. So the police were here most of the night, talking to all the guests.

“Ellen, was this person murdered?”

“Maybe.” Probably.

“Oh, honey—”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t find him.”

“But still. God, is it someone we know?”

“You don’t know him. One of Kris’s friends.”

“Have you called Tony?”

“He’s investigating the case.”

“Ay, yi. yi. Well, better him than a stranger.”

I thought about that, wondering whether I agreed. Complicated question. My brain wasn’t up to it yet.

“Tell you what,” Gina said. “I’ll bring calzones over for lunch. We don’t have to talk business today, but I think you’re gonna need a hug.”

“I’ll take all the hugs I can get. Thanks.”

We said goodbye, and I put the phone down and finished my tea, then got up to refill the mug. I was halfway through dragging on sweat pants and a long-sleeved sweater when the phone rang again. This time the ringtone was the “1812 Overture” and I grabbed the phone with one leg in my pants.

“Tony,” I said. “Did you get some sleep?”

“Nah. Espresso and a couple of energy drinks.”

Ouch. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m about to. Then I’ll be over to ask you some questions. Just wanted to make sure you were awake.”

“I am. Sort of.”

“Good.”

I finished donning my sweat pants, drank a second mug of tea while I tidied, then went into my bedroom to collect my costume. The gown could be laundered; the belt and headpiece could not.

Feeling a sudden urge to call Kris, I retrieved my phone and entered her number. Got voicemail, for which I hardly blamed her.

“Kris, this is Ellen. Please call if you want to talk, or just come have some tea. I’m thinking of you.”

I took the gown downstairs to wash it. As I reached the foot of the stairs, I found the hall in semi-darkness, because the windows at either end were still covered. Switching on the lights, I realized what I’d been too tired and stressed to see the night before.

The place was a wreck.

Paper cups were scattered everywhere, on the low tables and on the floor, interspersed with glassware. About a dozen capes and coats hung on the hooks that lined the hall. One of them was probably Gabriel’s, but I was surprised that so many of the other guests had left their belongings. Of course, the police had pretty much thrown them out right after interviewing them.

“Don’t get mad,” I told myself. “Get busy.”

This called for Mozart, I decided. I went into the butler’s pantry to turn on the stereo, and found a tray loaded with a teapot, plates, two cups with saucers, an empty lemon curd bowl, and assorted silverware. When I carried this into the kitchen, I saw more trays and an array of coffee mugs, carafes, and pitchers.

I needed help, I decided. Mick. Too early to call, though. I’d let him sleep another couple of hours. Meanwhile, I’d start getting the mess under control.

Returning to the pantry, I loaded Kris’s costume into the washer and started it. The mess had distracted me from my need for music. I dug out
Eine kleine Nachtmusik
and plugged it in. Hard to get more cheerful than that.

With Mozart bursting through the house, I fetched a trash bag and began going around the downstairs collecting paper cups and napkins. We hadn’t provided plates for the food, wanting people to nibble and keep moving through the chambers rather than load up. When I’d filled the bag, I took it to the kitchen and swapped it for a tray, then made the rounds again, this time collecting stemware and mugs. I was in Lily when the front doorbell rang.

Leaving the tray on a table in the hall, I pulled aside the black cloth covering the lights around the front door. Tony was outside, in the same clothes he’d had on the previous night, and looking the worse for wear. I unlocked the door.

“Tea?” I offered.

“No thanks, I’m stuffed. Where do you want to talk?”

I opened the door wider, inviting him in. “Let’s go upstairs. I’m a bit tired of....” I waved my hands at the parlors. If it hadn’t been for Gabriel’s death, I’d have made a joke about Prospero’s abbey.

We went up to my office, where I invited Tony to make himself comfortable while I put the kettle on for tea. When I returned, I found him in a guest chair, holding the leaf mask in his hand. He looked up at me with a raised eyebrow as I went to my chair and set my phone on the desk.

“That’s Owen’s,” I said.

“What was he doing in your office?”

“Talking about photography. And downloading pictures for you. What do you think he was doing?”

I hadn’t meant to challenge, but I was in no mood for dog-with-bone behavior. Tony gazed at me with narrowed eyes for a moment, then let it drop. He put the mask back on my desk. I moved it to the credenza.

“Let’s just get that out of our way,” I said briskly, then returned to my seat. “Now, how can I help you?”

He dug a much-folded wad of paper from his pocket, and I recognized the pages as having been torn from the legal pad I’d given him. Next he pulled out the guest-list, also much abused and adorned with check marks and scribbles, which he offered to me.